Volume XIII, Issue XIX
Apollonius
By Bob Kirchman
Copyright © 2017, The Kirchman Studio, all rights reserved
Chapter 14: New Beginnings
The Great Northern was home. She was reassigned to her original destination as SS/AC006 and crews came aboard to install the Iron Dome system that would allow her to be a part of the defense against rogue missiles. Abiyah and some of the original crew made a few trips up to ‘hand her off’ but the station now was staffed on a rotation of one month on, one month off by Alaska Space Program regulars. No more would man spend prolonged time in space with its unknown consequences. The only deference to the mission to Mars was the decision to preserve the nursery. It was a welcome touch of home… particularly for some of the women crew members who set up the SKYPE lounge there with the running children in the mural as a backdrop. There they would talk to their own children on Earth and their children felt connection as they saw the playful scene surrounding their parent. The crew now was more like those in merchant service who can count on regular extended time at home when their tours are over. Mars was really the last world nearby that was explorable by humans. The large planets such as Jupiter had dense toxic atmospheres and intensely strong gravity. The service would return to their original plan and build sophisticated probes and rovers designed to survive the harsh conditions. Abiyah and Sarah wound up their report writing and their official assignment was coming to an end. They walked one evening a few houses down in Shalom to the home of Rupert and Pat Zimmerman for dinner, little son in tow. There they engaged in an interesting dialogue with the old engineer.
Well, I think it is safe to say that you two will go down in history as the first humans to set foot on Mars, but I am afraid we will not want to send you back.”
Sarah stifled a chuckle: “I should only want to make that journey once anyway.”
Yes, when our forefathers and mothers set sail for new worlds,” Zimmerman continued, “They did not find empty lifeless wastelands. They found rich lands inhabited by people who could show them the riches to be found there. Squanto was there to teach the Pilgrims how to farm, and Sacajawea was there to guide Lewis and Clark. Though it is disputed today, it is pretty clear that the first men and women crossed the Bering Strait upon a land bridge of some sort. They settled the land little by little and when others came they learned from the ones who went before how to survive there. Sadly, human nature being what it is, there was always conquest, land grabbing and killing… and that went on before the Europeans showed up and engaged in even more of it.”
History shows us that venturing forth into new worlds is never a sure thing. In 1587, John White brought more than 100 men, women and children with him in a small ship in the first attempt to found a permanent English colony in the New World. The group settled on Roanoke Island, one of a chain of barrier islands now known as the Outer Banks, off the coast of North Carolina. Later that year, White headed back to England to bring more supplies, but England’s naval war with Spain would delay his return for nearly three years. When he finally arrived on Roanoke Island, on August 18, 1590, White found the colony abandoned and looted, with no trace of the settlers. Only two clues remained: The word “Croatoan” had been carved on a post and the letters “CRO” scratched into a tree trunk. The settlers of Jamestown and Plymouth almost starved to death.”
So,” Sarah said, “There is no gradual and logical migration of humanity to the planets?”
No. And I was a fool to be taken in so quickly by George Apollonius in thinking that it would happen because we had a new space technology. Mankind needs to gain some real benefit from going out and I’m afraid Apollonius could only spin vain promises of undiscovered riches. His true motive was always to recast society in a way that he could control it. He thought if you could create the best all-powerful centralized government it would usher in a new age for mankind. The problem is that some of the darkest societies in the past century began with the same promise. Unfortunately control of mankind appears to be a poor substitute for actual redemption.”
God rest his soul, he and his fortune perished as the rocket fell back to Mars.”
Well,” said Rupert, “He left a sizable deposit in the bank of Wales to cover unforeseen costs of maintaining the colonies. He was so afraid of issuing bonds and having to answer to stockholders. We have been able to cover our costs from the Mars mission out of that and now there is enough left over to fund a couple of teaching endowments at the school of aerospace engineering.”
But, as you say, isn’t that pretty much a science that has been already pushed to its limits?”
Oh NO,” Replied Zimmerman, “I merely said that manned missions were done with, at least for the time being. Think about all of the old science fiction stories. They’d go to Mars and meet Martians and so space was like a giant world in itself. We’ll not meet anyone else in those hostile worlds we’ve actually seen so far. No Squanto… no Sacajawea! But that does not mean an end to exploration? On the contrary, we now have the ability to expend a reasonable amount of resources and learn incredible things. Who knows, we might even find a reason for mankind to venture out there again, but it shall not be over a challenge received at a dinner at the Reform Club!”
Epilogue: Joshua Adam Cohen-Ben Gurion
It was a bright Summer day a few years later on Big Diomede. Sarah and Abiyah’s son was playing in the attic bedroom of his favorite babysitter. The Greene’s eldest daughter and he played in a closet that Mrs. Greene had painted to look like the wardrobe doorway into Narnia and little Adam was enthralled by it. The boy often stared into the painting’s horizon… looking into another world it seemed. Major Cohen and her husband had settled in the biosphere upon their retirement, taking positions as professors of aerospace engineering at the college. They lived next door to the Greenes and Adam was quite happy with his new sitter! Sarah Cohen had just returned to pick up her son and she stood quietly in the doorway with Kris Greene watching the wonder.
Do you suppose he knows he was born in a most miraculous way?” Sarah Cohen mused.
I would be hard pressed to answer that.” said Kris, “But then, isn’t EVERY child’s birth a miracle… and aren't their little lives a glimpse into that unspoiled world of God’s creative Glory?”
Do you mean by that, Kris, that there is more of a connection to the Divine in this world than we suppose?” Sarah continued, “Could it also be true that our children are more adept at showing us the doorway than we give them credit for?”
The End
Around the World in 80 Days
By Jules Verne, Chapter XXXIII
In which Phileas Fogg Shows Himself Equal to the Occasion
An hour after, the Henrietta passed the lighthouse which marks the entrance of the Hudson, turned the point of Sandy Hook, and put to sea. During the day she skirted Long Island, passed Fire Island, and directed her course rapidly eastward.
At noon the next day, a man mounted the bridge to ascertain the vessel’s position. It might be thought that this was Captain Speedy. Not the least in the world. It was Phileas Fogg, Esquire. As for Captain Speedy, he was shut up in his cabin under lock and key, and was uttering loud cries, which signified an anger at once pardonable and excessive.
What had happened was very simple. Phileas Fogg wished to go to Liverpool, but the captain would not carry him there. Then Phileas Fogg had taken passage for Bordeaux, and, during the thirty hours he had been on board, had so shrewdly managed with his banknotes that the sailors and stokers, who were only an occasional crew, and were not on the best terms with the captain, went over to him in a body. This was why Phileas Fogg was in command instead of Captain Speedy; why the captain was a prisoner in his cabin; and why, in short, the Henrietta was directing her course towards Liverpool. It was very clear, to see Mr. Fogg manage the craft, that he had been a sailor.
How the adventure ended will be seen anon. Aouda was anxious, though she said nothing. As for Passepartout, he thought Mr. Fogg’s manoeuvre simply glorious. The captain had said “between eleven and twelve knots,” and the Henrietta confirmed his prediction.
If, then — for there were “ifs” still — the sea did not become too boisterous, if the wind did not veer round to the east, if no accident happened to the boat or its machinery, the Henrietta might cross the three thousand miles from New York to Liverpool in the nine days, between the 12th and the 21st of December. It is true that, once arrived, the affair on board the Henrietta, added to that of the Bank of England, might create more difficulties for Mr. Fogg than he imagined or could desire.
During the first days, they went along smoothly enough. The sea was not very unpropitious, the wind seemed stationary in the north-east, the sails were hoisted, and the Henrietta ploughed across the waves like a real trans-Atlantic steamer.
Passepartout was delighted. His master’s last exploit, the consequences of which he ignored, enchanted him. Never had the crew seen so jolly and dexterous a fellow. He formed warm friendships with the sailors, and amazed them with his acrobatic feats. He thought they managed the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired up like heroes. His loquacious good-humour infected everyone. He had forgotten the past, its vexations and delays. He only thought of the end, so nearly accomplished; and sometimes he boiled over with impatience, as if heated by the furnaces of the Henrietta. Often, also, the worthy fellow revolved around Fix, looking at him with a keen, distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him, for their old intimacy no longer existed.
Fix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what was going on. The conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, Fogg managing the boat like a skilled seaman, amazed and confused him. He did not know what to think. For, after all, a man who began by stealing fifty-five thousand pounds might end by stealing a vessel; and Fix was not unnaturally inclined to conclude that the Henrietta under Fogg’s command, was not going to Liverpool at all, but to some part of the world where the robber, turned into a pirate, would quietly put himself in safety. The conjecture was at least a plausible one, and the detective began to seriously regret that he had embarked on the affair.
As for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and growl in his cabin; and Passepartout, whose duty it was to carry him his meals, courageous as he was, took the greatest precautions. Mr. Fogg did not seem even to know that there was a captain on board.
On the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of Newfoundland, a dangerous locality; during the winter, especially, there are frequent fogs and heavy gales of wind. Ever since the evening before the barometer, suddenly falling, had indicated an approaching change in the atmosphere; and during the night the temperature varied, the cold became sharper, and the wind veered to the south-east.
This was a misfortune. Mr. Fogg, in order not to deviate from his course, furled his sails and increased the force of the steam; but the vessel’s speed slackened, owing to the state of the sea, the long waves of which broke against the stern. She pitched violently, and this retarded her progress. The breeze little by little swelled into a tempest, and it was to be feared that the Henrietta might not be able to maintain herself upright on the waves.
Passepartout’s visage darkened with the skies, and for two days the poor fellow experienced constant fright. But Phileas Fogg was a bold mariner, and knew how to maintain headway against the sea; and he kept on his course, without even decreasing his steam. The Henrietta, when she could not rise upon the waves, crossed them, swamping her deck, but passing safely. Sometinies the screw rose out of the water, beating its protruding end, when a mountain of water raised the stern above the waves; but the craft always kept straight ahead.
The wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as might have been feared; it was not one of those tempests which burst, and rush on with a speed of ninety miles an hour. It continued fresh, but, unhappily, it remained obstinately in the south-east, rendering the sails useless.
The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Phileas Fogg’s departure from London, and the Henrietta had not yet been seriously delayed. Half of the voyage was almost accomplished, and the worst localities had been passed. In summer, success would have been well-nigh certain. In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad season. Passepartout said nothing; but he cherished hope in secret, and comforted himself with the reflection that, if the wind failed them, they might still count on the steam.
On this day the engineer came on deck, went up to Mr. Fogg, and began to speak earnestly with him. Without knowing why it was a presentiment, perhaps Passepartout became vaguely uneasy. He would have given one of his ears to hear with the other what the engineer was saying. He finally managed to catch a few words, and was sure he heard his master say, “You are certain of what you tell me?”
Certain, sir,” replied the engineer. “You must remember that, since we started, we have kept up hot fires in all our furnaces, and, though we had coal enough to go on short steam from New York to Bordeaux, we haven’t enough to go with all steam from New York to Liverpool.” “I will consider,” replied Mr. Fogg.
Passepartout understood it all; he was seized with mortal anxiety. The coal was giving out! “Ah, if my master can get over that,” muttered he, “he’ll be a famous man!” He could not help imparting to Fix what he had overheard.
Then you believe that we really are going to Liverpool?”
Of course.”
Ass!” replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders and turning on his heel.
Passepartout was on the point of vigorously resenting the epithet, the reason of which he could not for the life of him comprehend; but he reflected that the unfortunate Fix was probably very much disappointed and humiliated in his self-esteem, after having so awkwardly followed a false scent around the world, and refrained.
And now what course would Phileas Fogg adopt? It was difficult to imagine. Nevertheless he seemed to have decided upon one, for that evening he sent for the engineer, and said to him, “Feed all the fires until the coal is exhausted.”
A few moments after, the funnel of the Henrietta vomited forth torrents of smoke. The vessel continued to proceed with all steam on; but on the 18th, the engineer, as he had predicted, announced that the coal would give out in the course of the day.
Do not let the fires go down,” replied Mr. Fogg. “Keep them up to the last. Let the valves be filled.”
Towards noon Phileas Fogg, having ascertained their position, called Passepartout, and ordered him to go for Captain Speedy. It was as if the honest fellow had been commanded to unchain a tiger. He went to the poop, saying to himself, “He will be like a madman!”
In a few moments, with cries and oaths, a bomb appeared on the poop-deck. The bomb was Captain Speedy. It was clear that he was on the point of bursting. “Where are we?” were the first words his anger permitted him to utter. Had the poor man be an apoplectic, he could never have recovered from his paroxysm of wrath.
Where are we?” he repeated, with purple face.
Seven hundred and seven miles from Liverpool,” replied Mr. Fogg, with imperturbable calmness.
Pirate!” cried Captain Speedy.
I have sent for you, sir —”
Pickaroon!”
— sir,” continued Mr. Fogg, “to ask you to sell me your vessel.”
No! By all the devils, no!”
But I shall be obliged to burn her.”
Burn the Henrietta!”
Yes; at least the upper part of her. The coal has given out.”
Burn my vessel!” cried Captain Speedy, who could scarcely pronounce the words. “A vessel worth fifty thousand dollars!”
Here are sixty thousand,” replied Phileas Fogg, handing the captain a roll of bank-bills. This had a prodigious effect on Andrew Speedy. An American can scarcely remain unmoved at the sight of sixty thousand dollars. The captain forgot in an instant his anger, his imprisonment, and all his grudges against his passenger. The Henrietta was twenty years old; it was a great bargain. The bomb would not go off after all. Mr. Fogg had taken away the match.
And I shall still have the iron hull,” said the captain in a softer tone.
The iron hull and the engine. Is it agreed?”
Agreed.”
And Andrew Speedy, seizing the banknotes, counted them and consigned them to his pocket.
During this colloquy, Passepartout was as white as a sheet, and Fix seemed on the point of having an apoplectic fit. Nearly twenty thousand pounds had been expended, and Fogg left the hull and engine to the captain, that is, near the whole value of the craft! It was true, however, that fifty-five thousand pounds had been stolen from the Bank.
When Andrew Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him, “Don’t let this astonish you, sir. You must know that I shall lose twenty thousand pounds, unless I arrive in London by a quarter before nine on the evening of the 21st of December. I missed the steamer at New York, and as you refused to take me to Liverpool —”
And I did well!” cried Andrew Speedy; “for I have gained at least forty thousand dollars by it!” He added, more sedately, “Do you know one thing, Captain —”
Fogg.”
Captain Fogg, you’ve got something of the Yankee about you.”
And, having paid his passenger what he considered a high compliment, he was going away, when Mr. Fogg said, “The vessel now belongs to me?”
Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts — all the wood, that is.”
Very well. Have the interior seats, bunks, and frames pulled down, and burn them.”
It was necessary to have dry wood to keep the steam up to the adequate pressure, and on that day the poop, cabins, bunks, and the spare deck were sacrificed. On the next day, the 19th of December, the masts, rafts, and spars were burned; the crew worked lustily, keeping up the fires. Passepartout hewed, cut, and sawed away with all his might. There was a perfect rage for demolition.
The railings, fittings, the greater part of the deck, and top sides disappeared on the 20th, and the Henrietta was now only a flat hulk. But on this day they sighted the Irish coast and Fastnet Light. By ten in the evening they were passing Queenstown. Phileas Fogg had only twenty-four hours more in which to get to London; that length of time was necessary to reach Liverpool, with all steam on. And the steam was about to give out altogether!
Sir,” said Captain Speedy, who was now deeply interested in Mr. Fogg’s project, “I really commiserate you. Everything is against you. We are only opposite Queenstown.”
Ah,” said Mr. Fogg, “is that place where we see the lights Queenstown?”
Yes.”
Can we enter the harbour?”
Not under three hours. Only at high tide.”
Stay,” replied Mr. Fogg calmly, without betraying in his features that by a supreme inspiration he was about to attempt once more to conquer ill-fortune.
Queenstown is the Irish port at which the trans-Atlantic steamers stop to put off the mails. These mails are carried to Dublin by express trains always held in readiness to start; from Dublin they are sent on to Liverpool by the most rapid boats, and thus gain twelve hours on the Atlantic steamers.
Phileas Fogg counted on gaining twelve hours in the same way. Instead of arriving at Liverpool the next evening by the Henrietta, he would be there by noon, and would therefore have time to reach London before a quarter before nine in the evening.
The Henrietta entered Queenstown Harbour at one o’clock in the morning, it then being high tide; and Phileas Fogg, after being grasped heartily by the hand by Captain Speedy, left that gentleman on the levelled hulk of his craft, which was still worth half what he had sold it for.
The party went on shore at once. Fix was greatly tempted to arrest Mr. Fogg on the spot; but he did not. Why? What struggle was going on within him? Had he changed his mind about “his man”? Did he understand that he had made a grave mistake? He did not, however, abandon Mr. Fogg. They all got upon the train, which was just ready to start, at half-past one; at dawn of day they were in Dublin; and they lost no time in embarking on a steamer which, disdaining to rise upon the waves, invariably cut through them.
Phileas Fogg at last disembarked on the Liverpool quay, at twenty minutes before twelve, 21st December. He was only six hours distant from London.
But at this moment Fix came up, put his hand upon Mr. Fogg’s shoulder, and, showing his warrant, said, “You are really Phileas Fogg?”
I am.”
I arrest you in the Queen’s name!”
(to be continued)
Icy trees along the Skyline Drive near High Top Mountain.
Photo by Bob Kirchman
Ex Nihilo
Did God Create From Nothing? --William Lane Craig
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1.1). With majestic simplicity the author of the opening chapter of Genesis thus differentiated his viewpoint, not only from that of the ancient creation myths of Israel’s neighbors, but also effectively from pantheism, panentheism, and polytheism. For the author of Genesis 1, no pre-existent material seems to be assumed, no warring gods or primordial dragons are present--only God, who is said to “create” (bara, a word used only with God as its subject and which does not presuppose a material substratum) “the heavens and the earth” (et hassamayim we et ha ares, a Hebrew expression for the totality of the world or, more simply, the universe). Moreover, this act of creation took place “in the beginning” (bereshith, used here as in Is. 46.10 to indicate an absolute beginning). The author thereby gives us to understand that the universe had a temporal origin and thus implies creatio ex nihilo in the temporal sense that God brought the universe into being without a material cause at some point in the finite past.” – William Lane Craig
Around the World in 80 Days
By Jules Verne, Chapter XXXIV
In which Phileas Fogg at Last Reaches London
Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House, and he was to be transferred to London the next day.
Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would have fallen upon Fix had he not been held back by some policemen. Aouda was thunderstruck at the suddenness of an event which she could not understand. Passepartout explained to her how it was that the honest and courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber. The young woman’s heart revolted against so heinous a charge, and when she saw that she could attempt to do nothing to save her protector, she wept bitterly.
As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty, whether Mr. Fogg were guilty or not.
The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause of this new misfortune! Had he not concealed Fix’s errand from his master? When Fix revealed his true character and purpose, why had he not told Mr. Fogg? If the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given Fix proof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fix would not have continued his journey at the expense and on the heels of his master, only to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil. Passepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing his brains out.
Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the Custom House. Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious to see Mr. Fogg again.
That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he was about to attain his end. This arrest was fatal. Having arrived at Liverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December, he had till a quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform Club, that is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from Liverpool to London was six hours.
If anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom House, he would have found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent anger, upon a wooden bench. He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last blow failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion. Was he being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the more terrible because contained, and which only burst forth, with an irresistible force, at the last moment? No one could tell. There he sat, calmly waiting — for what? Did he still cherish hope? Did he still believe, now that the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he would succeed?
However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch upon the table, and observed its advancing hands. Not a word escaped his lips, but his look was singularly set and stern. The situation, in any event, was a terrible one, and might be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg was honest he was ruined; if he was a knave, he was caught.
Did escape occur to him? Did he examine to see if there were any practicable outlet from his prison? Did he think of escaping from it? Possibly; for once he walked slowly around the room. But the door was locked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods. He sat down again, and drew his journal from his pocket. On the line where these words were written, “21st December, Saturday, Liverpool,” he added, “80th day, 11.40 a.m.,” and waited.
The Custom House clock struck one. Mr. Fogg observed that his watch was two hours too fast.
Two hours! Admitting that he was at this moment taking an express train, he could reach London and the Reform Club by a quarter before nine, p.m. His forehead slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular noise outside, then a hasty opening of doors. Passepartout’s voice was audible, and immediately after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg’s eyes brightened for an instant.
The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout, Aouda, and Fix, who hurried towards him.
Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder. He could not speak. “Sir,” he stammered, “sir — forgive me — most — unfortunate resemblance — robber arrested three days ago — you are free!”
Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective, looked him steadily in the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever made in his life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the precision of a machine knocked Fix down.
Well hit!” cried Passepartout, “Parbleu! that’s what you might call a good application of English fists!”
Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word. He had only received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout left the Custom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a few moments descended at the station.
Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave for London. It was forty minutes past two. The express train had left thirty-five minutes before. Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.
There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the railway arrangements did not permit the special train to leave until three o’clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by the offer of a generous reward, at last set out towards London with Aouda and his faithful servant.
It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; and this would have been easy on a clear road throughout. But there were forced delays, and when Mr. Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus, all the clocks in London were striking ten minutes before nine.”
Having made the tour of the world, he was behind-hand five minutes. He had lost the wager!
(to be continued)
Josiah
By Bob Kirchman
Copyright © 2017, The Kirchman Studio, all rights reserved
Chapter 1: A Mystery Appears
You wanted to see me right away?” Abiyah Ben-Gurion said as he walked into the Zimmerman offices in Wales, Alaska. Elizabeth O’Malley’s assistant Hannah replied, “Yes, I did! I just received this communication from our office on Space Station/Assembly Center 005. It seems they’ve observed something you need to look at on Mars.”
She continued: “As you know, we’ve done periodic flyovers of the abandoned colony ruins… sort of a chance to observe decay in the Martian environment… and, Oh, I am so sorry. I recall how painful that was for you, but please indulge me. There is a mystery here we need you to weigh in on. Let me bring up the images.”
Hannah’s deskpad displayed two views of the colony ruins taken from orbit. The first was a photo Abiyah’s wife Sarah had taken several decades ago. The second was freshly processed from an unmanned probe that was orbiting Mars as they spoke.
See those surviving greenhouses in the shadow of that rock mass. That was all that remained of the APOLLONIUS Colony when you returned to Earth after it had been tragically destroyed by the missile. Look at the footprint carefully. Now look at the view from our probe as it flew over yesterday. See the difference?”
Abiyah’s keen eye caught it at once, “The footprint is different!” he exclaimed. “How can that be?”
We’re perplexed as well. It is BIGGER! We wondered if blast sand had covered some greenhouses and now has blown off, but Sarah’s images of the colony before destruction show no greenhouses there!”
Well, I’m stymied,” said Abiyah, “we scanned repeatedly for signs of life and you know how thorough Sarah is!”
The 3D printers we sent up then were pretty primitive by today’s standards. There was not the AI to self-duplicate anything. As I recall, the greenhouses involved a fair amount of human manipulation to construct. They could manufacture the struts and clear panels from local soils heated in the kiln, but that too required a lot of human oversight.”
So, obviously we have someone… or someTHING adding on to the remains of the colony!”
That’s it sir, we have a riddle on our hands.”
Well, Hannah, let’s use Occam's Razor to begin with. Someone has been adding greenhouses to our colony… or what’s left of it. Who would be the simplest to suspect. We have not tracked any ships from other nations going out to Mars. Space Aliens are always invoked in a case like this… but we’ve never actually seen one… EVER! I would have to say that someone survived the blast that destroyed the colony, incredible as that may sound. The reason we didn’t detect them was that they remained in an underground bunker… perhaps aware of the radiation danger outside. They had no communication ability as that was totally destroyed.”
He continued, “It would have had to have been one of the more technically inclined colonists, to be sure -- Someone who could keep the oxygenation going in the greenhouses and run the 3D printers. I daresay there is more than one survivor.”
So, what do we do next?” Hannah mused.
We need to make contact, if we can. Remember they launched the missile to destroy our ship in orbit. It fell back to Mars and exploded on the colony… we thought it exploded destroying everyone. We don’t know if they are so poisoned by the leadership of APOLLONIUS that they believe we are tainted and they are the enlightened ones.”
Hannah looked up at the painting of Rupert Zimmerman, the mind behind the enterprises that now required their oversight and wondered what Mr. Z would have said at this moment, but it had been some time since Rupert passed after taking pneumonia following the ceremonies to commence construction on the St. Lawrence Island Crossing. Rupert had always been somewhat of an enigma to those closest to him in life, and his painted eyes gazed down at Hannah giving nothing away.
(to be continued, look for JOSIAH, coming in 2018)
The Island in Sherando Lake. Photo by Bob kirchman.
