scomber mirror mirror ch 3 only

8/14/2019 Scomber Mirror Mirror Ch 3 Only

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Chapter 3Drawn to the Bread Knife

Sidings Springs is situated 18km from the small town of Coonabarabran indland New South Wales.Fifteen million years ago the normally stable continent of Australia floated over a hot spot in the Earths interior andcaused a cataclysmic event as the pressure penetrated the softcrust. A shield volcano, 200 kilometres in diameter spewedrelentlessly for 400,000 years. The result was a chunk of Earthlifted 800 hundred metres above the surrounding plain anddotted with numerous dykes and fissures. These are long sinceextinct, the softer ground around eroded away and today themountain range sits high and proud over the western plains of

New South Wales, a ragged scar on the grassy plains. TheObservatory stands elevated and clear, reaching into the dry air off the desert plains stretching to the west.

This is Charlies land. Sacred land. The Warrumbungles. Hisfather and his fathers before him had carved their existence

amongst the basalt spires and winding rivers. Kangaroos and

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emus by the thousand, the streams full of fish and tortoises.Charlie remembered the stories that his grandfather had toldhim as a child.The aboriginal Australians saw themselves as part of the earth.Land, body and spirit as one.Everything around you had an explanation.It was the Dreamtime, when the Earth was created, and therainbow serpent carved its way through the rocks to form thevalleys and rivers .Time was a transient thing, held in suspension by dreaming andthe means with which a soul progressed along its journey,eventually completing the circle to the place it began. Charlieremembered how his grandfather would explain the stars.

They are pebbles tossed across a flowing mantle. Likeflowing rivers, across the night sky, determining our fate andour fortune.

The Kamilaroi clan of Aborigines had belonged to theWarrumbungles for close to forty thousand years. Now theyhave scattered to the cities, lost to their homeland. Charlie felta dull ache in his heart as he realised he was one of the fewremaining with a daily connection to his homeland.

It was getting dark as Charlie climbed the steep track thatwound its way along the eastern edge of the canyon. The moonhung low, ready to set, with just a thin crescent rimming oneside of the disk. Short and sharp thunderstorms carved narrow

paths through the canyon. In fading light, Charlie saw the lastgolden outline of the rocky peaks and walls to the west. Heremembered coming out here with his father and grandfather.

The path they chose may have differed but there was only ever

one destination.


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A one metre by 30 metre basalt spike towering above the thick hakea bushes.The breadknife.They might walk up via the river and through the canyon or over the high plateau but they would always reach the

breadnife.It was a place to complete something of importance.Tribal elders had once held court there, exacting punishmentand making peace with neighbouring tribes.Charlie knew this country well.As a child Charlie's extended family would often refer to himas "Walooga", the single child. It wasn't until much later in lifethat Charlie discovered that the name was really just meant for him. Though the translation was difficult, not just in words butin context, it basically equated to the western concept of "prophet".For years Charlie felt angry with his father for not fullyexplaining how he was "Walooga" and what he was supposed

to do with this burden.Was he supposed to have kept his people on the land? Howcould you be a prophet if there is nobody left to enlighten?Charlie also knew enough about history to know that prophetsgenerally appeared when there was a need for one and worse of all, were generally dead and buried long before anyone realizetheir significance. In the emptiness around him he wondered if anyone would ever hear his sermon on the mount, let alonewhat he would say when he got there.

It was getting increasingly difficult to negotiate the steep slopeas he wound his way through the scrub over the last boulders

before the plateau. The darkness was playing tricks with hiseyes and the constant shrill of cicadas and crickets made itharder to concentrate on the washed out track.

He thought about Corey, and how he would hope to begin to


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explain his theory on the Mars data. But he still had somethinking to do.He hoped that Ray had sent Corey the latest data.

Take a look in the mirror

Corey could hardly believe his eyes. After restoring hissoftware, he checked his email and was pleased to see a newdata set of Mars that he could compare to those of the lost

probes.He sat down, coffee in one hand and keyboard on the other andlined the data up. It didn't matter that he didn't have the older data anymore. All he had to do is run the data through hisalgorithm, print out a matrix and then take a look, somethinglike an ink blot.After studying the patterns of numbers and letters he noticedthe new matrix did not have a bulge at the end of each wavelike his original data. At the speed of light (zero on the matrix),

time seemed to have been slowed by approximately 3.14seconds in the disaster data. Assuming the speed of light isconstant, this placed the point of disturbance at 1200kilometres beyond Mars' orbit.Yet the "disturbance" seemed to be well defined and sat in a

perfect geostationary orbit, which any first year student wouldtell you was impossible at this altitude.It was then Corey noticed that there were footnotes with thedata. Ray had included a note that read;"We checked the magnasphere around Mars again, and thereseems be a thousand fold increase in activity on the far side of Mars.For the next six months Earth is chasing Mars in its orbit

towards opposition and we don't really get a look at about 40%


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of the surface and the space behind it.The Mars Surveyor probe is ten years old and on its last legs

but reports no major change to the Martian surface in the lasteight years it has been orbiting.Something big is happening. Either Mars is somehow ready tochange her orbital tilt on a massive scale - something we don'tquite understand, or there is an object the size of Manhattan,weighing about one sixteenth of our moon hiding from us onthe other side.Be careful Corey. I'm sure we're not the only ones to havenoticed it... Ray Phillips."

Corey repeated the words, "an object the size of Manhattan andone sixteenth the weight of the moon."It occurred to him that such an object, real or justelectromagnetic, could feasibly act as a mirror, bouncing back a radio signal. This might explain how his mirror theory fits in.At light speed, three point four one seconds is about double the

distance between the Martian upper atmosphere closest to usand the phantom on the other side.

The earth had known for the last hundred and forty years thatMars has two so called "moons". Deimos, a 35 km long potatoshaped piece of rock and its little brother, Phobos, a muchlower orbiting chunk, hurtling in a perilously close path aroundMars. It encircles the planet twice daily rising in the west andsetting in the east. It is so low that it is not visible from all partsof the planet. In a mere 20 million years it will crash into theMartian surface.It suddenly dawned to him that if a phantom object existedwith that mass it would surely be seen in rather large change tothe orbit of these moons.He picked up the phone to Siding Springs and dialed the

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Ray answered the phone in his typical laconic manner."Hi Ray, its Corey, I've got to get in touch with Charlie.There's something funny going on with Mars."Don't worry Corey, I'm on top of it.But I wish that Charlie would have told me what was going on.I guess you're going to ask me about the orbits of our two littleGreek friends;Terror and Fear."Well let me say that poor little Phobos as changed his apogee

by about 10 kms and its orbit has become much more elliptical.I've never seen anything like it in all my life, but then againI've only been alive sixty one years.I wish Charlie had involved me earlier.Charlie's Manhattan theory seems to be the only plausibleexplanation.If the body is purely magnetic, an aurora gone crazy, it shouldhave a gravity effect no where near what we are seeing. Mars

just doesn't have the mass or the magnetosphere to create amagnetic storm of this magnitude.Yet the effect looks so strong at a single point that its possiblethat good old Newton's laws breakdown under such conditions.Time is bent and matter can transform freely with the energyaround it. A total flux where energy is the natural state andmatter is just a fortunate consequence. As a parabola in four dimensions, this may explain your pye, Corey."

Corey responded, "but how does the mirror fit in? and then began to answer his own question.Surely the last few seconds of the Mars probe is clearly animage of the previous 3.14 seconds. I watched a couple of guys

playing pool the other night at the local bar, and looked at their reflection in the wall mirror behind me. The right handed

player now looked left handed but he was still positioned at the


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same end of the table. The positional data corresponding to thelast few seconds of the transmission is completely reversed.The right handed player not only looks like a lefty but is

playing his shot from the other end of the table. What we areseeing is therefore not a mirror, at least any kind that I knowof, but more a fresh image.It's like when you face a person, your right is their left and

your left is their right. If you have ever raced one of thoseremote controlled cars towards you you'll know what I mean.We could be looking into the back end of some kind of black hole and being a shown a different version of ourselves".Ray leaned back in his chair and was surprised that Coreyhadn't already asked him to take another look at Mars."You know Corey, it wouldn't be a bad idea to focus our attention squarely on that patch of space on the far side of Mars. I've got 24 hours to get it done before the rest of the guysget back from their Christmas break and then I'm stuck behinda desk again."

I have already spoken to my mates down at Stromolo and over at Parkes and they are willing to give me 40 minutes air time ateight oclock this evening. We have positioned the three radiotelescopes in an array, so effectively our combined dish is 400km wide. What ever this object is we should get a fair look atit.Corey could feel the hairs stand up on the back of his neck."Can you call me right away if you find anything new?" Hesaid vaguely, his mind already racing towards a thousand

possibilities."Oh, and I can tell you that Charlie's OK." The flying doctor guys spotted him camped on the very top of the Breadknife thismorning burning a small fire.Dammed if I can understand the attraction.If I did that they would arrest me but if you're Kamilaroi its

OK . I hope the old bugger doesn't slip and get himself killed."


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Walooga

Charlie had fought his way through the hakea scrub to reachthe breadknife that evening. It was about eleven o'clock, themoon had set and the stars above shone as brightly as theycould. The breadknife was the eroded remains of a volcanicdyke. Lava forced through a weak point in the sedimentaryrock long since weathered away. Now only a jagged bony

blade.Charlie located the meeting stone and sat down on it. From hissmall pack he pulled out a number of 35mm film canisters. Hethen removed his clothes. His fingers felt the rock in thedarkness, walking across its surface like his ancestors had for the last forty thousand years. They brushed across thesmoothened surface until he found four shallow wells in therock. He opened a couple of canisters and poured out the

powdery ochre paint base into one of the depressions. He then patiently mixed his powders with water, one the brilliant ivory

white of crushed pyrite.He looked up fixing his gaze skyward, and began to apply the

paint to his torso and face just like the last time he had donethis, 30 years ago.The last time, at his ailing fathers urging, he had sought councilwith his homeland, a confused young man. On that occasion hewas led out of the wilderness with a plan to rescue his life fromthe cycle of alcohol and petty crime his childhood friends werecaught up in.He put the last of the ochre mix onto his forehead and fixed hisgaze on the Pleiads; the seven sisters, a cluster of stars, nothingmore than a faint smudge in the city, but here a brilliant clutchof pearls.The brightest star Alcone, aligned perfectly with the top of thespire towering in front of him.


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With purpose and reverence he rose to his feet and began toclimb the breadknife, his fingers and toes searching and findingthe cracks in the granite face. His aging body now seeminglyfit and pliable, he reached the top and surveyed the viewaround him. Total darkness except for the dazzling fermentabove.It was too dark to see the land and horizon and it gave him thefeeling of being elevated above the Earth, just that little bitcloser to the stars above. The actual summit of the bread knife is of a flat topped wedgeof granite about one by three metres at the top and forming thestart of series of other jagged fingers of granite each lower thanthe last. It certainly doesn't look like a breadknife when you areclose to it. More like a cathedral.

Charlie sat down, his legs crossed and limp, in the way his people had before him. He slowed his breathing, and

descended into a deep sleep.

END CHAPTER 3

scomber mirror mirror ch 3 only

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