A Big Purple Snowball

Cathleen’s back at the mic. “Okay, folks, now for the third speaker in tonight’s Crazy Theory seminar. Kareem, you have the floor.”

“Thanks, Cathleen. Some of you already know I do old‑rock geology. If a rock has a bone in it, I’m not interested. Paleontology to me is like reading this morning’s newspaper. So let me take you back to Precambrian times when Earth may have been purple.”

Kareem’s a quiet guy but he’s got the story‑teller’s gift, probably honed it at field expedition campfires, so we all settle back to listen.

“Four and a half billion years ago, Earth was bright orange. That’s not the color it reflected, that’s the color it glowed. You’ve all seen glass‑blowers at work, how the material gives off a bright orange light coming out of the flame or furnace, soft and ready to be formed. That’s what the planet’s surface was like after its Moon‑birthing collision with Theia. Collisions like that release so much heat that there’s no rocks, just layers of smooth molten glassy slag floating on fluid silicates and nickel‑iron like in a blast furnace. No atmosphere, all the volatiles have been boiled off into space. Got the picture?”

General nodding, especially from maybe‑an‑Art‑major who’s good at pictures.

“Time passes. Heat radiating away cools the world from the outside inward. Now the surface is a thin glassy cap, black like obsidian and basalt, mostly smooth. The cooling contracting cap fractures from the tension while the shrinking interior pulls inward, slow but not gentle. The black glassy surface becomes low craggy mountains and razor‑rubble, sharp enough to slice hiking boots to ribbons. There’s no erosive wind or water yet to round things off. Everything stays sharp‑edged.”

Voice from the back of the room — “Where’s our water from then?”

“Good question. Could be buried water that never got the chance to escape past the cap, could be water ferried in on icy comets or worldlets. People argue about it and I’m not taking sides. The planet gets a new color after it cools enough to hold onto water molecules however they got there — but that water doesn’t stay on the surface. Raindrops hitting still‑hot rock hiss back into steamy clouds. If you were on the moon at the time you’d see a white‑and‑grey Earth like Jupiter’s curdled cloud-tops. Visualize a series of million‑year Hurricane Debbies, all over the world.”

He pauses to let that sink in.

“When things finally cool down enough to allow surface water there’s oceans, but they’re not blue. Millions of years of wind and water erosion have ground the sharp rubble to spiky dust. Most of the thrust‑raised mountains, too. Much of the dust is suspended or dissolved in the ocean turning it black. For a while. The dust is loaded with minerals, especially sulfides, very nutritious for a group of not‑quite bacteria called Archaea that eat sulfides using a molecule that’s powered by green light but reflects red and blue. When the Archaea take over, the oceans look magenta from the reflected red and blue.”

Maybe‑an‑Art‑major giggles.

“Next major event, we think, was the Huronian Glaciation, when most or all of the Earth was a solid white because it was covered with ice. Killed off most or the Archaea. When that melted, different parts of the ocean turned black from floating dead Archaea and and then milky turquoise from sulfur particles. Next stage was purple, from a different group of sulfur‑eating purple almost‑bacteria. Then we had snowball whiteness again, which gave green‑reflecting chlorophyll‑users a chance to take over, clear our the sulfur and leave the oceans blue.”

VBOR — “That’s your Crazy Theory?”

“No, that’s mostly mainstream. Question is, what terminated the deepfreezes? Lots of ideas out there — solar dimming and brightening, different combinations of CO2 and methane from volcanoes or bacteria, even meteorites. Anyone remember Ian Malcom’s repeated line in the Jurassic Park movies?”

Everyone — “Life will find a way!”

“Right on. My crazy’s about the two almost‑bacteria. Suppose each kind managed to infiltrate their day’s Great Extinction glaciers. Suppose planet‑wide bacterial purple pigments absorbed sunlight’s energy, melting the ice. Karma, yes?”

~ Rich Olcott

A Great Big Mesh

Cal has my coffee mug filled as soon as I step into his shop. “Get to the back room quick, Sy. Cathleen’s got another Crazy Theories seminar going back there.”

So I do. First thing I hear is Amanda finishing her turn at the mic. “And that’s why humans evolved male pattern baldness.”

A furor of “Amanda! Amanda! Amanda!” then Cathleen regains control. “Thank you, Amanda. Next up — Newt Barnes. What’s your Crazy Theory, Newt?”

“Crazy idea, not a theory, but I like it. Everybody’s heard of black holes, right?”

<general nodding>

“And we’ve all heard that nothing can leave a black hole, not even light.”

<more nodding>

“Well in fact that’s mostly not true. There’s so much confusion about black holes. We’ve known about a black hole’s event horizon and its internal mass since the 1920s. It took years for us to realize that the central mass could wrap a shiny accretion disk around itself, and an ergosphere, and maybe spit out jets. So, close outside the Event Horizon there’s a lot of light‑emitting structure, right?”

<A bit less nodding, but still.>

“Right. So I’ll skip in past a few controversial layers and get down to the famously black event horizon. Why’s it black?”

Voice from the back of the room — “Because photons can’t get out because escape velocity’s faster than lightspeed.”

“That’s the answer I expected, but it’s also one of the confusing parts. You’re right, the horizon marks the level where outward‑bound massy particles can’t escape. The escape velocity equation depends on trading off kinetic and gravitational potential energy. Any particle with mass would have to convert an impossible amount of kinetic energy into gravitational potential energy to get through the barrier. But zero‑mass particles, photons and such, are pure kinetic energy. They aren’t bound by a gravitational potential so escape velocity trade‑offs simply don’t apply. There’s a deeper reason photons also can’t get out.”

VBOR — “So what’s trapping them?”

“Time. It traps photons and any kind of information. The other thing about the Event Horizon is, it’s the level where spacetime is so bent around that the time‑coordinate is just on the verge of pointing inward. Once you’re inside that boundary the cause‑and‑effect arrow of time is against you. Whatever direction you point your flashlight, its beam will emerge in your future and that’s away from the horizon. Trying to send a signal outside would be like sending it into your past, which you can’t do. Nothing gets away from a black hole except…”

“Except?”

“Roger Penrose found a loophole and I may have found another one. There’s something that Wheeler called the No-Hair Theorem. It says that the Event Horizon hides everything inside it except for its mass, electric charge and angular momentum.”

“How do those get out?”

“They don’t get out so much as serve as backdrop for all the drama in the rest of the structure. If you know the mass, for instance, you can calculate its temperature and the Horizon’s diameter and a collection of other properties.”

Cathleen senses a teachable moment and breaks in. “Talk about charge and spin, Newt.”

“I was going there, Cathleen. Kerr and company’s equations take account of both of those. Turns out the attractive forces between opposite charges are so much stronger than gravity that it’s hard for an object in space to build up a significant amount of either kind of charge without getting neutralized almost immediately. Kind of ironic that the Coulomb force, far stronger than gravity, generates net energy contributions that are much smaller than the gravity‑based ones. Spin, though, that’s where the loopholes are. Penrose figured out how particles from the accretion disk could dip into the black hole’s spinning ergosphere, steal some of its energy, and stream up to power the jets.”

VBOR — “What’s your loophole then?”

“Speed contrast between layers. The black hole mass is spinning at a great rate, dragging nearby spacetime and the ergosphere and the accretion disk around with it. But the layers go slower as you move outward. Station a turbine generator like an idler gear between any two layers and you’re pulling power from the black hole’s spin.”

Silence … then, “Amanda! Amanda! Amanda!”

~ Rich Olcott

A.I. and The Ouroboros Effect

The Acme Building Science and Pizza Society is meeting again around the big table near the kitchen in Eddie’s Pizza Place. It’s my deal so I set the next topic. “Artificial Intelligence.” There’s some muttering but play starts.

Cal has first honors. “Not my favorite thing. I hadda change my name ’cause of A.I., f’crying out loud.”

Eddie antes up a chip. “But Cal, your astronomy magazines are loaded with new discoveries that some A.I. made rummaging through godzillabytes of big telescope data. Train an A.I. on a few thousand normal galaxies and then let it chase through the godzillabytes. It says ‘Here’s a weird one‘ and the human team gets to publish papers about a square galaxy or something.”

Susan chips in. “What about all the people who’ve been saved from cancer because an A.I. found bad cells while screening histology images?”

Kareem folds. “Not much A.I. in Geology yet. Our biggest Big Data project these days is whole‑Earth tomography. That uses pretty much all the computer time we can get funds for. A.I.’s Large Language Models soak up all the research money.”

Vinnie raises by a chip. “I use autopilot a lot when I’m flying, but that’s up in the air, Great Circle point‑to‑point and no worries about pedestrian traffic. Autopilot in a car? Not for me, thanks — too many variables and I’ve seen too many crazy situations you couldn’t predict. Black ice in the winter, roadwork and bicyclists the rest of the year — I want to be able to steer and brake when I need to.”

Susan grins. “Are you a stick‑shift purist, Vinnie?”

“Naw, automatic transmissions are okay these days and besides my car uses electric motors and doesn’t even have a transmission. Lots of torque at low revs and that’s the way I like it. What about you, Cathleen? Got any A.I. war stories?”

Cathleen calls Vinnie’s raise. “A few. One thing I’ve learned — chatbots have a limited working memory. I once asked a bot to list Jupiter’s 35 biggest moons in decreasing order of size. It got the first 24 in the right order, then some more moons out of order and two of them were moons of Saturn. So ‘trust but verify‘ like the man said. Sy, you do a lot of writing. What’s your experience?”

I call Cathleen’s raise. “Mixed. I’m a generalist so I have to read a lot of papers or at least be aware of them. Summarizer bots do a decent job on some reports but miss badly when it comes to tying together material that’s not already well organized. Probably comes from that working memory limitation you noticed, Cathleen. The other problem I’ve seen doesn’t apply so much to technical work but it’s a killer for essays and fiction that have anything to do with interactions between people.”

“I’ve seen that, too. No soul.”

“Soul’s the word I’ve been looking for, Kareem. The bots are good at picking up styles and ‘who said what‘ surface material, but they fail completely at emotional subtext, the ‘why‘ that’s the actual thread of a conversation. Subtext is why we read good novels. From what I’ve been seeing recently, it’s not going to get any better.”

“Nothing does, I’m starting to think.”

“C’mon, Cal, your coffee’s improved since the city put in better water pipes. On the other hand, you owe the pot a bet.”

“Sorry. I’m still in, okay?” <sound of chips clinking> “So why’s A.I. not gonna get better? I keep reading how different ones passed tougher tests.”

“Well, that’s the thing. If you’re reading about it online, the bots are, too. What they read goes into their training database. Those impressive test scores may just be the result of inadvertent cheating — but the software’s so opaque that its developers simply don’t know whether or not that’s true. Just another case of the Ouroboros Effect.”

Eddie and Susan meet Cal’s bet, then Vinnie goes all‑in and shows his three queens. “Ouroboros, Sy?”

“The Norse World Snake that eats its tail. Bogus A.I.‑generated output used as A.I. input yields worse output. That’s a loss, not a gain. Unlike here where my four kings take the pot.”

“Geez, Sy, again?”

~~ Rich Olcott

A Blast from The Past

Back at the beginning of the Plague Era when things were (mostly) shut down, I started posting daily memes to reflect my shelter‑in‑place state of mind. Here’s the first one

The initial day‑count reflected my expectation that the lock-down would last less than a month. Hah!

I gave up on numbers for a while

April rolled around and I went topical

Remember the Great Toilet Paper Shortage?

I’ll never know how many readers got this one, but I like it

This is a Physics/Astronomy/Cosmology blog so I posted this to stay on‑topic…

This was meant to be satire, but I saw posts from folks actually doing it…

Yes, cabin fever is a thing

It was a time for sudden insights

We all got used to e-meetings

and smart speakers, if only for the conversations

Soon I had to go for higher numbers

Staying at home had its bright side (unless you’re invested in Big Oil)

And its bad‑omen side

The seasons passed and the day count increased…

Ending this retrospective with one of my favorites

~~ Rich Olcott

Marconi Would Be Proud

A warmish Spring day.  I’m under a shady tree by the lake, waiting for the eclipse and doing some math on Old Reliable.  Suddenly there’s a text‑message window on its screen.  The header bar says 710‑555‑1701 . Old Reliable has never held a messaging app, that’s not what I use it for, but the set-up is familiar. I type in, Hello?

Hello, Mr Moire. Remember me?

Of course I do.  That sultry knowing stare, those pointed earsHello, Lieutenant Baird.  It’s been a year.  What can I do for you?

Not Lieutenant any more, I’m back up to Commander, Provisional.

Congratulations. Did you invent something again?

Yes, but I can’t discuss it on this channel. I owe you for the promotion. I got the idea from one of your Crazy Theories posts. You and your friends have no clue but you come up with interesting stuff anyway.

You’re welcome, I suppose. Mind you, your science is four centuries ahead of ours but we do the best we can.

I know that, Mr Moire. Which is why I’m sending you this private chuckle.

Private like with Ralphie’s anti‑gravity gadget? I suggested he add another monitoring device in between two of his components. That changed the configuration you warned me about. He’s still with us, no anti‑gravity, but now he blames me.

Good ploy. Sorry about the blaming. Now it’s your guy Vinnie who’s getting close to something.

Vinnie? He’s not the inventor type, except for those maps he’s done with his buddy Larry. What’s he hit on?

His speculation from your Quantum Field Theory discussion that entanglement is somehow involved with ripples in a QFT field, ripples that are too weak to register as a particle peak. He’s completely backwards on entanglement, but those ripples—

Wait, what’s that about entanglement?

Entanglement is the normal state for quantized particles. Our 24th‑Century science says every real and virtual particle in the Universe is entangled with every other particle that shares the same fields. It’s an all‑embracing quantum state. Forget your reductionist 20th‑Century‑style quantum states, this is something … different. Your Hugh Everett and his mentor John Archibald Wheeler had an inking of that fact a century before your time, though of course they didn’t properly understand the implications and drew a ridiculous conclusion. Anyway, when your experimenting physicists say they’ve created an entangled particle pair, they’ve simply extracted two particles from the common state. When they claim to transmit one of the particles somewhere they’re really damping out the local field peak linked to their particle’s anti‑particle’s anti‑peak at the distant location and that puts an anti‑anti‑particle‑particle peak there. Naturally, that happens nearly instantaneously.

I don’t follow the anti‑particle‑anti‑peak part. Or why it’s naturally instantaneous.

I didn’t expect you to or else I wouldn’t have told you about it. The Prime Directive, you know. Which is why the chuckle has to be private, understand?

I won’t tell. I live in “the city that knows how to keep its secrets,” remember?

Wouldn’t do you any good if you did tell and besides, Vinnie wouldn’t think it’s funny. Here’s the thing. As Vinnie guessed, there are indeed sub‑threshold ripples in all of the fundamental fields that support subatomic particles and the forces that work between them. And no, I won’t tell you how many fields, your Standard Model has quite enough complexity to <heh> perturb your physicists. A couple hundred years in your future, humanity’s going to learn how to manipulate the quarks that inhabit the protons and neutrons that make up a certain kind of atom. You’ll jiggle their fields and that’ll jiggle other fields. Pick the right fields and you get ripples that travel far away in space but very little in time, almost horizontal in Minkowski space. It won’t take long for you to start exploiting some of your purposely jiggled fields for communication purposes. Guess what a lovely anachronism you’ll use to name that capability.

‘Jiggled fields’ sounds like communications tech we use today based on the electromagnetic field — light waves traveling through glass fibers, microwave relays for voice and data—

You’re getting there. Go for the next longer wavelength range.

Radio? You’ll call it radio?

Subspace radio. Isn’t that wonderful?

~~ Rich Olcott

Welcoming April

Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, two of my favorite fools

The last time I posted in this blog on April 1 was in 2019. That time I was serious. This time I’m honoring a long and semi‑honorable Fool’s Day (or Fools’ Day) tradition in many countries across the world.

If you’re not familiar with the work of Laurel and Hardy, you’ve missed out on a lot of laughter. There’s a reason they had a long career with Hal Roach. Here are a few samples to get you started

Slapstick? Oh, yes, but world‑class slapstick. The 2018 biopic, Stan & Ollie with Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly, recreates some of their pieces as it follows the two after the peak of their career.

Want Science on April Fools’ Day? <HAW> April Fool!

Photo by Val Olcott

~~ Rich Olcott

More Map Games

Vinnie’s not in his usual afternoon spot at the table by the coffee shop door. Then I hear him. “Hey, Sy, over here.” He’s at the center table, surrounded by Cal’s usual clientele but they’re passing sheets of paper around. I worm my way through the crowd. ”What’s going on, Vinnie?”

“Me and Larry are both between piloting assignments so we spent the weekend playing with that map software he bought. He’s figured out how to link it with online databases so we can map just about anything all different ways. Hey, you’re into history, right?”

“Some, yes.”

“This one’s about how far countries go back. I kinda thought countries have always just been there, but no. We found a list of when each country got to have their own government independent of somebody else in charge, so we made this map with the oldest countries the darkest. Look how pale most of the world is. Look at us — the USA is the tenth oldest country. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Ah, I know Denmark started with the Vikings soon after the Roman Empire collapsed. Hungary’s history as a kingdom started about the same time. Then there’s a handful of old states defended by mountains — yup, I see Nepal and Switzerland. Andorra, Liechtenstein and San Marino are in the same category, but they’re too small for this map to show them.”

“You missed the Netherlands from 1579 when they broke free from Spain. No mountains. Larry graphed the numbers down in the corner.”

“Mm-hm. I see two waves. The USA and France started the first one in the late 1700s. That took in most of the New World by the mid‑1800s. Then two World Wars and ‘Katie, bar the door!‘ I hadn’t realized how abruptly de‑colonization took place. Wow. All of Africa and most of southeast Asia became free‑standing countries in just half a century. What’s with Russia — missing data?”

“Gotcha, Sy. That was 1991, when the USSR broke up. Bang! Twenty new countries, all near the top of the scale.” <shuffling papers> “Here’s another one you’ll like. Larry has this theory that countries with lots of neighbors get militarized ’cause they’ve always got a war going on somewhere but if you don’t share borders with hardly anyone, no problem. He did up this map to check his theory. See Canada’s light blue ’cause it’s got only us, we’re dark blue ’cause we got Canada and Mexico. Dark green countries got four and so on. Whaddaya see here?”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. Top of the list, 14 each, are Russia and China who are not best buddies with hardly anybody. Brazil’s got 10, but rainforest is probably as good as mountains.”

“Good point.”

“Excuse me, guys, but I’ve got personal counter‑example experience.”

“Hi, Susan. What’s that?”

“I grew up in Korea, right? Only 2 neighbors, China and Japan, but we’ve got a tough history because each of them just used us as a bridge to get to the other one. Tell Larry it makes a difference who you share a border with.”

“I’ll pass the word. Wait a minute…” <more paper shuffling> “Here’s one we did just for you, Ms Chemist.”

“Weird. How do you even read this?”

“We ran into a problem with the standard maps when we colored each country according to how many chemical elements were discovered there. Most of the action mushed into western Europe’s small area when we showed the other countries. Larry tried a bunch of different projections. This one’s like a fish‑eye lens looking down near the North Pole. See, Russia’s spread around the center but Europe’s bigger?”

“Ah, once I know what to look for it snaps in.”

“I cropped it down to the oval ’cause all the blue sea didn’t fit on the page.”

“Understandable. Lesseee… The UK’s on top mostly because of Wollaston’s geochemistry, Humphry Davy’s work on electropositive metals, and Ramsay isolating the inert gases. The USA owes its second‑place status to Seaborg’s isotope factory at UCal Berkeley. One step down, Germany, France and Sweden ran a discovery horse‑race during the 1800s. Russia came on strong with radioactives but that was late in the game.”

“Wait, Susan. How’d the purples get into this? No big labs there.”

“Except for nihonium, it’s mostly right‑place‑right‑time luck. India gets credit because a French astronomer observing an eclipse from there spotted a helium line in the solar spectrum. Later, an Italian recorded the line on Earth and a Scot isolated the gas.”

~~ Rich Olcott

Mea Culpa, Sorta

<breaking through the fourth wall> I, the author of this blog, stand before you both proud and abashed. There may be a word for that combination, just as “pareidolia” is the word for our tendency to see faces in inanimate objects.

Credit: NASA

This particular episode of “proud but abashed” began with an attack of pareidolia when I saw this Perseverence photo (→) that NASA retrieved from Mars.

Look closely at the large rock just to the right of center. See those two closed smiley eyes above chubby cheeks that look like they’re mashed into a pillow? I did, too, and now I can’t unsee them. Not to mention the belly button closer to us but that’s another story. Naturally, the mental image reminded me of the “rock monster” CGI effect (see photo below but it’s better in animation) in the Galaxy Quest movie (a knowing and funny parody of Star Trek; watch it if you haven’t already seen it and besides, Missy Pyle was adorable as Laliari).

Just a little later I saw yet another of those click‑bait “They don’t want you to see…” memes. That completed the circuit for a conceptual spark. As often happens, mischief ensued. It took just a few minutes of work with my digital graphics toolkit to produce this cartoon that I meant to be satirical —

I posted it in a few places. What was interesting was what happened next.

First and best, of course, was that a lot of folks recognized it as a joke. Many flagged it with a Like or HaHa and I’m sure many more just smiled (or not) and scrolled on and that’s okay.

One person wrote (I think he was kidding) “Bird poop.” There were several mentions (I think they were kidding) of “Men In Black” and “Pokémon.”

Then there are the people who took the altered image as faithful reportage and looked for explanations — “it’s a chance reflection off the robot’s metal skin” or “the Sun must have moved and illuminated an area that had been shadowed.” One responder expressed surprise and indignation that NASA would allow distribution (though the cartoon’s header says they hadn’t) of material that could incite panic. They were quite earnest about that.

It’s not the first time I’ve posted a graphic that didn’t get the reception I’d expected. There’s this pie chart (→) that compares readings for the same temperature according to different scales. (Rankine is Fahrenheit-sized degrees counting up from absolute zero. Rømer‘s, the first transferrable temperature scale, ran from zero at the freezing point of brine, up to 60 at the boiling point of water. No-one uses it any more.)

Yeah, I know the chart makes no sense, which is why I thought it was funny. I was sharply criticized for abusing the software. The carpers would start with something like, “A pie chart is supposed to demonstrate the relationship between the whole and a portion of it,” and go on from there. They were quite earnest about that.

Hey, numbers are abstractions. Why have them if we can’t chart them any way we feel like?

Other people assert numeric freedom, so I’m not alone in this. Someone in New Cuyama, California got creative and put up this sign (→). The arithmetic is good, I checked, but I wish they’d used a monospace font to put the numbers in proper columns. Anyway, the sign’s layout naturally led me to create the pie chart you see beneath it.

So — proud to have given some people a smile, but also abashed. Oh, well.

~~ Rich Olcott

Map-ematics

Big Vinnie lumbers into my office, a grin on his face and a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Sy, you gotta see these, you’ll love ’em.”

Vinnie and I go way back, so I string him along a little. “New clients, I suppose? Wealthy ones, with interesting problems?”

“Nah, just goofiness. Me and Larry, don’t think you’ve met him yet, were having pizza in Eddie’s place. Larry’d brought his laptop and we got to playing with some map software he just bought. You ever hear of a GIS?”

“Geographic Information Systems? Sure, they go back a century and a half to the guy who mapped cholera cases in London and traced the source back to a contaminated water pump. You use a GIS to produce mapped visualizations of useful geographically‑distributed statistics.”

“Yeah, that, except we weren’t going for anything useful. Here’s the first one we did. We had a list of states alphabetical‑like. There’s whole blocks that start with the same letter, like eight that start with ‘M.’ We told the mapper to put a different color on any three or more that share a letter. Silly, huh?”

“Mm-hm. I don’t see any pattern to it.”

“Right. We didn’t, either, so we went on to build a second map where each state’s colored by the date it entered the Union. We tried a bunch of different color schemes, finally settled on this one.”

“Nice. You can almost see the country growing year‑to‑year. … Ah, Hawai’i’s in there, too, tucked away in the southwest corner. It’s color’s so pale you have to look for it. West Virginia — let me guess, right around 1860 or so, right?”

“1863. Those folks rebelled against the Southern rebellion. Anyway, Jeremy was kinda looking over our shoulder and this map lit a fire for him. You know he’s doing an Indigenous History project with Professor Begaye. He ran off and brought back a list of where each state’s name came from. We coded that up, fed it to the program and this came out.”

“Wow. The Europeans pretty much claimed the coasts but look at all the green. It’s like the states acknowledged they were built on Native land. Indiana comes right out and admits it.”

“Yup. Jeremy said it was pretty poor compensation. I understand how he feels.”

“So, did you map anything more than the USA?”

“Of course. Larry wanted more silly so we went with the number of letters in each country’s name.”

“I don’t understand this one. Peru’s green for its short name, naturally, and so are Chad and Cuba, but why are Iran and Iraq different colors? Russia’s name isn’t longer than Saudi Arabia and Madagascar. How can five‑letter Congo be purple for a really long name? Doesn’t make sense.”

“Our name list came from the International Standards Organization. Larry and me, we’re both international charter pilots. We’re often checking ISO files for radio frequencies, airport codes and the like. According to ISO, Iraq is ‘IRAQ‘, but Iran is ‘IRAN (ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF).’ Russia is ‘RUSSIAN FEDERATION‘ which is longer than the other two. The USA would be redder if it was ‘UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,’ but it’s ‘UNITED STATES‘ and tied with ‘LIECHTENSTEIN‘ and ‘GUINEA‑BISSAU‘ at 13 characters so it’s brown.”

“And Congo?”

“The ISO name is ‘CONGO, THE DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF THE.’ That’s not even the longest. It’s beat by ‘KOREA, DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF‘ and ‘MACEDONIA, THE FORMER YUGOSLAV REPUBLIC OF.’ Politics, I suppose, and maybe ego. But I ain’t showed you the coolest map.”

“I’m all eyes.”

“You’ve read Andy Weir’s book, ‘The Martian‘?”

“Of course. Saw the movie, too. It was a nice change watching a drama that didn’t involve people battling each other physically or emotionally.”

“Uh. Yeah. I just saw it as an adventure story. Whatever. You remember Watney’s epic drive across that red desert to recover parts from the Pathfinder lander and then get to the launch vehicle?”

“Mm‑hm, though I don’t remember the geography.”

“Well, here’s his road map — Aries Base in Acidalia Planitia to Pathfinder in Chryse Planitia to take‑off from Schiaparelli Crater. Cool, huh?”

“Quite cool.”

Mars image credit: EMM/EXI/Dimitra Atri/NYU Abu Dhabi Center for Space Science

~~ Rich Olcott

The Name’s Not The Same

The regular Thursday night meeting of the Acme Pizza and Science Society around the big circular table at Pizza Eddie’s. Al comes in, hair afire and ready to bite the heads off tenpenny nails. “This is the last straw!” <flings down yet another astronomy magazine>. “Look at this!”

I pick up the issue. “Looks like the lead article’s about the Psyche mission to the Psyche asteroid. You got a problem with that?”

“Nah, that’s just fine, exciting even. Look at the address label.”

“Ah, I see your objection. Instead of your first name it says ‘A. I.’ like those are your initials. Are they?”

“No. Never had a middle initial until the Navy gave me ‘N‘ for ‘No middle initial‘ and I dropped that soon as I got out.”

“So where’d they get the ‘I’?”

“That’s what chafes my cheeks, Vinnie, people messing with my name. All this stuff going on these days about Artificial Intelligence which everybody calls ‘AI’ which looks too flippin’ much like Al. People have been ribbing me about it since ChatGPT hit the street. They come in here asking me for virtual coffee or wanting to know about my ALgorithms. One guy claimed I parked a driverless coffee machine back of the kitchen. But it’s not just jokes. I get calls asking for programming help with languages I never heard of. My checks have my name as Al but the bank lady gives me grief because I don’t sign them with A. I.”

“You’ve got a good point there. When someone chooses a name, that name’s important to them. I know whole families where everyone has a ‘go‑by‘ name. First class I ever taught, I opened by calling the role so I could tie names to faces. I started out calling out first names but quickly learned that most of the men and half the women went by middle names — this was in the South where that’s common but still. Anyway, I called first and middle names until I got to this one kid. He’d gone through three years of college going by ‘C-M’ until I blew his cover by asking which student was named Clyde and it was him. I don’t think he ever forgave me.”

“I know the feeling, Cathleen. None of the teachers could handle my full name. This magazine’s stupid spell‑checker musta corrected me wrong. I want a new name that doesn’t get messed up.”

“Al’s not your full name?”

“No, it’s Aloysius which I don’t like. No-one can spell it, or say it right if they see it written out. I got named after my Mom’s favorite uncle before I could vote against it. I’ve been going by Al ever since I knew better.”

“We need to figure you a new name that looks different but sounds almost the same so you’ll recognize it when we holler at you, right?”

“That’s about it, Vinnie. Whaddaya got?”

“A negative to begin with. We can rule out Hal, the killer computer in the 2001 movie. Don’t want to see our physicist here walk up for a strawberry scone and get ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sy.’ Haw!”

“How about Sal?”

Eddie waves it away. “My Uncle Salvatore’s already got that. One’s enough.”

I read off Old Reliable’s screen. “Baal was a god worshipped by some of the Old Testament enemy tribes, eventually turned into Beelzebub. That won’t do. And ‘mal‘ means ‘bad‘ in Spanish.”

Resident chemist Susan giggles. “I don’t suppose you’d be happy if I greeted you with a cheery, ‘Hey, Gal‘. Oh, wait, I’ve got a Chemistry thing for us. ‘Cal‘ is the standard abbreviation for ‘calorie,’ one of the old‑time measures of heat energy before everybody settled on the joule. What do you think of ‘Cal‘? Hot and cool and rugged enough for you?”

“Hmm… I like it. ‘Cal’s Coffee‘ even has that market‑winner k’‑kuh sound like Krispy Kreme and Captain Crunch and Crispy Critters. It’s official — from now on, Cal is my official go‑by name. Thanks, Susan.”

She grins. “First time I’ve named an adult. Hi, Cal.”
 ”Hi, Cal.”
  ”Hi, Cal.”
   ”Hi, Cal. Now about that magazine article…”

Adapted from a photo by Edward Eyer

~~ Rich Olcott