A Taste of Earth

A Taste of Earth - Scene 1

"When I first recorded the asteroid,
I named it Hachiman after the Shinto god of war
and patron god of the samurai.
I had no idea how prophetic it would be.
Hachiman may kill us all."
~ Mr. Taksu Kobo, amateur astronomer

JPL – Jet Propulsion Laboratory
Pasadena, California, USA

"Eight minutes to impact." Astrophysicist Dipesh Patel, member of the Near Earth Object team, read aloud the data on the wall-mounted display – telemetry of three nuclear missiles headed for asteroid Hachiman. NEO team members, scientists, engineers, and technicians from other departments huddled around the display, all of them disheveled, haggard, and unshaven. Dipesh savored the electrifying excitement that still lingered even after thirty-six hours of sleepless anticipation. It had the feel of an all-night movie marathon. Their lab was dark and crowded and smelled of stale deep-dish pizza. Dipesh liked it that way. The darkness cut down on monitor glare, the closeness taught them to conserve space, and the pizza, well, it would have to do. If he focused on his data long enough, it gave him the feeling of being in a space capsule, which is what he had dreamed of doing since childhood. A fear of flying crushed any hopes of that, so he contented himself with the next best thing. "Come on, Hachiman," he said. "Stay real still."

Dr. Irene Clemmons, the matriarch of the NEO team, patted him on the back. "The laws of physics won't change if we don't watch it."

"Not if it's quantum physics," Dipesh said, turning and winking at her. With her frizzled gray hair, piercing blue-gray eyes, and intense features, Irene reminded him of Jane Goodall, the scientist famous for her pioneering study of wild chimpanzees. Irene had nurtured the NEO program since its infancy, and had inspired others to postpone their academic careers and join the ranks of asteroid hunters.

"Maybe letting it hit earth would wake us up," John said.

The statement shocked Dipesh. "What?" Several other groans filled the small lab. John had terrible timing. He and Dipesh were on the same level academically. They each held a doctorate in astrophysics and both were experts on meteor composition, but during charged events like this, John adopted the annoying personality of a hyper-active eight-year old with attention deficit disorder. Dipesh wondered how John ever had enough focus to finish his dissertation. John was ten years his senior, but mentally he was younger than the interns. During this intense world-wide media event, when astrophysicists should be considered gods and saviors, John's current contribution was popping a wad of bubble gum and playing with a yo-yo. "Helps me think," he would say walking around the office. "Look -- walk the dog." The man should have become a professor.

Yet, just when everyone thought he was mentally absent, John would interject the most profound insight into a conversation. Out of the mouth of babes...

"One hit, that's all it would take," John said between gum chomps. "One hit with a five-hundred-meter rock would terraform Mars."

"Wrong planet, John," Lupe the intern said distractedly.

"Nope," John said, flipping the yo-yo. "Hits earth and Mars gets terraformed."

Dipesh turned, ignoring the words on John's tee shirt: I killed Schrödinger's cat. "Mars is not in the trajectory, so what would force the change?" Dipesh asked, immediately wishing he hadn't encouraged the boy.

"Ah," John smiled. "It will scare the crap out of us. Transforming the Martian environment to be earth-like is the only way to insure we Homo sapiens won't become fossil fuel for the next evolved species. That doesn't include you, Lupe. Interns are another species."

Irene huffed. "John, your paper isn't important enough to risk lives."

Dipesh raised an eyebrow. "What paper?"