After contemplating "Reach for the Skies," I decided to restart it. I haven't done a timeline/story quite like this before, so it might work, it might not. I'm definately looking for suggestions, possible characters worth adding in. I might do it in detail for some years, or I might fast forwards some--not sure how it's going to work out.
I will be happy to answer almostany questions about the people, the scene--some stuff is rather nebulous as yet, and knowing what feels wrong, incomplete, or just is something people want to know, will help the story along. Likewise, ideas for additional characters are always welcome. Some will be cropping up soon, others down the road.
REACH FOR THE SKIES
June 6th dawned like almost any other early summer day in central New Hampshire. The mills and factories were thriving, producing cotton cloth, plows, Concord Coaches, and more. In Manchester, the big Manchester Locomotive Works was busy expanding into one of the Amoskeag Works’ buildings—demand for locomotives for the rapidly expanding American railroad system was growing by leaps and bounds. The early Manchester morning echoed to the sound of factory whistles, the clopping of horses’ hooves, the clanking of locomotives, and pervading everything, the rush of the Merrimack River over the dam. Unless you were toiling deep in the mills, it was a good day to live in the Granite State—and even then, it wasn’t bad. The previous few days had rained, so the usual smoke and grime was as close to non-existent, and a cool breeze swept through open windows, keeping even the mills cool and comfortable, while the bright sun gave plenty of light for working.
Even as nice as it was, Jason Niles was glad to be at the throttle, steaming northwards. His wife and three kids would be usually be enjoying the day at home—and because of his work, she didn’t need a job, but could keep the frame house near the railroad yard a fit home, and teach the children. Today was different, thought. Today, the family was back in one of the coaches, while he gave the big locomotive full throttle out of Concord Station—next stop, Profile Lake. He’d taken several extra runs—with the corresponding extra pay—and had pulled in a few connections. Someone else would be taking the express back south; he and his family were going to have several days to enjoy the wonders of the White Mountains—and have a respectable hotel room to enjoy them from.
Further west, in the college town of Dartmouth, Professor Houston scratched his balding head and glared at the slide rule. The device had borne out his calculations—he thought. But he wasn’t certain—three significant figures (more like 2 ½, he mentally added) simply weren’t precise enough. These asteroids were simply not as easy to track—hard to see and dim, and their orbits varied enormously.
“I wonder…” he said, as he looked at the numbers again, “that one comes pretty close to Mars—make one awful big crater…”
His thoughts trailed off, as he remembered the “Battle if the Crater.” Never had anyone blasted out such a big gaping hole in the ground; it looked almost like a smaller version of the lunar craters. He’d only seen it days after the battle, but what a chasm it had left!
He usually tried not to think of his days computing artillery trajectories, and doing all sorts of figuring for the war—but the army had needed scientists—the UNION had needed them—and so, he’d served. Besides, what sort of abolitionist would speak and vote—but not help the men actually carrying out the great crusade?
But putting that aside, the crater looked a LOT like the lunar craters—craters certainly too big for volcanoes. Could a big chunk of rock have been responsible?
That, there was no way to check on, so he put the idle speculation aside and returned to his calculations. This time, he wasn’t solving them, per se, but checking all the formulae, and once again reducing things to the simplest terms—but this time, no approximations, no estimations—everything needed to be exact.
The Arithometre could handle a lot of the calculations—but others would require computers. The fewer complex calculations they had to resolve, the faster the results—and he would have more reliable answers. (The Arithometre is a mechanical computational device first sold in 1851, and a “Computer” is a person who’s job is crunching numbers. Although Wiki is FAR from perfect, it does have a decent article on it. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arithmometer )
He was jerked from his musings by a soft female voice, “Dad, if you must be up so early, wake me up so I can make breakfast!”
He turned his head from his desk as the smell of freshly brewed coffee, blended with bacon and eggs, wafted into the room along with his daughter. “Thanks, Lynn—but I’m not up early, I’m up late. And I’m on the edge of getting these orbits figured out…a few more hours, and it’ll be ready for the arithometre.”
Lynn set the tray down, then put her hands on her hips, “Dad! You’ve been up over 24 hours. Isn’t that a bit much?”
“Now that you mention it, it IS a bit long…”
As he spoke, Lynn leaned over the desk, careful not to derange the loose papers in the least, and picked up the organized ones. She knew that he knew exactly which loose papers were which, and where they were—don’t touch. But the ones in a neat pile were safe—properly organized.
Brushing an errant lock of blonde hair aside, she said, “Dad, tell you what—get these so they’re safe to touch, and I’ll take a look at them, while you get some sleep. I might not know the astronomy as well as you, but I can double check the math, anyway.”
He laughed, saying, “No wonder you’re still single; even the smartest of men don’t care for a woman smarter than they are…and as for the astronomy, you’ll take that places I’ll never see…”
As he glanced upwards, seeing only ceiling, Lynn matched that glance—and had anyone been looking, the dreamy look would have matched, too—a dream of the heavens above—and a vision of flying up there. She laughed, adding a mock-exasperated, “DAD!” and added, “If a man doesn’t like what I am, too bad for him! Besides, I haven’t met anyone I’d be the least interested in…”
The ever changing sounds of the nearby downtown never penetrated their conciousness—from the joyful yells of students playing on the green, to the sounds of commerce or the melodious tones from the bell tower, it was all part of the background. But this time, it did…cries of surprise and wonder as the people reacted to something. From his study, father and daughter could see people pointing off in the distance—and some of the cries were turning into cries of fear.
Throwing on a pair of sandals, Lynn rushed outside—then stopped dead. “Dad—you’d better come and look at this…”
Ever used to his excitable daughter—and excitable college students—he hadn’t worried much, but something about Lynn’s tone told him something was very wrong. And it was—in the distance, a vast pillar reached for the sky, in eerie silence, its top starting to spread out, much in the manner of a truly huge explosion.
“That’s BEHIND the mountain, whatever it is,” whispered Lynn.
“Whatever it is, it’s huge; Lynn, go get Mr. Conroy—and tell him to bring his surveying tools outside-the transit and the like!”
That command snapped her out of her shock—whatever it was was clearly too far away to harm anyone here—but getting good measurements as it happened would be invaluable later on. If they could determine how far away it was, and get good angles, the height would be easy to determine—though later on, he would be questioning the measurements when the math determined that it was towering 16 miles over Laconia….
I will be happy to answer almostany questions about the people, the scene--some stuff is rather nebulous as yet, and knowing what feels wrong, incomplete, or just is something people want to know, will help the story along. Likewise, ideas for additional characters are always welcome. Some will be cropping up soon, others down the road.
REACH FOR THE SKIES
June 6th dawned like almost any other early summer day in central New Hampshire. The mills and factories were thriving, producing cotton cloth, plows, Concord Coaches, and more. In Manchester, the big Manchester Locomotive Works was busy expanding into one of the Amoskeag Works’ buildings—demand for locomotives for the rapidly expanding American railroad system was growing by leaps and bounds. The early Manchester morning echoed to the sound of factory whistles, the clopping of horses’ hooves, the clanking of locomotives, and pervading everything, the rush of the Merrimack River over the dam. Unless you were toiling deep in the mills, it was a good day to live in the Granite State—and even then, it wasn’t bad. The previous few days had rained, so the usual smoke and grime was as close to non-existent, and a cool breeze swept through open windows, keeping even the mills cool and comfortable, while the bright sun gave plenty of light for working.
Even as nice as it was, Jason Niles was glad to be at the throttle, steaming northwards. His wife and three kids would be usually be enjoying the day at home—and because of his work, she didn’t need a job, but could keep the frame house near the railroad yard a fit home, and teach the children. Today was different, thought. Today, the family was back in one of the coaches, while he gave the big locomotive full throttle out of Concord Station—next stop, Profile Lake. He’d taken several extra runs—with the corresponding extra pay—and had pulled in a few connections. Someone else would be taking the express back south; he and his family were going to have several days to enjoy the wonders of the White Mountains—and have a respectable hotel room to enjoy them from.
Further west, in the college town of Dartmouth, Professor Houston scratched his balding head and glared at the slide rule. The device had borne out his calculations—he thought. But he wasn’t certain—three significant figures (more like 2 ½, he mentally added) simply weren’t precise enough. These asteroids were simply not as easy to track—hard to see and dim, and their orbits varied enormously.
“I wonder…” he said, as he looked at the numbers again, “that one comes pretty close to Mars—make one awful big crater…”
His thoughts trailed off, as he remembered the “Battle if the Crater.” Never had anyone blasted out such a big gaping hole in the ground; it looked almost like a smaller version of the lunar craters. He’d only seen it days after the battle, but what a chasm it had left!
He usually tried not to think of his days computing artillery trajectories, and doing all sorts of figuring for the war—but the army had needed scientists—the UNION had needed them—and so, he’d served. Besides, what sort of abolitionist would speak and vote—but not help the men actually carrying out the great crusade?
But putting that aside, the crater looked a LOT like the lunar craters—craters certainly too big for volcanoes. Could a big chunk of rock have been responsible?
That, there was no way to check on, so he put the idle speculation aside and returned to his calculations. This time, he wasn’t solving them, per se, but checking all the formulae, and once again reducing things to the simplest terms—but this time, no approximations, no estimations—everything needed to be exact.
The Arithometre could handle a lot of the calculations—but others would require computers. The fewer complex calculations they had to resolve, the faster the results—and he would have more reliable answers. (The Arithometre is a mechanical computational device first sold in 1851, and a “Computer” is a person who’s job is crunching numbers. Although Wiki is FAR from perfect, it does have a decent article on it. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arithmometer )
He was jerked from his musings by a soft female voice, “Dad, if you must be up so early, wake me up so I can make breakfast!”
He turned his head from his desk as the smell of freshly brewed coffee, blended with bacon and eggs, wafted into the room along with his daughter. “Thanks, Lynn—but I’m not up early, I’m up late. And I’m on the edge of getting these orbits figured out…a few more hours, and it’ll be ready for the arithometre.”
Lynn set the tray down, then put her hands on her hips, “Dad! You’ve been up over 24 hours. Isn’t that a bit much?”
“Now that you mention it, it IS a bit long…”
As he spoke, Lynn leaned over the desk, careful not to derange the loose papers in the least, and picked up the organized ones. She knew that he knew exactly which loose papers were which, and where they were—don’t touch. But the ones in a neat pile were safe—properly organized.
Brushing an errant lock of blonde hair aside, she said, “Dad, tell you what—get these so they’re safe to touch, and I’ll take a look at them, while you get some sleep. I might not know the astronomy as well as you, but I can double check the math, anyway.”
He laughed, saying, “No wonder you’re still single; even the smartest of men don’t care for a woman smarter than they are…and as for the astronomy, you’ll take that places I’ll never see…”
As he glanced upwards, seeing only ceiling, Lynn matched that glance—and had anyone been looking, the dreamy look would have matched, too—a dream of the heavens above—and a vision of flying up there. She laughed, adding a mock-exasperated, “DAD!” and added, “If a man doesn’t like what I am, too bad for him! Besides, I haven’t met anyone I’d be the least interested in…”
The ever changing sounds of the nearby downtown never penetrated their conciousness—from the joyful yells of students playing on the green, to the sounds of commerce or the melodious tones from the bell tower, it was all part of the background. But this time, it did…cries of surprise and wonder as the people reacted to something. From his study, father and daughter could see people pointing off in the distance—and some of the cries were turning into cries of fear.
Throwing on a pair of sandals, Lynn rushed outside—then stopped dead. “Dad—you’d better come and look at this…”
Ever used to his excitable daughter—and excitable college students—he hadn’t worried much, but something about Lynn’s tone told him something was very wrong. And it was—in the distance, a vast pillar reached for the sky, in eerie silence, its top starting to spread out, much in the manner of a truly huge explosion.
“That’s BEHIND the mountain, whatever it is,” whispered Lynn.
“Whatever it is, it’s huge; Lynn, go get Mr. Conroy—and tell him to bring his surveying tools outside-the transit and the like!”
That command snapped her out of her shock—whatever it was was clearly too far away to harm anyone here—but getting good measurements as it happened would be invaluable later on. If they could determine how far away it was, and get good angles, the height would be easy to determine—though later on, he would be questioning the measurements when the math determined that it was towering 16 miles over Laconia….