Our Fellow Troubadours Detained and Lady Brittney's Shocking News.

The Cathedral's bells rang over the moonlit castle and village. A procession of monks followed the Abbot's torch as they walked slowly down the lane to evening Mass. I drew the shutters closed. The night's air was cold and crisp, laden with the comforting smell of wood and fire. The sound of wheel on cobblestone drew my attention to the opposite lane below. A woodsman returned from the forest. His cart strained under the weight of newly cut firewood. His day was ended, his duty's done.

Our band of Troubadours gathered for their evening's lessons. Some took up quill and parchment, and by candlelight, continued their compositions for the nobleman's theater. Lady Emily and Master Wyatt sat to warm themselves by the fire. Our youngest fellows sat before them with instruments in hand.


"Lady Emily, what sayeth thee about my pleasing new melody?" Master Wyatt plucked at his mandolin's strings as he waited for a favorable response. "Tis the song I played for all this morn. The melody came to me during the night. A fortunate gift form the angels in God's heaven."

"I thought the melody showed promise," Master David said whilst painting a scene for a new work destine for summer's telling.

"And the Lady speaks...." Master Wyatt turned to Lady Emily.

Lady Emily looked up from her harp, "And should my verdict disappoint? How shall you be then?" Our band of Troubadours fell silent. Master Wyatt was not known to embrace criticism amicably.

"Then say nay, and witness thy tongue tear my crestfallen heart from its moorings and onto the cold stone below!"

Lady Emily thought for a moment to consider the gruesomeness of his description. "And should my verdict be agreeable?" she said in a softer tone.

"Then say it so, and see the departed sun appear anew to bid the dark of night adieu." Master Wyatt's fingers parodied the rays from the sun around his smiling lips.

Lady Emily momentarily returned to her thoughts before speaking. "I speak the truth when I say your melody has found good company with my thoughts." Her fingers moved back and forth across the harp's strings, recreating Master Wyatt's newest ballad. The pleasing sound of a well crafted harp filled the hushed room.

"Dear Lady, you do favor the melody so. I believe it prefers your company to mine." Wyatt turned to the younger members of the troope sitting with instruments in hand, patiently waiting for their lessons to begin. "Do you not agree?" he thought to wait for a response, then continued before anyone could speak. "Granted your ears are not trained to fathom the sound of wing on air or hand upon cheek. But still, do you not feel your spirits sore at its playing?"

"The Lady's harp speaks for itself. The tune, never finer played," spoke young Connor. Master Wyatt jumped to his feet. Young Connor had transgressed the boundary between student and master. The boy retreated. "Did you not say it so yourself just a moment ago?" Connor spoke quickly to not offend. His back straight and muscles tensed - ready for flight.

Master Wyatt's countenance softened. He stretched forth his arms, and with billowing voice shouted. "Let the sun return, for the Lady's tune is pleasing." The young Troubadours applauded. Master Wyatt accepted their praise.

Lady Emily motioned for Master Wyatt to return to his mandolin. "Sit now and ease your mind, for I truly confess that Beauty is the definition of your tune. And now to the business at hand. Our pupils wait."

There was a sound in the hall. The great oak door burst open. In stepped the Count's trusted Herald. The look upon his face spoke of the bad news to follow.

"I have news of your fellow Troubadours Casey, Bronson, and Jack. A herald from King Wesley of the Northlands reports they are detained. Their return is no longer guaranteed."

The Herald's news was interrupted by shouts from the assembled troope.

"What treachery is this?" questioned Master Adam as he reached for his dagger.

Master Devin's response was quick to follow. "Our response is sure. We take up arms against King Wesley of the Northlands!"

Several stood with arms raised to join the holy cause. The herald cleared his throat and waved his hand beckoning all to silence. "The news is worse. Lady Morgan is detained as well.

"To the defense of Lady Morgan!" Master Zac jumped from his desk. His parchments scattered to the floor. "Where is my sword?"

"Taken from you by the Count for spearing his favored cat three months past," Lady Stacy's reminder drew laughter from the somber crowd.

"Said cat suffered from demonic possession and thrust itself upon the tip of my sword. That I am sure." Master Zac reached out to his fellows for support. "How can I bear responsibility?"

The Herald raised his hand to speak. "The Count believes King Wesley detains them in the North Lands for the sole purpose of creating a theater to rival ours. The Count and Countess will speak more on the matter during the evening meal. I bid you adieu."

The door shut. Threats against the Northlanders engaged every tongue. Not one was silent, each attempted to overspeak the others in his or her company.

"The news is worse." Lady Brittney rose to speak. "Pray indulge me this moment."
She waited for quiet to drive the last of the angry sounds into the stone walls.

"I will take my leave of this place after the Christmas performances. I shall find work in the Southlands where I reside. Good fellows, I pray you support me in this decision." The Lady bowed to all then sat with head down in prayer.

The shock of such news, all at the same time, caused many an eye to tear. A feather could have swept us from our feet. The door opened again.

"The evening meal is prepared. Please join the Count and Countess." A brightly dressed footman bowed, turned and walked away leaving the door open for all to follow.

"There is much to discuss," I spoke as the troope stood to exit. "We shall talk of these things again after our meal. Make haste, do not keep the Count waiting."

Note:
The story above carries two items of Space Center news. Casey Voeks has accepted a position as Valiant Set Director for iWorlds in Park City. He has moved to Park City. Bronson, Morgan and Jack (among other Space Center Park City volunteers) will be working with Casey to bring the Space Center experience to the people of the "Northlands". We wish our friends the best as they work long hours to make this a success!

Brittney Vandeboss, the Magellan's former Set Director, will be leaving full time employment at the Space Center. The Magellan's Directorship was given to Zac H.
Brittney lives in Provo and is attending BYU.
Brittney is looking for employment on campus. She has been with us 6 years and is entitled to a rest. Brittney will remain an employee, working as a substitute when needed. We wish Brittney all the best as she moves on with her education.

Mr. W.

Luna and the Celestial Time

Hello Troops,
The Earth passes between the Sun and the Moon tomorrow morning making for a beautiful Lunar eclipse. The timing couldn't be more perfect, and for that I must thank the Celestial clockkeeper.

The eclipse will reach its peak at 7:34 A.M. tomorrow. We wake our campers at 7:10 A.M. They eat mass quantities of donuts, Gogurts, fruit etc and are ready to leave the cafeteria at 7:35 A.M. The timing is perfection. We finish eating, walk the younglings outside, let them gaze at the darkening moon then usher them straight back into the school and into the simulators to finish their missions. We couldn't have planed it better.

It is a good Overnight Camp. The campers are well behaved and for that we are always grateful. The only sound I hear comes from the staff bed down in the Odyssey. They are telling tales of simulated heroism and fantasy courage in the face of Universal Armageddon. It has been the same for 21 years, staff telling newer staff the stories of their trials and tribulations in the simulators. This person to person story telling becomes the oral history of the Center, passed from one generation of staff to another.

I've got a few Christmas Ideas from the Wonderland Emporium two blocks from the Imaginarium. I clipped these ads from the newspaper and thought to pass them along to you. We all have someone on our holiday shopping list impossible to shop for. Perhaps something advertised here will relieve your burden.

Mickey Fired! And The Space Center's New Autosmile Braces.

Hello Troops,
The DuMouse clan sat anxiously waiting for the weekly Friday evening MouseNetwork replay of Steamboat Willy, Mickey's first on screen performance. The DuMouses live between the walls of a wonderfully restored Victorian home on the corner of Fifth and Elm in Wonderland. A human family named Dumont purchased the home ten years ago.

"Quiet," shouted Mrs. DuMouse, "the show is about to start." She searched the sea of little mouse eyes for her youngest. "Wally, get the cheese out of the ice box. Let's have a treat."

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special bulletin." The announcer's voice was somber, reflective of the news he was about to read. The Mouse family froze. They knew whatever it was had to be serious for the MouseNetwork to interrupt a playing of Steamboat Willy.
"This just in, Mickey Mouse was fired as Disneyland's Goodwill Ambassador. Apparently several campers attending a mission at the Christa McAuliffe Space Education Center in Pleasant Grove were overheard telling the director that the Space Education Center was 'better than Disneyland'." The announcer paused to choke back his emotions. "A Disney informant not wanting to be identified said that Mickey was warned his job was on the line if anything like that was said again."

The picture on the screen switched from the news reader to a picture of Mickey, outside of the Magic Kingdom.



"Oh how the mighty have fallen!" gasped Mrs. DuMouse.
"Say it isn't so Mama!" Dora DuMouse sobbed.
"I'm afraid its true. Poor Mickey, reduced to begging on the street." Mrs. DuMouse's countenance grew dark - her eyes sinister. "Curse that Space Education Center," she mumbled under her breath. "They'll get theirs someday."

Troops,
I realize not everyone who comes to the Space Center's agrees, but two people told me yesterday that the Space Center was better than Disneyland. As many of you know, I'm one of the world's greatest Disney fans, so hearing that causes my chest to swell with such pride it nearly busts my buttons. I don't necessarily agree with the comment, but I'm happy that there are many who sincerely believe it.

The Space Education Center is my 2nd Happiest Place on Earth! The Disney Parks will always be my number 1, but thank you to all of you that believe differently. You're all awesome.

The Autosmile Brace


I found these awesome Autosmile Braces while Christmas shopping online and decided to purchase a set to be used by the Space Center's staff. Finally someone was creative enough to realize that not everyone can look happy all the time when coming to work - hence the problem we have at the Space Center.

There are days forcing the corners of my mouth upwards to reveal a convincing smile requires hydraulic power my cheek muscles cannot muster. On days like that, usually caused directly or indirectly by the Dementress, I must rely on others to stand as welcoming and warm in my stead. Lorraine is one such person. She had her smile tattooed onto her face several years ago just for the Space Center. I admire her dedication, but couldn't bring myself to do the same until last week.

After working a very difficult mission with a captain who rarely left her chair and spoke with such a mousy voice no one could hear anything she said, my natural frown sagged into something entirely unnatural in appearance. I caught a glimpse of myself in the Phototon on the bridge. It was shocking.

"Your countenance has ventured into a menagerie of the macabre and the grotesque." Lorraine said as she pulled me aside to deliver the terrible news moments before we loaded the next field trip crew.

I looked at her tattooed smile. Mind you, up close you can see the artist's flaws, but from a few steps back, it looks entirely natural. "Alright, I'm going to do it. Make an appointment. I'll have the procedure."

Lorraine smiled. That's when I was reminded of another major flaw in a smile tattoo. "Lorraine, remember not to smile for real. The two tattooed corners of your mouth nearly close at the top right there under your nose. It almost makes a perfect circle."

"I forgot," she replied.

Thank goodness I discovered the Autosmile Braces before leaving for the tattoo parlor. A Space Center landmark has been saved. My natural frown can continue to instill fear anytime I wish (necessary when you're the boss. The staff need to see me when I'm not a happy camper).

Staff and volunteers, the Autosmile Braces will be kept just inside the Voyager's Stage loading door. Pick one up as needed for those tough days. And please remember to disinfect when finished BEFORE you hang them back on the hook.

Remember, we always have a smile for our guests, whether natural, unnatural, or mechanically produced :)

Mr. W.