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Thursday, March 8, 2018

Inspiration

Inspiration

By Ben Bova


I stole a glance at Albert. His eyes were riveted on Kelvin, his lips parted as if he wanted to speak but could not work up the nerve. He ran a hand nervously through his thick mop of hair. Kelvin seemed perfectly at ease, smiling affably, his hands laced across his stomach just below his beard; he was the man of authority, acknowledged by the world as the leading scientific figure of his generation.

« Can it be really true? » Albert blurted at last. « Have we learned everything of physics that can be learned? »

He spoke in German, of course, the only language he knew. I immediately translated for him, exactly as he asked his question.

Once he understood what Albert was asking, Kelvin nodded his gray old head sagely. « Yes, yes. The young men in the laboratories today are putting the final dots over the i’sm the final crossing of the t’s. We’ve just about finished physics; we know at last all there is to be known. »

Albert looked crushed.

Kelvin did not need a translator to understand the youngster’s emotion. « If you are thinking of a career in physics, young man, then I heartly advise you to think again. By the time you complete your education there will be nothing left for you to do. »

« Nothing? » Wells asked as I translated, « Nothing at all? »

« Oh, add a few decimal places here and there, I suppose. Tidy up a bit, that sort of thing. »

Dark. Photo by Elena

Albert had failed his admission test to the Federal Polytechnic in Zurich. He had never been a particularly good student. My goal was to get him to apply again to the Polytechnic and pass the exams.

Visibly screweing up his courage, Albert asked, « But what about the work of Roentgen? »

Once I had translated, Kelvin knit his brow, « Roentgen? » Oh, you mean that report about mysterious rays that go through solid walls? X rays, is ité1

Albert nodded eagerly.

« Stuff and nonsense », snapped the old man. « Absolute bosh. He may impress a few medical men who know little of science, but his X rays do not exist. Impossible! German daydreaming. »

Albert loojde at me with his whole life trembling in his piteous eyes. I interpreted :

« The professor fears that X rays may be illusory, although he does not as yet have have enough evidence to decide, one way or the other. »

Albert’s face lit up. « Then there is hope! We have not discovered everything as yet! »

I was thinking about how to translate that for Kelvin when Wells ran out of patience. « Where is that blasted waitress? »

I was grateful for the interruption. « I will find her, sir.»

The Long Way Back

The Long Way Back

By Ben Bova


Cold. Dark and so cold that numbers lost their meaning. Paralyzing cold, seeping in through the suit while you worked, crawling up your limbs until you could hardly move. The whole universe hung up in the sky and looked down on the small cold figure of a man struggling blindly with machinery he could not understand.

Dark. Dark and Cold.

Ruth stayed on the radio as long as Jasonn would allow her, talking to Tom, keeping the link with life and warmth. But finally Jason took over, and the radio went silent.

So don’t talk, Tom growled silently, I can keep warm just by hating you Jason.

He worked through the frigid night, struggling ant-like with huge pieces of equipment. Slowly he assembled the big parabolic mirror, the sighting mechanism and the atomic convertor. With dreamy motins he started connecting the intricate wiring systems.

And all the while he raged at himself : Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why me? Why did I agree to do this? I knew I’d never live through it. Why did I do it?

»He retraced the days of his life : the preparations for the flight, the arguments with Jason over exploring the cities, his trek from Chicago to the settlement, the aimless years after the radiation death of his two boys and Marjorie, his wife.

Marjorie and his boys, lying sick month after month dying one after the other in a cancerous agony while he stood by helplessly in the ruins of what had been their home.

Dark. Dark and cold. Photo by Elena

No! His mind warned him. Don’t think of that. Not that. Think of Jason, Jason who prevents you from doing the one thing you want, who is taking your life from you; Jason, the peerless leader; Jason, who’s afraid of the cities. Why? Why is he afraid of the cities? That’s the hub of everything down there. Why does Jason fear the cities?

It wasn’t until he finished connecting the satellite’s last unit – the sighting mechanism – that Tom realized the answer.

One answer. And everything fell into place.

Everything… except what Tom Morris was going to do about it.

Tom squinted through the twin telescopes of the sighting mechanism again, then pushed away and floated free, staring at the Earth bathed in pale moonlight.

What do I do now? For an instant he was close to panic, but he forced it down. Thank, he said to himself. You’re supposed to be a Homo Sapiens… use that brain. Think!

Flatland

Flatland


Let us imagine we inhabit a strange country where everyone is perfectly flat. Following Edwin Abbott, a Shakespearean scholar who lived in Victorian England, we call it Flatland. Some of us are squares, some are triangles, some have more complex shapes. We scurry about, in and out of our flat buildings, occupied with our flat businesses and dalliances.

Everyone in Flatland has width and length, but no height whatever. We know about left-right and forward-back, but have no hint, no trace of comprehension, about up-down – except for flat mathematicians. The say, “listen, it’s really very easy. Imagine left-right, imagine forward-back, ok, so far? Now imagine another dimension, at right angles to the other two. And we say: “What are you talking about? At right angles to the other two? There are only two dimensions. Point to that third dimension. Where is it?” So the mathematicians, disheartened amble off. Nobody listens to mathematicians.

Every square creature in Flatland sees another square as merely a short line segment, the sight of the square nearest to him. He can see the other side of the square only by taking a short walk. But the inside of a square is forever mysterious, unless some terrible accident or autopsy breaches the sides and exposes the interior parts.

On day a three-dimensional creature – shaped like an apple, say, comes upon Flatland, hovering above it. Observing a particularly and attractive and congenial-looking square entering its flat house, the apple decides, in a gesture of interdimensional amity, to say hello. “How are you? “ asks the visitor from the third dimension. “I am a visitor from the third dimension”. The wretched square looks about his closed house and sees no one. What is worse, to him it appears that the greeting, entering from above, is emanating from his own flat body, a voice from within. A little insanity, he perhaps reminds himself gamely, runs in the family.

The question of what lies beyond is meaningless. Flat creatures cannot, on their own, escape there two dimensions. Image: © Megan Jorgensen (Elena)

Exasperated at being judged a psychological aberration, the apple descends into Flatland. Now, a three-dimensional creature can exist, in Flatland, only partially; only a cross section can be seen, only the points of contact with the plain surface of Flatland. An apple slithering through Flatland would appear first as a point and then as progressively larger, roughly circular slices. The square sees a point appearing in a closed room in his two-dimensional room and slowly growing into a near circle. A creature of strange and changing shape has appeared from nowhere.

Rebuffed, unhappy at the obtuseness of the very flat, the apple bumps the square and sends him aloft, fluttering and spinning into that mysterious third dimension. At first the square can make no sense of what is happening; it is utterly outside his experience. But eventually he realizes that he is viewing Flatland from a peculiar vantage point “above”. He can see into closed rooms. He can see into his flat fellows. He is viewing his universe from a unique and devastating perspective. Traveling through another dimension provides, as an incidental benefit, a kind of X-ray vision. Eventually, like a falling leaf, our square slowly descends to the surface. From the point of view of his fellow Flatlanders, he has unaccountably disappeared from a closed room and then distressingly materialized from nowhere. “For heaven’s sake,” they say, “what happened to you?” – “I think”, he finds himself replying, “I was up”. They put him on his sides and comfort him. Delusions always run in his family.

Imagine the universe just like Flatland, except that unbeknownst to the inhabitants, their two-dimensions universe is curved enough through a third physical dimension. When the Flatlanders take short excursions, their universe looks flat enough. But if one of them takes a long enough walk along what seems to be a perfectly straight line, he uncovers a great mystery: although he had not reached a barrier and has never turned around, he has somehow come back to the place from which he started. His two-dimensional universe must have been warped, bent or curved through a mysterious third dimension. He cannot imagine this third dimension, but he can deduce it. Increase all dimensions in this story by one, and you have a situation that may apply to us.

Contraceptives That Don't Quit

Contraceptives That Don't Quit

Norplants protects for five years, yet Depo-Provera is winning more fans


In 1990, when the Food and Drug Administration approved a new contraceptive known as Norplant for use in the United States, many assumed that the new product would join birth control pills and condoms as one of the dominant forms of contraception in America.

Similar to birth control pills  in its chemical makeup, the Norplant device provides highly reliable, reversible contraceptive protection for up to five years. But reported difficulties with the removal of Norplant, which is a contraceptive implant that goes into the underside of a woman's upper arm, and controversy about potential side effects have quieted much of the early enthusiasm for the drug. Instead, another approved hormonal contraceptive, Depo-Provera, which is taken by injection and provides about 14 weeks of protection per treatment, is winning wider approval from American women. 

Both Norplant and Depo-Provera are based on progestin, a synthetic version of the hormone progesterone that the body produces during menstruation. Progestin protects against pregnancy by inhibiting ovulation, impeding fertilization, and the endometrium (the lining of the uterus), making implantation of a fertilized egg very difficult.

Both Norplant and Depo-Provera are considered over 99 percent effective in preventing pregnancy when administered correctly, but the way they work is very different. Norplant delivers its dosage by employing a series of six matchstick-sized time-released capsules that must be surgically implanted into a woman's upper arm using local anesthesia. If inserted during the first seven days of the menstrual cycle, it becomes effective within 24 hours.

A child with a flower. Sketch by Elena

Depo-Provera is injected, rather than implanted, into the muscle of a woman's buttock or an upper arm. The treatment is administered every twelve weeks to ensure that protection from the previous injection has not yet worn off. Fertility may take several months to return to a woman discounting Depo-Provera, but more than three-quarters of women who stop in order to conceive become pregnant within 12 months, and more than 90 percent succeed within two years.

The side-effects of both Norplan and Depo-Provera are similar to those of women taking the pill. They can include irregular menstrual bleeding and spotting, weight fluctuations both up and down, breast tenderness, headaches, hair loss, and dizziness at times. But unlike Norplant, whose effects can be quickly reversed in a woman experiencing side effects until the shot's 14-week cycle has run its course.

Norplant's greatest appeal may be for women who have finished their childbearing but do not wish to undergo sterilization, and for those whose health conditions preclude the use of the Pill or other birth control measures. It is inappropriate for women who are breast-feeding during their first six weeks after delivery or have unexplained vaginal bleeding, blood clots, inflammation of the veins, or a serious liver disease. It is also off-limits to women with a history of breast cancer.

Depo-Provera is not recommended for pregnant women because of a possible link to premature birth. But, unlike Norplant, there is no restriction on use by women who are breast-feeding.

Birth techniques may appeal to women who seek a highly reliable – and highly private – contraceptive method. Depo-Provera requires more frequent visits to a doctor or clinic for treatment, but at about $35 per shot and usually no more than $47 to $80 for a pre-shot examination, it is less of a financial burden than Norplant, which costs between $500 and $750 for insertion by a trained practitioner and another $50 to $150 for removal.

Norplant has been plagued by two other major complaints by users as well. One has been charges, unsubstantiated by scientific studies, that Norplant contributes to everything from strokes to cancer to autoimmune diseases. The drug's manufacturer Wyeth-Ayrest, revised its labeling to acknowledge that adverse reactions have been reported since the product went on the market, but noted, with the FDA's approval, that health problems, such as strokes, thrombosis, and heart attack, that have stricken Norplant users on occasion could be entirely coincidental and have nothing to do with the fact that the woman may have been a Norplant user.

Even more controversial have been the difficulties that some women have experienced during the removal of their implants from just below the skin. Because of problems in some physicians' training and techniques for inserting and removing the hormonal rods, some patients report the procedure proved unexpectedly painful and resulted in unsightly scarring. A number of class-action lawsuits have been filed and are being vigorously contested by the manufacturer, but the adverse publicity appears to have slowed the product's acceptance markedly.

Still, properly implanted and removed by trained medical personnel, Norplant has much to recommend for women seeking reliable, long-term, reversible birth control that demands very little involvement on their part on mouth to mouth. For women wanting something less than five years' protection from a single implant, Norplant's manufacturer is also developing Norplant II, which would use just two rods to provide up to three years' protection.

Birth Control by the numbers


Sterilization is the most frequently used contraceptive technique in the U.S. Method and percent of women who use it:

For women – PIII – 25%. Spermicides (foams, creams, gels) – 6%. Diaphragm/Cervical Cap – 5.7%. Springs – 1.1%. Implants (Norplant) – 1%. IUD – 1%. For men and women – Sterilization/ Tubal ligation – 27%. Condoms – 19%. Withdrawl/rythm – 7%.

The Emperor of Mars

The Emperor of Mars

By Allen M. Steele


Out here, there`s a lot of ways to go crazy. Get cooped up in a passenger module not much larger than a trailer, and by the time you reach your destination you may have come to believe that the universe exists only within your own mind: it`s called solipsism syndrome, and I`ve seen it happen a couple of times. Share that same module with five or six guys who don`t get along very well, and after three months you`ll be sleeping with a knife taped to your thigh. Pull double-shifts during that time, with little chance to relax, and you`ll probably suffer from depression; couple this with vitamin deficiency due to a lousy diet, and you`re a candidate for chronic fatigue syndrome.

Xx

Folks who`ve never left Earth often think that Titan Plague is the main reason people go mad in space. They`re wrong. Titan Plague may rot your brain and turn you into a homicidal maniac, but instances of that are rare, and there is a dozen other ways to go bonzo that are much more subtle. I`ve seen guys adopt imaginary friends with whom they have long and meaningless conversations, compulsively clean their hardsuits regardless of whether or not they`ve recently worn them, or go for a routine spacewalk and have to be begged to come back into the airlock. Some people just aren`t cut out for life away from Earth, but there`s no way to predict who`s going to lose their mind.

The Emperor of Mars. Photo by Elena

When something like that happens, I have a set of standard procedures: ask the doctor to prescribe antidepressants, keep an eye on them to make sure they don`t do anything that might put themselves or others at risk, relieve them of duty if I can, and see what I can do about getting them back home as soon as possible. Sometimes I don`t have to do any of this. A guy goes crazy for a little while, and then he gradually works out whatever it was that got in his head; the next time I see him, he`s in the commissary, eating Cheerios like nothing ever happened. Most of the time, though, a mental breakdown is a serious matter. I think I`ve shipped back about one out of every twenty people because of one issue or another.

But one time, I saw someone go mad, and it was the best thing that could have happened to him. That was Jeff Halbert. Let me tell about him…

Back in `48, I was General Manager of Arsia Station, the first and largest of the Mars colonies. This was a year before the formation of the Pax Astra, about five years before the colonies declared independence. So the six major Martian settlements were still under control of Earth-based corporation or another, with Arsia Station owned and operated by ConSpace. We had about a hundred people living there by then, the majority short-timers or short-term contracts; only a dozen or so, like myself, were permanent residents who left Earth for good.

(Read the full text in The Best Year’s Science Fiction Anthology 2011, edited by Gardner Dozois)