A Dark Tuesday

Hello Troops,
Some people say the sun stopped its forward motion toward night. Others reported seeing strange objects in the sky. Psychics worldwide stopped whatever they were doing for the briefest of moments. Each heard the same something - an unnatural whispering in the fabric of human consciousness.
"There is a disturbance in the mechanisms of the universe" one psychic from Montreal texted to a friend in Wolverhampton, England.

Scientists are reporting these strange phenomena are the result of a massive solar storm spewing radiation across space at 4 million miles per hour.

"The solar radiation is coming in contact with Earth's magnetic field. This contact is causing worldwide feelings of incompleteness," a scientist from the National Academy of Sciences said during an interview on tonight's NBC News with Brian Williams. "It is the way the radiation affects the firing of the brain's nerve cells."

St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City had twice the number of people in attendance at evening Mass. "I haven't been to Mass in years," one woman explained. "There is something about this night that bothers me and I think the best place to be is church."

What happened during the early evening hours of Mountain Standard Time to cause so much uneasiness? How was the normal universal routine altered? The answer may surprise you.

Mr. Williamson left the Space Center at 5:20 P.M. !

I'm sorry if this unannounced and abrupt change in my daily routine upset so many. It was never my intention to do so. You see, today was one of those weird rare days at the Space Center. We didn't have any after school missions. Not one of our five ships had a booking. No bookings meant I could actually leave the school having put in ten hours instead of my normal eleven. The whole thing seems to fantastic to be true, but I promise it is. I left the Space Center at 5:20 P.M. I can't believe it myself.

Perhaps there are no absolutes in this universe.

And How About a Few Things from the Imaginarium?

"Run for your lives, the Dalaks are coming!"

Rachel's urgent Facebook Message.

You must forgive Rachel. Yes, I'm talking about our Rachel. The Rachel you know who flight directs the Odyssey and Galileo. She has evidence that two of science fiction's greatest human nemesi are making appearances - perhaps in your neighborhood.

What is causing our normally calm and unflustered Rachel to panic so? See for yourself below.


This Dalak sits and waits for the arrival of The Doctor. If the boy had any smarts, he would high tail it out of there. Who in their right mind would ever purposely put himself between The Doctor and a Dalak? It is suicide, pure and simple.



This English city's council government was smart enough to put up warning signs to alert the people of their pending extinction. A Dalak on the loose is a recipe for community disaster on a monumental scale.


If Dalaks on your doorsteps aren't enough of a bother, what about the latest bellows from Rachel's Watchtower? Yes, the Weeping Angels are on the loose in some of our cities. Don't blink. Trust me on this. Don't Blink! And whatever you do, don't look away.

Yet More for Tonight

Many of you good readers of The Troubadour know my one great weakness - my adoration of the Human Imagination. Tonight I pay tribute to two wonders of modern imagination.

Behold what the human mind is capable of doing when given freedom and incentive.

Always take the ordinary and make it extraordinary. Exercise your imagination whenever possible. Step out from the teaming masses. The air is fresher and the view, breathtaking.

And Finally, The Other Mary Poppins
"Scary Mary"

Solar Storm Hits Hard Today

False color image of Sun. Solar flare developing in upper right section.

A massive CME (Coronal Mass Ejection) should be hitting the Earth right now. Traveling at about 1400 miles per second, the solar energetic particles are hitting the Earth's magnetosphere (our shields) and interacting with high-flying orbital satellites. A storm this strong hasn't hit the Earth since 2005. There were concerns that some aircraft traveling at high altitude over the Arctic circle would have to divert. Our main concern is that some satellites may suffer damage or loss of signal quality during the event. Skywatchers with clear skies can be looking for magnificent aurora.

Posted by Mark Daymont
From his Blog: Spacerubble.blogspot.com

The Noises of the Night

Hello Troops,
It was 1:00 A.M. I was tossing and turning, hoping to find a comfortable position on a thin pad held rigidly in place by the school's hardwood stage floor. I stared up at the ceiling. Two banks of stage lights hung precariously overhead. I though for a moment about the 'Big One' predicted to shake Utah to its knees sometime in the near future. I wondered what those lights would do if that massive earthquake broke loose that second. I envisioned two possibilities:

1. All would be well because Central Elementary was built in the 1950's and people knew how to build quality schools in those days.
2. I wouldn't survive because Central Elementary was built in the 1950's and people didn't build earthquake resistant schools in those days.

Fueled by that thought, my late night pessimistic strand led me to think about the gym's massive air conditioning / heating unit which sat directly overhead on the roof. One good jolt would bring the whole thing crashing through the roof and right onto the very spot where I slept. I thought of moving but didn't. There are times in life when the occasional risk must be taken.

Right in the middle of my 2012 disaster movie playing in my head, a noise from the gym shifted me back to the hear and now. Below me on the gym floor were fifteen space campers sleeping on our quality creaking cots that like to collapse without warning. Twelve or so of the Space Center's male staff and volunteers ranging in age from 13 to the twenty something occupied the stage with me. One of the campers started to cough. The first cough broke the silence and was quickly followed by a series of three or four coughs in a row separated by a couple of minutes. Each series of coughs pulled me back from those few minutes of shut eye I desperately needed. I debated whether or not I should wake him up to get a drink. My hesitation paid off. After twenty minutes or so, that part of the evening's performance of Noises of the Night came to an end on its own without my intervention. It was nearly 1:30 A.M.

I turned over on my flimsy pad. My old unyielding bones complained about the hard floor. I adjusted my pillow and tried a different position. My unsatisfied bones continued to object. I layed on my back and closed my eyes. I thought of the alien invasion predicted by one of the SyFy Channel's UFO reality shows. I wondered if the Grays with the bulging almond shaped eyes would take an interest in my fleet of startships, show mercy, and allow me keep my brains off their supper menu or decide not to replace my consciousness with one of their own in a weird body snatching scenario.

Right in the middle of that thought another noise pulled me back to the here and now. It was a gurgling accented with the occasional snort. One of our young campers was snoring. After chaperoning our Space Camp for twenty one years, I've come to realize that everyone's snore is distinct - like fingerprints. Many times I've been tempted to record the more interesting snores with the intention to send the sound bytes to some professor of linguists for analysis. Such a study might answer a nagging question I've wondered about for years. Do snorers snore with a regional accent? If so, then it was my believe that this boy's snore had a definite southwestern tonality and pitch.

The snores ended abruptly when the boy sleeping next to the snorer shoved him. "Stop snoring!" he whisperyelled.

Shortly after 3:00 A.M. The Noises of the Night woke me with a crescendo of Dreamtalking. One of the boys on the far end of the stage burst into audible babble. His dreamtalk might have been religiously motivated - something akin to speaking in tongues because I couldn't understand a word of what he was saying. I reached for my flashlight. I found the boy sitting up in his cot. He looked into the light. I held him in the spotlight while he finished his thoughts and fell back into silence. I switched off the flashlight. I closed my eyes and counted sheep to the sounds of the heating unit on the roof.

At 5:00 A.M. I awoke to the sounds of the hardwood floor. One of the volunteers was up on his way to the bathroom. Each step caused the floor to creak like the timbers of a old wooden sailing ship riding the waves of a building storm. A few minutes later I heard the sound of a flushing urinal. The bathroom door opened. "Don't do it!" I thought. I didn't want him to reenter the stage through the hallway door. Of course he did just what I didn't want him to do. "Here it comes," I thought. The metal sound of the door's crashbar latch snapping and clicking into the locked position rang throughout the gym. The cymbals had their moment in our nighttime symphony.

A couple boys woke up just before 5:45 A.M. and started whispering. They provided the Noises of the Night with its closing piece. I turned my flashlight in their general direction. They quieted right down. I was done for the night. I got up, left the stage and prepared to make my early Saturday morning WalMart donut run.

All of us who have worked at the Space Center over the last two decades have grown accustom to the Noises of the Night. These performances have good and bad weeks. This weekend's performance was good thanks to the absence of one tune I despise with a passion. It starts with a wrenching guttural sound followed by the sound of liquid splattering onto the gym floor. I refer to it as "Vomit in F minor". Its absence from this week's playbill makes me grateful for life's simple blessings.

And so, we move into another week. I want to thank you campers for coming to the Space Center and serenading us with your renditions of the Noises of the Night. There would be no Symphony Hall without you. And a Thank you to our great staff and volunteers.

Mr.Williamson