On Science

DISCLAIMER: Abandon hope all ye who continue, for what follows is sure to be complete gibberish.

I can't sleep. During my week off I would happily have nodded off at ten o'clock every night. Now that I have to start getting up early again, I've been hit with a bout of insomnia. Like Faithless, I can't get no sleep.

So, rather than allow itself to fall into sleep's sweet embrace, my mind has been racing, darting from one bizarre thought to the next. For a while, I tried translating random sentences into French and Italian, then stopped in case the family began to worry about the multilingual [and in all likelihood grammatically incorrect] whisperings emanating from their firstborn's dark bedroom. Instead, I opened the curtains and looked out at the sky. At first I could only see three stars, but, when after staring at one for a while, more emerged from the darkness until there were...more. Loads of the little blighters, all twinkling away, sometimes visible, sometimes not.

At times like this [and by 'this' I mean past my bedtime and incapable of any logical thought] I think we know too much. There was a time when stars were there to be wished upon, to navigate by and to predict the future for us. They were dot-to-dot depictions of famous heroes and monsters. Stories written across the sky. They were 'the heavens'. Nowadays, they're giant balls of gas. Lovely. Where's the romance in that? Where's the mystery? I'm concerned, you see, that science is sucking the fun out of the world around us when to be honest I'd settle for the Lion King Theory on Astronomy [which states, if I remember correctly, that stars are dead lions in the sky]. Even that's better than a gasball, a celestial fart.

And it doesn't stop at the stars, which I seem to be somewhat obsessed with lately. Mankind has always tried to make sense of things that seemed beyond understanding. The Ancient Greeks explained the seasons with a story involving a kidnapping, a mother's heartache and a glimmer of hope at the end. Thunder in Scandinavia was the crash of Thor's hammer, and Northern Ireland's Giant's Causeway was a bridge to Scotland for, well, giants. Now it's an interesting volcanic rock formation. The actual science behind all of these things seems sterile in comparison to colourful, emotive myths and legends. It's a bit like opening a really nicely wrapped present to find something really quite dull inside.

But I suppose that's because I don't have a scientific mind. I really don't. I don't think I'm bright enough and I'm definitely too easily distracted. I'm sure those that are lucky enough to possess an interest in the real world think I'm being ridiculous - which is completely right, I am ridiculous. Science is an amazing thing; it has worked miracles, saved countless lives and even enabled me to bore you all with this post. It just doesn't seem as much fun to my childish, easily-confused little mind. So scientists, you intelligent and rational folk you, please accept my thanks for all your hard graft. I'll continue to enjoy the benefits you bring, but please don't be offended if I still refuse to walk under ladders, occasionally read my horoscope and secretly believe that fairies live at the end of my garden.

On Stars

When I was young, my nan used to come and visit from her house in Fulham. She would sit in the garden for half an hour each evening, looking up at stars, and tell me how many more there were here than she was used to. I thought this was probably bollocks, until a random road trip with N in Cagliari allowed me to see the night sky as it should be seen. It's incredible, really. Absolutely mental. There are so many more stars up there than I can ever see at home. I can see about two. Well, that's a slight exaggeration - I can always see Orion, and the constellation that looks like a saucepan, but that's about it.

There was a great deal of talk last week about a spetacular meteor shower that was supposed to have been visible all over the UK. As I'm normally unable to appreciate the Great Big Light Show In The Sky, I was really quite up for it. And I wasn't the only one; the Facebook status of one of my brother's friends read:
"Sitting in the garden watching the meteor shower with a glass of baileys."

I'll put my surprise at his choice of tipple to one side for now, and concentrate on the biggest issue I have with this here status. You see, we live under the flight path to London Stansted and I believe my brother's friend was talking rubbish. He was watching aeroplanes, not comets. That's the only explanation I can offer. I looked for the meteors myself and there was nothing there. Nothing at all.

As I drunkenly made my way home on Thursday night, beered up and ready for bed, I stopped and had a look. Nothing. 'Perhaps it's a quiet period,' I thought, 'A dry spell.' I was torn between my desire to get home and the hope of seeing a shooting star. Anyone in possession of common sense would have made a choice; either keep walking or keep staring at the stars. I, on the other hand, decided on a compromise: I strode forward with my head bent right back looking up at the sky. In this way I could ensure that I would reach home at a decent hour without having to miss out. Looking back, it's nothing short of a miracle that I made it home in one piece, as I had no idea what was in front of me; I could only be sure that there was absolutely sod all above me. It's so unreasonable; I risked my life for those bloody comets and they didn't even have the decency to show up. That's it, Night Sky, we're done.

Just Finished: Out of the Silent Planet by CS Lewis

First things first; this isn't the actual cover of the book I'm reading, but I googled the title and thought this one was far too delightfully retro to be passed up. HOWEVER, there were no pictures of the characters on the book I read, which meant my imagination had been trusted to build an image based on the descriptions given - until I saw this one. Retro as it is, it's illustrations conquered my mentally-built images and took their place. Much like Daniel Radcliffe and Harry Potter...the two become one (involuntary Spice Girls reference).

Anyway, down to the nitty gritty - Out Of the Silent Planet by CS Lewis. This is the first in a trilogy, which I may well read later but have to plough through the 20 books I got for Christmas before giving myself new ideas. First published in 1938, it strikes me as remarkably ahead of its time.

The plot revolves around a philosophy lecturer named Ransom who is kidnapped and taken to what later turns out to be Mars. Upon landing, he's due to be handed over to some tall, gangly aliens when a Martian shark tries to eat him and he escapes. The planet is known to those that live on it as Malacandra, and Ransom spends a great deal of time there, living among and learning about the various species that inhabit it. It's a bit of a utopia - all three species perform different tasks, interact with one another but don't fight, steal or demand. Everything ticks along quite naturally, everyone's happy and the world is a lovely rosey place.

Initially I thought this was a story about how, like in Avatar, nature is an infinite web of cooperation between different species. I've since decided this is wrong. Or maybe not wrong, but it's not the main focus. I think what Lewis was drawing attention to was the corrupt nature of our world and how, had we all been good Christians since the dawn of time our world now would be a really nice place to live. The Silent Planet is Earth. You see, each planet has its own Oyarsa, which is a kind of angel that you can't really see but you can visit and talk to. Each Oyarsa rules over the people and species on his planet and works to make their lives as happy as possible. Our one though, was a bit of a megalomaniac and threw a strop before heading down to earth to thoroughly fuck us up. He's now embroiled in a bitter fight for power over us, against the big god who rules over all or Oyarsas. Any biblical bells ringing here? Ransom's kidnappers represent the greed of commerce and the dangers of science and technology taken too far and there's a little conversation on how humans relentlessly pursue pleasure throughout their lives, whereas the good people of Malacandra are happy to experience it once and then remember it for evermore - a handy little list of all the things we do wrong.

Now, it's been a long time since I've been welcome in the House of God, and I'm not religious. Usually, if something is overtly, in my face Christian, I get a bit annoyed and decide I hate it. I didn't with this one though, because it's a good story, and perhaps it does have a very valid point - that we're a greedy bunch of bastards and should be a bit nicer too eachother.

Oh! At the end Lewis reveals that Ransom contacted him to ask him to publish his factual account as a novel, so that its message could reach the maximum number of people. He's even tacked on an piece of correspondence between Ransom and himself, saying things like, "I really wish you could have mentioned this, or gone deeper into that." Nice touch I thought, you think it's finished and then there's a totally new bit which adds a new dimension to the story. Clever.

Still...I think I prefer Narnia...

On Apocalypse, When?

At 6:30 this morning my alarm went off. At 06:40 it did it again. And 06:50. In fact, this continued at ten minute intervals until 8:00, at which point I'm normally well on my way to work. Not today however, with the snow once again plunging the UK into chaos I thought I'd take advantage and sneak a lie-in, which I'd then blame on appalling public transport when I got in late. How wrong I was - my train and tube were bang on time, which rendered my excuse somewhat transparent, but at least I had a bit more shuteye than usual. So at 8:00 I drag myself out of bed, and at 08:48 I'm on the train. I bagged a seat next to a woman reading the Sun and, although I hate it when people do this to me I couldn't help myself, I read the headline over her shoulder.

Now, I am not a lover of the tabloid press. I don't have a huge problem with it - it meets a demand - but I don't read it. But this article took the biscuit and, I'll be honest, scared the living shit out of me and ruined my journey:

THE OFFENDING ARTICLE

The headline read: THE DEATH STAR. It was an article on the discovery that a nearby star named T Pyxidis, apparently, is on the verge of explosion. Once the bugger blows, we'll all be toast. As subtlely as possible, I manage to read the whole article over the poor commuter's shoulder, barely containing gasps of fear. My heart raced. I looked around, wondering why mass hysteria hadn't broken out. The Mayans were right - maybe 2012 is going to be our last. A quote from a scientist helpfully point out that the star could explode soon but could also not was hardly reassuring, especially when followed with "Let's hope there's still time for England's very own stars to put in a stella (sic) performance at this summer's World Cup in South Africa", which would suggest Armageddon is right around the corner.

My shaking hands reached for my trusty I-Phone (jog on Google, you'll never convert me) and I frantically searched the Guardian application for news. Nothing on the front page, or in the list of most read articles. Nothing in Science. Or Science - Space. Nothing. HOW CAN THEY MISS THIS? THIS IS HUGE?

The train pulled into Fenchurch Street and I made my way to the tube. I bumped into Hambo who accompanied me as far as her stop, at which point a threw aside the mask of calm I'd acquired and gave myself over to panic again. I got into work and immediately turned to Google the Omniscient for answers. "Tell me Google, tell me what's going on!" And, true to form, Google put my trouble mind at rest.

Universetoday.com sounded like a good one to start with. I bet they know what they're talking about. Right, give it to me straight. "There remains some doubt as to whether T Pyxidis will go supernova at all." Some doubt. Ok, I feel a bit better, but not much. It's still a bit vague for my liking.

Next up, Scientificamerican.com. Who knows more about space than the Americans, except maybe for the Russians, and Martians. And Sigourney Weaver. ANYWAY, I found what I'd be looking for:

"It sounds scary stuff. And the astronomers' news release suggest it will happen "soon". But I contacted the lead researcher, Dr Ed Sion, and he told me: "At the accretion rate we derived, the white dwarf in T Pyxidis will reach the Chandrasekhar Limit in ten million years. I hope this alleviates any worry by readers."

THANK YOU DR ED SION! I double checked with a few more brainy sounding websites, and my fears were put to bed. It may be a million years, or ten million years - but it's not going to stop us winning the World Cup (we won't need any extraterrestrial help to lose) or happen any time soon..

My initial relief gave way to a surge of rage. TEN MILLION YEARS. So how is this newsworthy? Study it, write it down for future generations, keep an eye on the bloody thing - but why scare the crap out of people for no reason? It's not even a slow news week, is it? Even if it is, I'm sure there's something a little more recent or approaching in the nearer future that could be reported?

It was, by this time, 11:00 and I'd achieved sod all. 'Twas high time to do some work, and put my worries behind me.

Then I noticed another article...this one right here...but didn't they all die in Deep Impact? Here we go again...

On Avatar

After a trying afternoon navigating the bustling walkways of Lakeside Shopping Centre* I decided it was high time to go and see the film that's got everybody talking. A colleague recently saw it, but had to sit separately from her friends. While she was moved to tears, they left feeling rather underwhelmed. As such, I wasn't sure what to expect. N accompanied me, but can't be relied upon for an objective opinion; he could start a cult with his enthusiasm for Cameron's films and saw Titanic 13 times at the cinema - he was bound to love it...

And so did I. Parts of it had me up in my seat ready to fight the evil humans away from planet Pandora, and I definitely want one of those flying lizard things. I've read mixed reviews - but I think everyone more or less agrees that it looks absolutely fantastic. It blows the only other 3D film I've seen out of the water. Granted that film was Final Destination 3, so I suppose it's not much of a competition - I've watched episodes of Bargain Hunt that have gripped me more. The storyline is decent in my opinion, though others disagree - I suppose the question is whether it's a case of groundbreaking effects saving, or obscuring, a second-rate script? In my most humble of opinions, I wouldn't say so. I can see why people do think that - at times it does get a little bit psychadelic-GreenPeace-eco-crazy, but it does convey an important and topical message, so what if it transmits it via a thoroughly enjoyable, if utterly ridiculous, sci-fi yarn? And enjoyable it is - a ruddy good film if you ask me. It's not as heavy on the romantic plot as Titanic was, so the environmental message does come to the fore. That said, there's enough action and drama to keep it from feeling like a lecture. The characters could be considered a little one-dimensional - the scientist obsessed with obtaining samples, the gun-ho general fighting 'terror with terror', the corporate whore obsessed with getting the goods no matter what the cost - but then they are supposed to represent something, aren't they? Which they do well - I physically hated the baddies, with a passion.

I'm trying to be objective - I'm basically picking holes in something for the sake of it now, but it's hard because I bloody loved it. I think it's a film that has and will continue to divide opinion, but I do recommend seeing it, at least so you can make your own mind up.

Look out for the Derek Acora lookalike heading up the baddies...and ponder whether it's wrong to fancy an alien?

Yes, it's wrong.

tbr

* I have a friend who has developed a way of coping with walking through crowded streets; pretend you are a space ship flying through an asteroid belt. Although I zoned out before I had fully absorbed all the rules (it gets quite complex - the different 'moves' all have different names, and I lost track) I must admit to trying it. Something to keep commuter rage down perhaps...as long as there are no lasers involved.