Kim Peek: Extraordinary Memory; No Corpus Callosum

Kim Peek, who died December 19, 2009, was the extraordinary fellow upon whom the savant character in the movie Rain Man was based. He was a man born without a corpus callosum--the same brain structure all marsupials lack.

Kim Peek was born on November 11, 1951, in Salt Lake City, Utah. Doctors discovered a funny, baseball-sized blister on the back of his enlarged head. He was a sluggish infant and he cried a lot. By the age of 9 months doctors expected he would be mentally and physically impaired for life and recommended the parents institutionalize him. They declined. From the beginning, his head was about 30% larger than normal. His head was so heavy he couldn't even hold it up until his body grew big enough to support it at about the age of four.

By the age of 16 months, Kim had taught himself to read. When he consulted a dictionary to define the word "confidential," his parents realized he could read newspapers," Telegraph.co.uk obituaries. Kim memorized the entire Bible by the age of seven.

His parents tried to give him a normal upbringing, but Kim was expelled from school for disruptive behavior. Schools of the day had no special education teachers to help him. His father hired retired teachers to educate him at home. He finished the high school curriculum by the age of 14. His mother looked after him until his parents' divorce, then the task fell to his father.

Kim was unable to brush his teeth, dress himself, cook food or shave without help. Yet, Kim memorized the complete works of Shakespeare and every volume of the Reader's Digest condensed books available to him. "He used telephone directories for exercises in mental arithmetic, adding each column of seven-digit numbers together in his head until he reached figures in the trillions," Telegraph.co.uk obituary (link posted above).

Barry Morrow, author of the script that went on to become the movie, Rain Man, met Kim at a retarded persons convention in Arlington, Texas, in 1984. He spent four hours with Kim. He asked Fran, Kim's father, if he realized that Kim had memorized every postal code, area code and road number in the United States. He urged Fran to introduce Kim to the public. Fran ignored the request fearing Kim would become a freak show.

Dustin Hoffman spent six hours with Kim and copied Kim's rapid monotone, rocking motions and child-like emotions to create the Raymond Babbitt character in the movie. Morrow wanted Kim to visit a casino to see how he would count the cards, but Kim refused on grounds that it was unethical.

Morrow received an academy award for his script and gave Kim the Oscar. The statue became his most prized possession. He took it everywhere.

Because of the film, Kim finally received the high school diploma he had previously been denied. The film opened other doors too. Because of the respect he received for his abilities from these persons outside his family, he ended his reclusive lifestyle, made many friends and ventured out into the world. Fran took Kim on a series of speaking engagements where he amazed and dazzled audiences. Father and son emphasized the principle that each person has some kind of ability which others lack. Their motto: "Recognizing and respecting differences in others, and treating everyone like you want them to treat you, will help make our world a better place for everyone. Care... be your best. You don't have to be handicapped to be different. Everyone is different!" Fran certainly did his best to embody that motto, striving to equip Kim to achieve all he could.

Kim could read a page of a book, front and back simultaneously, one page with each eye, regardless of whether the book was upside down or sideways, in 8 to 10 seconds. He remembered 98% of everything he read. He was interested in fifteen different areas, a few of those were: world and American history, sports, movies, geography, actors and actresses, the Bible, church history, literature, Shakespeare and classical music. Besides postal codes, area codes, etc., Kim also memorized the maps included in phone books and could provide travel directions within any major city in the U.S. He could identify hundreds of classical compositions, tell when and where each composition was composed and first performed, give the composer's name and biographical details; he could even discuss formal and tonal components of the music. Kim never became set in his ways. He began learning to play piano in 2002. With this new skill, he could play many of the multitudes of pieces he'd memorized earlier and discuss the different properties of each piece.

Unlike most savants, Kim understood what he memorized, though he often had trouble with abstract or conceptual thinking. Scientific American Mind describes an incident when Fran asked Kim to lower his voice in a restaurant. Kim scooted lower in his chair so that his voice box would be lower. Other times he proved ingenious. In one talk he was asked about Lincoln's Gettysbug Address. He answered, "Will's house, 227 North West Front Street, but he stayed there only one night--he gave the speech the next day." He didn't intend the answer as a joke, but when the questioner laughed, he saw the humor and recycled the joke at future events. Once Kim attended a Shakespeare festival sponsored by a philanthropist whose laryngitis threatened to silence him. The man's initials were O.C. Kim quipped, "O.C., can you say?" Another time, exhibiting his lightning ability to access the vast information stored in his head, "...an interviewer offered that he had been born on March 31, 1956, Peek noted, in less than a second, that it was a Saturday on Easter weekend," Scientific American Mind, June/July 2006, page 52.

The technical name for the blister Kim suffered as an infant is encephalocele. An encephalocele is when the neural tube fails to close. A baby can have one of these anywhere on his head. It is usually filled with fluid, but can contain brain matter. Fortunately for Kim Peek, his encephalocele was on the back of his head and it resolved itself. But there were other abnormalities. Kim had a malformed cerebellum and lacked a corpus callosum.

Some people born without a corpus callosum, called "agenesis of the corpus callosum," are able to function normally. Others suffer problems with co-ordination; inability to name colors without first associating the color with an object; inability to read facial expressions; problems with abstract reasoning and humor...some are savants.

"It would seem that those born without a corpus callosum somehow develop back channels of communication between the hemispheres. Perhaps the resulting structures allow the two hemispheres to function, in certain respects, as one giant hemisphere, putting normally separate functions under the same roof," Scientific American Mind, June/July 2006, page 52. The brain hemispheres of persons whose corpus callosum is cut during adulthood begin to work almost independently of each other--commonly called "split brain" syndrome.

Sometimes savant abilities appear after damage to the left hemisphere. A theory on why this happens is the idea that the right hemisphere develops new skills and sometimes recruits from the left brain's tissue for tasks it previously didn't undertake. Another theory is that the left hemisphere exerts a kind of tyranny over the right hemisphere. Once the right hemisphere is released from this domination, it can achieve great things. (See January 24th, 2007, post titled, "Darn Domineering Left Brains and Subversive Right Brains..." on this blog)

For more check out: Savant Syndrome: Island of Genius

Over the Edge dabbles in various aspects of what it might be like to lack a corpus callosum. The characters are not savants as Kim Peek was, just as not all persons who lack a corpus callosum are savants, but they share characteristics with him and with persons who develop split brain syndrome as adults. As marsupial humanoids, they have the ability to read material as Kim Peek did, each eye reading independently of the other. However, in Over the Edge, each brain hemisphere is given its own language, the left hemisphere an abstract symbol alphabet and the right hemisphere a hieroglyphic based language. In the story, characters' brain hemispheres operate in harmony until some conflict occurs--then battle begins. Characters of Over the Edge also lead double lives, in effect, giving part of their time to allow one hemisphere to shine more brilliantly than the other and vice versa. In the story, these times are called "half times."

Understanding how the brain works, how the mind works, how the spirit functions within the brain it is given, are themes of Over the Edge.

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Invisibility: The Science of Over the Edge

According to Richard Alleyne, science correspondent for the UK Telegraph, scientists are very close to hiding stuff behind a screen of manipulated electromagnetic radiation. The technique is called "transformation optics" and uses a "superscatterer" to create an optical illusion. The superscatterer forces light and other forms of electromagnetic radiation into complicated directions to hide things--like Platform 9 3/4. In the Harry Potter series Platform 9 1/2 is hidden through the use of magic, but as Arthur C. Clarke wrote in Profiles of the Future:

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

What these scientists are after is a "gateway that can block electromagnetic waves but that allows the passage of other entities." The present breakthrough has achieved a broader bandwidth and "has the added advantage of being able to be switched on and off remotely." Dr. Huanyang Chen said, "people standing outside the gateway would see something like a mirror."

In Over the Edge small surveillance cameras equipped with hover mechanisms use projected images to hide the device. Looks like we're close to having the ability to hide things in plain sight--now we just need efficient hover technology.

Invisible Doorways or Portals A Step Closer to Reality

Mercedes-Benz turned one of their vehicles invisible for a promotional stunt. In Over the Edge miniaturized cameras and screens accomplish the same thing making an object completely invisible on all sides. Read more about the Mercedes-Benz promotion and watch a video here:
Invisible Mercedes Brings James Bond Technology to Life

Marsupials are Weird: The Science of Over the Edge

Marsupials are weird.

The "aliens" in Over the Edge are marsupial humanoids. Of course, the term "alien" is a relative term.

Marsupials are classified as mammals because they have four chambered hearts, warm blood and give milk. But unlike us placental-types, the two hemispheres of their brains are not unified--there is no corpus callosum which connects the two halves in placental brains. Double minded by design.

Marsupial eggs are more eggy than placental eggs because they retain a tiny egg yolk and a sort of soft egg shell through which the industrious sperm must penetrate.

In as little as 13 days after conception, marsupials give birth to barely there, practically transparent infants (blood red with black eye dot) who have only developed a couple of arms with which to climb. And climb they must from the opening of the birth canal (which incidentally is not the same canal through which the sperm was introduced) to the pouch, or marsupium, where they latch onto a nipple and remain for months.

Marsupium is Latin for "pouch." Funny how that works. Meanwhile, legend has it that the name "kangaroo" means (my paraphrase) "What the heck are you talking about?" The story went that early explorers asked the natives about the strange creatures hopping like frogs with deer heads standing upright like humans and the natives answered something they took to be "kangaroo" which was thought to mean..."What the heck are you talking about?" The story may not be true, but it should be.

Imagine the folks back home who heard about these creatures standing upright, as tall as a man, hopping around like frogs, many of which had two deer heads (a mother with a joey peering out of his marsupium)! People back home probably wondered what was in the drink.

The name, "gangurru," is from the Guugu Yimidhirr language. Captain James Cook and naturalist Sir Joseph Banks first recorded the name "kangooroo" or "kanguru" in 1770 when stopped at what is now, shock of all shocks, Cooktown, for repairs. Male kangaroos are called bucks, boomers, jacks or old men. Females are called does, flyers or jills. Babies are called joeys. A group of kangaroos is called a mob, troop or court. Click here for more about Kangaroos


Placentals have a things called a "placenta" which is the organ that protects the baby from his mother's immune system and links him to his mother through which he receives nourishment and oxygen and transmits his waste so the mother can get rid of it. Marsupials have placentas, the typically non-invasive chorio-vitelline variety. The placenta doesn't develop right away and are in use only two or three days. "Maternal recognition of pregnancy appears unnecessary in marsupials." Huh, yeah, I think that means marsupials don't ever realize they're pregnant, which might be a good thing since they are permanently pregnant.

Female marsupials have two wombs and three vaginas. The one in the middle is the one the joey uses to enter this cold, hard world and the two on either side are the ones the sperm uses to travel to the womb. (You may (or on the other hand, maybe not, be able to imagine how complicated the plumbing for the elimination of urine is given all this tubing.) Female marsupials can do this thing called diapause. The females can hold one baby in suspended animation while his sibling finishes developing in the marsupium. Or they can carry two babies at the same time one in each womb. And the males have forked penises, but when conditions are bad, males don't even bother to produce sperm. Kangaroos eat grass, but don't produce methane like cows do. Instead they transform the gaseous by-product into acetate which they use for energy.

Marsupials have the ability to see red, blue and ultraviolet. Yes, you read correctly, ultraviolet, one color which is invisible to us. But presumably they don't see green since they don't have what we recognize as the physical equipment for that. Exactly what they see, well, at present, nobody knows.

Many marsupials often don't even drink water. However, the yapok, the water opossum, living in Mexico, Central and South America, is the only aquatic marsupial in existence today. It's pouch faces to the rear and has a sphincter muscle which helps keep the water out. A yapok male also has a pouch where he keeps his genitals safe while swimming.

Marsupials can go into a state of torpor, kind of a mini-hibernation, that allows them to survive really chilly nights. Some marsupials go into torpor daily. The mountain pygmy possum can hibernate almost a year.

The above photograph was taken in the 1930's. The animal commonly called the "Tasmainian Tiger" is now believed to be extinct, though there have been rumors of strange "tiger" or cat-like animals lurking around livestock. Photo credit: Tasmainian Tiger

Why marsupials haven't developed more aquatic talents is probably explained by the marsupium which probably isn't as air tight as a developing baby would prefer. But cetaceans, that's whales, dolphins and porpises, are mammals that have many aquatic talents not the least of which is the ability to sleep with only half a brain at a time. See: specifically: "Cetacean sleep: An unusual form of mammalian sleep." Or Google: "unihemispheric sleep."

If marsupials could overcome the leaky pouch problem, then they could probably do the same trick since they are born double-minded anyway.

The marsupial humanoids of Over the Edge don't have ultra-violet eye sight, but they definitely are double-minded and have the strange genital features...er, let's move on to the next topic, shall we?

Time Dilation and the Theory of Everything: The Science of Over the Edge

The clock face is a familiar sight, but it actually doesn't tell us much about time--it only measures the passage of time on planet earth--well, sort of, since time measurement on planet earth is inextricably linked to the earth's rotation around its axis and around the sun...

You'd think that defining exactly what is a day would be pretty easy, but there are several ways to describe a "day:"

The sidereal day is about 4 minutes shorter than the solar day (sidereal measurement is the time it takes the earth to make one complete rotation on its axis). Solar days are measured midnight to midnight. The problem with the solar day is that the earth speeds up in its path around the sun through January and slows down through July so daylight hours get shorter and then longer. To compensate for this fact, "mean solar time" was invented. The idea of mean solar time relies on the position of a fictitious sun at midnight in order to measure a day. The difference between the position of the real sun in relation to the earth and the fictitious sun in relation to the earth is called the equation of time.

Astronomer, Joesph Scalinger, created the "Julian" day (named after his father) which measures a day from noon to noon. He decided to measure days this way because astronomers work at night. If they were to use the civil definition of "day" which is measured midnight to midnight, right in the middle of their work "day" they'd have to start a new "day." Kind of awkward.

Scalinger also suggested just counting days and ignoring the whole leap year problem. Imagine time passing with no years...

If clocks were all set by local mean solar time, clocks every few miles would be on different times. "A clock on Long Island,correctly showing mean solar time for its location (this would be local civil time), would be slightly ahead of a clock in Newark, N.J. The Newark clock would be slightly ahead of a clock in Trenton, N.J., which, in turn, would be ahead of a clock in Philadelphia," see: Time Zones, Time Measurement & International Date Line . Most people didn't spend a lot of time worrying about being "on time," close enough was good enough. But railroads with passenger service issues and not liking trains to collide with one another developed time zones and went anal about being "on time" and defining exactly what that meant. If a person used the train for anything, pretty soon, he went anal about it too.

Finally, in 1884 the International Meridian Conference developed time zones. Time zones begin at Greenwich, England, and stretch around the globe to the International Date Line. At the Date Line a person going east enters the previous calendar day from the day he left on the western side. Does that mean a person can lose a day? The map below shows exactly how arbitrary time zones are. Look at China--the whole country is in the same "time zone!" Alaska covers what should be three time zones...

http://www.infoplease.com/spot/daylight2.html

Leap years are necessary because our calendar is 1/4 of a day off from the solar year which is how long it takes the earth to make a complete rotation of the sun. After a hundred years of no adjustments, our calendar would be off 25 days. Leap years are great, but don't solve the whole problem. The solar year is still 11 minutes and 14 seconds shorter than the calendar year. The solution, proposed in 1582, was to not have a leap year every 400 years.

Different definitions for a "day;" different times for every location; a line where a person can jump back and forth between yesterday and today...this whole measuring time--which, is by the way, a thing that we can't define--is purely dependent on the earth's movement around the sun and that doesn't even come off "like clockwork," that is to say, exactly the same all the time.

On Venus the sun rises in the west and a day, that is midnight to midnight, lasts the same amount of "time" as 243 "days" on earth while the "year" only lasts 225 days, we'd have a vastly different perception of time and reality. On Jupiter a "day" only lasts about 10 earth "hours," but a "year" lasts 12 earth "years."

We don't know what time is, but it's clear, we think we've got measuring time figured out.

Atomic clocks are the closest we can get to measuring time accurately, though they don't tell us what time is either.

St. Augustine of Hippo once wrote:

"What, then, is time? If no one asks me, I know. If I wish to explain it to one that asketh, I know not."

Sometimes we think that because we can describe something or measure it that we know what it is, but the fact is neither of those abilities can tell us what something is. Scientists (and we ordinary mortals), being human, often forget this.

What is time anyway? We don't know. All we know is coffee doesn't unspill and people don't undie. There is no "undo" button in real life, no "save" point where we can return to a reality where the car wreck hasn't happened.

Speaking of describing something, Einstein described a thing called "time dilation." Time dilation is what happens when a person goes really fast, the faster a person goes, the more time slows down for the traveler. This happens to astronauts orbiting planet earth. To start with, when GPS was new, it took a little tweaking to figure out how to adjust for the difference in time between the satellite and the person on the ground trying to locate his position because GPS uses an element of time to figure location.

The concept of time dilation is mind-boggling. Paul Davies in his book, About Time: Einstein's Unfinished Revolution, tries to explain this phenomenon. I read his explanation, I accept it, but some of the finer points I don't understand. Sometimes we have to accept things as truth even if we don't fully understand them, this is what is called "faith." It's impossible to get through this life without faith.

In Over the Edge characters travel at what is described as "near" light speed. That's a vague description because I don't want to do the math and because vague is better when you don't want to be nailed down. Philip K. Dick admits in his essay, "How to Build a Universe that Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later," science fiction writers don't know all that much about science. I don't know all that much about science either. I try to read Scientific American every month, but sometimes I admit, I just get bogged down and quit.

But a good fiction author, whether writing science fiction or any other type of fiction, isn't really writing about science or history or whale hunting or whatever the text ostensibly seems to be about--he's really writing about people. But if the story is science fiction, the author needs a few scientific facts to give the science part of the fiction some meat, same with an historical fiction piece or a whale hunting piece.

So, here's a meaty fact to give Over the Edge some traction:

Paul Davies includes the formula for figuring how much time slows for travelers going really fast on page 58:

"You take the speed, divide by the speed of light, square the result, subtract it from one and finally take the square root. For example, suppose the speed is 240,000 kilometers per second. Dividing this by the speed of light gives 0.8, squaring gives 0.64, subtracting from 1 gives 0.36 and taking the square root produces the answer of 0.6. So at a speed of 240,000 kilometers per second, or 80% of the speed of light, clocks are slowed by a factor of 0.6, which means they go at 60% of their normal rate, or 36 minutes to the hour..."

Of course, what Davies is referring to as "normal" is time as we measure it here on planet earth. If you lived on a different planet, time for you would be "normal," but different from here. Time on Venus or Jupiter is different from here. If you lived your life in a space ship traveling 240,000 kilometers per second, "normal" would be different from here. Time is relative. The idea that things are relative is a whole 'nother headache.

Still, regardless of how fast or slow time is passing for you, wherever you are, you will feel it passing normally. There are exceptions to this of course, those rare moments like in the middle of a bad car wreck when time seems to slow down; when you're standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon and the sun is setting and you're transported into some kind of spiritual ecstasy; when you finally manage to touch the hem of Jesus' garment during prayer or worship; or you first realize the person holding your hand is the love of your life--times like those are when time seems different, moments feel like hours, hours feel like moments, we've all been there and felt that.

Scientific American image

However we experience time, it's our brains' doing. It regulates how we feel time passing. Scientists say that when time seems to slow down, what's actually happening is our brains are laying down extra memories so we feel as if time has slowed down, see: The Slow Down of Time in Crisis.

Still, the idea of time and experiencing time is boggling. (Yes, I'm using that word a lot.) I don't understand time. I don't know what it is. Nobody knows what it is. Some have suggested that time doesn't actually exist. Others have said that all nows are still going on, even those that seem to be the past; they're still running their now wherever in the universe they are now.

Time travel has the great problem of where. If you were to travel back in time, where would you go? The earth is not in the same place it was in yesterday, it definitely isn't in the same place it was in a hundred years ago. I ask again, if you were to go back in time, where would you go? There's no fixed point anywhere that would allow you to figure where the earth has been.

Nobody knows what gravity is either for that matter, yet according to Einstein, gravity and time are inextricably linked. We can describe gravity, we can measure gravity, we can write formulas for how much gravity is affecting whatever wherever... we can describe time, we "measure" time, we can write formulas describing how fast or slow time is somewhere else compared to time on planet earth, but we don't know what time is.

Time, time dilation, how we feel time passing and exactly, "what is time anyway?" are themes of Over the Edge. One of the characters, Candan Rubeek, speaks of God, the Great I AM, as being in NOW, all nows everywhere and in such a vast now that the past and future are almost one with the present. He names the Great I AM as the one thing in the universe which is the underlying fixed Thing, the only unchanging Being from which other others things must measure and be related. Candan argues that if we are to retain our sanity in a universe in flux, God must be our center, then all will be well with us and we will make the most of now, which is really the only time we have.

Philip K. Dick quotes the Greek Pre-Socratic philosopher, Xenophanes of Colophon:

"One god there is, in no way like mortal creatures either in bodily form or in the thoughts of his mind. The whole of him sees, the whole of him thinks, the whole of him hears. He stays always motionless in the same place, it is not fitting that he should move about now this way, now that."

Dick continues this line of thought discussing Edward Hussey's book, The Pre-Socratics, and their pre-Christian ideas about God. Hussey writes:

"The arguments of Parmenides seemed to show that all reality must indeed be a mind, or an object of thought in a mind."

"In Heraclitus it is difficult to tell how far the designs in God's mind are distinguished from the execution in the world, or indeed how far God's mind is distinguished from the world."

"Anaxagoras had been driven to a theory of the microstructure of matter which made it, to some extent, mysterious to human reason."

Dick elaborates that Anaxagoras, this is the Pre-Socratic philosopher, Anaxagoras of Clazomenae who lived from 500 - 428 B.C. , "believed that everything was determined by Mind"--or as Moses put it in Genesis 1 and John put it in John 1, God the Father--He's the Master Mind who speaks everything into existence.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God...Through Him all things were made; without Him nothing was made that has been made. In Him was life..."
John 1:1, 3, 4.

"And God said, "Light BE," and light was," (my paraphrase) Genesis 1:3

The kosmos, Greek for "order or world," or as English understands it, cosmos, the entire orderly universe, is not as it appears. There is an underlying something, a Being in Now, that orders, maintains and sustains all things at an invisible level by His Word.

God spoke material light into existence. The simplicity of Genesis 1:3 should not be interpreted as lacking in scientific precision, it should not be assumed to actually be a simple thing, a kind of blathering of nonsensical words like abracadabra, no, these words are right on, describing in terms even a child can understand something a physicist can spend his entire life studying: everything comes from light.

According to I John 1:5, "God is Light." The poetic beauty of Spiritual Light creating material light from which all material things come is the kind of beauty that Einstein believed in: elegance which masquerades as simplicity. Or perhaps what should be said is that simplicity is often erroneously defined as "simple." The truth is, the most elegant things are simple and in their simplicity is infinite complexity.

Seven times the phrase, "And God said," appears in Genesis 1. Besides the fact that seven is the number of spiritual perfection, anything the Bible repeats is probably important--the author is emphasizing the role of Logos, the Word, in creation.

"The Son (the Logos, the Word) is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of His Being, sustaining all things by His powerful Word," Hebrews 1:3, NIV.

"He is the Sole Expression of the Glory of God--the Light Being, the Out-Raying of the Divine--and He is the Perfect Imprint and very Image of [God's] nature, upholding and maintaining and guiding and propelling the universe by His mighty Word of Power," Hebrews 1:3, Amplified Bible.

This underlying something that quantum physics says is in all places at the atomic level, sustaining things, running things like photosynthesis, the sense of smell and green tea's awesome health benefits are all quantum physics in action, the Logos, the Word in NOW, upholding, maintaining, guiding, propelling everything.

The character, Candan Rubeek, of Over the Edge says (in Over the Edge marsupial characters simultaneously sign and speak, so I use parenthesis to indicate sign language):

"The Eternal is the Great I AM. Only in the now can I Am be. He lives in a vast Now encompassing nows, everywhere, every time. Only He can be in your now and in mine, more aware of your now and my now than we are ourselves. (The Omniscient Omnipresent is fully attentive to every now in every atom of the universe in a way we cannot comprehend. Even in our most intimate moments we are not so attentive.)"

Candan sees the Logos, the I AM, interfacing with the material, macro world at the quantum level in NOW. The quantum physicist sees quantum processes happening everywhere in every now and calls this "entanglement." Entanglement is the concept that an atom here can affect an atom on the opposite side of the universe. This is the concept Candan is speaking of, the Logos in NOW.

When God spoke the universe into existence the words Moses recorded, those deceptively simple words, enumerate the DNA, the quantum physics, the mechanisms that are the Laws, the codes, the operations that run the entire universe--and all by His Word, the Logos, the One through Whom All Things Were Made.

Paul tells us in Romans 1:20:

"For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities--His eternal power and divine nature--have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse."

Wherever a human being cares to look, if he digs deep enough to understand, when he scratches through the layers of what seem to be, the preconceptions, the unrealities of our fantasies about reality which Dick speaks of in his essay, when we scratch through those to the bottom of what is real, we find God looking back at us...unless we don't care to see. There is no cure for willful blindness.

See Discover, February 2009, "Entangled Life," page 59 - 63.

For more discussion on time check out: In Search of Time

Robo Eyes and Snooper Robos: The Science of Over the Edge

In Over the Edge, characters use robo eyes to obtain visual and audio information. Snooper robos add tissue sampling, soil, water and air sampling to their audio/visual collecting repertoire.

The June 2008 issue of Discover magazine article titled "Shrinking Spies" reports on efforts to miniaturize un-manned spy planes such as the Predator, pictured above, now in operation over Iraq. "Shrinking such planes so that they weigh less than two ounces would result in the perfect vehicle to get a bird's-eye view of the terrain" without the annoying tendency to be spotted and shot down quite so readily. However, developers have discovered that a plane only 4 1/2 inches wide has its own set of drawbacks.

Peter Ifju, a professor of mechanical and aerospace engineering at the University of Florida, has created a flexible wing plane that can keep a steady course in the face of gusty winds. The bat wing inspired design consists of a "carbon fiber skeleton...covered with a latex membrane that pacifies gusts by acting as a shock absorber," Discover, June 2008, page 12. The downside: the little plane has a flight time of only 15 minutes--can't get a lot of spying done in fifteen minutes, but it still might have its applications even so; that's long enough to determine if a hostile is lurking in the immediate vicinity.

Clearly, the power issue must be resolved before these little planes can be put to serious use, but Professor Ifju is on his way.

photo credit: U.S. Air Force

Watch this video for an update:

Vijay Kumar: Robots That Fly and Co-operate

Deleted Material and Changes Over Time

Greetings Readers;

Ystem Aver, one of my favorite characters from the "Over the Edge" series is featured here in a short story that also appears on InkDreams.com. He has a distinctively "pirate" voice, made familiar in the "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie series. Many readers who've been critiquing the "Over the Edge, On the Brink" manuscript don't like his pirate voice. And, over time, I've come to agree with them. I could change his voice here and on InkDreams, but I think I'll leave him in his original state in both these locations.

A little trivia regarding the name "Ystem Aver:"

Long ago, when I first began to take my pleasure writing seriously (that is, I said to myself, "What's the point of putting all this time into this science fiction novel series if nobody is ever going to read it? Maybe I should try to get this published...), I was given an Apple II GS computer for writing. This computer sat on a desk near a sliding glass door opening out onto a small porch where an outside electrical outlet is available.

As I was contemplating the character now known as "Ystem Aver," lightning struck. It seemed to me, the lightning pinpointed that outdoor outlet. Fortunately, I had a "System Saver" protecting my computer. When my eyes adjusted to normal light once again and the smoke cleared, my System Saver was dead, burnt. But my computer was fine. In honor of this device which gave its life to save my work, I named the new character "Ystem Aver," a name created by simply removing the first letters from each word in (S)Ystem (S)Aver.

Here's to all the Apple II GS's out there. Some of you know how awesome those computers were. Why did Apple have to abandon that line? And here's to System Savers of all stripes that save our work from harm.

photo credit: http://www.classiccmp.org/dunfield/apple2/index.htm

Darn Domineering Left Brains and Subversive Right Brains: The Science of Over the Edge

Many characters in the Over the Edge series are marsupial humanoids. Marsupials have the fascinating quality of lacking a corpus callosum, a structure that unifies brain halves in placentals. In Over the Edge this quality is most obviously expressed by giving each brain its own language. Characters' left brains use abstract symbols for writing and assigned sounds for verbal language while right brains use a hieroglyphic, picture based language for writing and sign language for "speaking."

Scientists have discovered that placental brains divide duties. The left brain is not only in charge of language, but also of math and logic. The right brain tends to spatial abilities, face recognition, visual imagery and music. For prosopagnosics, people who realize they're looking at a human face, but have no clue who the person is, not having this right brain ability is a problem. When a prosopagnosic doesn't recognize the person standing right in front of him, perhaps his wife or father, he also cannot link what he knows about the person to the human he sees--the beloved is a complete stranger until he or she introduces him or herself. This is the right brain showing its critical role in how well the whole person can function.

(See: http://www.brainconnection.com/topics/?main=fa/face-perception5 for more information and while there, take a face recognition test.)

In Over the Edge, the right brain operates on equal footing with the left brain. It's able to let its thoughts and ideas be known. In human beings, the right brain isn't given language and must do its work in the background, as "helper" to the dominant left brain. But in Over the Edge, the right brain can assert itself and potentially create all kinds of trouble for its domineering peer.

"Language seems to override an innate ability to understand spatial relations," says the Scientific American, January 2007 issue, page 28. Researchers compared Dutch adults and children with adults and children from a hunter-gatherer society in Namibia. When faced with five cups, one hiding a block, the Dutch could locate the hidden block when its location was described in relation to the speaker--for instance, "look to my right." The Namibians beat the Dutch under absolute geocentric conditions, using directions such as "look to the south." "When four-year old German children and great apes were tested, both preferred environment-centered processing." The testing "suggests language alters an innate preference."

It's that darned, bossy, controlling left brain. How to tone it down a bit and let the right brain speak? In Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, by Betty Edwards, readers can practice many drills designed to put the right brain in charge--a useful skill if one desires to tap into its full potential. (Yeah, shut up you domineering left brain and let me have some of the limelight.) Her students exhibit dramatic improvement in artistic abilities when the left brain is pushed to the back and the right brain can shine. As an writer/artist who's experienced this power shift, the sensation is both a little unsettling and highly liberating.

In Over the Edge a couple of characters have some trouble with "warring brains," that is their normally happily, coexisting brains decide to feud. Talk about a really unpleasant situation. Try having a fist fight with yourself! It only works if each brain is equally in earnest and boy, when they are, it can really hurt! Note: this type of conflict has been discovered in human beings who've had their corpus callosums cut.

Surgeons may cut an epileptic's corpus callosum in an effort to provide relief from severe seizures. The corpus callosum is "a broad, thick mass of nerve connecting the cerebral hemispheres" (see: http://www.indiana.edu/~pietsch/split-brain.html ). In placental brains there's another bridge called the anterior commissure, which is also cut.

Dr. H. G. Gordon, a neurobiologist at the California Institute of Technology believes connections at the back of the brain alone are enough to integrate both human minds. Thus, a new style of this operation leaves the rear part of the corpus callosum in tact. But early operations cut the whole thing rendering some patients into Jekyll and Hyde types.

Roger Sperry neuropsychologist and Nobel Laureate, called the brain, "Two separate realms of conscious awareness; two sensing, perceiving, thinking and remembering systems."

Michael Gazzaniga, who did his graduate work with Sperry, conducted psychological tests on early "split-brain" patients. "Gazzaniga made a startling discovery. If the patient held up something like a comb or a coffee cup in his left hand, he couldn't speak its name. Transferred to the right hand -- no trouble at all."

This interpretive bent first appeared in tests of split-brain patients shown two pictures simultaneously, one to each eye, that is, one to each hemisphere but unavailable to the other eye and hemisphere. Participants then perused an assortment of additional pictures and chose the item most closely related to each of the original pictures.

"For instance, one man had a picture of a chicken claw flashed to his left hemisphere and a picture of a snow scene presented to his right hemisphere. From the ensuing selection of pictures, he correctly chose a shovel with his left hand (controlled by the right hemisphere (this would be the side without language)) and a chicken with his right hand (controlled by the left hemisphere (this would be the side with language)). When asked to explain his choices, he responded: "Oh, that's simple. The chicken claw goes with the chicken, and you need a shovel to clean out the chicken shed." Gazzaniga concluded that the left brain observed the left hand's choice of a shovel - which stemmed from the right brain's nonverbal, inaccessible knowledge - and proffered an explanation based its own fowl information," (see: http://pegasus.cc.ucf.edu/~fle/gazzaniga.html ).

Imagine how his mute right brain felt at having its selection so wrongly interpreted! "No, you overbearing, intellecutal moron, the shovel goes with the snow--the snow!"

In Over the Edge the marsupial, split-brain premise takes the issue to a spiritual level. The biblical book of James delves into this realm extensively, encouraging individuals to base their thinking on one thing and to bring their "warring brains" into compliance with that thing--the Word of God. "Anyone who listens to the Word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not fogetting what he has heard, but doing it--he will be blessed in what he does," James 1:23-25. "...a double-minded man, (is) unstable in all he does," James 1:8. Scientists have proved that one.

How many psychological problems do we human beings suffer because our brains are not in agreement? The right brain, denied language, might instigate depression or some other manifestation of its unhappiness or unease and the domineering left brain might never be able to understand what the heck is going on. Taking drugs to self-medicate or doctor-prescribed drugs in order to buy himself some peace, the person might only need to get in touch with his right brain to finally have it. Like the man who cannot recognize his own wife or father, or the woman who forgets her own face, the person whose left and right brains are not in agreement is a miserable soul indeed.

Image credit: http://www.brainconnection.com/topics/?main=fa/face-perception2

Hide in Plain Light: The Science of Over the Edge

Scientific American reports, "Mere months after making a technologically feasible proposal, researchers have demonstrated a rudimentary example of an invisibility cloak." The object is made of metal and wires embedded in fiberglass, it makes light act weird. David Schurig and David Smith of Duke University, along with other colleagues, designed concentric rings of the "metamaterial" that bend microwave radiation around the innermost ring, "like water flowing around a stone."

Schurig says, "We've reduced both the reflection and the shadow generated by the object, and those are two essential features of the invisibility cloaking." See Science, November 10th issue for more details. "Getting the technology up and running was easier than they anticipated, the researchers say, but don't expect Harry Potter's cloak anytime soon," page 28, Scientific American, January 2007 issue.

Minan Chameleon Battle Skin--maybe not too far off.

Update, December 2011:

"Defense contractor BAE Systems field-tested an invisibility cloak in July that can make a tank look like a car, a boulder, or even a cow. Onboard infrared cameras scan the surrounding scene, and thermal tiles covering the tank display that imagery, causing the vehicle to blend in with its environment," The Year in Science, Discover, 100 Top Stories of 2011, page 47.

This technology is the very similar to the fictional technology described in Over the Edge: The Beginning, the first volume of the series published in 2004. The series is presently being rewritten in order to reboot with a new publisher.

Reeser the Synesthete: The Science of Over the Edge

Vasily Kandinsky (who painted Composition VIII shown above) "imagined he could hear the tone of his paintings as he made them," says Kathryn Garfield in a Discover, December 2006 issue (page 19). In book two of the Over the Edge series, Reeser has a vision in which music becomes "chocolate in his ears and delicious, deep red roses in his mouth."

"This confounding perception--called synesthesia--was thought to affect at most about 4 percent of the population," continues Garfield in her article. "...but a University College London professor, Jamie Ward, has uncovered the best evidence yet that we may all have a bit of synesthesia."

Mr. Ward asked a random 200 visitors at a museum in London to view two musical animations. One animation was designed by synesthetes and the other by non-synesthetes. The volunteers preferred the synesthete-designed animation as a better match, animation to music, than the non-synesthete designed piece. The study indicates that though they didn't realize it, participants' senses were synchronized better than anyone imagined.

Wonder if unconscious synesthetes can learn to tap their unrecognized abilities? By the way, spinach really does taste green.

Space Trash & Scavenger Robos: The Science of Over the Edge

The June 2006 issue of Scientific American posted an article on page 26 titled: Data Points: Girdled by Garbage.

"Discarded rockets, exploded satellites, paint flecks and even human waste contribute to the earth's orbital litter." Our space trash is hazardous to space travelers: "Even if humans stopped launching satellites now, debris will increase after 2055" because bits broken from larger pieces will increase the total quantity and will "exceed the rate of destruction by reentry burn-up."


Fact Sheet:

"Percentage of orbital objects that are debris: 93

Number of fragments at least 10 centimeters wide: 9,000

Combined mass, in kilograms: 5 million

Number of known orbital collisions, 1991-2005: 3

Number of collisions expected in the next 200 years: 18

Number of collisions expected to be catastrophic: 11"

Stated source for information: U.S. Strategic Command Science, January 20, 2006.

Sounds like NASA needs some scavenger robos.

The hazards of space trash: Space Debris

Cleaning up space junk

NASA photo: Ed White Space Walk

Short Story: Ystem Aver Goes Over the Edge

Early afternoon sun beat into the clearing, a man-made hole in the verdant jungle far from any civilized outpost. Humidity pressed in, invisible rays of light boiled the air.

Captain Ystem Aver, a full-blooded Celian, stood opposite his step-father who gazed at him across an early fire. His maroon tinted skin was much lighter than that of men standing nearest him. Too long in space, he thought wondering if the ruling class’s preference for lighter skin was still the measure of beauty. Not that it’ll do ye any good.

Ystem’s eyeliner tattooed lids hardly fluttered while the sea blue orbs they shielded remained firm and calm. He wore a white silk shirt with full sleeves caught tight around his wrists. A silver ring adorned one finger. A black leather belt with a “Celtic” style belt buckle in silver held up wide leg pants stuffed into calf high, black leather boots. His Kaildescope perched on his belt.

Through his Kaildescope he knew everything happening aboard his ship. He knew the state of the engine plants, the health of his gardens and if the assigned men were poised in readiness as he’d commanded, a laser target set on the head of the man now glaring balefully at him.

Walusi, his mother, crouched on the ground near her husband, her eyes fixed on her son.

Konobana folded his arms across his chest, his own teal green silk shirt rustling in the deadly silence. For a long moment, only a bird spoke, the jungle oddly quiet, the insects hardly murmuring, a gentle undertow of concern. At last, Konobana sneered.“What say ye, son? I purchased ye and yer mother, keeping ye both from a fate worse than death. I bought a fine education fer ye in the Federated Planets’ space merchant schools--will ye be honoring yer debt or snub yer loving Father once again.” Simultaneously he signed, “(Look at ye, soaking up the fine ideas they be teachin’ ye? Eh? I kin see their idleness in the set o’ yer jaw. Ye any wiser fer yer stay ‘mongst the soft, city dwelling folk?)”

Ystem considered the distance to his gun. “Aye, ye bought me education and me heart be grateful even into the Great Beyond, but I no be doing any thing ye bid-me knowing yer black heart all too well. There be many fine chores, legal ones ye kin be sending me to bear fer ye, but I will no break a law, be it man-made or divine.” He ignored Knonbana’s signed insults; his hands merely emphasizing his spoken words.

“Aye, so say ye,” Konobana snarled as he grabbed Walusi’s hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. His knife, glinting in the sun, pressed at her throat. He nodded to the men standing behind Ystem. One moved away noiselessly as all jungle tribes’ people were trained to do.

Ystem strained his ears to discern the man’s direction. His space jet stood about fifteen yards away, two of his crew an honor guard, but hardly equal to the hundred or so men Konobana had brought with him to the meeting.

Konobana said, his voice grating, “What say ye now? Eh?" Simultaneously he signed, the thumb holding the knife, the fingers moving, creating an odd slurring sign language. "(Me thinks fer the life o’ yer beloved Mother, ye do most anything, eh?)” He chanced a quick glance at one of his men as he chortled, turning his face back to Ystem. “Ye do honor yer mother, do ye nay?”

The man, a middle-aged Celian with no tattooed eyeliner gracing his lids, nodded and smiled. He was shirtless, wearing a leather vest, silk leggings and ankle high moccasins. His aqua eyes fixed on Ystem, their cold, reptilian glimmer unmistakable.

Ystem moved his fingers another tiny fraction closer to his gun. Ah, so that be his Most Trusted. With his other hand he signed, “(I say, ye be a fool.) Ye no be telling me the task, I no be making promises.”

Rustling in the brush behind let him know a group of about fifteen approached. He forced himself to choke back the sigh of relief pressing at his lips. Me men’r safe. The group skirted around the fire to stand near his mother, Walusi, whose eyes still stared at her son, her knees in the loose, black dirt, an insect boldly crawling up her leg.

Fourteen of the group were chained together, their clothes torn and dirty, their hair matted, their faces downcast. Ystem waited, his eyes flicking between Konobana and the bedraggled prisoners.

Konobana threw his head in the direction of the bound men and women. “They be needing transporting to a waiting ship presently in orbit just above us.” Simultaneously as he spoke, Konobana signed, “(I be knowing ye kin carry the lot o’ them in yer space jet. Ye kin fulfill your filial duty in this one deed fer me and ye then be shut o’ me for me lifetime.)”

Ystem’s mouth edged to a smirk. “Do they? An’ why they be needing transported? (One foul deed merits another and me beholding to yer knife will see no end until ye or I be gathered to our fathers.)” No expression entered his eyes as he spoke and signed, but he’d already assessed the readiness of the men immediately surrounding Konobana. They were untrained and already restless, their ears only half-listening and their senses fogged as blood-lust rose in their ears. Ystem had seen the look many times around similar council fires.

Konobana’s knife brought a droplet of blood to Walusi’s neck. It dribbled slowly a few inches before stopping, the drop and its trail drying on her deeply tanned, maroon tinted skin. She made no sound though her eyes closed for a moment, the black tattooed eyeliner on her lids pronounced clearly on her blanching skin, her aubergine lips whitening with pressure.

Konobana hissed. “They be me property and I be wanting ‘em transported. Are ye daft? (I promise ye, son, this be the single deed I require.)”

Ystem counted ten slow breaths and straightened his posture, loosening his shoulders and relaxing his muscles. “I no be a slave runner. (An’ ye be a liar.)”

Konobana’s thrust was swift and his rage unmistakable. “(No man calls me a liar and lives to tell.)”

Ystem felt the blade finger his hair and heard its whispers of death as it passed, but he didn’t move, not even his eyelids. The men behind him fell to the ground, their bodies making the characteristic thud of lungs air-filled as they dropped to avoid the weapon. He heard the knife crashing harmlessly into the brush a few yards behind him. A disturbed bird skittered into the sky.

Konobana laughed and yanked Walusi’s hair one final time before tossing her head carelessly toward the fire. “I knew ye no be doin’ this task fer me. Ye be too wedded to the Law o’ your Father," Konobana paused to spit, "An' The Way of The Eternal.” His signing took on a particularly derisive tone. “(Devotion to the Ten Words were always yer failing. Fer Him ye'd kill yer own Mother.) Fetch me a drink, woman, and tend to yer son. His thirst be mighty ‘bout now I expect.”

Walusi smoothed her hair and adjusted the bodice of her dusky purple dress. She got to her feet, walking slowly toward one of the pack animals standing patiently ever since Ystem had been brought to this clearing. The creatures happily chewed feed in sacks tied round their muzzles.

One day I be buying ye safe from ‘im, Ystem promised her, the thought unspoken, but intensely felt. His mother glanced at him and smiled. His head inclined toward her, a tiny movement hardly worth note.

“Ah, yea, ye be a fool to be clinging to that religion,” Konobana said, now crouching near the fire. He picked up a stick and threw it into the flame. “(Take ‘em back to the holding pen,)” he signed to the guard.

Guard nodded and led the bound group away, their weariness heavy in the air.

Mentally, through the Kaildescope, Ystem commanded his men to stand down for the moment. If Konobana had taken his mother’s life, the lives of every person in the immediate vicinity, save his own men, would have been forfeit. His own life most assuredly, but not until he’d invited however many The Eternal gave him into the Great Beyond with either his pistol or the knife secured in his boot. Not a few answering to the laser that would have first removed Konobana from this life placing him into the next to face his Maker.

Ystem ventured a quick glance around the clearing, taking a rapid count of heads. “Now ye satisfied yerself o’ me nerve, what task have ye fer me?”

Konobana laughed. One of his men sprinted to his side and whispered. Konobana’s eyes narrowed to slits. “So, ye had a laser target trained on me head, did ye?” Signing rapidly with his hands, he added, “(Ye plottin’ to kill me an’ everythin’ else within range?)”

Ystem folded his arms across his chest. “Aye, I did. An’ if ye be killin’ me mother, ye woulda felt its burn.” He freed one hand to sign, “(Nay, me men survive.)”

Konobana swung his opened palm signifying the whole camp. “An’ in the split second it take yer men to fry me brains—happen chance I move? Eh? Then ye be killing yer own mother?” He didn’t answer Ystem’s signed remark.

“Did ye no hear me? I be saying, in the case ye kill me mother--then ye and all yers be dead men.” Ystem snarled, finally permitting a show of emotion.

Konobana laughed. “An’ ye yerself too…”

Ystem answered. “Aye, if ye be killing me mother, it’s a given. But nay before I take a few of yers with me into the Great Beyond. (An’ man, I take the lot o’ ye. Afterward we all be standin’ in The Presence and then ye be takin’ note.)”

“Dinna yer fine Ten Words be commanding, “Ye shall no murder?” Konobana asked. “(Yer blood lust be no fittin’ measure o’ a fine religious man.)”

“Aye, it do.” Ystem watched a change suddenly occurring in the camp. Three tents were rapidly going up, their jungle camouflage failing to disguise the expensive fabrics. The men placed luxury camp chairs near charcoal braziers soon burning fragrant incense to ward off night insects. “(Me blood lust, eh? Me be wishin’ ye face to face with yer Maker--in this life preferably.)”

“But if ye be killing me and mine, then ye be committing murder,” Konobana sneered. “(I have no maker, ‘cept the slime o’ this place.)”

“Nay, self-defense be no murder.” Ystem answered, suddenly tired of his step-father’s taunts. “What say ye? Ye be baitin’ me, hopin’ to get a rise or ye be tellin’ me what ye be wantin’? (I no be callin’ ye slime, ye done it yerself.)”

Konobana laughed. “I be showin’ ye I no be vindictive. I kin forgive ye yer slights and to further prove me actual good intentions, I make the slaves a gift to ye. (All life come from the slime, includin’ yer self-righteous self.)”

Ystem’s blood froze. For the first time he was unsure of what to say next. Using his Kaildescope he contacted the ship in the “Morse Code” version of the signed portion of the ancient dual Celian tribal tongue Ystem used. Through the Kaildescope he communicated, “(Are me men by the jet remaining in this world?)”

His First Mate replied, the clicking morse code sounding in his brain. “(Aye, Cap'ain, they be yet alive and yer step-father’s men be bringing ‘em food.)”

Ystem snapped a quick reply. “(Be tellin’ em, no be eatin’ anything my step-father’s men be givin’ em. The food stored in the jet be more fittin’ fare if they wish to continue in this life.)”

First Mate responded. “(Aye, Cap'an.)”

Ystem continued, mentally clicking out the code. “(An’ be tellin’ em, one sleep now and the other keep watch.)”

“(Aye, Cap'an, I be tellin’ ‘em even now.)”

“(Good.)” Ystem’s attention had been divided. He was surprised to see a new man enter the camp. Ah, ye fool. Yer first mistake, he reprimanded himself.

A foppish, lanky limbed fellow wearing fine designer clothes walked to Konobana’s side.

Ystem bowed. “Afore I kin be acceptin’ yer “gift” I must needs pray.”

Konobana’s lips curled in disdain. “Pray?”

“Aye,” Ystem said wearily. “Listen man, I no be quitting me faith fer no amount o’ yer jeering--what your way got you has no appeal fer me.”

Konobana laughed. “Yer legendary calm be shot to hell.”

Ystem’s squinted and he fought down the blush that threatened to swamp his face. Yer second mistake. He be gettin’ a rise out o’ ye an’ ye be a fool. Deliberately he turned his back on his step-father, his skin crawling with unease and walked to his jet.

One of his men had slung a hammock under the jet and was already dozing. The other crouched atop its fuselage, his laser gun charged and his finger ready on the trigger.

Ystem smiled his pleasure. “Aye, ye be fine men, aye and aye agin. Ye be earning extra half-time me thinks.”

A faint smile crept up the lips of the supposedly dozing man. His companion chanced a quick glance at his Captain, a grin in reply.

“As ye were,” Ystem said softly and crouched under the jet. He prayed silently. What say ye now, LORD? Aught I be taking the captives or nay?

Sunlight was quickly fading and Ystem felt pleased to note his men had their night vision goggles clipped to their belts, ready. He glanced around the small clearing his jet had created while landing. The jungle noises, seeming distant only minutes earlier, were closing in, but unlike a Kabelian man raised in the desert or an Ephonian man raised in the tundra, close places did not disturb him, on the contrary, wide open places had that effect. Ystem was jungle born and well acquainted with each bird that spoke, each insect that ranted and each mammal grunting in his immediate vicinity. From their noises he knew none of Konobana’s men had changed their earlier positions and the season had thus far been good for the beasts.

Ystem waited, listening, with both his physical ears and his spiritual ears. Finally, he understood. Take the captives, but know ye this, they be meant to trap ye. He thought in reply, Aye, I be takin’ ‘em since Ye be commandin’ it. A new thought came to him. Konobana be settin’ one more trap fer ye this very evenin’. Well met, ye no take ‘is bait, but be wary o’ flattery, especially from this son o’ his ‘e be askin’ ye to take. Yea, ye take ‘im as yer step-father be askin’ but be wary. He means ‘im fer yer ill, but I be meanin’ it fer yer good. Ystem nodded and thought, a tinge of exhaustion infringing upon his peace. I be in fer another round o’ trainin’. And he knew the answer was “Aye. This life is all trainin'.”

Carefully, Ystem moved from under the jet and looked up at the man perched above. “Listen,” he said, pitching his voice to fall dead outside a ten foot circle. “If’n I no be comin’ back by mornin’ ye and Arcan be leavin’ me carcass here.”

Arcan broke off his careful scanning of his surroundings and peered down at his Captain. “Cap'an?”

Ystem signed, his face earnest. “(I be coming back by morn. Be alert. This be no fine, entertainment.)”

Arcan saluted. “(Aye, Cap'an, I long since be knowin’ this be no fine entertainment. It have no resemblance to any fine entertainment I ever be enjoyin’!)”

Ystem chuckled and crept quietly back to the camp.

Konobana still crouched by the fire and the lanky fop sprawled in one of the fine camp chairs as Ystem entered the grounds. Night was falling quickly in the already twilit jungle. The smell of cooking meat drifted toward him, its delicious odor tempting him.

Konobana got to his feet and gestured toward the lanky youth. “This be me son by me first wife, Donicara. (Ye never hear o’ her, I expect, as she failed me long before I met ye.)”

Ystem froze. His step-father’s tone was far too solicitous. He bowed to the seated man and signed the proper greeting. The young man didn’t rise as politeness required, but languidly returned the greeting.

Frowning, Konobana made the sign “rise up” to his son.

The lanky young man stood, returning Ystem's bow with just enough humility to avoid insult.

“Me step-son, Ystem Aver, be knowing me son, Moon Ealay.” Konobana spoke awkwardly, his eyes averted to the ground as he signed the introductions.

“Moon,” Ystem said, bowing his head a fraction.

“Ystem,” Moon replied, keeping his head upright. His eyes seemed to dance with wicked anticipation.

“Be sitting.” Konobana commanded. “(We shall feast tonight.)” He led the way.

One of his men raised the tent flap and a golden-lit scene was revealed complete with elegantly set table and tall candelabra. He signaled the men to their seats. Konobana’s Most Trusted entered, lifting a corner flap to join the men at the table.

He be wanting me for a task, he no be killin’ me tonight, Ystem thought as he rubbed his hands together. “I smelt the delicious repast as I walked back to yer camp.”

“Aye, me cook be the greatest.” Konobana replied with pleasure. “(Fer the moment, you and I forget our differences and enjoy, eh?)”

Ystem stared at Konobana, then replied. “(Very well, fer the moment.)”

Konobana laughed. Others of his men appeared bearing steaming plates of fresh meat, cold fruits and vegetables and the group set to.

The meal completed and the sherbet before them, Konobana broke the truce. “Ystem I be asking ye to take Moon as yer apprentice.”

Ystem’s spoon stopped an inch above his bowl.

Konobana’s eyes seemed to hold no guile. “Aye, that’s what I be askin’. (And me request no be illegal…ye kinna deny me.)”

“Ye be giftin’ me the slaves and ye be askin’ me to train yer son…” Ystem repeated.

“Aye. Yer understandin’ me correctly.” Konobana smiled broadly.

“I reckon ye be meanin’ me harm by yer machinations, but I be doin’ as ye bid when ye be lettin’ me Mother free.” Ystem spoke then wiped his mouth with his napkin. "(Be letting me Mother free.)"

Konobana’s smile faded. “Ye be a fool if’n yer thinkin’ I give up me hostage and give ye one!” He snorted and turned to the side, pushing his chair away from the table in one motion. "(She be me wife and yer insults tear me heart.)"

Ystem’s eyes narrowed. “I be no makin’ secrets--me Mother free be my goal. (Wife or no, she not be a free woman.)”

“I ken ye be wantin’ yer Mother free, I no be an idiot.” Konobana rested a forearm on the table and the other on the back of his chair. “(An’ this be the way ye treat yer long suffering step-father.)” He shook his head in irritation. “(I ask so little o’ ye.)”

Ystem burst into laughter. “(Aye, ye ask little o’ me, but when ye do ye ask big.) Very well then, leave it lie. I take yer son as apprentice, but under certain conditions.”

Konobana’s head rotated in Ystem’s direction. “And what be they?”

“First,” Ystem began, pointing with his spoon. “He obey me commands to the letter else I ship ‘im back to ye faster’n ‘e kin spit.”

Konobana’s head continued its rotation to stare at Moon. “What say ye? Kin ye keep this condition? (I be agreein’ to it if it were me, it no be unreasonable.)”

Moon’s eyes narrowed. “Aye, I agree.”

“Second,” Ystem continued. “He do the work assigned ‘im with no complaint. (I warn ye, I be a hard master. Me men are the most fit, most able-bodied space men ye’ll find in the Federated Planets an’ I’ll brook nothing less.)”

Konobana adjusted his position to face the table once again and glanced at Moon. “He no be asking unreasonably o’ ye.”

Moon frowned. “Aye, I agree to do the work with no complaint.”

Ystem nodded. “Fer any infraction I kin send ye back to yer father, no explanations offered. In me case I will honor my promise and train ye as me apprentice, I no be askin’ more o’ ye than I ask o’ meself or me men.” He finished the sherbet quickly. “Third, he git no pay until I say ‘e earned it.” Ystem placed one palm on his thigh and turned his eyes to Moon.

Moon’s face was now carefully blank. “Aye, I agree to your terms.”

“Fourth,” Ystem said, “Ye kin take no slave nor servant to wait on ye, ye’ll wait on yerself as I and all me men do.”

Moon’s laugh was cold. “Fine, I’ll take no servants.”

Ystem stared hard. “Finally, I no trust ye. (Be knowin’ up front, ye no be trusted. Ye’ll be watched.)”

Moon folded his arms over his chest. “I’d be ashamed of you if you did trust me. (I expected to be watched.)” The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable.

When Ystem turned his attention to Konobana he didn’t like the wily look that met his gaze.

“So, it be settled then. (An’ ye soon be seein’ the end o’ yer filial duty to me.)” Kononbana laughed and rose to his feet. The three men shook on the bargain with the typical Celian handshake, slapping opened palms and then clasping firmly.

*****

Moon’s servant followed a bell robo bearing his two large trunks to the space jet where Ystem’s men stood, their laser pistols charged and ready. The group of fourteen slaves fidgeted on the sidelines, their chains rattling in the pre-dawn damp. Konobana, Moon and Ystem approached from the camp, their foot-falls hardly audible even to discerning ears.

“Well then, take yer leave o’ me and I wish ye success in yer ventures.” Konobana said expansively, moving his hands in a similarly kind sentiment.

Moon grimaced.

Ystem bowed, but did not reply. To his men he commanded, “Load the slaves first.”

Bloon, gestured to the frightened, shivering group as he lowered the ramp. “Go on and I’ll be meetin’ ye inside.”

The fourteen bedraggled slaves clanged up the ramp with Bloon behind them. Ystem gestured toward the jet, inviting Moon to make his entrance, then followed him with Arcan bringing up the rear, his laser pistol ready. Bloon placed the slaves in a secure cabin, settling outside their door on a jump seat while Moon joined Arcan in the main passenger cabin. Ystem was about to close the ramp when a girl rushed out of the brush past Konobana and his retinue.

“Captain Aver,” the girl called. She bowed and waited at the foot of the ramp.

Ystem paused, then came down to meet her. “What is it?”

“(Your mother sent me with a note.)” The girl glanced nervously at Konobana who folded his arms across his chest, frowning.

Ystem took the note and opened it. “My son, the LORD has commanded me to release you from your vow to obtain my liberty. (Go and be free to choose as He would want without concern for me. He will care for me and one day I shall be free, even if that day is the day when I join my fathers in the Great Beyond.)” The note was signed, “All my love, Mother.” Ystem stared at the girl a moment, then bowed. “Thank ye.” He signed a proper farewell and returned to the top of the ramp. When he looked back, the girl was already gone, disappeared into the surrounding bush.

*****
It was a short jump from the planet surface to the Hardship, a half-size deep space vessel one mile wide and eleven hundred fifty feet tall; a squashed sphere of diamond, gold, titanium and carbon steel. The space jet docking bay’s lens-like egress opened at his approach and the jet landed neatly in the center of the white enameled maw. As soon as the gate closed, men leaped from the protection of air-filled booths to tie down the jet and secure its perimeter.

The slaves were led away to a holding pen where criminals were kept when the Hardship hauled such charges. Though Ystem’s sympathies lay with the slaves they were down trodden, perhaps uncertain of their identities and viability as worthy persons and likely primed to believe him a murderer. Better to be safe, he thought, watching his men lead them away.

“Ho, so this is the famous Hardship,” Moon said happily. “(Oh the things I’ve heard...you haul the most dangerous cargoes they say...the stuff others won’t touch.)”

“Yes, this be she.” Ystem answered cautiously. “(That’s me specialty an’ it’s a specialty requirin’ all a man’s wits, a goodly lot o’ nerve and every scrap of self-discipline a man kin train ‘imself to acquire and then more.)” He studied Moon through his brows while the younger man gazed in wonder at the vast space jet docking bay. Mechanic robos were already climbing over the jet doing routine maintenance before moving the it to its more permanent dock.

Moon’s eyes were unreadable as he spoke. “They say you are the greatest Celian Captain alive, Captain Ystem Aver.”

Ystem’s face showed his skepticism and Moon prepared to add a signed comment, but was interrupted.

“The prisoners are secured,” one of the men spoke as he hurried up to Ystem.

“Good. (I want ye listenin’ to ‘em day an’ night.)” he said. The man nodded and hurried back the way he’d come. “Arcan, show Moon to his quarters.” Ystem ordered. “Moon, when ye’ve looked ‘em over, meet me in the cockpit.”

Moon nodded, looking slightly puzzled.

“Arcan be showin’ ye how.” Ystem said and strode away. He busied himself in the control booth as Arcan and Moon passed through on their way down the corridor to the tube, the hollow energy elevator that ran from top to bottom of every modern deep space vessel using the gravitational drive invented by the great Kabelian scientist, Candan Rubeek.

Bloon stopped next to his Captain, openly watching Arcan lead Moon across the steel floor and down the hall. “What possessed ye to take ‘im on?”

“Konobana, me step-father, promised me I’d be shut o’ ‘im if I trained Moon for apprentice.” Ystem answered. “(An’ we’ll be needing to watch him like the wolf he be.)”

Bloon nodded. “An’ the human cargo we acquired along with ‘im, what ye make o’ that lot? (Ye be tradin’ slaves now, Cap’an?)”

Ystem answered. “What I make o’ ‘em, I kinna tell ye till I speak with ‘em, but first they be needin’ to learn a bit o’ trust and me thinks they lack it. (I no be tradin’ slaves. When I kin, I be takin’ ‘em home.)”

Bloon nodded again, keeping further thoughts to himself.

*****

“Cap’an, they’re Ansi tribesmen--the whole lot o’ ‘em.” Arcan muttered as he sat at the Captain’s table in the dining area in his quarters.

The far wall, opened to the jungle, let a monkeen's scream into the room while birds cawed and dusk fell. The Hardship’s garden level boasted three mini eco-systems ringing the command crew quarters hugging the tube, its brushed steel exterior visible above their rooftops and pressing through the ceiling, an apparent “sky.” A third of the available garden acreage was devoted to jungle with 300-foot trees in the tallest portion nearest the tube. The central third was devoted to semi-arid transition land leading up to the final third, a Lieban styled forest climbing a “mountain” up to the space worthy wall abutting the rear of the jungle. This mountain received snow in the winter and supported a small herd of deer-like creatures. Digital screens lined the ceiling and garden hull walls giving the illusion of sky, distant vistas and the real sensation of sunlight or moonshine.

“Ansi?” Ystem asked, his mouth full. A breeze rustled the sheers at the floor to ceiling opening—its folding windows pushed aside so that the exterior was actually merely an extension of Ystem’s living space.

“Aye. (They’re all blood price sold.)” Arcan’s elbow rested on the solid, polished table.

Ystem threw his napkin. “What? (Blood price sold?!)”

“Aye,” Arcan answered calmly. “(That’s what they be telling H’Seth. ‘E’s the one I sent in there preten’in ‘e be also a slave.)”

Ystem waved his hand. “(I be no confused--I well ken yer plot.) I’m askin ye: be ye certain--blood price sold?”

“Aye, I be certain. (They be adamant sir. Blood price sold and feared o’ going ‘ome. Upon showin’ their faces to their people, they be dead men and women--the lot o’ ‘em.)”

Ystem’s face purpled and he pushed his chair away from the table, his appetite gone. “This be a foul stink. (A fine squirm in the stew, aye and aye again.)”

“Aye, an’ ye be set on sendin’ ‘em ‘ome and it be sendin’ ‘em to their deaths.” Arcan said reaching for a fruit Ystem had left untouched.

The Captain ignored him as he helped himself to the food. “Mayhap the Old Wolf be seein’ this a chance to gift his son a ship, eh?”

“Aye, likely. He bein’ the closest kin and all that.” Arcan mumbled as he peeled.

Ystem dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling where wood beams divided the glittering white stucco into trays. “Or, ‘e laugh as ‘e make me a de facto slave owner.”

“Aye, it look that a’way.” Arcan stuffed another bite into his mouth.

“That be good fruit or no?” Ystem asked suddenly, his attention fixed on Arcan’s juice smeared mouth.

“Well, aye it be! (And so it is!)” Arcan laughed.

Ystem chuckled bitterly. “ ‘E promised me I’d be shut o’ ‘im, but I knew ‘e were laying a trap fer me and ‘e were--aye ‘e were. (Thank you and ye be leaving the rest o’ those victuals for me!)”

Arcan got to his feet, grabbing one more piece of fruit. “(Aye Cap’an, I be seeing ye in the mornin’.)”

Ystem listened to Arcan's boots as he walked across the wood floor to the travertine tiled entry and out into the tube, the door clicking shut behind him.

“So what say Ye now,” Ystem murmured. “(What say Ye now, LORD?)”

The intimate Voice sounded in his head; The Presence filled the room like a cloud. Ye be freein’ ‘em that’s what ye set out to do. I be with ye and ye shall not fail nor shall yer head go down to the grave.

A cold sweat broke out on Ystem’s forehead. “Aye, that’s what I set out to do. (If Ye be with me, then I go.)” He got to his feet and strolled to the opened windows pulling first one side shut then the other as rain began to fall.

*****

After a full night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast of all his favorites, Ystem rode the energy elevator up to the cockpit and fell into his command chair. The familiar morning crew worked at their stations, little to occupy their attention as they’d just unloaded a cargo before meeting Konobana and had no new cargo, save the slaves, to manage or destination set. Ystem spoke. “We’re headin’ back down to the planet to the Ansi tribal grounds. (I be needin’ a solution for me course to the Ansi tribal grounds.)”

“Aye, Captain,” his Lieban Navigator replied and instantly set to at his computer. Scat already circulated through the ship and everyone knew what was afoot. Before Ystem could leave with the disc, the plotted course saved on it, Moon arrived in the cockpit.

“Ah, Moon, I see ye come to begin learnin’ yer trade.” Ystem said casually.

“Nay, I didn’t come to learn anything save your fate.” Moon’s face was hard and smirking.

“Ah, me fate. (What do ye think me fate?)” Ystem asked.

“(You’re a dead man. All for your stupid religion and your faith in the outmoded, stupid Ten Words.)” Moon added particularly sarcastic emphasis to “Ten Words” signifying “useless and daft.”

“I ken the plot ye brewed with yer father and I ken ye have no clue the significance o’ either the Ten Words or their Author. (Ye be a fool if ye think I rest me fate on the Ten Words. Me life be in the Hands of The Eternal and He be able to keep it!)” Ystem spoke and signed with more conviction than he felt.

Moon laughed. “Is that so. Well, then, we shall see, won’t we? (And I am no fool. The Eternal never did anything for me and He won’t be doing anything for you either.)”

Ystem glanced at the stars and the curve of the planet through the domed, diamond window cupped protectively over the cockpit. “We shall see. But I tell ye, whether He save me or slay me, I will worship Him. (Mayhap, ye never asked Him for anything He could give ye and mayhap, if ye did, ye didna ask in faith.)”

Moon barked a sardonic laugh. “Aye, we’ll see and I’ll be laughing as I take charge of this ship--make no mistake, it’s a fine one, just as my father promised! (I don’t want anything He’d be willing to give me since He’s not interested in anything that interests me and the claim of “lack of faith” is the everyman excuse for His failure.)”

Ystem nodded, but didn’t reply, choosing instead to enjoy the view. “It’s a beautiful sight, is it no?”

“Aye, and a fitting one for a man soon to be dead.” Moon replied.

Ystem’s men bristled in their seats, but an imperceptible gesture from their Captain kept them pinned and silent. “The Ansi tribes’ home is but fifty miles from yer father’s camp. And ye ken where we’re headin’, do ye no?”

Moon sneered. “Aye, I know. (You’re going to do exactly what my father predicted you would do--give your life for that trash you took, as he said you would.)”

Ystem’s expression was unreadable. “Ah, ye think yer father a wise man, do ye no?”

Moon didn’t hesitate. “Aye, I do.”

Ystem moved past him to the tube entrance. “Well, then, ye’ll be glad to come along an’ see me fate, will ye no?”

Moon smiled, ignoring Ystem’s men whose teeth were bared, but remained rooted in their seats as their Captain had commanded. “Yea, I’d love to go. (Let’s gather everyone up.)”

*****

Ystem, Moon, Arcan and Bloon landed in a clearing not far from the Ansi Chief’s home with the fourteen slaves, still bound, but now clean and fed, in tow.

The Chief was a middle-aged man with his black, purple-tinted hair knit into multiple braids wound into a cockscomb-like configuration upon the top of his head. He strutted out of his house and paused next to the council fire opposite the place where the men stood.

“What brings you men here with the blood price slaves, eh?” Chief asked, not bothering with pleasantries or preambles.

“I come to redeem these slaves,” Ystem said, his legs planted firmly and his arms folded in resolve over his chest.

“What? Are you mad? You’re an outsider! (You don’t have to do this!)” Chief shouted, flummoxed.

“Aye, I ken I’m an outsider. I’m a God-Fearer and as such I ken the meanin’ o’ blood price--I make me sacrifices as needed as do every other decent God-Fearin’ man. I ken the blood price--yea and yea ag’in.” Ystem’s voice was measured and quiet, though clear to everyone in the vicinity.

The Chief’s wife wandered out of the house bearing a tray of refreshments. “You men please be seated.” She shot her husband a look for his inhospitable attitude.

The slaves sat on the ground while the rest took seats on stumps set in a circle around the council fire pit. When all the guests had been served Chief spoke again. “So, you’re here to redeem these murderers?”

Ystem replied, the rough, hand-made cup empty in his hand. “Aye, ye heard me correct. (It is the command of The Eternal and my fate is in His Hands.)”

“Ma’am it be a fine beverage ye be servin’,” Arcan spoke out in the lull. “(Thank ye.)”

The woman nodded and disappeared into the house. Soon several other Ansi tribe members filtered out of the undergrowth to sit in positions near their Chief.

“These men are the tribal council. We will now decide your case.” Chief began speaking to the group in their native tongue--a language Ystem did not understand. The slaves murmured, shifting uneasily behind the Captain and his men.

At last, one of the slaves leapt to his feet. “Captain Aver, you needn’t redeem me--I’ll accept my fate. (It’s better to be a dead man than a slave.)”

Two others joined him. “We stand with this man--he’s right--Captain Aver shouldn’t redeem us--he’s an outsider and has no knowledge of what we’ve done or what we deserve.”

Chief held up his hands. “He understands the blood price. I know enough of the worship of The Eternal to tell you he may understand it better than you!” He signed, answering the first speaker, “(You could have made that choice when you were condemned, but you didn’t!)”

One of the slave women burst into tears.

An overweight councilman spoke up. “Outsider, what possesses you to intervene on behalf of these murderers?”

Ystem blushed, showing emotion for the first time. “I tell ye men, I tell ye true, I was gifted these slaves by a man...”

Chief interrupted. “Would that be Konobana Ealay?”

Ystem answered. “Aye, that be the man.”

The Chief rested one elbow on his knee, his hand hanging loose, the other hand on his thigh. “We know this man. After these murderers left our camp in the company of the slave trader we heard he’d given them to Konobana to pay off a debt. (How do you know Konobana?)”

Ystem’s eyes dropped a fraction. “(Konobana is my stepfather by stint o’ purchasin’ me mother an’ me from slavers when I were but a teen.)”

Another council member spoke up. “So, you’re saying Konobana Ealay gifted you these slaves...and you’re here to pay the blood price...”

Ystem nodded his head. “Aye, that be what I’m sayin’.”

Murmuring amongst themselves, the council gestured animatedly, often glancing at Ystem and the slaves. At times their voices grew loud, though mostly they were low, almost inaudible. The sun made its course, first climbing the dome of the sky, then languidly sliding down the other side.

At long last Chief made his decision. “You’re not the man to redeem these murderers. You were deceived and trapped into this action. The man who placed you in this trap is the man who should redeem them since that is clearly the action he intended for you to take, him knowing your character and your resolve. (Konobana is the man who rightfully should finish this. You’re free to go. And when we’re through with him, your mother and all the rest he owns will be freed as well. This we will do to honor a man whose honor is greater than even our own and the likes of which we’ve never seen. And not for our kinsmen who dishonored their tribe, but who shall live anyway because of you and your willingness to sacrifice your own head for their sorry ones.)”

The whole council stood to their feet as one person and bowed low in deepest respect.

The overweight councilman spoke up once again. “And Captain Aver, when we’re home once again, you must come and tell us more about this God, The Eternal. (I am curious about a God who could inspire such bravery and honor.)”

Ystem smiled. “Aye, it shall be an honor to share Him with ye!” He also got to his feet and bowed.

Radio Tags: The Science of Over the Edge

This article is quoted from Wired News "Radio ID Tags: Beyond Bar Codes": http://www.wired.com/news/technology/0,1282,52343,00.html

"An emerging technology could usurp the ubiquitous bar code's quarter-century of quiet domination.

"Radio frequency identification (RFID) tags, which consist of silicon chips and an antenna that can transmit data to a wireless receiver, could one day be used to track everything from soda cans to cereal boxes.

"Unlike bar codes, which need to be scanned manually and read individually (you have to actually see a bar code in order to read it), radio ID tags do not require line-of-sight for reading. Within the field of a wireless reading device, it is possible to automatically read hundreds of tags a second.

"RFID systems originated in the 1940s, when the U.S. government used transponders to distinguish friendly aircraft from enemy aircraft. Through the 1970s, the federal government primarily used the systems for projects like tracking livestock and nuclear material.
Radio tags have been used commercially for delivering packages, handling luggage, tracking food in supermarkets and monitoring highway tolls."

Radio tags are mentioned in Over the Edge, book two, but have more significance later in the series when laundry radio tags used to inform laundry robos of clothing ownership and washing instructions are used to track individuals as they move about in the Aquillion. Tags that can be laundered aren't even in the production line yet, they're working on making an inexpensive tag that can be economically applied in commercial use. However, once radio tags become inexpensive and accesible, their applications may become endless. As the author of the Wired News report states, radio tags are likely to become as ubiquitous as bar codes, the previous novelty of commerical engagement.

Travel at Light Speed?

Excerpted from: How Things Work.Virginia.edu

Louis A. Bloomfield fields questions about physics:

http://rabi.phys.virginia.edu/HTW/home.html

January 19, 1999

"If you were at the back of a bus going the speed of light, and you were to run toward the front, would you be moving faster than the speed of light or turn into energy?" -- TM, Ft. Bragg, NC

"First, your bus can't be going at the speed of light because massive objects are strictly forbidden from traveling at that speed. Even to being traveling near the speed of light would require a fantastic expenditure of energy.

But suppose that the bus were traveling at 99.999999% of the speed of light and you were to run toward its front at 0.000002% of the speed of light (about 13 mph or just under a 5 minute mile). Now what would happen?

First, the bus speed I quoted is in reference to some outside observer because the seated passengers on the bus can't determine its speed. After all, if the shades are pulled down on the bus and it's moving at a steady velocity, no one can tell that it's moving at all. So let's assume that the bus speed I gave is according to a stationary friend who is watching the bus zoom by from outside.

While you are running toward the front of the bus at 0.000002% of the speed of light, your speed is in reference to the other passengers in the bus, who see you moving forward. The big question is what does you stationary friend see? Actually, your friend sees you running toward the front of the bus, but determines that your personal speed is only barely over 99.999999%. The two speeds haven't added the way you'd expect. Even though you and the bus passengers determine that you are moving quickly toward the front of the bus, your stationary friend determines that you are moving just the tiniest bit faster than the bus. How can that be?

The answer lies in the details of special relativity, but here is a simple, albeit bizarre picture. Your stationary friend sees a deformed bus pass by. Ignoring some peculiar optical effects due to the fact that it takes time for light to travel from the bus to your friend's eyes so that your friend can see the bus, your friend sees a foreshortened bus--a bus that is smashed almost into a pancake as it travels by. While you are in that pancake, running toward the front of the bus, the front is so close to the rear that your speed within the bus is miniscule. Why the bus becomes so short is another issue of special relativity. "

Louis A. Bloomfield

Marilyn W. Lathrop, author of the Over the Edge science fiction series:

"Mr. Bloomfield's explanation applies to vessels powered by the usual means. But what if the vessel is powered by gravity?

"The concept behind the physics in Over the Edge is that the gravitational drive is able to use the increasing mass of the vessel to correspondingly increase the power it generates. Of course, you can't achieve 100% light speed, but I factor in achieving only 90%. If the vessel gains mass as it accelerates and that gain in mass, which essentially is an increase in gravity, can be transformed into more speed--what would happen then? In the Over the Edge series, "deep space" ships are powered by gravitational drives that transfer the force of gravity into power and power into speed.

"Will this work? Don't know, but it's certainly more plausible than Gene Roddenberry's warp drive or Scotty's transporters! Gravity is one of the last frontiers of normal physical forces we've yet to understand. Will we eventually understand gravity? Wait and see."

October 25, 2005

Marilyn W. Lathrop

Science vs. Faith

Scientific American's September 2005 issue reports on a Templeton Foundation conference where the objective was to find common ground between science and religion. Antagonism between science and religion isn't a given; scientific pioneers such as Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton and Boyle were all devout Christians, yet they laid the foundation for modern science.

According to Scientific American, Biologist Richard Dawkins challenged physicist John Barrow's faith in a debate. Barrow emphasized the fine-tuning of the universe as an indicator of the existence of a Creator Designer.

Dawkins said, "Why not just accept that fine-tuning as a fact of nature? Why do you want to explain it with God?"

Barrow responded dryly, "For the same reason you don't want to."

"Everyone laughed except Dawkins, who protested, "That's not an answer!" Scientific American, pages 24 - 28, article titled: "Clash in Cambridge."

The foundational paradigms of persons involved in the debate are the crux of the antagonism. Barrow sees a Designer's hand at work while Dawkins refuses to. Just as Dawkins resists abandoning his paradigms, so too does Barrow and the opposing parties are at an impasse. Both assert the other party is not being reasonable or logical.

God insists He be accepted by faith. To Barrow, evidence in abundance to prove God's existence is obvious while Dawkins claims he's yet to see any. Martin Rees, author of Just Six Numbers says "the universe is unlikely, very unlikely, deeply, shockingly unlikely," yet he insists no Designer was involved. He believes our universe is only one of an infinite number of other universes, therefore it could still have been created by chance. His theory can't be proven--we can't see past the edge of our universe--he's accepting his theory by faith!

In the end, persons cannot escape the element of faith! No definitive, beyond-a-shadow-of-doubt, without-question proof that God exists and that He created everything will ever be discovered. No definitive, beyond-a-shadow-of-a-doubt, without-question proof God didn't create the universe will ever be discovered either. Whatever a person believes, it will be believed by faith. And that's just the way God wants it.

(The above image is a NASA photo)