by Norman Oro
Dr. Montain had been crunching numbers while the data were being gathered and within a couple of days had some preliminary results. Speaking with Dr. Rys, he observed that his initial calculations seemed to verify that conditions on the other side of the Allen field were in fact quite variable and approximated a normal distribution. Furthermore, he confirmed that the conditions Gizmo first encountered were exceedingly unusual. After several days of more rigorous analysis, he presented his findings and distributed a summary to the team:
Potential temperature variations concerned Dr. Rys the most, so Dr. Montain addressed that first. Fortunately the numbers indicated that destination temperatures tended to hover around the mid-sixties. Extreme temperatures were highly unlikely; and life-threatening ones bordered on impossible. Specifically, he estimated only a one percent chance of temperatures ever going below 39ºF or exceeding 93ºF. As a matter of fact, the temperature reading from the very first probe launch on July 11th still stood as the lowest at 20ºF.
In addition to confirming that temperatures were very unlikely to hit dangerous extremes, he also reviewed the data to see if there were any interesting correlations within the telemetry. For example, did low temperatures correspond to a lack of sunlight as one might intuitively expect? Also, was there any seasonality? Specifically, were certain months or days more likely to be warmer or cooler than others? Interestingly, he found no meaningful relationships among the variables and no seasonality. Even controlling for atmospheric pressure, cold temperatures just as often coincided with plenty of light as with very little; and were just as likely in August as in November. The same held for warm temperatures. This was true for all of the environmental variables, which led Dr. Montain to conclude that the weather seemed to vary from day to day without any relation to the previous day. Echoing what most of the team was probably thinking, he ended his presentation by saying, “These environmental data are unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
Pedro Rys
It was Friday, January 9th, 1959 and Pedro Rys was home for winter break from Berkeley. 1958 had been a good year. He’d spent the summer in an internship funded by the National Science Foundation learning about the latest advances in particle physics from leaders in the field. He’d also begun dating Rebecca, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. However, since he’d arrived home, he’d been wanting to ask his father a question and found him even busier than usual. With only a few days left until classes started, they’d only spoken for a handful of minutes with one another. In fact, he actually spent more time reconnecting with his mother that winter break. During their breakfasts together, he learned that her work at Pomona College was going well. Pedro found it a bit strange at first seeing her as a professor; it was a side of her that neither he nor his brother ever saw while they were growing up. However, he quickly got used to it, and was glad to see that she had the career she’d dreamt of. Coincidentally, it turned out that she’d be teaching his ex-girlfriend, Ingrid, during the upcoming semester. He’d passed a few days with her going to the movies and walking the trails in the local mountains like they did in high school. He spent the rest of his time surfing. As usual, the new year didn’t disappoint. All of the breaks from Huntington Beach up through Secos were bathed in a powerful northwest groundswell. Before he knew it, though, most of his winter break was gone. With the new semester about to begin, Friday would have to be when he’d ask his question.
That evening, Dr. Rys was enjoying his drive home from Pueblo. He felt at ease. Dr. Montain’s findings showed that conditions could get uncomfortable at times wherever the Allen field sent things, but they were far from dangerous, much less lethal. As he saw the lights of Los Angeles County gradually materialize in the distance, he felt a sense of anticipation. Although he’d been doing the same three hour commute for over six years, that feeling of his home once again being someplace new, someplace novel, never faded. As he pulled into the driveway, it was just past eleven o’ clock and he was surprised to find his son’s Chevy pickup still in the garage. The spring semester at Cal was set to begin that Monday and Dr. Rys figured that Pedro would’ve left for school already. It was just an educated guess because, truth be told, he hadn’t spent as much time with him as he’d wanted. The lights were still on and he thought to himself that perhaps this was one of his final opportunities to make amends.
The first thing Dr. Rys saw as he came in was his wife and son seated at the dinner table. It appeared they’d been waiting for him. A bit surprised, he greeted them, sat down at the table and saw that Abigail had prepared a steak dinner. It wasn’t just any steak dinner, though; it was one of his favorites, a thick medium-well steak filet with mashed potatoes and string beans on the side. A few minutes into the meal, they began talking about the news. They talked mostly about Cuba at first since they had relatives living in Havana. About midway through, they began talking about Abigail’s research. The chemical assays for DNA she was developing were progressing well. It was going so well, in fact, that her team’s findings would probably be published in Nature, which was quite an accomplishment. As dinner began to wind down, the time finally seemed right and Pedro took his chance to ask his father his question: “Can I intern for US-395 this summer?”
Dr. Rys was immediately thrown off, and his knee-jerk reaction was to say “No”. It wasn’t an issue of intelligence. Pedro had the brainpower to handle the work and then some. No, initially he thought it was more a question of how sensitive the project was. To that day, for almost a decade, he’d kept his work a secret from his sons. Since they were fourteen years old, they only knew the project’s name, and that it vaguely had something to do with transportation, physics and engineering. Dr. Rys had never imagined that a day would arrive when one of his boys would actually ask him to work on the project. Upon further reflection, though, he realized that there really weren’t any problems there either. Pedro had recently completed a summer internship funded by the National Science Foundation, garnering accolades from some very well regarded scientists in the process; his brother Juan had just served with distinction as part of a US Army contingent in a UN peacekeeping operation in Lebanon; and Dr. Rys himself had worked at Los Alamos on arguably the most sensitive government project in US history. Given all that, there couldn’t be any conceivable doubt regarding his son’s loyalty to his country and ability to secure the necessary clearances to intern for US-395.
No, upon further reflection, his instinct was driven by something more visceral. He’d be hard-pressed to admit it, but he feared for Pedro. It was silly. Ironically, it was actually Pedro who was always better able to fend for himself than his brother, Juan. However, he was younger than Juan by about an hour. Also, Dr. Rys still vividly remembered the morning seventeen years earlier when Pedro, who then was just shy of his fourth birthday, inexplicably began running a high fever. As a boy, he was a handful, always running around and playful. That morning, though, he just laid in bed, hardly moving, his eyes closed, soundlessly murmuring to himself as sweat beaded all around his forehead. The doctor they called didn’t know what was wrong and could only suggest that he continue resting. That night, Pedro’s fever worsened and his temperature reached 102ºF. Alberto and Abigail spent that evening together praying into the early morning that their son would live to see the next day. There was nothing else they could do.
Of course, he did live to see that day and many others after that. However, because that memory was so indelibly etched into Dr. Rys’s mind, into his very heart, Pedro’s future always felt somehow imperiled. It was silly of course to still think that. His son was a man now. Dr. Rys looked Pedro in the eyes and promised him that he’d see what he could do. They spent the next morning together as a family. After a late breakfast at a local restaurant they went to the movies to see The Lost Missile; and by the time they returned home, it was three in the afternoon. An hour and a half later, Alberto and Abigail were outside seeing their son off as he began his long drive back up to Berkeley.
D
r. Angstrom
It was a cold winter morning. Dr. Angstrom had never lived in California before and if he were asked, he’d have to say that he didn’t care much for it. Nevertheless, the work they were doing made it tolerable; and he was quite pleased with how testing had gone with their newest device. To the group’s excitement, modifying the field generator’s particle guide did allow for an order of magnitude more energy to be delivered as they’d hypothesized. In fact, the readings from their latest tests literally went off the charts. Animal tests would begin soon and the medical team foresaw no difficulties in proving the device’s efficacy there either. Almost certainly within a year, their technology would finally be able to deliver enough energy to be effective on people. Fortunately, the group’s government contacts reported that their work was progressing undetected. The last thing they needed was bureaucratic meddling. If only they knew. Soon, those very governments would be cloying the company’s doorstep, pining for their latest technology.
As for their plans to prepare the market, he found it at first abhorrent just like anyone else would. Unlike his colleagues, he sometimes had serious qualms about what they were planning. Young Kevin’s involvement was especially troubling. However, once they walked him through why it had to be done, it became clear that it was necessary. It was for the greater good. As he worked in the lab room that morning putting the finishing touches on its new sending platform, he felt at peace knowing that arrangements were being made, arrangements to ensure that a healthy market and a more vigilant America would await their newest product.
Launch
It was a cold winter morning. Dr. Rys had the heater on the entire way as his Roadmaster floated him along to Pueblo. While a few stray thoughts concerning US-395 flickered through his consciousness, his mind was quiet, simply enjoying the ride into work, looking forward to the upcoming day. Once he arrived, he noticed a few people already there, most of them still debating Dr. Montain’s findings. Though putting to rest most of Dr. Rys’s concerns, his presentation left quite a stir in its wake. It seemed almost impossible to weave a conclusive explanation around the variations in the telemetry they’d collected, but that didn’t keep people from trying. Everyone pored over the data and seemed to have a theory or story that fit the numbers. They ran from the plausible (“The Allen field sent the probe to random locations, each one with different environmental characteristics.”) to the fantastic (“The probe was sent to an alien, Earth-like planet.”) to the existential (“The sending process and resulting telemetry are illusory, a collective hallucination induced by the Allen field.”).
All conjecture aside, Dr. Rys felt the key findings in terms of eventually sending a human passenger were:
1. None of the readings suggested a lethal environment. The medical team reviewed the telemetry and confirmed this.
2. The air samples were always clean, healthy and very breathable.
3. The probe’s parachute never deployed, which meant that it always materialized on or near ground level.
As for the radio beacon, neither US-395 nor any other government office, domestic or overseas, ever detected it. This was strange because, given its strength and frequency, the beacon should’ve been able to cover several thousand miles. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon for amateur short-wave radio operators in California to communicate with operators in New Zealand, which was over six thousand miles away. With a far more powerful standalone beacon in the works to eventually accompany a human passenger, however, the team just added it to the growing list of incongruent facts and figures that it needed to someday reconcile.
As it neared 12:30pm, Dr. Rys gathered everyone for the Monday team lunch, which he’d resumed once the sample was done. The lunch special that day looked particularly appetizing. It was a double cheeseburger, french fries, a slice of apple pie a la mode for dessert and a soda. Dr. Rys got the special as did most of the team. With the data they’d worked so hard to gather leading to some fairly definitive results, the mood at the table was upbeat and relaxed. Aside from the Dodgers, they spent most of the lunch talking about the Soviet’s launch of Luna 1. No one in US-395 would ever have been mistaken for a cold warrior; however, there was definitely a healthy sense of competition in terms of wanting to match the skill that the Soviet scientists had demonstrated. It was a friendly rivalry, though; a number of team members had family trees with roots in Eastern Bloc countries. Without any hard deadlines to meet, Dr. Rys made sure to let the lunch gradually wind down on its own; and a couple of hours later, they all began heading back to the auditorium. Given what they’d just accomplished, the upcoming vacation time and the fact that it was a brand new year, it was one of the best team lunches they’d had.
Once they arrived, he kept everyone together, telling them he had an announcement to make. He thanked them all for their hard work over the past several months and said that, based on the results of that work, he’d decided to set a target date of March 16th for sending a passenger, probably a dog or a cat, through the Allen field. He paused for a few moments to let that sink in. He then noted that it was January 12th, 1959, a brand new year. After almost six months of nonstop fifteen hour days, everyone had earned some time off. He then wished them all a good holiday and, to their pleasant surprise, let them all go to get started early on their vacation.
Gitano
Dr. Rys used most of his holiday to relax, trying to keep his mind off of the ambitious schedule he’d just set. He spent as much time as he could with his wife, strolling through Pasadena, going to restaurants, visiting old friends and taking in a few movies. As the two weeks drew to a close, he paid a visit to the Pasadena Humane Society. There, in a dark blue cage off to the far left corner of the room, he spotted a slightly dour yet friendly Labrador retriever with white fur that turned a light brown around his ears. Once he saw him, Dr. Rys knew that he’d found US-395’s first passenger. The most striking thing was how much he resembled a Labrador that his family had many years earlier when he was still a boy in Colombia. He loved that dog and if he didn’t know better, Dr. Rys would’ve sworn it was him. His size, coloring, temperament, gait and mannerisms were all the same. Even the bark matched what he remembered. When he asked about the Labrador, the attendant told him that he was in luck, that a sharp increase in animal adoptions at shelters stretching as far out as San Bernardino and the Antelope Valley had made dogs and cats very scarce. However, the Labrador he was looking at was still available. Dr. Rys adopted him immediately and named him after the dog from his childhood: Gitano.
Like the rest of the team, Dr. Rys returned to the auditorium in late January refreshed and ready to begin work. He brought Gitano along to introduce him to everyone; and he couldn’t walk him more than a few feet without someone petting him or patting him on the head. As far as sending their first passenger, they were in good shape. Dr. Montain’s analysis had verified that the Maytag wouldn’t send him anyplace harmful. Also, they’d confirmed that even if Gitano decided to take a stroll away from wherever he materialized on the other side, the Maytag would always bring him back to the sending room. Finally, Dr. Pascal’s modifications to the sending room months earlier further ensured that he’d return unharmed.
With safety concerns taken care of, they focused mostly on determining what data to collect. Though they’d progressed far, the eight hundred pound gorilla of an unknown remained: Where did things sent through the Allen field go? To help answer that, they’d send the probe to accompany Gitano, so they could at least continue adding to their environmental data from the other side. Whether or not to modify the probe to collect additional kinds of telemetry from the Allen field’s counterpart location was an open question.
Opinions varied throughout the team; however, in Dr. Rys’s estimation, telemetry wasn’t an end unto itself. The collective brain-power of US-395, which he’d learned over their nearly two years together was as formidable as he’d hoped, had indirectly stolen glimpses into that destination through telemetry, and in the process had learned
a great deal. Nevertheless, it was probably safe to say that no one was satisfied with their understanding of the other side. And everybody would probably agree that rather than cleverly piecing together a mosaic of readings to eke out an idea of what was there, sending a human passenger would directly give them the answers they sought in a matter of minutes, answers that had eluded their probes and highly sophisticated guesswork. Consequently, to Dr. Rys’s thinking, the overarching goal had remained unchanged since the auditorium doors first opened: Sending a human passenger through the field. And it amused him to note that the precursor to that momentous leap in their understanding of the Allen field was just then playfully fetching a slide-rule that someone had tossed across the auditorium.
Until that first human passenger was sent, however, telemetry would have to do, even though recently it often led to more questions than answers. Their inability to detect the probe’s short-wave radio beacon in particular bothered him. As a scientist, he was open to all possible explanations, even ones that posited an extraterrestrial destination. Although that wouldn’t have been his first choice, he wanted to find the right answer even if it turned out that it wasn’t his answer. At that early stage, so little was known about how the field worked that nothing could be taken off the table. However, personally, he felt that the probe had been materializing somewhere on Earth. The air samples, the environmental telemetry, everything pointed to a terrestrial counterpart location for the Allen field in the sending room. He heard rumors from government sources that a series of satellites would be launched soon to enable a global location tracking system. Dr. Rys knew that by using the Doppler Effect, signals transmitted by a system of three satellites could be used to determine one’s location anyplace on Earth. The rumored system apparently could be operational by the end of 1959.