Archive for the ‘David Kopaska-Merkel’ Category
The Theory of Geothermal Heating
Thursday, May 17th, 2007
(being an explication of the origins and initial reception of the new theory, together with an account of its rigorous testing)
Even in these enlightened times, Professor Robin’s theory was met with skepticism.
The Chronicle: “Nonsense of the Worst Sort!”
The Times, as expected, was more urbane: “Professor Robin’s radical Theory of Geothermal Heat has no foundation whatever.”
His fellow scientists were no kinder. Robin was expelled from the premier societies and ignored at meetings. The last straw came when Professor Philip, Chair of Earth Science at The University, had this to say: “Sir, do you mean that you believe the interior is a greater source of heat than the sun?! Poppycock! The Theory of Solar Heat is central to thermodynamics. It enjoys almost universal support and its predictions have been proven countless times.”
The gauntlet had to be taken up. After all, the matter involved considerations beyond mere science.
*
Robin mopped his brow. The drill rig towered above, but its shade fell elsewhere. Drilling was going well, and the bit should penetrate the base of the crust today. If his theory was correct, they would soon bring up samples of the hot mantle.
A shadow interposed itself between him and the sun. “Robin,” Cynthia said, “on a day like today it is difficult to believe that heat comes from within rather than above.”
“Dearest Cynthia,” he replied, “I have never claimed that we receive no radiant heat…” he swallowed. “I wish you would not tease about such things, given the attitude your father has displayed towards my suggestion of an alliance between us.”
With an expression of contrition she stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. “I have never doubted your brilliance. And I would love you anyway, were you quite wrong.”
Prof. Michael strolled up, hands in pockets. “Ready for ignominious defeat?”
“Au contraire!” Robin retorted hotly, but he was interrupted by an excited shout from the driller:
“New sample, Professor!” They hurried to the rig. The newest core lay on the plank table.
“Lighter color, more porosity… what are those dark blobs?” Robin mused.
Cynthia plucked one out, popped it in her mouth. “Mmm, blueberry.”
“Observe the steam, Michael.” Robin gestured towards the core. “Clearly the temperature of the interior is much greater than that on the surface. You have the pleasure of witnessing my vindication!”
“Vindication? You have proved yourself wrong. Although I have to admit some chagrin myself. The Bakists were on the right track after all. Oh look! Whole wheat!” He licked his lips.
Tom Swift and his Automatic Sausage Maker
Thursday, May 10th, 2007
The front door opened and another one came out, carrying Grandma’s Victrola. Janice peered through the binoculars. At 8X they looked like Santa’s elves, right down to the curly-toed shoes. Pine straw poked her in several places, and because of the lack of underbrush she couldn’t move much without being spotted. Now two “elves” went back in the shed, carrying between them some parts from the old washer they’d been dismantling. Nearly all of the Chevy had already disappeared inside, not to mention the toaster and a bunch of other stuff from the house. It must be getting pretty crowded inside. One of the elves had what looked like a meat grinder going as fast as he could turn the crank, but what went in was dead leaves, and the sausage that came out shone like aluminum. At least they’re cleaning up the place, she thought, and Emma will stop riding me about that. Emma! There she was now, pulling into the yard, apparently lost in radioland, not even noticing the red-jacketed creatures who had taken over the yard. Shit! She actually got out and started for the house, then stopped dead still. She wasn’t screaming and jumping around; something must be wrong. Janice bit her lip, then picked up her rifle, never taking her eyes off the tableau below. Two of the elves took Emma’s hands and led her into the shed. Now they had a hostage. She silently backed down the hill. She’d have to come up from the west where there was more cover. She’d have to do it fast.
By the time she had the yard in view again everything was gone: the shed, the truck, the rest of the Chevy, the elves, and Emma. She ran to the spot where the shed had been. Bare dirt; the meat grinder stood in the very center as if left behind in payment. Her baby sister was gone. It was time for a drink.
After a while the quart jar was empty, but nothing was going to bring Emma back. A tear ran down her cheek. She thought for a few minutes. A meat grinder that turned dead leaves into aluminum ought to have SOME value. It did.
#
About a year later Emma showed up again, her diminutive baby in tow.
“He takes after his father. I think he’ll be a great engineer,” she said.