The Subway to Wonderland Station

Hello Troops,
Today I took the Subway to the Wonderland Station. It is time for the Space Center and the Imaginarium to open for full normal business. The train was packed with Wonderland employees returning to work after their forced vacation (thanks to the Space Center closing for three weeks). There were smiles on many faces, the kind that come from knowing one still has a job to return to in these tough times.

Yes, even Wonderland has been hit by the Great Recession. It seems millions of Americans have had their dreams shattered by the world's faltering economy. Instead of having time to imagine and dream, more and more people are struggling to just make ends meet. Parental stress is also effecting the nation's children, whose imaginations are the primary fuel powering Wonderland.

Regardless of the situation out in the real world, I was happy to be back on the subway and back to my normal routine, surrounded by the kind of people that think outside the box and look at the world a bit differently. We are a befuddled group suffering from eternal optimism and bewildered by the dark forces of despair. We will work to ensure that creativity, wonder and imagination remain vibrant in this world. It is our goal, it is our mission and it is what we are paid to do.

You never know who you're going to bump into on the Subway to the Wonderland Station.
Just a few on the train today.

Volunteers and Staff. I'm glad to be back, glad you're back with me and glad to be in the trenches. Let's have a great year!

Mr. Williamson

Space Center News. At A Glance.

Hello Troops,
I don't have to be back to work until Friday. Why am I back to work on Wednesday? That's not the question you should be asking. The question you should be asking is, Why did I come back to work on Monday!?

If I waited to come back to work until Friday I would be so buried in emails, phone calls, mission bookings, teachers booking field trips, registrations, and Everything else I would be caught up until this time in the year 2012. So, here I am, up to my eyeballs in "things to do".

Me, earlier in the day. It only got worse. Paramedics were called,
oxygen administered and I'm feeling much better

So, just so you don't think I'm the only one buried in work at the Space Center as we heroically try to open for private missions on Friday, let me show you a few other pictures.

This is Christine and Adam. They just took off their Environmental Hazard Suits and are reviewing the new, almost clean Odyssey Control Room. The Odyssey was built in 1991/92 and, to my reckoning, hasn't been deep cleaned since. They even found an old bottle of salsa that expired in 2008! We might put it on Ebay - what perfectly stewed poison. Some demented person would pay big money for that.

I reminded the Odyssey staff that unlike wine, salsa does not improve with age. I chastised them once again for eating in the Control Rooms and then we 'disposed' of the salsa.

In addition to the good cleaning, the Odyssey's drawers and cupboards were cleaned out. They found old training tapes, VCR tapes of missions told long before humans discovered how to make fire, and props last used on the stages of pre revolutionary France.

This is where the overflow of 'stuff' was deposited during the delousing of the Odyssey Control Room. Yes, that is my desk. As you can clearly see, my staff have no fear of me. I can cuss all I want about the sheer volume of junk piling around me and they just grunt, shrug their shoulders and proceed. I get no respect around here......

While the Odyssey was being scoured, Stacy was in the cafeteria working on the Galileo. This is a prop used in one of the Galileo's missions. You see that Stacy is tidy and well organized. Even her messes are tidy. Let that be a lesson to all of you that work and volunteer at the Space Center. Cleanliness is our Creed!
"What was that? Just what I thought. Another grunt and a cold shoulder shrugged in my direction. No Respect I tell you from that Odyssey Gang!"

Stacy also had the Programming Guild in today to install the newest version of Cocoa Controls for the Galileo.

This is one of the new Cocoa Control screens for the Galileo. Our programming boys do good work, as long as we feed them a steady diet of Coke, chips, and red meat when they're good. Oh, we let them out once in awhile for fresh air but not to long in the sunshine mind you. Their white skin burns quickly leaving their work to suffer.
Now, on a happier note. I bought new chairs for the Odyssey. The Captain's chair was replaced. The old chair was splitting at the seams. The result of hundreds of nervous children scratching the leather of the chair in sheer desperation when faced with overwhelming obstacles all associated with a good Odyssey mission. I'm hoping the new Captain's chair will last more than a fortnight.

What do you think of the new blue chairs? I spent a few hours online, visiting every school furniture site I could find, looking for chairs that resembled something more modern than 1955. I found two styles that met the objective and went with the cheapest. Let it be known that I firmly believe that a penny saved is a penny earned,
(and I'm talking about real American Money, not that phony Canadian stuff).

Here you see two of the chairs at the Sensors and Tactical stations in the Odyssey. Cool aren't they? Modern, Yes? Ultra Modern? Don't tell me I'm pushing it because in my opinion, I would classify these chairs as UberModern! And yes, you may quote me on that.

Our younger Kyle (Not the Fish) has spent much of the week so far in the Discovery Room. It needed a new coat of paint. The carpets were cleaned as well. The Magellan staff may not recognized the clean and freshly painted Discovery (which is why I'm posting this picture so they will recognize the room and not think they've somehow entered the twilight zone and evaporated into an alternate reality where the Magellan staff actually CLEAN and MAINTAIN their Briefing and Staging Room).

Yes, the room is messed up as we paint and clean but that can all be put right when the endeavor is completed - hopefully by Thursday evening.

And finally, to wrap things up, I'd like to update you on other items of interest.


This is Emily, Odyssey Set Director, congratulating Devin for getting his Odyssey Pin.
Devin really knows how to turn on the charm when a camera is nearby.
Emily, on the other hand, is just........... Emily.


This is Devin actually getting his pin. This is the real Devin we all have to put up with when the camera isn't visible. I shot this picture before he saw the camera and could react.

This is Devin getting his Phoenix pass from Alex, the Phoenix Set Director. Again, he wasn't aware of the camera before the picture was shot. He was upset but quickly got over it when I said the camera failed to take the picture so it wouldn't be posted.

This is Alex presenting Josh A. with his Phoenix Pin. Alex has been studying the Roman classics this summer in preparation for his Art History Class he will be taking this school year. This is his 'Julius Caesar' pose. I think he's got that Roman statue look down, don't you?

This is Stacy. This is Joseph. Stacy is giving Joseph his Galileo Pin. Joseph is happy.
Stacy is happier. We are all happy at the Space Center. The Space Center is a happy place.
This is Stacy. This is Alex. Alex also got his Galileo Pin. Wait, is this Alex? Hard to tell sometimes. Alex is a great worker, when he isn't walking into walls.

This is Stacy. This is Matt. Matt is one of our long distant volunteers. He lives in Logan! We don't know how he gets here or how he gets home. We think he uses some form of technology unknown to mere mortals.

And finally. This is Logan. Logan looked sad during our Award Ceremony so we brought him up to the front and told him to pretend we were giving him an award. He perked right up.
(Logan actually received his Year of Service Pin. Great Job Logan and thanks).

Well, that's about it for today. I'm tired of typing and my neck hurts. Time to go home and ponder the mysteries until I'm needed.

Mr. W.

A Little Vacation Fun

Yes, those Communists know how to Rock!



Hope Everyone is Enjoying their time off.
Don't get to comfortable. We survived the Long March of Summer Camps but the Long Arduous March of the School Year looms ahead.


And just in case you're a bit bored, may I suggest the activity above.


Mr. W.

Trapped in the Wonderland Station. Eating Pop Tarts.

Hello Troops,
Mr. Daymont read my Wonderland Subway Station Post
http://voyagerslog.blogspot.com/2010/08/waiting-at-wonderland-station-our.html
and decided to write a continuation. Thanks Mark.

And Now, Mark's Story


Day 66

I stepped out from the men’s restroom back onto the waiting platform. It’s the only place I’ve been able to freshen up and perform my morning obligatory each morning. Even so, I think I could do with some more deodorant, but the station platform store hadn’t opened yet. Grim metal bars barricaded its windows and doors waiting for the clerk to arrive and open for business.

That wouldn’t happen for a while yet.

As usual, the platform was empty except for the early shift custodian. I could tell by his nearly aimless shuffle that he was none too excited about living his working life sweeping and cleaning the station platforms along the line. He lifted and swept, lifted and swept in an endless monotony of pointless effort. Boy I’ll bet that job brings top dollars.

No one else on the platform this morning. No one to talk to. I had tried engaging the custodian in conversation once but all he replied was something about looking forward to waxing the floors and keeping the lawns manicured. Weird. No lawns on this platform.

The platform was my home for the last 66 days. I relied on the single turquoise bench under the Wonderland logo for a bed at night. Thankfully there was food I could purchase from the station shop but it only seemed to open at unusual hours and only for a few minutes before the impatient clerk rolled the bars shut on the windows and locked the door again.

I’m really sick of living off candy, untoasted Kellog’s pop tarts, and beef jerky. Would it hurt so much to stock some fresh donuts? Geesh. Still, I should count my lucky stars. There was a working water fountain on the platform, although the water had clearly picked up a strong metallic taste lately.

I glanced back up the stairs. The way I had come in.

As usual, the lights at the top of the stairs were off and the escalators silent. They hadn’t worked since the iron gates had clanged permanently shut the moment after I had arrived. That ominous event singled out the fact that the only way I was getting out of here was to board a train passing through the platform and exiting down the long dark tunnel.

I had once thought of trying to escape down the tunnel. I was put off that idea the when I realized that it’s opening was just wide enough to accept the girth of the subway cars, and I would be killed by a speeding train before I could find my way out in the dark.

And the trains came often enough. Problem was, they hardly ever stopped.

The ones that did, left before I could wake up on the bench and race to the closing doors. Believe me, that little event was getting old.

Some people actually got off and made it to other trains. I remember a pleasant family of three, a father, mother and little girl with their luggage. They smiled pleasantly at me but did not engage in small talk while they waited for their connection. Foreigners, I supposed.

Another time I awoke on the bench to find a nice young man on the bench as well. He seemed focused on something far away, as though he were lost and planning his own escape. Conversation with him was brief and filled with metaphors about life, the universe and everything. At least I was able to talk with someone for that short time. I must have dozed off at one point, for when I awoke again he was gone. He had left his long, black leather coat behind on the bench. I was grateful for that, as it was cold down here in this bizarre bunker of a station. It fit me just fine.

The sound of a push broom swishing on the cement floor behind me shook me out of my pondering. I quickly turned and surprisingly found the custodian right behind me. In my personal space. I stared into his eyes, which I noticed for the first time were sharp and clear, but yet had the wisdom of time behind them. He squinted his eyes at me when he spoke.

“You got the coat. Good. You’ll need it.”

The screech of an electric train erupted from the end of one of the tunnels. I glanced in its direction, but when I turned back the custodian was gone. I looked up and down the platform and he was nowhere to be seen.

Lights down the tunnel grew closer and the metallic screeching louder.

Could this be a train that stops? I doubted the possibility, but moved closer to the platform edge. Suddenly the subway cars burst from the tunnel and the train braked to complete stop. The car lights illuminated empty cars as they passed by my face. A set of sliding doors remained closed, tantalizingly inches from me.

I turned to the right as the sound of sliding plastic and metal came from further down the platform. A door was opening! Alas, I feared it would be too far away for me to reach before it shut again.

I stopped in mid stride. Two men stepped out from the car door. Dressed in black suits, dark sunglasses and black gloves. One of them pointed some sort of handheld device with buttons at the doorway and the sliding doors closed. The subway cars began moving down the other tunnel.

Drats. Missed another ride. Where do I get a remote like that?

The two men turned in my direction and a feeling of apprehension came over me. They seemed familiar, and not in a good way. I remembered the old Harrison Ford line, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

One of the men, slightly taller than the other, reached into his suit coat and pulled out a paper. He looked at it, then towards me, and then showed the paper to his companion.

“That’s him.”

Um… crap. Not good. I didn’t know or care about what this was all about, but I was definitely involved in something. And these weren’t missionaries.

Both men reached for items in their coats. With swift motions they drew out pairs of black MAC-10 submachine guns and started walking towards me.

I ducked behind a cement pillar as bullets glanced off the pillar sides, chips and shards of cement and tiles flying in all directions. Man those guns were LOUD! I tucked in my arms and hands to make sure no lucky bullet would strike home. Crap oh crap.

They kept walking towards me, with swift hand movements to drop empty clips and insert fresh magazines. I ran for the next pillar further down the platform. A hailstorm of bullets cratered the floor along both sides of my path as I ducked and dodged a retreat behind the next pillar.

Breathless, I suddenly realized that the custodian was calmly taking a drink from the water fountain nearby. I called out, “Is there any way out of here?” He stood, turned and smiled at me. “The coat,” he whispered.

Ah, there must be something in the coat I can use! I realized, ignoring the obvious question of how the old man would know anything about that. I could hear the two assassins discarding the empty submachine guns onto the floor. Probably going for their backups, I thought, while I reached into the pockets of the stranger’s coat.

Oh, there was definitely something there. In both pockets. Funny, I hadn’t noticed that before. I grasped the objects and pulled them out. A matching pair of 45-caliber semi-auto Colt Model 1911 pistols. That stranger knew what good hardware was. I quickly cocked back the sliders on the pistols to load rounds into the chambers and pulled back the triggers. With a gulp of air I spun around to face the attackers.

They were about 10 feet away, and cocking back the sliders on their Glock 9mm’s. Even through the sunglasses I could see their expression change from certainty to surprise, they looked at each other and instantly dodged away from each other. Doing handsprings.

It all seemed to go in slow motion. Without time to aim at separating targets in motion with two pistols, I fired away at both of them, my arms moving away from my center of vision. Empty brass casings flew from the pistols up into the air and pinged onto the floor tiles. Somehow the bullets seemed to miss their targets as they spun and tumbled away. My peripheral vision noticed that something tugged at their suit coats and pants, nipping little holes in the fabric. I was close.

And then I was out of ammo. I dropped one pistol and with the hand free reached into the pocket to see if there was an extra clip. Nothing. The two villains stopped their gyrations and posed into a kung-fu position. Oh man, I didn’t want to get into that. I dropped the other pistol as well and tucked my arms into my chest expecting a blow to land soon.

And felt a weighty bulge in the coat’s upper pocket.

The suits flung themselves forward at me, posing their clenched fists into strike mode.

But I was faster. I yanked out the Mark II phaser from its hidden pocket and used my other free hand to deactivate the safety. A sure line of sight to the man who was now only two feet away. As I pulled the trigger a bright flash filled the platform room and the villain was flung backward through the air, clutching at his chest, which displayed a glowing red center.

I took a step to the side and the second warrior slid by, inches from me, missing his mark and rebounding off the platform wall. I spun and aimed the phaser at him. He tried to turn away toward the pillar but I nailed his back with my second shot. His body made a double flip forward and he crumpled to the floor.

I heard the custodian chuckle behind me. “Yep, that’s a nice coat.”

The taller man was still mumbling on the floor and reaching for something in his coat. I walked over and removed the device from his hand. As I did, he looked up strangely at me. “Wait…” he croaked. “You’re… not the director…”

“That’s right,” I said. As the light went out in his eyes, I said, “I’m just the assistant director.” As his head thunked to the floor I looked at the device I now held in my hand.

A screeching sound and tow spots of light came from the tunnel. I walked to the end of the platform holding the dead man’s door remote. Time to leave Wonderland Station. Yes. Time to get back to work at the Space Center.

Mr. Daymont

Waiting at the Wonderland Station. Our Vacation Starts.

I stood on the platform and waited for the next train. It was quiet, no sound at all except for the humming of a young lady waiting on the station's one turquoise bench. She was dressed in white. Her yellow handbag and jacket rested beside her.

“It’s not very busy tonight.” I tossed the statement in her direction to test the waters hoping for a bit of conversation to fill the quiet induced by the cold concrete.

“Everything is either closed or closing for a few weeks.” She accepted the invitation. I was relieved. Sharing a train platform with one other person is similar to riding an elevator with a total stranger - except the time between trains is longer than a journey between floors.

“You’re the director of the Space Center,” she spoke with a questioner's tone.
“Yes I am,”
“So you’re the reason then.”
“Reason for what?” I asked.
“The reason I’m off for a few weeks. You’re closing and that puts Wonderland on minimal staffing. Thanks a lot!” Her voice sounded angry. A moment later a faint smile delivered the sarcasm.

“Where do you work?” I questioned.
“The Imaginarium. Its a sub section of the Ministry of Wonder. I’m an office assistant in the Office of Joinings," She replied.

“Oh, I see. And how does the closing of the Space Center affect the Ministry of Wonder?” My question was an honest one. The Ministry of Wonder was enormous in scope and size with the Imaginarium only a small division of the whole.

“My office is responsible for the inspiration that comes from imagining what might be from what Is.”

I walked closer and asked if it was OK to sit with her. She nodded and extended her hand in welcome. I sat on the opposite side of the bench leaving one square of turquoise between us.

“So, let me see if I understand what you just said. Your office creates images of the future based on what we experience around us in real life?”

“Got it in one,” she smiled and reached into her purse for a stick of chewing gum.

She opened the package and held it out. “Would you like a piece?” ‘

“Yes, thank you,” I replied. I took the gum. The gum had an odd taste, sort of a mixture of hazelnut and raspberry. “Where did you buy this?” I inquired.

“There’s a little shop around the corner from the Ministry. It’s awesome, you walk in, wait for a clerk and then imagine your favorite flavor or flavors. A moment later you're handed the gum you imagined.”

“Is this shop a product of the Imaginarium?”

“Yes, mine actually," She replied with pride. "An imagination came across my desk several weeks ago from a young girl in Nebraska. She had it while waiting to purchase a pack of gum at her local WalMart. The line was long so she had time to daydream. And when you day dream you open the door to my Departement. Her thoughts told me she was tired of her usual brand of gum and was looking for something different. Well, I also knew from reading the print out that she had just come from lunch at a pizza restaurant with a build your own salad bar.”

“Stop, let me take it from here,” I interrupted.

“Go right ahead.”

“You put the two thoughts together to create a vision of What Could Be from What Was. You took her memory of a build your own salad bar and combined it with a desire to build her own gum flavor.”

“You got it. We call that a Joining in the trade. I do Joinings all day long. That is what I do.”

A strong gust of wind moved through the station announcing an approaching train. It was the Express from Inspiration. Express trains never stop at the Wonderland Station. We had to wait for the local train.

The train sped by. The people inside were framed in the windows. They looked tired and ready for home and supper. Their work was grueling, having to managing Inspiration day in and day out. My hat was off to them.

A few moments later and the platform was still again.

“So, you Joined the images and created a thought. Then what?” I continued the conversation with my bench mate.

“The girl imagined such a place where you could mix and match your gum flavors and when she did, it became real here in Wonderland.”

“Will it stay?” I asked.

“Only as long as she revisits the thought. The shop becomes an anchor point in her imagination. A place for her to mentally visit whenever she chooses. What’s cool is how the shop changes its shape and design every time she imagines something different. Today it looked like that wand shop in Diagon Alley. Tomorrow it may look like something else.”

“And when she gives up the idea?” I asked.

“Then the shop disappears?” she replied.

"Never to come back?"

"Not unless someone else Imagines it." We sat quietly, each staring a some point in the concrete.

I thought back to the starting point of our conversation.
“OK, so getting back to the original question. How does closing the Space Center for a few weeks so we can recharge our own imaginations, affect the Imaginarium - A Sub Section of the Ministry of Wonder?”

“You have no idea how busy we are when the Center is running at full steam," She answered. "The imaginations you help create in those kid's minds pour into our Department filling our In Baskets to the point of burying us. You fill their minds with Wonder at what could be based on what they’re experiencing in the real world. Our job is to Join the two images and inspire them to go out and make what they experienced real. Now, Suddenly you close and the cascade of ideas and thoughts goes from the raging Niagara to the dribble of a leaky faucet.”

“And the department lays off its staff.” I said.

“The Department has a budget. With this economy every penny counts.”

“Well, we open for the school year on August 20th. You’ll be back to work then," I assured her.

She smiled and reached for her bag. A strong wind from the dark tunnel blew across the platform. Our train was approaching. We stood and walked towards the platform’s edge. The train’s powerful headlamps appeared first, piercing the darkness with 3 yellow lights. The lights grew brighter and brighter until the body of the train emerged. It slowed to a stop, a moment later the automatic doors slip open to welcome us aboard.

“After you,” I said while reaching out to hold the automatic doors open until we were both safely inside.

“Thank you,” she replied.

The train started with a jolt. I reached for the nearest hand strap which was attached to a metal bar running the length of the coach. The Wonderland Platform, with its blue and red sign, disappeared into the dark.

My vacation had started.

Mr. Williamson

On the Nature of the Human Condition

Hello Troops,
I present a true enigma on the nature of who we are as seen from two perspectives. Both are true in their own right as they present the universe's greatest achievement - mankind.


Mr. Williamson

Leadership Camp 2010

For those of you that only read the first line of every post, the Leadership Camp was amazing. Now that I have that aside…

This years leadership camp was in planning for at least 8 months. I was brought onboard when Adam, Ben, Wyatt, and Jon told me about their plans for it: creating a brand new race (or, in this case, group of races) to battle against. It gave us something fresh to start with, instead of having to follow along with conventional races, like the Dominion from last year. We could use our creative muscles to imagine something new. They had a basic idea of each of the races, and a few of the rotations planned.

As January rolled around, we finished fleshing out the details of these new antagonists, how they used to live in the Delta Quadrant until they got kicked out by the Borg, and their fanatical ‘manifest destiny’ to live in the Alpha Quadrant, etc. The missions themselves had begun to take shape too, but as far as I know, only a few of the ones made up in January actually made it to the camp.

A lot of effort was put into this camp in the months before hand. We scripted and filmed a few of these commercials, and posted them to the internet (FYI, between all 3, we have about 1,100 hits). This commercial also served as the introduction to these new aliens. We had to craft brand new space ship controls for a captured alien vessel. Jon put together a fantastic book of all Starfleet ships, as a reference for the captains. All the while, the rotations were being revised and rewritten. The Flight Directors were part of this process from the beginning, and their contributions definitely made the different missions more interesting and entertaining.

Finally, the actual day of the camp arrived. From what I could see, everything was in place and ready. Mr. W said that he would be in charge enough to make sure things were safe. The rest of the camp was up to Jon and me. On top of that, we had more than a dozen campers from last years Leadership Camp, and a few space center staff as well. The pressure was on.

The classes for this year were taught by three outstanding instructors: Emily was teaching applied leadership in the Voyager simulator, Bracken had public speaking, and Casey explained how people’s psyches can affect leadership. At first, I wasn’t sold on these class choices, but as the camp went on, I could see the campers using the information they learned to help them in the rotations. The campers were very engaged in each class, and definitely brought something away from them. Heartfelt thanks to our amazing instructors.

Jon and I finished up the first night with the briefing of the entire campaign, and then, to honor tradition, Jon read a very moving speech (On Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs - Dave Grossman) The room was very still as his words finished. We tied the whole thing together, wrapped it all up, and then sent everyone off to bed. They would need their sleep.

The next morning, everybody seemed to be loving today. Their was excitement as the crews piled into Discovery. We explained each of the rotations to the crews, assigned captains, and then sent them on their way. The crews received no training; they had to figure out their own stations. Once that was done they were on their way.

First rotations was probably the roughest for the campers. There were a lot of deaths, the refugees they were supposed to save were killed, and the Voyager and Odyssey were destroyed. The campers were still light hearted, until Jon said a few words (More like chewed them out) Tension was high as they began their next rotation.

2nd rotation ended with the Magellan’s capture, and the crew being branded as failures. They were supposed to evacuate, but they wouldn’t hear of it. They tried to get their bridge back, but failed. During dinner, there was a lot of question about their consequences. Some said send them home (which was out of the question, but was considered), other said take away their hours. Finally, it was decided to make them part of the ASA.

We sent them swimming; I went with to manage some business when it was over. Bracken got caught up in the middle of an epic basket ball game with the boys vs. girls. There were only 5 girls on the whole camp. Epic.

Meanwhile, back at the space center, preparations were made, assignments passed out, phasers organized, and staff costumed.

Swimming was over. I gathered all the campers around. Magellan crew was segregated; they were prisoners of the DC. The rest were organized into strike teams. We planted each of the strike teams at different corners of the school, told them they were taking Magellan back, and let them at it. We called it the ASA.

Last year, the ASA was a complete failure. This year, we decided to make it a little easier, but a little harder at the same time. We gave them specific objectives, but their objectives depended on each other. They completed it successfully, later than we wanted, but no more than we had planned. Back off to bed.

Third rotation was slightly shorter than the others, and there really isn’t a lot to write. Lunch on Saturday featured the appearance of Hauck’Toaei, the disgruntled Klingon Chef who was forced to serve Pakled food (which turned out to be a messy ordeal.)

Fourth rotation took a leaf out of last year’s camp. Mass Chaos was a Galileo/Odyssey joint mission where they had to blow up several targets. They got to plan and choose their targets together as they received messages from intel telling them where Dominion fleets were located. We tried to copy that this year, but instead of two ships, we would have five.

It didn’t work out as well as planned. The rotation began alright; Jon walked in, seemingly ready to brief when suddenly alarms played: Magellan was under attack! Chaos ensued in the hallways. Staff were bloodied up as if the station had exploded on them. Doctors ran through the halls tending to them. Screams pierced the halls. Campers ran to their ships as fast as they could.

Meanwhile, the captains were supposed to plan out what they were going to do. We had printed a huge map of the sector with a dozen targets. We planned on this section lasting 30 minutes. It lasted 5.

This was the most intense communication we have ever had between simulators. A chat system was set up so flight directors could always be on the know about where the ships were and what they were doing. Long range messages were sent through chat too. It was amazing how well that worked.

In the end, the Odyssey found the DC’s weakness, while all the other ships had re-docked with Magellan. We all waited in anticipation as the Odyssey told Magellan where they were…

And Magellan went to transwarp to the wrong place! All the flight directors were in the Magellan freaking out about it! Eventually, they did get the message, readjusted their course, and made it there in time to hit the DC where it hurts. An ambassador (Jon) came aboard the Magellan, an armistice (big word meaning peace treaty) was signed, and the camp was over.

A few things I noticed at the end: the communication and cooperation between ships and campers was fantastic. I also felt like the campers came together in a way I had never seen in a space camp. I don’t know how well they knew each other before, but they really couldn’t stop talking to one another after the camp.

I would just like to thank a bunch of people who made this happen.

First, the campers. We got the camp filled in April, much earlier than last year. They were fantastic kids (teens?) and great sports about everything. I couldn’t have asked for better.

Second, the staff. We had around twenty of the Space Center’s finest. First, thanks for being so awesome. We wouldn’t have had you on the camp if we didn’t think you could do it. Second, thanks for pulling through without complaint. I could see that you guys were tired by Friday night, but you still pulled through all the way to the end. I suppose that deserves a congratulations as well.

Third, to the Flight Directors, Supervisors, and everyone else who contributed to the planning and carrying out of the camp. We never could have done it as well (at all) without your help.

I would like to personally thank Jon for being a fantastic host for the camp. He organized it from start to finish and it almost seemed like he knew what he was doing the whole time. Thanks for giving us all the opportunity to do this. It definitely wouldn’t have happened without you.

Finally, thanks to Mr. Williamson. Because of a crazy decision you made 20 years ago, we can all make crazy decisions today! The Space Education Center isn’t just for teaching the campers that come. It teaches the staff too. I for one have been taught countless things while working here. Thank you for actually doing your job as a teacher, instead of just working for a living.

Will the leadership camp happen next year? Maybe. I don’t know yet. But if it doesn’t, I know we have done it justice. If it does, the bar has been raised. Lets just see what the next year brings us.

As always, it is a pleasure to work with everyone.

Alex Anderson.

A Smile for Monday

Hello Troops,
This is our last week of EdVenture Camps. We close July 30th until August 20th. Let's start the week with something from the Imaginarium.

First, those of you that work for me know I'm not a meeting person. You can count on one hand the number of meetings we've held in the last year. Well, this poster from the Imaginarium sums it all up quite nicely.

And finally, this is the kind of breakfast cereal we should be serving at the Space Center. Aleta, let's get on it! I'm sure Costco must carry them. If not the one in Lehi, try the Costco in Cloverdale. It's got things you could never imagine :)

Let's enjoy this last week of long camps troops. I'll see many of you in the trenches over the next five days. Remember, I'm a walker. If you see me heading out the back door of the school I may be escaping for a quick walk to Harts for a Big Chill. If you are decent company and have something intelligent to say, grab a few more volunteers or staff and join me. I always love it when a group of Space Center staff and volunteers move in mass down the neighborhood streets of Pleasant Grove all in our Space Center Shirts.

The assimilation of this community into the collective is near at hand.......

Mr. Williamson

From the Imaginarium Institute: What You Learn from a Picture.

Hello Troops,
Today's economics lesson. Get ready to learn.....

What do you see in this picture? ________________________________________

Now, we look deeper for meaning (don't you hate it when your English teacher pulls this on you during your classes on poetry?)

Economics Lesson:
Socialism. The boys keeps crying and crying and crying....... louder and louder and louder until the other boy can't stand it any longer and gives him one of his drinks.

Communism. The boy stops crying, goes into his bedroom, finds a baseball bat and wackes the other boy over the head. He takes both drinks and tells the boy laying flat on the ground that he'll be all the better for it. From those who have to those who do not.

Capitalism. The crying boy realizes all his screaming won't make a difference. If he wants a Burger King drink then he can damn well go out and earn the money to buy one, two or twelve himself. He has a brain, two arms and two legs. Could it be the desire to work is absent? Well then the lesson he should learn is: Work and Want Not.

Class Over....

Mr. Williamson

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 7

This story is just for fun. Any resemblance to the staff at the space center is intentional. Any resemblance to a real space center mission is your imagination.

Aleta Clegg
Space Center Educator
Director, Digitarium.

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 7

Turner fired the phaser. The bed shook as Caligula spasmed.

Harken leapt across the room, landing on the mattress with a solid thump. “Get something to tie him with!”

I scrambled from under the bunk. Turner threw himself onto the bed. The two of them wrestled Caligula. Turner fired the phaser again. Caligula growled.

“Move it, Stevens. Find us some rope, wire, anything! Now!” Harken snarled as Caligula’s flailing limbs smacked her in the face.

I tore open the closet. “Will this work?” I ripped the white t-shirt into strips. Turner’s phaser sailed across the room, propelled by Caligula’s kick.

“Hurry! Ouch!” Turner wrapped his arms around Caligula’s legs.

I wrapped strips around Caligula’s ankles, yanking it as tight as it would go. We wrapped more strips around his legs and arms, trussing him tight. Harken sat on his chest and slapped him, shouting curses.

The lights dimmed.

“Oh, crap,” I said.

“What?” Harken paused, her fist raised over Caligula’s battered face.

“Lights dimming is never good.”

“Delphi protocol initiated. Self-destruct activated. This vessel will self-destruct in thirty seconds.” The computer voice was smug.

I hauled Caligula off the bed. “We’ve got to make it to the Odyssey before the ship blows.”

“What about Vasha and Evangeline?” Turner asked.

“They initiated it. They’ll either be at the shuttle bay or dead. Help me with him.” Caligula stumbled, his ankles tied tightly together.

“Why are we taking him? I say let him die.” Harken planted her fists on her hips.

“He’s a valuable hostage. We can use him to negotiate with Del’Brugado.”

Caligula laughed, not the reaction I expected from a prisoner with a bloody nose and two black eyes.

I grabbed his thin undershirt and hauled him around to face me. “What’s so funny?”

“Destruction in twenty seconds.”

“Adrian, we don’t have time!” Turner yanked on Caligula’s arm. “Let’s go, unless you want to die.”

“Protocol override,” Caligula said.

“Self-destruct canceled.” The lights returned to normal.

“Now we have time. Talk, Caligula.” I shook him.

“Are you really so blind and ignorant? Del’Brugado is nothing but a pompous peacock who couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. I would appreciate it if you removed your hands.” His smile faded. “Before I cut them off and feed them to you. There is another one you should fear.”

Even tied up and beaten Caligula scared me. I shoved him, hard. Turner caught him. Harken smacked him with a lamp. Caligula passed out on the floor.

Harken glared at me. “If you want him so badly, then you carry him. I’m leaving before anything else weird happens.”

The lights dimmed. All three of us swore.

“This ship is changing course. Delphi override protocol initiated.”

“Where is Vasha taking us?” I muttered.

“I don’t think it’s Vasha.” Turner pointed at the door.

Caligula’s second in command stood framed in the doorway. Armed pirates crowded behind him. He smiled. “Thank you for your assistance, Stevens is it? You saved me a lot of trouble.”

I nudged the unconscious cyborg at my feet. “We want the Odyssey and your word that we can leave in safety.”

“I don’t think so.” He fingered his rifle. “No, I think the three of you are going to be my special guests for a while. At least until your other friends surrender. They are locked in the ship’s torpedo storage bay and refuse to unlock the door. I could blast it, but that would leave us stranded if it doesn’t kill us. No, I would rather negotiate. And with you as my hostages, I mean guests, they might listen to reason.” He stepped into the room. His pirates flanked us.

I kicked Caligula. “Are you the one Caligula told us to fear?”

“He said to fear Rafael? What a nice thing to say about the man who has been trying to kill him for the last two months.” Rafael signaled his men. The picked up Caligula and herded the three of us together. “But now that I have his ship and you, I don’t need to kill him. I think I’ll let the medics have him for experimentation. I wonder how much pain a cyborg can feel.”

I traded looks with Turner. This guy was ten times creepier than Caligula, who made Del’Brugado look as harmless as my grandmother and her eyeball jello.

The lights flickered off. “Main reactor shut down initiated. Power levels dropping to minimal.”

“Crap,” we all said together.

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 6

This story is just for fun. Any resemblance to the staff at the space center is intentional. Any resemblance to a real space center mission is your imagination.
Aleta Clegg
Space Center Educator / Digitarium Director

Personal Log 2: Adrian Stevens, Entry 6

Harken slammed her brush into the bucket of soapy water. “This is the thanks I get? That lying weasel. I should never have listened to Perry. She said he’d pay us well, that we’d be rich. We’d never have to take orders from anyone again. And here I am, scrubbing the deck with you two. And Perry is dead.” She wiped a tear from her face.

“Perry deserved to die. She was a traitor.” Turner slapped his brush on the floor, spattering the wall with soap bubbles.

“You know nothing!”

The guard at the end of the hall eyed us suspiciously.

“Scrub the floor or they might send us after Commander Perry.” I watched him as I scrubbed another deck plate. “We have to find a way out of here.”

“No Klingons to pick a fight with this time,” Turner whispered. “I wonder what they did with Evangeline and Vasha.”

An explosion rocked the ship. Lights turned red as alarms shrieked through the air. Our guard took off at a run. I threw my brush at the bucket.

“Looks like opportunity to me. Can you fly a shuttle?” I grabbed Harken’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” She shoved my hand away.

“Turner and I can’t fly. We need you. Look, Harken, you help us escape, we won’t tell anyone about you and Perry and your smuggling in the Odyssey.”

“Adrian.” Turner tugged my arm. “Is the Odyssey still docked?”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t need her. Delphi Protocol, Adrian.”

“It doesn’t work, Adam.”

“If we get Vasha and Evangeline. . .”

“Right. Have fun cleaning decks, Harken.” I scrambled to my feet. Turner and I ran down the hall.

“Idiots! They’re this way!” Harken called, careful not to shout too loud.

“You’re with us, then?” I tried to glare as I followed her through Caligula’s ship.

“I get you out of here, you keep your mouth shut. And we let Perry take the blame.” Harken slid to a stop at a corner.

The three of us peered around the edge.

Caligula paced the hall, his leather coat flaring around his ankles. “What do you mean they have escaped? Find them, you imbeciles!”

The guards scattered. We backed hastily from the hall. Boots pounded behind us. Red light painted the walls in flickering lights as the ship’s power systems cycled down.

“In here.” Turner slid open a door. Harken and I crowded behind him.

“Somebody’s quarters,” Harken muttered as we stumbled through the room in the dark.

The door to the hall opened again. “I do not want to hear of failure. Is that clear?” Caligula’s voice echoed from the hall.

Harken swore under her breath as she slid into a storage locker. Turner crammed himself into a closet. I crawled under the bed.

Caligula stomped into his room. “Lights!” The emergency light glowed, casting shadows through the cabin.

I lifted the edge of his blanket to peer out.

Caligula sighed as he unfastened his leather coat. I watched in horror as he revealed his skinny torso. White skin puckered around metal implants. Caligula removed his glasses. His eyes glowed red in the dim light.

I shoved my fist in my mouth. His slight weight settled on the mattress above me. I suddenly had to go to the bathroom.

The storage locker door silently opened. Harken slid behind the couch. She signaled me. I shook my head. Three of us against a cyborg? We didn’t stand a chance. She fixed me with a fierce glare.

Caligula’s quiet snoring filled the room. Turner edged from the closet. He gripped a phaser in one hand. Harken pointed at the bed. I flattened myself to the floor as he raised the weapon, wondering if I was going to survive the next few moments.

Then, Now and the Future

Hello Troops,
On this day, July 16, America launched Apollo 11. Men were walking on the moon the summer of my eleventh birthday.

Sheeeeeez..... What's happened? I was sure by the time I celebrated my 50th birthday American would have space stations, Moon and Mars bases.

In 1968 I paid $1.25 to see the epic science fiction movie 2000: A Space Odyssey at Rapid City, South Dakota's Elks Theater. It was the glory days of our nation's Space Program. My friends and I were sure the science fiction we saw in that movie would be science fact on January 1, 2000.

This was the Space Station orbiting Earth. A fleet of PanAm Carriers transported you back and forth between the station and Earth.

A scene from the movie showing people in transit between the Space Station and the Moon.

This was the Space Station. Quite different from the one in orbit today in 2010.


What prevented the future we saw in 2000: A Space Odyssey from transpiring? The answer and its analysis would fill chapters. I guess you could say the present got in the way of the future.

My friends tell me that space exploration would explode if profit was involved. In other words, we must find a way to transform space travel from a money costly endeavour to a money making endeavour. I agree.


This picture comes from a web site advertising the areas where money could be made in space. It is possible. Space really is our last frontier. It is a place for young, new entrepreneurs (like you perhaps) seeking to make their fortune, and at the same time, expand mankind's knowledge of the universe itself.

So today, we remember the launch of Apollo 11 forty one years ago. In that same thought we congratulate the private companies at work today attemping to make the dream of 2000: A Space Odyssey real in your life time.

Mr. Williamson

The Rooftops of London and the Rooftops of Pleasant Grove

Hello Troops,
I saw Mary Poppins when it came out in the early 1960's. I loved the movie then and love it still.

Do you remember Bert singing Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey Chim chim cher-oo? Here are two verses from the song.

I choose me bristles with pride, yes, I do

A broom for the shaft and a brush for the flute

Up where the smoke is all billered and curled

'Tween pavement and stars is the chimney sweep world

When there's 'ardly no day nor 'ardly no night

There's things 'alf in shadow and 'alfway in light

On the rooftops of London coo, what a sight!

Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey

Chim chim cher-ee!

When you're with a sweep you're in glad company

Nowhere is there a more 'appier crew

Than them wot sings, "Chim chim cher-ee, chim cher-oo!"

On the rootops of London..

Chim chim cher-oo!

In the movie, Bert was a Chimney Sweep and a good friend of Mary. Now, you're wondering why I'm writing about a character from Mary Poppins. Well, Bert and I have something in common. We spend a part of our working days on rooftops. Bert enjoys birds eye views of London and I do the same for Pleasant Grove.

Every day I ascend Heaven's Ladder located in the 4th Grade Hallway Custodian's Closet and trek across the roof of Central Elementary to do one of the duties required of me as Space Center Director. Can you guess what that is? Am I......

1. Venturing to the rooftop to do astronomical observations?

2. Venturing to the rooftop to do astrological observations?

3. Venturing to the rooftop to signal extraterrestrials with one of our EverReady Flashlights?

4. Finding a good place to "End it All?"

5. Looking for the only place where I can find peace and quiet?

6. Resetting the rooftop air conditioner that cools the Gym?

If you said #6 then YOU ARE CORRECT!

Every day I open the gym doors to feel the exiting air and most days I find it isn't being cooled. The air conditioner has a mind of its own and needs to be switched off and on for the compressor to work correctly. We go through this every summer. We put in maintenance work orders, the problem gets fixed sometime in the Fall and then it reappears in the summer.

The air conditioner is located on the school's roof. To access the roof I unlock the Custodian's Closet, move the carpet shampooing machine and tread carefully up the worn yellow ladder leading to the rooftop.

I'm in a different world up there. I see the blue sky, trees, clouds and people going about their day to day business completely unaware of me peering down at them from behind an air conditioner.

I scale another ladder to the gym's roof, the highest point of the school. I switch the conditioner off and give it a minute or two to reset. That gives me time to take a walk around the gym's perimeter.

Today I had to check the Discovery Room's air conditioner. At 4:00 P.M. the room started heating up. The Air Conditioner wasn't cooling. While I was up on the roof I discovered the Utah Power and Light Auto Switcher displayed a red LCD light.

That meant the compressor was shut down automatically as part of the power company's program to conserve power and prevent black outs. The air conditioner came on while I was checking it out. That problem was solved.

Before descending I take a moment and enjoy the view.

I switch the gym conditioner on, descend the ladder, then reenter the school through the hatchway. Back I go into my underground world of space and simulations, locking the hatch above me.


So, Chim Chim Cher-ee and Cheerio.....

Mr. Williamson

Another Space Center Milestone....

Kade's Rank Paper. Our First 21st Century Camper!

Hello Troops,

It happened two weeks ago. A young man walked up to my desk during Overnight Camp Sign In's and presented his Rank Paper.

"Is your name spelled correctly?" I asked.

He looked at the spelling of his name and replied, "Yes."

"Staying overnight or going home?" I asked as I went through my checklist of questions. "Overnight," he said.

I gave him the Rules Paper and directed him to take a seat on the stage steps. That's when I noticed something about his paper I'd never seen before. This young man, Kade, was the very first student from this new century to attend one of our camps.

Last year I saw my first camper with a birthday of 2000. But the year 2000 was the last year of the 20th Century. Kade, was our very very first camper born in the 21st Century.

It's just one of those interesting milestones I thought I'd share with you.

Simply,

Mr. Williamson