Launch Pad

by Jody Lynn Nye

  Enough already! She could not afford dithering, and was mad at herself for letting it happen. She replied.

  Hi Rodger,

  I’d love to, but I’m at a critical juncture with my research and need to see whether or not it pans out. Give me a raincheck?

  Thanks,

  Bev

  She hit “send” before she let herself rethink it again. There. It was done. Quick and painless. One thing at a time. One priority at time. No voluntary distractions. The ones that were part of her job description were bad enough.

  She glanced at the clock and berated herself. Look at how much time I’ve wasted already.

  Bev returned to her calculations.

  O O O

  All twenty-two professors in the department sat in the Fischer Room, where most of their grad classes were held, for the monthly faculty meeting. The room wasn’t ideal, as all the seats faced forward to where the department chair sat, leaving it difficult to see each other, but it was big enough without being too big.

  Bev was starting to realize why faculty meetings were universally dreaded. It wasn’t that they were bad, exactly. They were, however, an opportunity for some to have a captive audience for their pet projects, to be forced to confront departmental politics, as well as to be in the spotlight, and not always in a good way.

  She’d figured she had some leeway given how new she was, but there was an agenda item labeled “New Faculty Report” and she was the only recent hire in the astronomy department. Marty had caught her in the hallway and just told her to give an honest appraisal about how things were going when her turn came, and to try to take any comments or criticisms constructively.

  Bev did not look forward to it. The other professors were not only her de facto mentors to give her construct advice. They were also the first group of people who would vote whether or not to award her tenure. Being totally honest might not be the wisest first impression in all respects.

  She sat through the discussions about program assessment, a new electronics course for the upper-level physics and astronomy majors, and an announcement about the end-of-semester (formerly holiday, formerly Christmas) party, which would be held at the chair’s house as usual.

  “What’s next?” Marty asked, adjusting his glasses to read his agenda.

  “New faculty,” Rajiv, their cosmologist, offered, twisting his neck to look toward Bev.

  On the spot, yes. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter. “That would be me.”

  “How are things going?” Marty prompted.

  Rodger would make a joke, get everyone to laugh, and then breeze through this. Maybe she could try it herself. “Terrific,” she said, and took a pause to suck people in. Now the punchline, “I’m managing to get everything done in under eighty hours a week!”

  They chuckled, thankfully, despite what she thought was a poor delivery. It was a joke other professors who weren’t deadwood could appreciate, or at least the ones who hadn’t been associate professors too long. They didn’t need to know it wasn’t actually a joke in her case, and she suspected it might not be a joke in theirs, either. She hoped not, or she’d be alone among them.

  Bev recounted her progress and setbacks with her research, dealing with the recalibration issue in particular. Argus was a high-profile NASA mission, and in many respects her career would rise and fall with it. She reminded them how she was leading the first effort that had the potential to see what planets orbiting other stars actually looked like. She wished she had better results, and didn’t need to use the qualifier “potential.” After the Hubble and James Webb Space Telescopes people weren’t impressed with vague smudges in a circular shape, and she’d have to do better. The other faculty knew that, too.

  She talked about her class, and told the story about her student, using a “Date Equation” analogy to the “Drake Equation.”

  Ivan, a theorist, stopped her partway through her story. His eyebrows were lowered disapprovingly. “Don’t do that again. It’s dangerous to have the slightest whiff of anything sexual. You’d be better off learning to cover your ass first.”

  She disliked being interrupted, but could not afford to alienate Ivan.

  “But it worked,” said Bev. She was disappointed that her reply came out sounding defensive. Well, she should be able to defend herself, shouldn’t she? Of course, but she was junior and he was the one who would be voting for or against her in a few years.

  “You got lucky,” Ivan declared.

  “Are you sure you want to use that expression?” asked Marty, smirking. “It might be misconstrued.”

  Everyone laughed at Ivan’s expense. Bev felt relieved, although she worried Ivan might hold it against her. She just wanted to do a good job. She didn’t want to prioritize covering her own butt over teaching a student. Maybe she should have a talk with Marty at some point about risks, priorities, and if she should worry about Ivan.

  She decided to finish with her announcement about landing her first grad student. “Dino expressed interest in working with me, and we’re meeting later to get started.”

  “Dino, the Italian?” Rajiv asked.

  Bev thought “Dino” was sufficient as they only had one in the department. “Yes.”

  “Hmm,” said Rajiv. “He came to me on Monday saying he wanted to work with me. We’ve already sketched out a project for him and he’s got background reading already.”

  Bev felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. “Really?” was all she could say.

  “Yes, I’m sorry to say. He said he had spoken with other professors, but had not found a satisfactory project.”

  Well, that sucks, she thought. It wasn’t that he was the only student in the department who would be looking for an advisor. It was just that she’d already started making plans for the projects they’d do together. She’d mentally committed to him, but apparently he had not committed to her. She felt betrayed, and would have to continue to work by herself.

  Aloud, she said, “Okay. Then I don’t have any students working with me yet to report. I’m done.”

  She waited for everyone’s attention to leave her and stewed a bit until the meeting finished.

  At least she’d have a little more free time without Dino to train. Maybe she could continue to keep it to under eighty hours a week.

  O O O

  Bev walked into the classroom auditorium, down the stairs, and up to the computer console. She set up her displays, links, and waited for the appointed time to begin. She had only this one lecture left before the Thanksgiving break, a sorely needed break that would let her finish preparing the last week of lectures and write a final exam.

  Her colleagues had warned her that attendance would be poor on this date, especially late Tuesday afternoon, no matter what policy she had about absences. They were right. Only about a third of the class was in attendance, and she considered cancelling on the spot.

  Then she caught sight of the student with whom she had discussed Drake and dating. He sat in his usual spot in the second row, blonde-hair pocking out from under his baseball cap. It wasn’t just about the quantity, she mused. Quality counted, too. She felt she had made a connection with him, even if she hadn’t tracked down his name yet. She promised herself she would give the best lecture she was capable of, and get as many of her students as possible to have a transformative experience.

  “Okay,” she said clapping her hands together. “Let’s get started.”

  Bev reminded them about the final exam schedule and the review session she’d hold, and then brought up her first slide.

  “Are we alone in the Universe?” she asked, echoing the rhetorical question on the screen behind her. Or the question that should have been there.

  A couple of students started giggling and pointing. Their commotion spread out until all the students were whispering to each other.

  What was going on? She gave herself a quick glance and saw that her clothing seemed to be in order. She turned to look up at the slide, hopi
ng her files hadn’t been hacked with porn. Or worse.

  At first it looked fine, but then she caught it.

  Her first slide didn’t quite read as she’d intended. Instead it read, “Are We Alone in the University?”

  Bev had obviously been up a little too late working on that one. She hoped there weren’t other obvious mistakes. She gave the students a rueful grin.

  “Okay, you’re all awake and paying attention. I guess that we all feel alone from time to time. You guys are away from your families, although I hope you get to see them for the holiday. We’re obviously not alone literally, all sharing this space in the classroom, this experience today, even if many of your classmates skipped out on us to go see their families.”

  She realized she was rambling and straying too close to some personal truths she didn’t want to face. At least not right now.

  A girl wearing too much make-up blurted out, “Can we all get extra credit for coming today?”

  That almost made Bev snort. How entitled her students were!

  “No,” she said quickly. “Your reward is a valuable learning experience your absent classmates will have to go without. You’re already getting something extra they won’t.”

  After that, she had better deliver. In many ways this lecture was the ultimate lecture of the class, at least it was philosophically and to her personally. It was one of the biggest questions humans could ask, and one she hoped she’d see answered within her lifetime.

  It was her job to get them to consider that today, for at least an hour, without worrying about grades, which were really not that important in the grand scheme of things. Einstein didn’t have particularly great grades after all.

  It was about what you learned and what you did with that knowledge. Whether you did something interesting or important and contributed. That’s what she really wanted them to understand.

  Bev realized she’d been standing silently for too long. “Right then. Let’s think beyond the university and consider the universe. Let’s stop thinking about ourselves and our own lives, and consider our world and humankind’s existence upon it. Instead, let’s think about a question that transcends your grade in this course and consider how an answer would change the way we see ourselves and the universe we inhabit.”

  She moved to the next slide and spoke with all the passion she could muster, bringing a lifetime of thoughts about this question to bear. She was focused, on fire, and knew it would be one of her best lectures. It would lead to lively discussion in the work groups later.

  Because she believed in this. Humans being alone in the universe was unthinkable to her. There was no way they could be alone, or the first species with technology. Others had to be out there. Others to learn from. Others to lean on for guidance. Others to help. It was hard to be alone in the universe, let alone in the university.

  She refused to be alone in the university, at least for the next hour. And she would learn that student’s name one way or another before the end of the semester. She made eye contact with him, and he smiled at her.

  O O O

  The end-of-the-semester party was held in early December at Marty’s house, a house so big that Bev thought she might even call it a mansion. The décor seemed out of place for the Midwest. It was all Asian, with important cherrywood furniture and Chinese artwork on the walls. Marty didn’t really need such a big house either—his kids had moved out and it was just the him, his wife, and an old mutt named Sir Maxwell. Professors got paid okay, but were not generally rich. However, Marty’s father had been loaded.

  That was reflected in the party, which was luxurious by University standards. There were two open bars sporting quite a bit better than box wine and domestic beers, a pasta station with dedicated chef, an ice sculpture of Albert Einstein (whose extended tongue was already dripping), and a spread of all sorts of exotic dishes.

  Bev knew she should be ecstatic, having survived her first semester more or less intact, with all but finals and final grades completed. She could also be excited about almost a month off before next semester, with time to herself to work. She’d promised her folks she’d visit in the summer, and she would. The prospects of the vacation and the fabulous party should be picking her spirits up, but she was down.

  After her slip up with the “Alone in the University” lecture, she could not help but notice that all the other faculty members had spouses and most of them kids as well. Even the single grad students had brought dates, including the shy, awkward ones, like the Pakistani guy whose name escaped her. It seemed that Marty’s parties were legendary enough to motivate everyone to be social.

  Except for her.

  Bev leaned in a doorway, sipping from her glass—a really lovely French Pinot Noir—feeling alone as she watched everyone smile and talk. She should have asked Rodger along. Why hadn’t she? What would be so wrong about it?

  Nothing. Everything.

  There would be time later when she was sure of tenure, and could invest in her own social life. Right now she needed high-impact papers and a long-term grant or two in order to be sure she’d get promoted. Tenure wasn’t just a promotion, though. You either got it, or you were asked to leave. And with the job market the way it was, who wanted someone who’d failed to get tenure? She might be forced to leave astronomy and go do something that actually made people money. Nothing wrong with that, but it didn’t appeal to her at all. She wanted to teach astronomy and study the stars.

  She was shooting for the universe, or nothing. Or at least a solid first paper from Argus data that would justify them hiring her.

  “Beverley?” asked a loud voice right in her ear.

  She jumped a little, startled out of her reverie. Turning, she saw Marty and his wife, Sylvia, standing nearby. They had someone in tow with them, a young man, maybe late twenties, with curly brown hair and an unsettled look on his face.

  Marty pushed the man forward and she found herself shifting her wine glass from right hand to left, and shaking hands with him. “This is our son, David. He’s single, too.”

  Oh, no, Marty. Too obvious. Too clumsy. She wanted to scream at him, roll her eyes, toss her drink, run away. He was department chair, however, and likely just trying to do a good thing as he saw it. It was touching in a way that he cared. It made her like him more, but it was not what she wanted right now. How could he know what she was going through? She hadn’t said anything to him about her lack of a social life, but didn’t intend to while he was responsible for evaluating her.

  She counted to seven, her favorite number, and forced a smile. “Pleased to meet you, David.”

  He said, “Yeah,” and hastily let go of her hand. She realized she was squeezing his too tightly. He glanced sideways at his father. “Dad, I’m going to get some dessert before it’s all gone.” David slinked away.

  Marty scratched his head and made a small grunting noise. “He’s usually friendlier.”

  “It’s fine,” Bev assured him. “Really. A truly marvelous party, but I’ve got to head out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Thanks again.”

  And then it was her turn to slink off so she could feel alone by herself in the privacy of her own apartment. She did grab an extra bottle of the Pinot on the way out. Marty owed her that.

  O O O

  Bev decided to shake hands with every student in her class as they turned in their final exams. This gave her a chance to see the name on their bubble sheet and put it with a face. She should have been doing this or similar all semester to get more names down, but better late than never, she figured.

  The boy’s name turned out to be Cody. He gave her a good handshake and a happy expression. Despite his rocky start, he managed to make an A on the final, and a B in the course. That was a win for both him and her.

  O O O

  The wind was blowing a bit outside her window, but otherwise the entire department was nearly deserted. Bev couldn’t believe how quiet the building was now that vacation had hit
.

  She kept avoiding starting in on her research and her code, ready to be interrupted at any time, but the interruptions didn’t come. She eventually settled in, remembering what the flow of research was like.

  When she got hungry, she ordered pizza. When she got tired, she went home to sleep. When she had to go to the restroom, she went.

  And she worked.

  It was absolutely heavenly.

  She rose up from the code once in a while to think about the big picture. She was one of a handful of analysis gurus on the Argus team. There was another group at Texas, and a guy from Santa Cruz, but she didn’t think they’d do as well as she could, even if they had more time to devote to the project than she did. Their approaches were traditional, lacking innovation, and did not succeed in her simulations as well as her algorithm. If she persevered, she was in a position to get the first, best result. Whatever they found, there would be a series of papers with close to a hundred authors on each one. She planned to have the first one, with her name first, and even though she felt like she was working alone here, the mission had required all those people to produce the data sets she’d analyze.

  Bev’s trick was to run the light from the star systems through an array of masking techniques and phasing arrays, considering the day/night cycle and a range of spin rates, cloud cover variation, seasonal differences that could arise from ice caps, and pull out the things that remained the same. It was a more challenging problem than star spots, and required better data, but the key concepts were the same. Her simulations indicated the Argus data would be sufficient to resolve surface details.

  She kept at it, enjoying the sheer bliss of doing what she loved without distractions. Yes, there were emails about this or that, but nothing she couldn’t ignore. She loved being in the flow.

  Within a couple of weeks, she had everything set up for a trial run with real Argus data, something that could produce real results. It would take a while to run through all the possibilities and compute likelihoods.