by Judyth Baker
For those among you who know interval theory, it’s very useful to know that the distribution of harmonics is always mathematically determined.… Given these background notions, we are now finally able to explain what harmonics on the flute are all about.
When “playing harmonics” on the flute, what we are actually doing is “excluding” the fundamental tone and some of the lower overtones, thus emphasizing the first of the “surviving” harmonics, which will sound as if it were a fundamental in its own right.” http://www.flutetunes.com/articles/flute-harmonics/ Retrieved July 8, 2015. [Consider these principles as applied to the planets as they circle the sun and rotate, their densities, and the fact that Jupiter, Saturn, the Earth, etc. emit ‘audible’ radio frequencies.]
More from NASA: “Radiowaves have the longest wavelengths in the electromagnetic spectrum. These waves can be longer than a football field or as short as a football. Radio waves do more than just bring music to your radio. They also carry signals for your television and cellular phones…Objects in space, such as planets and comets, giant clouds of gas and dust, and stars and galaxies, emit light at many different wavelengths. Some of the light they emit has very large wavelengths - sometimes as long as a mile!. These long waves are in the radio region of the electromagnetic spectrum.” http://science.hq.nasa.gov/kids/imagers/ems/radio.html Retrieved July 7, 2015.
Lightning strokes like this one are the source of the eerie-sounding radio emissions that surround us. http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2001/ast19jan_1/ Retrieved July 8, 2015.
“Saturn is a source of intense radio emissions, which have been monitored by the Cassini spacecraft. The radio waves are closely related to the auroras near the poles of the planet. These auroras are similar to Earth’s northern and southern lights. This is an audio file of radio emissions from Saturn. The Cassini spacecraft began detecting these radio emissions in April 2002.”
5. When sound reflects off a curved surface called a parabola, it will bounce out in a straight line no matter where it originally hits. The futuristic paint would have been made of parabolic particles that oriented themselves on the microscopic level to reflect all oncoming sound waves.
6. Rev. 10:10 : King James Bible: “And I took the little book out of the angel’s hand, and ate it up; and it was in my mouth sweet as honey: and as soon as I had eaten it, my belly was bitter.” “…molecular gastronomy … is the chemistry and physics behind the preparation of any dish: for example, why a mayonnaise becomes firm or why a soufflé swells … molecular gastronomy is a new science … the first PhD in ‘Molecular and Physical Gastronomy’ [was presented in 1996 ] at the University of Paris.… Since 2005, new dishes, produced on the basis of the results of molecular gastronomy, have been named after famous chemists or scientists…” http://embor.embopress.org/content/7/11/1062 Retrieved July 5, 2015. It should be possible to place information into an edible product, though upon digestion, there could be side effects. It would be an interesting way to educate, or for spies to transmit information, probably by using a variation of a 3-D printer.
7. The Greek word is Κένταυρος.
8. NASA Science News, January 19, 2001 “If humans had radio antennas instead of ears, we would hear a remarkable symphony of strange noises coming from our own planet. Scientists call them “tweeks,” “whistlers” and “sferics.” They sound like background music from a flamboyant science fiction film, but this is not science fiction. Earth’s natural radio emissions are real and, although we’re mostly unaware of them, they are around us all the time.
“Everyone’s terrestrial environment almost literally sings with radio waves at audio frequencies,” says Dennis Gallagher, a space physicist at the Marshall Space Flight Center (MSFC). “Our ears can’t detect radio waves directly, but we can convert them to sound waves with the aid of a very low frequency (VLF) radio receiver.” http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/cassini/multimedia/pia07966.html Retrieved July 8, 2015.
9. “So what does Jupiter sound like? It actually produces a wide range of bursts with different sounds. The most common, called L-bursts, last from a few tenths of a second to several seconds and sound like ocean waves breaking up on a beach. The shorter bursts, known as S-bursts, last a few thousandths to a few hundredths of a second and sound more like popcorn popping or like a handful of pebbles thrown onto a tin roof.”
The Religion Solution
The pleasure boat moved slowly between the glistening power towers that filled most of the sea: you knew there was water between the towers, but it was difficult to see it, so close were the towers and platforms that held the tall buildings, and the roadways that stretched among them. The tour guide was a 51% Cyborg, appropriately weathered-looking, with what was rumored to be a beard made of genuine hair. The trip was amazingly long: they were headed to Cuba, the only Reserve that remained open on prime retail property.
“We are now approaching one of the first 100% human Reserves,” Archie Pelago told his guests. “This Reserve was called Heaven on Earth. Its citizens came from every land and clime. They were followers of ‘the Religion Solution.’ They aimed for Heaven, Peace, and Love.”
Archie guided his boat, which was shaped like a Venetian gondola, with what seemed expert precision (it was actually on a track and he only pretended to push it along with its long paddle). Archie was dressed as an ancient Gondolier, complete with short pants and a vest with gaudy sequins. The boat was only half full: Cyborgs were caring less and less about humans and their past. The human race, after all, was nearly extinct. It had given birth to the far superior life form that now inhabited the planet. With hardly a microbe now existing that could do harm, and the weather totally under control, it was outer space that now interested the average Cyborg brain.
The great dream was to populate Mars. Currently, countless comets, small moons (appropriately blown to dust as they were kicked into the Martian atmosphere) and asteroid debris was being diverted to the Red Planet in an endless swarm of tonnage. In another hundred years, Mars would be big enough to hold onto its atmosphere for good, thanks to the barrage of asteroids slamming against it, hour after hour, steered into it by thousands of drones. It had been calculated that only a few more small pushes would be needed to alter Mars’ orbit and bring it close enough to the sun to achieve an average temperature slightly above freezing. Calculating that new orbit, which would not smash the planet against some huge asteroid, had been itself a masterful scientific feat, involving probes that extrapolated everything approaching the solar system, as to how and when Mars might suffer impacts in its new orbit, and placing sentry drones ahead of its path to divert any and all oncoming obstacles in a manner that would not affect any other major planet or satellite.
Mars was also partially flooded now, thanks to the Comet Project. It was estimated that when the planet had accumulated a surface area of 60% unfrozen water, it would then be able to generate enough power for permanent colonies. That was important, because space on the earth was running out. The moon itself was simply too small to hold more than100 million Cyborgs.
As Archie looked over his newest batch of customers, one of the tourists concerned him. This tourist, who sat closest to Archie at the stern, had described herself on the manifest as an anthropologist. Archie had never met an anthropologist before: they specialized in human beings. He did understand that anthropologists were endowed with powers that made them able to bend a human’s will. They had the tools to demand obedience so they could walk safely among them without fear, for an unarmed Cyborg could be overwhelmed by a mass of humans – temporarily.
Considering that he was only 51% Cyborg himself, Archie realized that he had better watch what he said. The jokes he had prepared about humans suddenly seemed inappropriate, perhaps even dangerous, should they offend her. Not only that, but he could see that she also carried a MediaBot on her shoulder. She was likely there to check as to how he conducted his tour. It had been at least five years since anybody had brought a MediaBot o
n a tour. The last time, his tour had been made into a Special, and for a while, business was good. It concerned petitions made by some of the humans to be transferred to the Jerusalem Reserve. It was good entertainment to see them weeping and begging for the transfer. Emotions were interesting to Cyborgs, the majority of whom had no human brain tissue left. For recreation, some of them accepted temporary implants, to give them such sensations.
The Special had been a great hit as each petitioner was turned down and given the option to be exterminated or to accept life on the Reserve. A few accepted extermination. The humans were given a sumptuous feast and were allowed to preach about their religion and life before they were vaporized. For a while, business had been brisk after the executions. Maybe it would become good, again, if he said the right things and impressed this lady. Archie was itching for a bigger and better cubicle. His was quite outdated, with no private scrubbers or instant energy outlets. After all, being only 51% Cyborg, he was more of an impediment than an asset to the community.
As the gondola’s motors whirred lightly, then slowed as they approached the Reserve, the tourists began to admire the huge golden gates that rose before them.
“Since this Reserve was called “Heaven on Earth,” Archie explained, “we fitted the border security perimeter all in gold, with these magnificent Golden Gates. A legend exists that heaven has golden gates. A nice touch, if I say so myself.”
The enormous metallic gates were so high that it was impossible to see beyond them. As the gondola drew closer, the anthropologist suddenly stood, making the boat shake slightly. Next, she clapped her hands to capture everyone’s attention. It was a strange gesture, one that humans used, and it startled everyone on board, which was surely what she intended.
“I wish to introduce myself,” she told the group. “As you can see, I wear the face of Joan of Arc. For those unfamiliar with her story and persona, unknown voices told her to wage war for the sake of her king. Girls were not supposed to do such things, but she obeyed the voices. Eventually, she was captured and burned to death as a witch. Witches were supposed to possess evil powers. She was a courageous girl who had a deep belief in her religion. I chose her persona to help guide me to understand the people in this Reserve… to record what’s left here, before I annihilate it.”
The guests on the gondola drew back from her, struck with horror.
“Y – you’re a Destroyer?” Archie managed to blurt out.
“I’m a Destroying Angel,” the anthropologist said, with cold calm. Her piercing blue eyes looked over the small group. “This Reserve will be destroyed today. It is necessary for numerous reasons, most of them, financial. You came here at random to visit the place, and will serve as witnesses as to its state before, during and after its removal from the face of the planet. Because this might disrupt your expected recreation plans, each of you, including your Tour Guide, will be given enhancements and updates for your cubicles. Congratulations.”
“What will we be getting?” a tourist, who was wearing the garb of a monk for the occasion, dared to ask.
“You’ll be allowed to choose from a set of options,” the Angel replied, showing them, with a wave of her hand, a hologram that danced before their eyes, shimmering with a list of those options. It hovered there for a minute, taking in information from each brain. Then it vanished. “When you return to your respective cubicles, you’ll find the improvements that you desired have been made,” the Angel told them. “Archie, you will get a scrubber and a beard transplant. Sophia,” she said to another, “You will be granted an extra square meter of space, sufficient to allow another person to sit inside your cubicle with you.”
One by one, each tourist was regaled with a particular improvement that met their current desires. This was an unexpected bonus. The tourists began whispering among themselves. This was going to be a trip to remember! Finally, the Angel raised a finger to her rosy lips, signaling silence. “Of course, these improvements are being implemented for you,” the Angel said. “Because today, you’re needed, as my witnesses. When my task is finished, all you have to do is file your memories with me and the MediaBot before we return to the Tour office. Of course, you will agree to the MediaBot’s probes for that purpose.”
Archie knew they had no choice but to agree. He feared even thinking of having a choice: if the MediaBot picked up any such resistance, it would deliver a punishing shock to remind him of what he was supposed to think. MediaBots observed, created, changed and delivered News, which of course was the official version of everything. It was always accurate. It was never disputed (or, rather, it could not be disputed).
“You may now proceed with your usual lecture,” the Destroying Angel said, gathering her long, shimmering skirts around her and seating herself again at the stern. She seemed so innocent, so similar to them. A mere anthropologist, with blonde hair and the face of a young French girl from a faraway time and land. But they knew her power. Cross her, and death would follow. As much as a Cyborg could die, that is. The unpleasant result would be difficult to reconstruct, and it would be expensive.
“As we approach the Reserve,” Archie said, “let me give you some basic background as to the inhabitants.”
The tourists were paying tense, strict attention, knowing that their memories would be evaluated for accuracy against each other.
“You already know how the most dedicated members of every major world religion were sent to this Reserve, once called Cuba,” he began. “Here, they were allowed to live without any supervision whatsoever. Supplies: food, basic machinery to generate fresh water and energy, repair modules, and several excellent Bot educators, including one Bot for each religion, to keep the doctrines available for reference, were shuttled into the Reserve. There was plenty for all. There was access to basic medical care. Their every possible need was met. Every religion represented included the same number of adherents. Those with the highest IQs in each religious group were the designated leaders of the reserve. It seemed a perfect experiment.”
“It was an experiment?” one of the tourists asked.
“Only in that we were curious about what would happen next. Bets were made, which generated the income needed to keep the Religious Reserve financially in the black.”
“I’ve heard that all the major religions were represented,” another tourist commented. “But which religions?”
“I’ll answer that,” the Destroying Angel responded. “The information your guide was given, originally, was quite limited.”
“It was?” Archie asked. Immediately, the Angel’s face darkened with wrath, and the MediaBot on her shoulder sent a charge of pain through his body.
“No irrelevant questions!” the Angel declared. Archie had collapsed, writhing with pain, beside his long, synthetic wood oar. “To continue,” she intoned, “the most devoted members of each religion who wished to participate were brought into the Reserve, where they could practice their faith without any interference from us.”
“They had no laws?” a tourist wanted to know.
“They had laws,” the Angel replied. “Each religion had its own laws. Of course, some religions tried to proselytize – to make converts. It was interesting to observe, because all the members sincerely believed, when they first arrived, in the precepts of their own particular Faith. None of them were curious about anybody else’s religion. As time passed, and some of them began to grow older, or became romantically involved with someone of a different belief, we kept watching. It was, indeed, fascinating. I, myself, was so impressed with some of the events that took place, that when I graduated, I chose the persona of Joan of Arc as my contact with them.”
The gondola was now leaving the inhabited region, and a sliver of open water appeared before them. Ahead was a mist-covered island. What was left of Cuba.
“I will now tell you about the Reserve,” the Angel said. “The following religions are involved: Protestant Mainstream (Anglican, Methodist and Baptist), Protestant Charismatic, Evangelic
als, Quakers and Seventh-Adventists were combined, Muslim included some teaching clerics, plus the Sunni, the Shia, and the Wahabi-Salafi. Then, there is the Roman Catholic. The Greek, Eastern and Russian Orthodox churches were combined. Theravada Buddhism and Zen Buddhism, plus some Jews, African cults and animists – along with Jehovah’s Witnesses, Latter-Day Saints, the religions of Kong and Kung Fu, and three forms of Hinduism, and Vegans, made up the rest.”“What about Wicca?” one asked.
“They are combined with Vegans, Mystics and Cyborg-worshippers,” was the reply. “I should have mentioned that.”
By now, Archie was back on his feet and was dutifully pushing the self-propelled gondola. He knew he must begin his spiel, so, determined not to get in trouble again, he called out, “We are now approaching the Reserve. After the gates open, remember – you are not allowed to interact with any of the residents. We will enter transparent tunnels, where you can observe demonstrations of some of the habits of each religion, such as Christmas, circumcision, exorcisms, a flogging for sexual immorality, a stoning, and the ceremonial cremation of a dead body. Substitutions of any of the above may occur. When the gates open, remain silent until we enter the tunnels.”
As the gates slowly opened wide, Archie heard a gasps of amazement at what his guests now saw. It was not what he had expected, but he hid his astonishment. As the gondola passed through the Gates, a dead body was floating past them in the water. White birds of some kind were sitting on top of it, gorging themselves on the ripped and naked corpse. Several tourists watched with fascination. The more human they were, the more fascinated they were. The gondola’s sides now moved to curve over them, transparent and sturdy: nothing could penetrate its walls. They could see mountains, cloaked in clouds and wafts of smoke, coming from beyond heaps of burned trees. Archie was surprised to see the precious forest reduced to these blackened, fallen logs. He had always wished for a pole made of real wood, wild as that dream was.
