Contact Victor Williamson with your questions about simulator based experiential education programs for your school.
SpaceCampUtah@gmail.com

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Heck Week. Our Great March to Victory


Hello Troops,
We are on the eve of Heck Week (edited for the sake of our younger readers). As many of you know, every summer I have a tradition of picking a week in July and turning it into Heck Week. I fill the week with camps and private missions to the point where sanity is itself is tested beyond its limits. This is the week that nearly drives us to drink. This is the week that sends many of you to counseling. This is the week that tests men’s souls. By Saturday, I’ll know where each of your breaking points are. By Saturday everything about you will be exposed. You’ll be a blabbering idiot, barely able to form complete sentences due to a serious lack of sleep. Walls will be walked into. Monitors will be placed at the restrooms to help the semi conscious remember which door to use. Caffeinated soft drinks will pour from the drinking fountains (not an easy accomplishment but doable for the right price). I instructed Aleta to stop at Red Lobster and acquire a box of plastic bibs for staff use at mealtimes. I’ll assign a camper to each of you. He or she will wipe your mouths and chins as you eat and be ready to pound your back should you start to choke.

May I say at the onset of this seemingly impossible challenge that I have every confidence in our ability to end the week victorious. We will do what some say can’t be done. We will slay ignorance. We will vanquish poverty. We will end this recession and, by giving up one extra hour of sleep each night, solve our nation’s health care crisis. We will achieve all of this, and still complete our camps and missions by feeding off pure adrenaline and the inspiration that comes from standing at the partition that separates reality from fantasy. We can do all this and much more!
So, rest well tonight fellow Troubadours. Tomorrow at 10:00 A.M. the bugle will sound and the drum will beat. The whistle will blow and we will go over the top. We will fight until there is no one standing (which should happen at 6:00 P.M. Saturday when the last campers leave). If our flag falls another will stop and pick it up. We will go forward, never retreat.

When all is said and done, this week will go down in Space Center history as our finest. Tales of what we accomplished will be told for years to come as we sit around our fires and remember the day when everyone said it couldn’t be done and we did it.

Buckle up and hold on. It will be a bumpy ride.

Mr. Williamson.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Personal Log: Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster - Entry 4

This is just for fun. Any resemblance to people who work at the space center is intentional, although these characters aren't really them. Any resemblance to an actual mission is your imagination.

Aleta Clegg.


Personal Log: Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster - Entry 4

LeGrange swore as he knocked his head against another pipe fitting. “I hate these tunnels.”

“That’s because you’re a marine, not a skinny engineer,” Fells answered.

“Quiet,” I whispered. “Sound carries too well through these conduits.”

Thumps sounded from farther down the conduit. I froze. LeGrange and Fells tried to draw their phasers. The repair conduits were slightly too small to allow it.

The thumping stopped. My heart pounded while we waited.

Three deliberate thumps echoed down the conduit. I grinned and thumped twice fast, then twice slow.

“No fighting room in here,” Fells complained in a harsh whisper.

“I think I’ve got my phaser free,” LeGrange whispered. “Move over so I have a clear shot.”

My thumps were answered by five rapid ones.

“They’re coming! Quartermaster, you are in the line of fire. You are not trained for this. Move!” Fells shoved my boots.

“It’s Turner,” I answered him. “But just in case it isn’t...” I squeezed to one side.

LeGrange passed his phaser to Turner. I tried to melt into the side of the conduit when Turner poked it past my hip. I didn’t want caught in the beam.

Turner cautiously stuck his head around a bend. “Stevens?”

“It’s me.” I nudged LeGrange’s phaser away. “And two trigger happy marines.”

Turner crawled closer. A thin woman crawled after him, her black hair straggling loose from the bun on her head.

“This is Vasha, comm tech,” Turner introduced her.

“Comm tech? I’ve got an idea. Head back to that intersection,” I called over my shoulder.

LeGrange and Fells muttered curses under their breath as they inched backwards through the repair conduit.

The intersection wasn’t much bigger but it allowed enough room for the five of us to crouch together and whisper plans.

“Vasha, how well do you know the comm system?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I’m better with the main computer. I was computer specialist for a small ship for three years before they transferred me here.”

“Even better.” I rubbed my hands together.

“What are you planning? I hate it when you smile like that. You scare me.” Turner wiggled into a more comfortable position.

“Can you access the main computer?” I ignored Turner, for now.

“If you can get me into the captain’s quarters, yes. What do you want me to do?”

“Shut down the ship, lock them in the cabins, whatever you can dream up. LeGrange, can you get her there?”

He nodded. “It would be easier with at least five men. Those corridors have to be guarded or this Del’Brugado is a complete idiot. Which he wouldn’t be since he did manage to take over the ship from Captain Herring.”

“Not the hallways, LeGrange. Take the conduits. They’ll get you to deck four, near the forward shield generators. Be careful from there.”

“Don’t tell me my job, Quartermaster.” LeGrange’s tone was sharp. “Come on, Vasha. Stay close behind me.”

The two of them crawled down the conduit.

“They’ll be caught,” Fells whispered. His hand fondled his phaser as if it were a security blanket.

“Not if you give them something else to think about. Think you can stage a raid on the armory?”

”By myself?”

“You’re a marine. And you like big weapons, don’t you?”

A smile spread over Fells face, spelling doom for any marauders that weren’t paying attention.

“The two of us will get to the auxiliary controls and see what havoc we can wreak.” I pointed at Turner. “I know a few commands.”

“I don’t,” Turner said. “How about I see how close to the brig I can get? Maybe I can override the force fields.”

“And maybe you’ll get shot.”

“I didn’t know you cared, Stevens.”

Fells rolled his eyes. “You two lovebirds finish your fight, I’m leaving.” He crawled away.

“Go see what diversion you can create,” I said. “And try not to get caught.”

I didn’t wait to see him leave. I crawled through the conduit leading to engineering.

I climbed down the ladder to deck thirteen, listening for any movement below. The engineering control panel at the bottom of the ladder was for emergency use only. I figured this was definitely an emergency. I reached the bottom of the ladder and crouched, scanning the hallway outside the nook.

Two guards, wearing blue and yellow uniforms, talked at the end of the hall. They both carried weapons that looked far more deadly than phasers.

I pushed the button to release the controls. Air hissed as the panel slid open.

“Did you hear that?” One of the pirates turned, scanning the hall.

I ducked under the panel, scooting as far into its shadow as I could.

The intruder alarm screeched to life.

“Deck eight! They’re after the armory!” The two pirates sprinted for the nearest lift, leaving the hall clear.

I cautiously stood. The nook left me exposed to anyone walking in the hall. I quickly scanned the controls. Not as much help as I had hoped, these only controlled backup power systems. I yanked all the isolinear chips free, stuffing them into my pockets. I had to find a different node, take out the main reactor if I could.

I glanced up and down the hall. Still clear. I headed for main engineering at a run. If I moved fast enough, I could chuck something into the reactor core, pull the iso chips, something that would cripple the ship.

Faint thuds echoed through the ship. Eight, ten, more thuds followed quickly.

The alarms changed tone.

“Warning, life boats have been launched. Warp drive has been activated. All hands brace for warp speeds.” The main computer’s voice echoed through empty halls.

The floor vibrated as the engine power built.

I swore and ran faster. Wherever Del’Brugado was taking us, it couldn’t be good. If he’d launched lifepods, maybe he’d ditched most of the crew. And maybe they were dead. I couldn’t think about that now.

The door to main engineering slid open. I skidded to a stop. Five pirates leveled weapons at my head. I reversed course and ran madly down the hallway.

Boots pounded behind me. The guards shouted as they gave chase.

“At least you got your diversion,” I muttered as I slammed the controls for the lift.

Not fast enough, I thought. I darted into a cross hall, heading for the maze of the ship’s life support systems.

A shot ricocheted off the bulkhead. I dodged and slipped, skidding on my knees into a door.

One of the pirates grabbed the back of my uniform, dragging me to my feet.

“Not fast enough,” I said as he shook me.

“Who are you?”

“Adrian Stevens, Quartermaster. I don’t know my serial number.”

The pirate smashed me against the wall. “Search her for weapons then lock her in the brig with the others.”

The pirates shoved me through the ship to the brig. They lowered the force fields just long enough to push me inside. I staggered to a stop.

“If it isn’t the troublemaker,” Captain Herring spoke. “Enlisted personnel were supposed to be evacuated.”

“I think I missed the lifepod,” I answered.

Captain Herring sniffed. “You’ve spent more time in here than anyone else. Do you have any ideas how to escape?”

I fingered the isolinear chips still in the front of my uniform. “Maybe.” I noted who was in the brig. LeGrange lay on a bunk, nursing a bloody nose and black eye, but there was no sign of the others I’d sent. “Are they holding anyone else?”

“Major Yancy, main engineer, and three of his crew are in engineering.” The captain’s voice was crisp.

“Then they haven’t caught up with Turner or Vasha yet. We may still have a chance of escape.”

Herring nodded. “Then do what you can, Stevens.”

I pulled an iso chip from my suit. “Anyone here know how to open the force field generator panels?”

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Thoughts on Transformers and North Korea.

Hello Troops,
I saw Transformers this weekend. Now I think I need to be careful not to hurt feelings as I describe my thoughts on this film, realizing many of you enjoyed it. So, without putting too fine a point on it - I thought the movie was pure unadulterated trash. It was a pure waste of my time and money.
I urge all that say they enjoyed the movie to reconsider your opinion. Tell me what, if anything, made sense in that poor excuse of spending several millions of dollars?

  • Dialog? Inane. Trite. Elementary.
  • Characters? cardboard. two dimensional. boring.
  • Special effects? Brilliant. You see, I give credit where credit is due.
  • Story? Beyond belief even for fiction. It is beyond fiction. It is a fiction not even fiction can understand.

I could fill volumes by writing on every point this movie failed. I slept through some parts, squirmed through others, laughed not with the characters but at the characters, and was amazed at the 300 pounder sitting behind me that seemed to enjoy the movie immensely. I knew he was an adult based on the growth of his beard and the fact he had a few small humans in tow. I wanted to turn around and ask him why he was enjoying the movie. Of course wanting to and doing it are two different things and, being a coward at heart, always take the safe road.

There were several times I found myself rubbing my forehead. Now, to those that would like to understand Mr. Williamson’s quirks, the rubbing of the forehead is my uncontrollably way of silently shouting “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO INTELLIGENT LIFE ON THIS PLANET. IS THERE ANYONE THAT CAN PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY?”

You’re asking why I didn’t get up and walk out of the movie? Good question. I've done it before to far less deserving movies like Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. To be truthful, the special effects kept me tethered me to my seat. They were good. But had it not been for them I would have gotten up and walked out the first time the handicapped mother (born brainless) opened her mouth or when the dogs enjoyed each other's company on the couch.

Once again I ponder the use of the word professional when it comes to some Hollywood script writers. Professional, yes - when it comes down to the fact that they are paid for their work. Professional? No, when it comes to the quality of some of their work. My own Flight Directors, (and even some of the older volunteers) can write better fiction than Transformers.

I conclude this opinion post by urging you not to see Transformers. Don’t reward Dreamworks and Paramount for releasing this cinematic plague upon our houses right before the July 4th holiday. I promise that seeing it could potentially ruin your day, maybe your week (sorry Transformer fans). Listen, take my advice and read or watch some really good fiction and update yourself with North Korea's latest threats against the United States. They are threatening to launch a missile over Hawaii. Let's hope someone over there remembers to bring the matches so they get an ignition. Clearing the launch pad is a real plus for the North Korean Evening Propoganda Broadcasts. Making it over the Sea of Japan? That's priceless.

Speaking of North Korea. Can you believe a nation of millions under the delusion their leader is the modern world’s Messiah? They call him “The Dear Leader”. A more fitting title would be "Blood Sucking Vampire". He is a tin pot dictator and the head of the only political party in North Korea, The Korean Worker’s Party or something to that effect. He, and the others that are guilty of destroying the lives of millions, run that country like abusive parents. It is communism at its worst.

I visited Russia three times during the days it was ruled by the communists. I visited East Germany and Poland when they were also ruled by communists. I know what a communist state looks and feels like. I have a pretty good idea what’s happening in North Korea and I feel for its citizens. Many know better but are too terrified to speak out and the others are mindless drones, refusing to believe that their leaders don’t have their best interests at heart.

I say let North Korea launch a missile at Hawaii. Let them prove to the world that not only is their Dear Leader half dead with Stoke but also functionally insane, dimwitted, delusional, and (pray to God) on death’s door. I firmly believe that inborn urge to be free can be found in many of North Korea’s citizens. I hope something will happen, as it did in Europe, and the people will find their voice and hunt down the criminals that destroyed the lives of millions and let them experience true freedom by swinging in the Korean breeze from the end of a rope.

And now Its time for Sunday dinner.

Have a great week troops,

Mr. Williamson