by Purple Hazel
* * * *
Meanwhile, watching this historic broadcast, among the many millions of people who’d logged onto Ultravision that night the world over, was a group of young scientists. Sitting around on couches in the common room of their Toronto office building and passing around a glass bong to take hits off of, they sat in awe for a few minutes…letting the news sink in and the excitement of the moment comingle with the THC resin vapor they’d been inhaling.
“Wow…so they really built it, y’all,” observed Kelvin. “They’ve been working on it all along, just like we’ve heard.” Kelvin was the handsome, go-getter, destined-for-leadership type among the group. He always had a brand-new girlfriend to kick off each semester back in college at Massachusetts Institute of Technology; yet he often showed up at parties with some girl no one knew a thing about and had never seen before. He’d casually dismiss inquiries about it, too, saying he’d just met the gal somewhere and asked her out. That’s the type of guy he was. Could read people pretty well and had the looks to open doors to opportunity—doors commonly closed to others. “The Warp Drive, I mean—they musta’ built it, finally.”
To this Günther, one of his colleagues at Magellan Aerospace, who was reclining on a couch nearby, felt inclined to disagree.
Laid back on one of the more comfortable faux leather sofas in the corporate common area, Günther was generally not the type to challenge Kelvin on—or about—anything. Wasn’t in his nature. Mellow, highly educated German kid from a long family history of astronautical engineers and the son of a noted scientist now working for Space Programme, he’d come to Toronto only a year ago, timid and shy about his poor English skills. That said, he was for all intents and purposes the brightest among them when it came to physics.
“Ney…zat is not possible, yet,” he interjected, “Annuzzah ten years away, at least. Besides, zay have to set up exotic matter pods, you see? Along zee route zay vish to take…if zay vish to use Warp Bubble technology, zat is. Basically, zay have to maintain a tachyonic field every few million kilometers for zee craft to complete zee journey.”
Both Kelvin and Günther were, of course, referring to ground-breaking technology first proposed by Mexican theoretical physicist Miguel Alcubierre back in 1994. In an Alcubierre Drive, rather than exceeding the speed of light within a local reference frame, a spacecraft would instead traverse distances by contracting space in front of it and expanding space behind it (thus the nickname Warp Bubble. In fact, everyone in this quartet of well-educated work buddies knew all about it—had studied it in school.
Unfortunately, this advanced system for hurtling manned space craft through the galaxy had not yet been perfected; and as far as these young scientists knew, it was still in its developmental stages. Working for Magellan Aerospace right out of college at the company’s impressive campus located just outside Toronto in Mississauga, Ontario, they’d become fast friends: Günther, the young physicist from Stuttgart, and Kelvin, the suave but strong-willed type who so dearly loved the ladies. He’d actually been a Megaball star back in high school down in Virginia but gave it up when he got accepted to MIT.
There was also B.J., who was the mathematically-minded, bookish-looking type from Montreal who pos-sessed an almost limitless libido. She’d not only earned her special nickname (her real name was actually Ariel) via years of casual liaisons in the backrooms of buildings, locker rooms at gymnasiums, washrooms at nightclubs, etc.—but to be sure she relished it. It was a great icebreaker for her to use whenever meeting new guys. She never “dated” anyone, of course. Never had a boyfriend at all, really. But she always, always had lovers. Oh yes, lots of them!
“Hi there, Gorgeous,” she’d say sidling up to an attractive prospect, holding a half-full glass of liquor—just so they’d know she’d been drinking. “People call me BEE-JAY…what’s your name?” That’s about all she ever needed to attract a cute fellow for the night (or at least for the next half hour or so). That and her big boobs, of course, which rarely ever stayed covered up once she’d gotten a few drinks in her.
And finally, there was Robin, a transgender kid from suburban Atlanta who’d graduated with a degree in Aeronautical Engineering from Georgia Institute of Technology. African-American and just over 1.9 metres tall when wearing heels, she was slender and long-armed and walked like a runway supermodel, but she knew his stuff when it came to advanced propulsion systems. It was Robin who spoke up next.
“That’s right, Kelvin,” she said effeminately, while running his fingers across her forehead, “We got a long way to go before we can travel above the speed of light. Spacecraft can only achieve about ninety percent with today’s technology.” Georgia Tech kids were often like this: highly sought after by technology companies for their excellent education, but occasionally given to showing off their immense knowledge.
“I mean, this mission…shit…they must be talkin’ ’bout what, fifteen light years to get out there? That about right, Günther? Fifteen?” Robin looked over toward Günther while squeezing her legs together with her hands in-between.
Günther shook his head and blinked his eyes. “Nein…just under sur-teen,” quipped the young German without hesitation.
The tall lanky Robin then proclaimed, “Yeah, ya’ see? Thirteen light years…that’s all I’m sayin’, niggah. They talkin’ ’bout one big damn trip.” Then Robin gave out a ‘pffffft’. “It gonna be a laaaaooohng way out there, bitches.”
Kelvin was now deeply interested in this new information as he emotionlessly viewed a litany of commercials while awaiting the return of Cory Redmann’s show. He chimed in with, “So what are we talkin’, then…fifteen years to get there …then fifteen back?” He then looked over to B.J. who was curled up with a pillow at the foot of the couch with Günther’s feet in her lap. “Sound about right, B.J.? You’re the math guru here.”
To this Robin clarified with, “Bitch, she a genius ’n you know it.” Then everyone else chuckled, knowing just how right Robin was. B.J. laughed humbly as well, rolling her eyes as if to dismiss a compliment she nevertheless knew she deserved.
“Ummm… Well, it’s just under thirteen light years away you said, right? To Kapteyn B?” she began inquisitively, faking like she was some dizzy teenager when she spoke. This was something she did instinctively around guys. She was usually hesitant about them finding out she was indeed quite brilliant at math. Might scare off the really hunky ones, she figured. Yet her mind could calculate most anything without the aid of a computer, without even writing it down, either.
“At ninety percent of the speed of light, it’ll take about um...make that just a little over fourteen years to get there,” she finally replied. Günther then quipped, “Yah. And ziss vill take a very large crew as well, I’ve read. Zay vill be travelling so many years togezzuh.”
Robin frowned humorously and asked, “Like how many? What’re we talkin’ ’bout…like a hundred?”
Günther nodded rapidly, clarifying that it might require upwards of a hundred and fifty to two hundred.
To this, Kelvin observed sarcastically, “Heh-heh. Not a problem for B.J., then. It’d probably take ’er about a month and half to do ’em all, I bet.” B.J. was not offended in the least. She merely retorted matter-of-factly, “Or six fraternity parties.” This brash comment sent all three boys into shrills of whooping laughter.
Robin laughed the loudest at this, as everyone cackled joyously at B.J.’s blunt humor. He always admired her audacity with men she met, envied her at times to be quite honest. She’d hook them like a big trophy marlin almost every time they went out bar-hopping around Toronto. She’d find a guy, disappear for an hour (sometimes less) and return to join the gang at their favorite pool table. Pick up her glass of booze and slur out, “Ssso, what’d I missh? Is it my ssshot yet?” not realizing, of course, they’d already finished three games and were racking up for a fourth while she’d been off blowing some guy in the bathroom.
But then a thought occurred to Robin. There was so
mething about this that made her remember a term paper she’d written back in college. In her freshman year, she’d been required to complete a core English class that was focused on business writing and written communication including how to write professional reports and such. Her term paper had gotten her an “A” and it basically saved her ass that semester from losing out on a good enough GPA to get herself into engineering school. She recalled the subject of the report and it still amused her to this day. Now, all of a sudden, a thrilling thought pervaded her mind: What if somebody actually tried out the once-controversial scientific theory Robin had written about years before in college?
By now the cackling quartet had settled down, and Kelvin was writhing in his chair, giggling at B.J.’s shocking yet quite typical comeback. They, of course—the two of them—had a past as well. At first, Kelvin was just somebody B.J. desired for a drunken fling late one night after a company outing at the local park. She was, at the time, quite loaded and in need of companionship. Kelvin was happy to oblige. After that, they’d merely gotten together for smoke breaks as they called them at work, whenever projects kept them in the office after hours.
Still Robin couldn’t shake the intriguing thought from her head and when Kelvin seemed to regain control of himself and stopped giggling, the slender transgender from Georgia spoke up. “Hey y’all. Lemme ask ya’ somethin’,” she said. “Have y’all heard about the ‘Twin Paradox’? The theory ’bout sendin’ identical twins up into space?”
Günther shook his head dismissively and blurted out, “Of course. Most everyone has.” B.J. giggled and added, “Yeah…Albert fuckin’ Einstein!” Kelvin meanwhile looked around curiously to try and catch up to everyone else in this new discussion who seemed to know exactly what Robin was talking about even though Kelvin personally hadn’t a clue.
“That’s right, Sweetcheeks,” remarked Robin, “Paul Langevin, really, but he was only expanding on Einstein’s work on special relativity.” Robin went on from there to describe to everyone briefly how the theory came to be…
In 1905, Albert Einstein published his famous paper explaining the theory of relativity, in which he deduced that an object in motion experiences time differently than a sedentary one. If a plane is traveling at thousands of feet above the earth for instance, its clocks will be several minutes behind compared with those back in the city from which it departed.
In fact, as Einstein put it, if you placed a living organism in a box and flew at high speed for a lengthy period, similar organisms which remained in their original stasis back on earth will have aged and expired by the time the rocket ship returns. By way of comparison, the returning living organism onboard will have experienced only an instant of time—provided, of course, the velocity of its ship was approximately that of the speed of light.
In 1911, French physicist Paul Langevin took this even further, though by calculating an example of an astronaut travelling away from Earth for one year—according to ship clocks—at a Lorentz factor of у=100, or 99.995 percent of the speed of light. Upon reversing and returning to Earth—theorized Langevin—he has experienced only two biological years, traveling out and coming back, while two hundred years have passed on Earth. Robin then pointed out the premise in Langevin’s theory and exactly why she got a desperately-needed “A” on it when she was at Georgia Tech.
“See, they was all describin’ the effects of time when altered by speed of motion. In my report, back in my freshman year at Tech, I actually described a few different scenarios. O’ course in my calculations, I was only using what we all thought we knew ’bout technology at the time.”
Robin used the example of two sets of identical twins, with one twin remaining on Earth, and their matching siblings sent away on a galactic exploration mission. The craft he described in his report would travel to the Alpha Centauri system 4.4 light years away at eighty percent of the speed of light. Then it would return promptly to Earth. “Distance of about 8.6 light years,” she clarified, “but more like 10.75 light years to do it at that speed. Y’all followin’ me?” Then when she saw even Kelvin nodding in acknowledgment, she continued.
Kelvin wasn’t much for studying and retaining information really. Basically, he hacked his way through MIT and got his degree, then forgot nearly everything he’d learned. That said, his mind could grasp concepts quickly during conversations. His strong personality—as well as those he could manipulate into assisting him—usually did the rest for him.
“And everybody back home, see? They all get older,” added Robin. “For them it’s been like ten years since the astronauts blasted off, right? But the crew is only SIX years older when they get home.” He then used another example from her report which depicted even more dramatic examples. “Of course, it works with bigger numbers, too, y’all…the farther you go, the faster you go, shit like that.”
She went on to describe missions even further and further into space just to illustrate this theory, pointing out how strange it would be for the returning space twin to see their exact duplicate aged twenty, or even thirty years, while they had only aged five or maybe ten. She finally halted her train of thought and gestured for B.J. to hand her the vapor bong. “Now…y’all let me hit this mutha fucka. Cool?” B.J. nodded and thrust it forward for her to grab, like she was offering up a trophy.
Seeing an opportunity to contribute, Kelvin jumped in excitedly. “Oh, I see then, so in this case, if we were to put, say one identical twin on this new Santa Maria they’re building; and send him to Kapteyn B right along with the rest of the crew…at what, say ninety percent o’ the speed of light ya’ think?” He immediately shot a glance over toward Günther who seemed to be shrugging his shoulders in an agreeable gesture, then continued. “Maybe find some kids…twins, I mean…orphans, maybe?” Then after a pause he added rather indelicately, “City kids, ya’ think, eh?”
He asked this callously, vaguely referencing the millions of children worldwide abandoned or seized by authorities every year from disadvantaged homes and eventually farmed out as foster children, or as laborers to businesses. B.J. sighed and rolled her eyes at Kelvin’s offensive and heartless proposal, but then after a moment, her own rather mathematical brain kicked in and she started calculating instinctively.
At first, she was flabbergasted, though. “God. Seriously? Yer a fuckin’ asshole, Kelvin.” Then when even Robin snickered a bit at Kelvin’s sick humor, she clarified, “Okay…how old are we talking here? Robin?” Kelvin clapped his hands and yelled “Ha!” when he realized B.J. was slowly being seduced by the idea.
“Girl, I don’t know. Sheeut…how about ten? What if we made ’em ten?” replied Robin, waving her hands around girlishly, her sinewy biceps and forearms poking out of her sleeveless blouse.
“Yeah, what if they were ten?” inquired an excited Kelvin, suddenly seeming like he was trying to plan an operation to go knock over a bank or something. “What happens to the Earth twin…uh, I mean to the space twin…when he comes back thirty years later?”
B.J. already had the answer in her mind naturally, and as she grabbed the bong from Robin and fumbled for their compact blow torch to light the little plates of THC resin, she proceeded mechanically with her findings.
“Space twin is about 23, I’d guess. Earth twin would be about…say 39,” she said unhesitatingly, as if she’d simply been doubling portions of ingredients necessary for a recipe so she could feed a larger-sized dinner party. That’s just how fast her mind worked calculating equations in her head. Then she lit up the resin red hot before placing her lips over the glass pipe and inhaling. By the time she looked up and around the group, all the others were silent as though seriously contemplating something terribly important. They looked around at each other, then back at Kelvin who was clearly about to regale them with some amazing scheme—they could just feel it.
“Fuck…we could do it, ya’ know?” exclaimed Kelvin, looking suddenly toward Günther with his head cocked to one side like he always did when trying to
convince someone to do something or agree with him. It usually worked so it had gradually become a force of habit. “We could fuckin’ do this if we called up yer Daddy over at the GU. He’s still with Space Programme, ain’t he?”
The young German shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, he is. What of it?” Typical German with his dry emotions and always so blunt when asked a question. He wasn’t rude of course, just direct. He always understood jokes, but rarely saw why they were so funny to North Americans.
“Because, Fuckface,” continued a now-pushy Kelvin, “Yer Dad could get us permission to try it for real!” Günther sat up on his elbows, his head drifting a bit from the effects of the marijuana he’d smoked earlier during their work break. “You mean get my fat-tuh to let us carry out ziss experiment with live human beings?” he asked.
B.J. interjected humorously, “Hey, I thought I was the fuckface, and Kelvin patted her on the head patronizingly replying, “Yes, that you are, my dear. Best in town. But seriously, Günther, whaddya say…could we text him tonight and ask? He’s probably already asleep though, ain’t he?”
The young German nodded passively, showing his discomfort with the proposal, but in his scientific mind appreciating the bold significance of the concept. After all, if this was proposed and his Vater gained acceptance of it by the administrators involved with crew selection…well, at the very least this would bring honor to the works of one of the Pan European movement’s original members: Albert Einstein!
Kelvin began to smile and nod more slowly and deliberately, looking over at Robin who was perched on her little armchair with his eyebrows raised. Robin always loved Kelvin’s devilish ideas and this one was downright diabolical. They’d surely be making history—if only Günther could convince Daddy to let them run with it. That said, Robin knew she’d never let herself get roped into this. She loved working for Magellan and making her Momma down in Atlanta so proud of her. No damn way Kelvin was getting him involved with it.