The Orthogonal Galaxy
Chapter 2

In a different location of the galaxy, JoramAnders studied his new surroundings that appeared perfectly earthlike. The sky was blue, the grass green, thecollection of oak, maple, and willow trees rustled in the gentle breeze just asthey did on Earth, and the strong golden Sun beamed its warmth in approval ofthe setting. Yet, for Joram, it felt asthough he were on another planet. Motionless, he looked slowly to his left and then to his right. He saw a vast number of human-like figurestraveling on brick-lined pathways in all different directions, each arrayed ina varying degree of fashion and quality of grooming. The sound of cars on nearby streets and anoccasional bird singing high in the treetops confirmed that, indeed, Joram hadnot been mysteriously transported to another planet.

Yet it all seemed so dreamlike, so surreal. And perhaps it should! As far back as Joram could remember, he haddreamed of the day he would stand in front of the building he had seen inhypergraphic photos from the moment it was dedicated. That was eight years ago—just two weeks afterhis thirteenth birthday. For severalminutes, Joram kept reading the words “Carlton H. Zimmer Planetarium” and eachtime he felt his heart race with excitement, anticipation, and anxiety. For a while now, he had stood in a statuesquemanner, moving just enough to occasionally twist his arm for a glance at hiswatch. In just a few minutes now, thefarm boy from Wichita, Kansas would begin his astronomy studies as a graduatestudent at the California Institute of Technology.

Naturally, he was intimidated to enter theplanetarium for his first class of the term, where his boyhood idol andlegendary astrophysicist, Carlton Zimmer, would instruct Astrophysics 21: Galaxies & Cosmology. Joram took a deep breath and approached thebuilding slowly while other students passed by, paying no attention to thisnervous newcomer. With one last glanceof his watch, he grabbed the door handle. While he was seven minutes early to enter the building, this was bydesign. He wanted to take in the wholesetting by stationing himself in the middle of the arena, partly so he could belost in the crowd, but mostly, because he wanted the perspective of being atthe nucleus of this great building.

With the door closing behind him, he paused toallow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The room was dimly lit from recessed lighting that circled the roomshining directly up onto the ceiling, which was as black as any midnight Joramhad experienced back on the farm in Kansas. The front of the room was brightly arrayed from a string of tracklighting lining the wall behind the lectern. Lights along the floor helped Joram replace his way down the red carpetedstairs towards the center of the room. Making his way into an aisle marked with the letter “I”, Joram slid downto the middle seat. Surprisinglycomfortable, he brushed his hand against the velvet upholstery, and reclinedalmost all the way to the floor. For thefirst time all day, his anxiety gave way to a deep soothing sigh.

Instantly, he was transported back to the familyfarm where he would spend hours at night every summer evening, laying on ablanket near the darkest side of the house. In the stillness of his Kansas farm and with a pair of well-worn StarGoggles, he could see the faintest of stars viewable under the thick atmosphereof the Earth.

“Joram,” his mother would call out from a window,“it’s nearly midnight, Son. Come on inoutta this night air and get you some rest. You know that your Pa needs your help with the chores in the morning.”

“Just a few more minutes, Mom. Barnard's Star is about to set.”

“Barnyard Farm! What are you talking about, anyway?”

“Not Barnyard Farm, Mom,” Joram said with anexasperated tone. “It’s Barnard’s St—oh,never mind. Just five more minutes,Mom. I Promise.” Joram allowed his mind to depart Earth onelast time to wander among the stars and particularly to Barnard’s Star. While Proxima Centauri is the closest star toour solar system, it is never visible from Kansas. He would love to see Proxima Centauri someday, although he knew that the difference between 4.2 light years and 6.0 lightyears didn’t really mean much. Both areinvisible to the naked eye from Earth, so both would require the assistance ofthe Star Goggles. Yet Proxima Centauriwas his star—the one he dreamt about, the one he longed to see with his owneyes.

His fascination with Proxima Centauri centered onhis dream to visit the stars. While heeagerly attended to all of the news regarding the scientists who were racing todevelop the first interstellar shuttle, nobody had produced anything that wouldapproach the velocity required to travel to other star systems. Should interstellar travel ever be feasible,he would have to think that the Proxima Centauri star system would be among thefirst targets for exploration.

Hearing the window fly open again, Joram absentlyshouted out, “Just two more minutes, Mom.”

An audible huff and the shutting of the windowleft him to his perfect silence one last time, as he continued to gaze atBarnard’s Star, trying to imagine in his finite mind how far 6.0 light yearsreally is.

A sudden burst of light brought Joram back toreality. Restoring his chair to itsupright position, he looked behind him as students began to enter theplanetarium. Embarrassed to be seenreclining in his first grad school classroom, he scrambled to raise the seatback up. Fumbling for the wooden desktopin the right armrest of his seat he began to empty the contents of hisbackpack, comprising just two small electronic items. The first was his brand new Digital NoteTablet, currently empty of any entries, but would soon be put through the pacesof digital note-taking. The second itemwas his iText Reader. This device hadalready been slightly worn, evidence of his early perusal of the texts whichhis professors had assigned to him for his coursework this term. Most professors transmit books during class,since each classroom is equipped with its own private Wireless Services AccessPoint, so there was no need for Joram to have downloaded them over the Internetfirst. But, his love of science—andparticularly astronomy— drove him to download all of his textbooks from theuniversity intranet the moment they were announced to the students.

Joram, however, knew that it was more survivalthan ambition that generated this behavior. To come all the way from a dairy farm on the plains of the Midwestthrough Wichita State University to this prestigious institution in SouthernCalifornia would require all of his abilities. He was now placed in an atmosphere where intellect and knowledge werepractically innate. He had come from aninsufficiently educated farm family, so he was not oblivious to the challengethat would face him in this highly competitive setting.

“I hear these seats are really comfortable,”interrupted a young lady as she took a seat next to Joram.

“Yeah, they are,” Joram blushed slightly as helooked up at his classmate. The blushwasn’t so much intended for the attractive brunette with emerald green eyes whohad engaged him in conversation as it was for his state of relaxation that somemust have noticed as they entered the room earlier. Joram had hoped that the lighting would havestill been too dim to notice, and that the newcomers’ eyes would have not hadenough time to adjust to the darkness yet.

“Have you taken a class in the planetariumbefore?” the brunette asked.

“No,” admitted Joram. “Seeing how I arrived a couple of minutesearly, I thought I’d give it a try. Let’s just say that it’s more comfortable than anything in myapartment.”

“Tell me about it. What isn’t lumpy at my place is either brokendown or completely missing its upholstery. I’m Kather Mirabelle, but my friends call me Kath.” Kath extended her hand, which Joram acceptedgraciously.

“I’m Joram. Joram Anders.” Joram was gratefulfor the hospitality and acquaintance. Since arriving at CalTech a few days earlier, Joram had had littleopportunity to meet any of his new Southern California neighbors.

“Nice to meet you, Joram,” Kath saidcheerfully. “What year are you?”

“First year grad student,” replied Joram. It still seemed amazing to hear himself sayit. The first college graduate of hisfamily, many back home found Joram’s penchant for education, and particularlyscience difficult to grasp.

“Really! So am I!” said Kath. “Are you inthe astronomy department, then?”

“Yes,” answered Joram. “And you?”

“Naturally. My undergraduate degree was in meteorology,” Kath responded, “but I’vealways thought astronomy to be fascinating.”

“Have you heard anything about Professor Zimmer”,Joram inquired of his companion.

Kather cocked her head in surprise, and replied,“Well, yes. He’s the most famousastrophysicist in the world.”

“Well, yeah,” Anders smiled slightly at hispoorly phrased question, “but what I meant was, do you know anything about himas a profess—”.

Joram’s words were cut short as he noticed animmediate quieting of the chatter throughout the room. A door had opened in the front of the room,which Joram had not previously noticed. Through the opening, a tall man in his sixties with graying hair strodethrough confidently and quickly. He wasattired conservatively with dark gray slacks, white shirt, navy blue stripedtie, and black leather shoes. Shutting the door behind him, he lunged for therostrum in the center of the stage and tapped on the microphone a couple oftimes. Responding readily to the test,the man cleared his throat and introduced himself.

“Good afternoon. My name is Carlton Zimmer and it is my good fortune to have anopportunity to instruct you in this astronomy class this term.” His voice was raspy, yet confident. He articulated smoothly delivering his wordswith a pleasant tone that matched a warm smile. With a full head of hair, more white than gray, Zimmer showed signs ofhis age. Joram sensed that the darkrings around his eyes indicated both a lack of sleep and an abundance ofstress. Joram wasn’t surprised to makethis observation, as he had already presupposed that the successes of aworld-renowned scientist would not come without significant workloads.

Joram’s heart started racing again. Standing just thirty feet before him was aman he instantly recognized. How manytimes had he seen his picture next to an article in the astronomy journals hekept up with on the Internet? How manytimes had he seen him interviewed on the Science Channel or other televisionprograms honoring him for his prolific career? While he did appear taller in person, and his voice certainly deeperthan it did on TV, he nevertheless recognized him almost as well as he wouldrecognize his own father.

“Many of you have varying degrees of interest inthis subject,” Zimmer continued as he pierced the room with an intense glare,as if he were determining a priori those who would succeed—or fail—in hisclass. “Some of you are undergraduateswith a minor interest in astronomy. Othersare first year grad students trying to make a life out of this. Others simply needed the elective, and thetime slot just happened to fit your schedule. But whatever your motives are for being here, my job is to make surethat it is worth your time and effort.

“While these great facilities make it possible toobtain a varied degree of instruction,” the Professor gestured to the vast domeoverhead with his right hand, “I hope that your expectations are such that youare not just here to enjoy a good light show. While we will certainly have opportunity to fire up the sky overhead, Ireplace that the seats are too comfortable to allow for much real learning tooccur when they are reclined.”

Professor Zimmer then proceeded to announce someimportant policies which each student must respect. He made clear that the doors would be lockedby five minutes after the beginning of class each day, in order to avoid any“disturbances in the force” of the educational process. The attempt at humor was not a success,simply because he often forgot that his students, so far removed from his generation,usually didn’t recognize obscure references to the rather ancient pop culturewith which he was at least familiar through his studies of all things sciencefact and fiction. He reiterated, just asthe signs did outside each entrance that while the room may have the appearanceof a movie theater, food and beverage were strictly prohibited. He allowed the students to then synchronizetheir Readers with the selected readings of the class. Everybody except Joram rifled through theirbackpacks and extracted their iText Readers.

As Kath began her download, she raised her browslightly and whispered in Joram’s direction, “Aren’t you going to download thetexts?”

Smiling, Joram responded, “I downloaded it—”Refusing to appear too zealous, Joram paused in order to replace the phrase‘three months ago’ with “—before the semester started.”

Turning his head back towards the front of theroom, he thought he noticed the professor staring at him with a slight frown onhis face. Joram’s stomach sank. What a lousy first impression to make on theman he most admired. While the noise ofbackpack zippers would’ve certainly drowned out the exchange between the twonew friends, he was sure that Zimmer had noticed the verbal exchange betweenthe two classmates. While he had hopedthat sitting in the center of the room would make him less noticeable, theopposite had actually occurred, because he was now sitting right in front ofthe professor at his eye level.

Once the room had been restored to its previousstate of attentiveness, Professor Zimmer continued.

“By way of introduction to our study thissemester, who can tell me why the study of astronomy is important in oursociety today?” This was a loaded andsensitive question to ask, for in this society, there was a decreasing publicopinion of the field. Professor Zimmerknew as well as anybody that many murmurings were taking place in WashingtonD.C. regarding federal funding of astronomy programs. “We should keep our feet on the ground andworry about the problems that are right next door, instead of those that arethousands of light years away,” was a common call among some aspiringpoliticians.

As Zimmer had expected, there was no responsefrom anybody in the class. “Now surelysome of you are here, because you believe there is merit to the field ofastronomy. Why should we studyastronomy?”

Joram saw a rather tentative hand slowly risedown in the front, right side of the room. Professor Zimmer, clipping a lapel microphone to his tie, venturedtowards the student.

“What is your name, young man?” asked ProfessorZimmer.

“Farrem Tanner,” answered the young man.

“Well, Mr. Tanner,” continued the professor, witha smile, “I’m glad to see there is somebody in my class who is here for a goodreason, someone who believes there is some value to this field of study. Tell me. Why should we study astronomy?”

“Well, sir,” Farrem began, “It gives us a betterunderstanding of ourselves and our position in the universe when we studyastronomy.”

“Well said, Mr. Tanner.” Zimmer nodded hisapproval and warmly congratulated his student for his answer and his courage tobe the first to speak up on a controversial subject. “We can’t gain a comprehensive understandingof the physics which rules our world, if we limit our field of vision to theEarth. A study of geology can teach usmuch about the world we live in, but a study of astronomy can teach us muchmore about the universe we live in, can’t it?”

Zimmer returned to the center of the room, andleaned against the lectern in an attempt to provide a more casual feel andthereby encourage more participation. “Anybody else care to continue on this course of discussion?”

Another answer came from somebody sitting acouple of rows behind Joram. “Professor,there are tangible benefits as well. Byunderstanding the forces in the universe, we are able to place satellites intoorbit, which improve our quality of life.”

“Do you mean,” prodded Professor Zimmer, “thatyou are able to get thousands of TV stations from around the world in yourdormitory lounge?”

A few laughs indicated that the class wasrelaxing.

“No, sir,” corrected the student. “I’m thinking about the safety of airlinesthat use the advanced Precision Global Positioning System and weather warningsatellites to avoid collisions and hazards.”

“Very well,” nodded the professor. “Please accept my apologies for a prematurejudgment of your thoughts, Mr…”

“Johnson. Marrett Johnson.”

“Thank you, Mr. Johnson for your response.”

With yet another hand, Professor Zimmer acknowledgedthat he could see deep into the back of the arena, in spite of the tracklighting which shined brightly onto the professor.

“Yes, the young lady in the back,” professorZimmer craned and gestured to the back row.

“Professor, my name is Cintera Fernandez, and Ihave a relative who enjoys the benefit of occasional zero-gravity therapysessions as a relief from severe rheumatoid arthritis.”

“That’s marvelous, isn’t it, Miss Fernandez?”began the professor. “I was thrilled tosee the cost of low-orbit travel become reasonable enough in the last couple ofdecades to allow the passenger airline industry to venture above the atmosphereso readily. With the low-cost ofextra-atmospheric travel, doctors are able to prescribe these therapy sessionsthat you mention. Thank you, MissFernandez.”

Zimmer was growing bored with all of the triteanswers and decided to shift direction a little “But, class, I fail to see whyany of these excuses gives us any reason to consider galaxies which residemany, many light years away from us. Andyet, we’re going to be doing just that in this classroom this year. What benefits will you as a student receiveby such a study?”

For the first time, Zimmer saw his studentsreaching deep into their intellect, straining for the answer. He was pleased with the effective result of afew moments of silence.

“Let me ask what I hope to be an easierquestion.” Zimmer spoke more quietly now. He had the attention of his students, but he wanted it to be morefocused. “When you look at the night skywith the naked eye, you can see a few thousand stars.” He paused. “That is… when you are not standing in Pasadena, California,”Zimmer paused for the laughter to subside, “but rather on Palomar Mountain,where our university’s observatory is located just a few hours away from here,you can indeed see a few thousandstars with the naked eye. Which of thesestars is closest to our own Sun?”

Joram’s heart gave a leap. Carlton Zimmer was now asking a questionabout his star! Joram looked around, butno hands went up to indicate knowledge of that. Come on! This was a bright groupof people, and not one of them could answer that question? Maybe they were all still being too timid onthe first day of class. Joram tried tokeep his hand from shaking nervously as he projected it slowly into the air.

“Yes, sir,” acknowledged the professor withoutany apparent recollection of his earlier disapproval of the interlude betweenJoram and Kath. “Please tell us, if youwill, the star which is closest in proximity to our own Sun.”

“That would be Proxima Centauri, Sir.” answeredJoram confidently.

“That would be correct,” approved theprofessor. “What is your name, youngman?”

“Joram Anders, sir.”

At this, the professor appeared to hesitate forjust a moment, as if straining to remember why that name should sound sofamiliar to him. It came to him.

“Ah, yes,” interjected Professor Zimmer, “JoramAnders... from Kansas, is it?”

Joram gave a start. How on earth did one of the world’s mostrenowned astrophysicists know this obscure farm boy from Wichita? As if reading his mind, the professorproceeded. “Sorry, Mr. Anders, if I haveconcerned you by knowing more about you than you would have expected. I do assure you that I am just an astronomer,and not also a mind-reading astrologer.” Roars of laughter ensued.

“After returning from a summer in South America,I had been reviewing all of the first-year graduate applications just lastweek, and I happened to remember your name, because I don’t believe I’ve hadthe honor of instructing anyone from Kansas before, especially one with suchamazing credentials with which you come to this institution.”

It was always the way Professor Zimmer treatedothers. He was naturally complimentary,and in spite of being one of the world’s greatest intellects was never condescending. Few ever doubted his intentions, for in thewell-established career and character which he had developed, there was neverany reason why he should ever have to ingratiate himself to anyone. And certainly not to a first-year graduatestudent from Kansas.

Before Joram had an opportunity to fumble for aresponse to this somewhat embarrassing recognition, the professor continued,“Mr. Anders, I suppose that you will be able to tell me the distance from ourown Sun to Proxima Centauri.”

“4.2 light years, Sir.”

Zimmer whistled lowly through his lips. “So that means that if I could travel at thespeed of light from Earth, I would arrive at the nearest of these thousands ofstars in just 4.2 years?”

“Naturally,” responded Joram somewhatconversationally now.

The professor thought for a moment. “Are there any rest stops along theway?” More laughter.

“Mr. Anders,” implored the professor. “Why should I care about Proxima Centauri, ifI could never practically travel there to see it?”

“Sir, there is much we can and have learned fromthe stars without having to travel to them,” responded Joram. “Besides, I thought the race was on todiscover the means of interstellar travel.”

“Are you referring to all of the warp drivenonsense that the media is so colorfully pitching these days?” Professor Zimmerstared inquisitively at Joram.

Slowly responding to the professor’s question,Joram refused to commit an opinion on the matter, although he was certainlyvery opinionated and excited at the hopes for interstellar travel. “I’m not sure about the details or thevalidity of all of these projects, Professor. But it does seem like every scientist in the country is in hot pursuitof interstellar travel these days. Somebody must be thinking that it’s possible.” Joram paused to weigh his next words, butemboldened by the excitement of the discussion, he breached his better judgmentanyway. “What do you think ofinterstellar travel, Professor?”

Before Zimmer could begin to formulate a responseto that question, the door in the back of the room opened up, allowing a floodof sunlight to penetrate the room. Everystudent looked back to see a man enter the room. Joram squinted at the silhouette but didn’trecognize the man. He did suspect thathe was another professor, judging by the whiteness of his hair—at least thatlittle bit which remained on the sides of his rather bald pate—not to mentionthe fact that the conservative style of his attire was similar to that ofProfessor Zimmer. The man and ProfessorZimmer exchanged nods and smiles knowingly while the man allowed the door toshut. He remained standing along theback wall, while the students returned to their previous postures.

“Let me answer that question in the followingway, Mr. Anders,” began the professor. “Duringyour course of investigation into the astronomy program here, you may havebecome aware of a little research project of mine involving the possibility ofparallel star systems. Do you suspectthat I am engaged in this activity, because of an overwhelming stack ofevidence suggesting that parallel universes do indeed exist?”

The professor shook his head, and then appearingto address the man in the back of the room, he continued in a more animatedmanner of hand gestures and body language. “Contrary to popular opinion, living a life of science isn’t alwaysabout facts and evidence. Many veryimportant discoveries have been made more from the hunch and imagination of thescientist than the data with which he is presented.”

His attention returned to Joram as he took twosteps towards him. “Mr. Anders. Let me answer your question with aquestion. Do you think I would beengaged in such a research project, if I believed that interstellar travelwould prove to be impossible? Do youthink I would want to make a discovery of a so-called parallel solar system,and then not be able to travel there to study that star and its orbitingbodies?”

Joram’s question was answered.

At this, the professor paused for a few seconds,and the campus chime was heard ringing from some distant point. Joram looked at his watch. What? Could the entire 50-minute lecture be over already? Why, certainly no more than five or tenminutes had elapsed.

But he was wrong, and he knew it. Along with the rustle of items being haphazardlyreturned to backpacks and the hands of his analog wrist watch, Joram knew thathis first lecture from Professor Carlton H. Zimmer had officially adjourned.

…

Professor Zimmer waited in the front of the roomwhile all of his astronomy students left the planetarium. After the last one exited the room, he madehis way up the stairs of the theater while the man in the back of the room methim half way down.

The man greeted Professor Zimmer warmly with afirm handshake. “Carlton, nice to see you. How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was fine, Ballard,” answered theprofessor. “But, it’s good to be backhome.”

“I’ll be eager to see your official report,Carlton, but how about a preview. Anynews from Chile?”

“Well, it was a busy summer down there for us,but we continued to narrow down our list of target stars in the South. We had about 800,000 stars when we startedthis summer, and have narrowed that list down to just under a halfmillion. But that’s still too many tostart targeting any data collection efforts using the Kepler3 telescope. I do believe, however that we have a darnedgood team assembled down there to continue their work and should whittle thatlist down by 50% before I return next summer.”

At this, Zimmer thought he’d detected a slightfrown from his longtime friend and Dean of Astronomy at the University. “Ballard, you know that this is theproverbial needle in the haystack. Thesethings don’t conclude overnight.”

“If there is a needle, Carlton,” counteredBallard with an apparent allusion to his disbelief in Zimmer’s researchproject.

Changing the subject, Professor Zimmer offered,“Hey, how is your son doing on the Star Transport team at the Jet PropulsionLab?”

“I just had dinner with him over theweekend. He’s pretty stressed rightnow.” Ballard gladly accepted the change of direction. “He mentioned a pretty big design reviewcoming up, and he believes that his team will get highly scrutinized thistime. Although, I must say, if yourresearch is the needle in the haystack, then I think this interstellartransportation stuff is the Holy Grail. Yes, I know… the theories abundantly support the concept of travel atthe speed of light, and yet, I have a hard time swallowing the practicality ofsuch a maneuver.”

“I believe you may have heard a similar doubtfrom one of the grad students just a few moments ago,” smiled Zimmer.

“Yes,” chuckled Ballard with a playful wink. “It seems you are having a harder timewinning converts to your cause these days, Carlton. These kids these days come in here with theirheads the size of Betelgeuse. In the olddays, they used to come in respecting their professors. Now, they enter thinking they know more. But, just as will be the case of Betelgeuse,their education will explode like a supernova if they are not careful.”

“Do you know who that student was?” asked Zimmerimpatiently.

Ballard looked back at the door, as if he mightstill be able to catch a glimpse of the student walking away from theroom. “No, I only saw him from theback. Should I know him?”

“That was Anders.” Carlton lowered his voice as if worried thatsomebody, perhaps Joram himself, would overhear the conversation.

Ballard’s look turned serious. “You mean, Joram Anders?”

Carlton nodded.

“The kid from Kansas?”

More nodding.

“The same kid who had the highest astronomyentrance exam of any entering grad student in the last decade?”

A final nod convinced Ballard that Joram Anderswas indeed a real person, and not just a figment of his imagination. He’d always had a very hard time believingthe results on Joram’s exam.

“Well then, I’ll be very interested in getting toknow this young man better.”

“Me too!” exclaimed Professor Zimmer.

Looking at his watch, Ballard noted, “Gottarun. I have an appointment with the NASAfolks in a little bit. Hey, I have afree hour this afternoon at four o’clock. Can you meet me at my office? There is a lot to catch up on, and I want to hear about the new telescopedown at Cerro Tololo.”

Carlton looked at his watch. “Sure, I’ll stop by at four.”

…

Kath and Joram emerged from the planetariumsquinting from the bright Sun that was just starting to lower in the sky. He shielded his eyes with his hands, while shefumbled around her backpack searching for her sunglasses.

“Well,” Kath said casually as she put on the darksunglasses. “It looks like my study partner selection instincts have served mewell yet once again.”

“What do you mean?” Joram asked while twistinghis head to see her face. It was as muchan attempt to look away from the blinding Sun as it was to interpret theexpression on her face.

“Let’s see,” Kath said playfully, and thenlowered her voice. “Such amazing credentials you have, Mr. Joram Anders, fromKansas.” Returning to her normal voice,she explained, “I seem to recall Zimmer saying something of that nature, didn’the?”

Joram blushed. “I would hardly consider myself the teacher’s pet just yet. And just look at my note tablet. It’s still perfectly blank!” Joram was appalled and disappointed in hislack of note-taking on the first day of class. “By the way, did you see any look on his face while we were talking atthe beginning of class?”

“No,” she said honestly. She was among the rest of the studentsfocused on synchronizing the course textbooks to their Readers at the time thatJoram had spotted Zimmer looking their way.

“So, you’re from Kansas,” Kath changed thesubject conversationally. “I’ve neverbeen there.”

“Not surprising,” Joram admitted. “There’s not a whole lot there, youknow. Just miles and miles of farmland.”

“Did you grow up on a farm?” asked Kath.

“Yeah. Myfather is a dairy farmer.”

“He must be so proud of you, coming here toCalTech,” Kath boasted.

“Yes, but I’m not sure that I convinced him thatCalTech is any better than Wichita State,” Joram smiled upon recollecting hisconversations with his father about why Joram had to go so far away.

“He keptasking me, ‘Are there any more stars over Southern California than there arehere over the farm?’”

Joram enjoyed sharing the laugh with Kath as theystrolled along the winding paths and well-manicured landscape of theuniversity. Conversation came naturallyto the new friends, and Joram found out much about the Southern Californianative, who seemed to have many interests as well as the energy to keep up withthem all. She was a regular at the gymearly in the mornings, unless the conditions were just right to go surfing. As an avid tennis buff, she placed fifth in astate-wide tournament in high school. Her father was a chemical engineer who spent most of his career workingon alternative energy sources. She wasnot ashamed to admit that she was proud of his accomplishments and was quick tomention how he had helped transition the world away from its addiction tonon-renewable sources of energy.

In turn, Kath was amazed to discovery that Joramhad a deep love for astronomy and had amassed quite a wealth of knowledge inthe field. She began to understand thatit was more than just the Kansas connection that compelled Professor Zimmer toquickly recall the name of Joram Anders. She was enamored at his description of life on the farm. It was so different from her own upbringing,and she could tell that some of Joram’s physical features stemmed from his timeon the farm. His golden, almostleathered complexion spoke on the amount of time he spent in the blazingsun. His broad shoulders and barrelchest were certainly the result of real work, and not that of so many otherweight-lifting, muscle-pumping goons she’d met time and again at the gym. If only she’d had a dollar for eachnauseating pick-up line from some arrogant muscle-flexer who assumed that everywoman owed them for their existence. Ofcourse, even she wasn’t oblivious to how much she enjoyed being attended to atthe gym, and it was a fun hobby of hers to record and review her little book ofpick-up lines. Even so, it stillirritated her to think that these guys really believed that they could “charm”a girl through such triviality. It wasjust so offensive to her intelligence.

At the end of their conversation, Joram wassimply amazed that he had spent an hour and a half with her on the patio of theRed Door Café, where Joram nursed his lemonade and Kath finished off two icedcoffees. Where had the day gone? His first astronomy lecture had flown by, andnow his acquaintance with Kath had seemed but a flash.

“Wow, how the day has flown!” Joram commented ashe looked at his watch. “I have to begoing now, Kath, but I’ll see you in class on Wednesday.”

“Sounds great,” Kath acknowledged.

With that, the new acquaintances bid each otherfarewell, until Wednesday, when they would meet again in Professor Zimmer’sclass.

…

Zimmer took a long stride as he walked into DeanScoville’s office. As he sat down in thechair opposite of the dean’s desk, he wasted no time in getting to thepoint. “How was the meeting with NASA,Ballard?”

Scoville’s face turned austere. Just as Zimmer was settling into his seat, thedean stood up to look out of his window overlooking the campus.

“Things did use to be more simple around here,Carl,” Ballard admitted. Then turning back to look at Zimmer whilegazing on the well-manicured grounds visible from his fourth floor office, hecontinued. “I didn’t know exactly howthe meeting with NASA would turn out, but I was worried when they calledyesterday to schedule an urgent discussion for this afternoon. NASA almost never works on a schedule likethat, unless it’s pretty serious.”

Zimmer listened attentively, fearing theworst. Actually, he had already beenfearing the worst for the last three years, precisely when he began theextended summer research at Cerro Tololo. He was starting to feel the pressure on his research budget, and knewthat he had to step up his efforts. Heneeded to throw a bone to NASA to ensure that his funding would persist.

“The research funding committee flew out fromWashington to visit us on our research programs. Darn it, Carl, you know how everything has tobe so political these days. Politiciansare riding the public appeal of interstellar travel, because their constituentswant to travel all over the universe. But they don’t seem to care as much about the real science ofastronomy.”

“But Ballard, they’ve promised us—in writing—atleast two more years of funding,” Carlton announced.

“Yes, they mentioned that as a tactic to applypressure. They’re threatening to pullthe plug at the end of this year if they don’t start seeing results from yourcurrent research. It seems like everysenator who’s aspiring for the Oval Office is flapping their jaws aboutlimiting unessential research. Some areeven so bold as to threaten NASA with extinction!”

Zimmer hung his head. “Ballard, they promised two more years.”

“Funny money, Carl. A bill that is signed into law today willhave a counter-measure erasing its efficacy next year. You can’t trust anything that these guys putdown on paper, because they can simply legislate it all away.”

“What are their demands?” Professor Zimmer immediately put himself intoproblem solving mode.

“They want evidence, Carlton. Hard, rock solid evidence that this parallelsolar system concept is valid.”

“Ballard, I’ve provided them with thestatistics. The universe is—well, it’suniversal. With the vast number of classG2 stars out their, the mathematical models provide compelling evidence a copyof earth is out there.”

Dean Scoville sat back down in his black leatherchair, leaned over his dark walnut desk, and looked Professor Zimmer straightinto the eye. “Carl, when are you goingto replace that needle?”

Zimmer hung his head again. He had no answer, and was starting to see hislifelong dream slipping away from his reach.

Hanging and shaking his head slowly, Carlton responded. “I don’t know Ballard… I just don’t know.”