On Research…

Of packrats and horseshoe crabs . . .

The office as attic

Most people don’t realize that writers are really just collectors.

They collect stories, tidbits, anecdotes, experiences, opinions, triumphs and tragedies and then salt them away until an opportunity arises to regurgitate them to hungry readers.

Sciencewriters are no different, except that most of the things they collect are “sciency” stuff, mementoes of former tales of discovery, artifacts of their on-the-job education. We tend to be pack-rats as well, saving all this stuff for some far-off day in the future, with aspirations that our treasure-trove of memorabilia will amaze young colleagues or, at the least, feed the grandkids’ curiosity.

I recalled this fact-of-life the other day while rooting through the stacks of accumulated material that clutter my office, looking for a specific document. Regardless of the urgency of my need for what I sought, the process literally stopped time.

An “organizational expert” – one of those new-age folks we hire to bring order to the chaos of our lives and teach us feng shui – would cringe over my office, the floor dotted with stacks of unread journals and files of past discoveries and disasters, the detritus of a career spent watching as science goes by. How would such a person react to the seemingly endless mass of questionable stuff?

When the great science fiction and fantasy writer Ray Bradbury agreed to host a syndicated television program based on his stories, the producers wisely filled the room behind him with strange and wonderful objects that fans would recognize from his tales, gargoyles and ghouls, devices of wonder, all manner of stuff. It was there that Bradbury would sit, introducing a tale, and viewers would be swept into the mindset of things to come.

In my office, videotapes of old television science programs are stacked on shelves along with press-kits from NASA’s Viking planetary missions and for Skylab, our first “space station.” Elsewhere, there are the official reports from the Challenger Disaster and the “cold-fusion” debacle, and the ill-fated superconducting supercollider that was never built. There’s a self-portrait taken from the reflection of the mirrors making up the Whipple Observatory 10-meter telescope on Mount Hopkins, Arizona. Stuffed toys in the shape of the ebola virus and a trypanosome – the vector for African sleeping sickness – share space with a small alien that asks to be taken to “your leader.” Wind-carved ventifacts picked up at Taylor Valley in Antarctica and lava bombs from cinder cones above McMurdo Station sit atop one filing cabinet. A test kit for gonorrhea made from the blood of horseshoe crabs rests inside one drawer, too unique to discard but fundamentally useless.

James Harder's letter

Tucked away are other oddities, some so strange I occasionally have to pull them out just to assure myself that I didn’t make them up. One clipping from a 1950s issue of the Cleveland Plain Dealer that speaks seriously about university research aimed at perfecting head transplants. Another told of preparations at Ohio State for a heart transplant a decade before the procedure actually worked at Stanford. These and others are reminders of the sometimes strangeness of science.

Perhaps that is why I got that one particular letter.

It was 1985 and the envelope was addressed to “The University of Ohio” in Columbus but I assume the Post Office figured out the sender’s intent. The gentleman from Memphis had information to offer and someone along the way decided the university’s sciencewriter was the perfect recipient:

Dear Sir:

On Feb. 1, 1984 at 11:00 AM, I learned of life on other planets. We can never surpass them. They have conquered speed, sound and gravity. Their space ships can carry 3 million people faster than light. I have written people all over the world, from the President to the Queen of England. Please believe me. I have seen 3 space ships in one year. They have two means of propulsion.

Yours truly,

James Harder

p.s. A lord of England responded, as did the White House and NASA.

I have no idea what Mr. Harder saw, or what motivated him to send it to OSU, and ultimately to me. But considering what else fills my workspace, it probably belongs here as much as anywhere else. And given the basic nature of science – that we accumulate data with no real assurances of what it might yield in the future – it’s probably worth saving as well.__Earle Holland

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Tags: Researchers, Science Communication, Space by earleholland
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Mere bumps in the road . . .

The news last week that the Large Hadron Collider, the massive particle accelerator deep underground at the European physics laboratory CERN, suffered another major setback seemed to garner a much milder response than some people might have expected.

Tunnel at the Large Hadron Collider

Officials running the huge device staged an impressive soiree early last fall for dignitaries and journalists to tout the near completion of what could be argued as one of the most complex construction projects of all time. And while all concerned understood that the event was mostly symbolic — that is, they weren’t “starting” the actual physics work – it was important then to signify what had been accomplished and to increase the anticipation for when experiments actually began.

But then disaster struck in the vast 17-mile underground tunnel when an explosion killed power to some of the huge superconducting magnets meant to guide the subatomic particles, damaging electrical connections and halting work leading to the experiments. Instead, all attention turned to repairing the damage and rechecking equipment. Those inspections yielded other problems with wiring splices that could limit the effectiveness of the giant superconducting magnets.

The verdict: The start of actual scientific work is now postponed until this fall and even then, the apparatus will be run at only about half of its planned capacity for some time until the researchers are confident all the bugs are worked out of the machinery.

What’s surprising about all this is not these unexpected delays and postponements, or even the stepping back from pushing the machinery to full power. Engineers and researchers alike will quickly point to the fact that massively complex projects like this will inevitably face delays and unexpected hurdles, and when they are encountered, caution and prudence is the only wise approach.

No, what’s surprising is that there has been no loud outcry about delays and cost overruns on a project that’s already taken 15 years and cost $9 billion. A look back at earlier big, expensive science projects almost always included loud voices when deadlines were missed and the price tags rose. The public, often fueled by politicians, complained over additional costs and seemingly unkept promises.

Consider the Hubble Space Telescope, for example.

Originally proposed to cost around $500-600 million, delays and construction problems forced a near tripling of that cost. When it was finally launched, the Hubble was seven years behind schedule and $1 billion over budget. And then came the problem with the instrument’s blurred vision which required a Space Shuttle mission to replace components and correct its “eyesight.” Add to that the cost of operating the Space Telescope Science Institute in Baltimore and several “servicing” missions to the Hubble by the Shuttle and the total costs for the project as of this year has been estimated at more than $10 billion.

Where is the outrage that we’ve come to expect over the unplanned cost of major science projects like the Hubble program?

Perhaps in the current economic situation, with a global recession and governmental bailouts reaching trillions of dollars, the idea of spending more tens of millions on the project seems small potatoes in comparison.

The widely viewed Pillars of Creation image taken by the Hubble Space Telescope.

More likely, it simply vanished in the awe and fascination that came with the wonderous images of the universe that Hubble has produced. When looking at the now-famous image of the Pillars of Creation, where massive clouds of interstellar gas and dust form the birthplace of stars, how can one worry about the price?

Hubble let us peer into the vastness of space, to see for the first time the far reaches of our universe and the magic of creation. In doing so, it humbled us somewhat, reminding that regardless of how serious our problems appear, we are but a speck in the cosmos.

The LHC should do likewise, peering into inner space and the vastness of the subatomic world, to seek out the most elemental building blocks making up all that we know and all that we are. And if it costs a bit more money and time, I, for one, am patient, anticipating the as-yet-unseen Hubble-like wonders it should bring.__Earle Holland

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