Fullfillment - with Urania commentary

This is the oldest of Narrator Gair's short short stories, this one goes way back to his HPA Newsletter in the 90's, and when he tried to read it last year in Season 7, Episode 5 of this podcast, he teared up like a goo goo. Is that a phrase they use here in the south? I hope so. Anyway, here it is, its called Fullfillment. The old Spitz star ball was worn out. After 40 years of providing daily miracles for young and old. It was her turn for a miracle. It was almost as if this old planetarium projector had a personality of her own. Many of her operators had remarked over the years that she almost seemed possessed, inhabited with a warmth, dignity and charm for recreating heavens beauty and mystery. But she was long overdue for a miracle of her own. Then she'd sleep fulfilled in the museum's basement forever. Her wish was granted on the last night before her replacement. Careless workmen played an important role. Her old dome also had been removed for a similar updating and the opening above her was covered with nothing but a tie down Canvas tarp. It would hold until morning the workmen had reasoned, no rain was in the forecast anyway. In fact, a cold front was sweeping across the land that would clear the skies beautifully, a cool starry summer's evening, but no one counted on the wind. You can guess what happened next. About midnight came an extremely sharp gust of wind and the canvas was suddenly blown away. Stirring suddenly, the old star ball knew that she was somehow being called this one last time. For the first, last, and only time in her long, long life she stood alone beneath an actual blazing nighttime sky. And somehow she responded by switching herself on. Here we go, this is the part Gair couldn't finish. Each of her stars projected outward and kissed the incoming light of the real stars in the heavens. Her Old Globe began to glow brighter and brighter from within. Recreator had met creator at last. This was fulfillment. Thats almost enough to make me, Urania, blub. Almost...

The Man in the Window

The sky there's a man in the window. Amy eight years old said this over dinner with her parents. I thought I heard you talking in the spare bedroom this morning said her mother. Her father, one of the world's leading solar astronomers smiled. Who are you talking to? Amy he wanted to know the man in the window. He's not so bright early in the morning said Amen. He said we'd better start getting ready. concerned that her fantasy friend might be getting out of hand Mother said Now Amy, you know this is make believe right? Getting ready for what anyway? He sang some songs to me about life and light and stuff. Then he said that tell dad. Your father perked up but this. This was on the verge of getting totally out of hand but he couldn't resist asking. Tell dad what. And then he was astounded when the young girl began spouting off numbers. Hold on, he grabbed the pen and tried to follow what she was viewing. And he continued for a little while reciting number she somewhat and probably had remembered as her dad furiously scribbled her mother looked aghast at her. Amy finally finished her surprise recitation and looked in passively at her father inexplicably intoned frequencies you'll see. Amy's dad looked down at what he had scribbled and was astounded, discover they did look like frequencies. Totally caught up. Now in her spell. He leaned forward. The man that you really get these numbers aiming? Did you find them somewhere? How can you remember them? The man in the window said I would. He said only kids could hear him. Adults know too much. What else her father couldn't stop at this point. Something about six months to go. The big lizards couldn't understand the last time but we could if I told you staring at the paper her father finally said I look into this. What big lizards? Amy finished. It was time for cake anyway. He said a flare up a flare will kill everything or something like that. You have to warn people and build shelters or something. Can I have cake now please? Did he say what his name was? said that. Amy looked at him as she began her chocolate cake. Something about Apollo. He's that bright man in the sky. I can see through the window in the morning. He said he had to warn us. He said that we were his greatest children. And we'd understand thanks for listening

A Most Peculiar Snow - read by an unknown voice

a short story called A Most Peculiar Snow it was definitely snow-like, not to be confused with sleet or freezing rain mind you. Are those the same thing? Or even hail? But whatever it was, it was falling straight down hard and fast like rain. And I could feel it, each flake, or I guess it must have been clusters of flakes, hitting me like large raindrops, but with a bit of a sting. Or rather at least I could imagine them hitting me in that manner. In a fever dream, they turned me toward the bedside window of my hospital room. I was half awake but they didn't know it, and I heard them say he won't last the night. I saw the weird snow outside, it was definitely snow and I saw the stinging flakes hitting the ground. I began to think I saw lights out the window too, swirling, beckoning. Suddenly I was out of my body, floating towards them, their crystalline forms softly surrounding me. I began to become like them, arms and legs falling away, and six intricate sides impossibly emanating from me. I could see them clearly now, as they embraced me - I thought they were angels. I thought they were beautiful crystal glowing angels. in my last glance at them, they assured me somehow no one was there to see us and then they began to unfall, and I was going with them. And up we went .

the Dream

the Dream Mary! Wake up! Breakfast is in 30 minutes in this hotel! Mary's mom practically shook her daughter, who had overslept after apparently having a bad night. We have to be at the show finals at 9 AM you know - this is your big chance. You might win first prize!! Mary grimaced, rolled over and sat up. This WAS a big day - her entry in the regional horticultural show had made the finals! She knew her mom was proud, as was she. Im sorry mom - i had a crazy dream that seemed like it went all night! may mumbled, her feet hitting the floor. Dream, what dream said her mother - no time for that now, get dressed! As Mary threw on her clothes, she couldnt help it ... it was a crazy dream Mom . i dreamed i was this man . and he spent all his spare time ... i dont know what he did - he make star projectors. sat in sheds under homemade domes. he called them planetariums i think mom wasnt interested - you just had too hard a day yesterday - after all, having your Terrarium make the final 3 entries in the show! In 2 hours you could be Best Terrarium in Show! Lets go! called mom from the hall, and she used her daughters nickname this time. . coming mother said Mare...

Tale of 3 Umbrellas

Once there were three umbrella brothers, all young, going out into the world to seek their fortune. But what did life mean for an umbrella? The very name itself was funny. Sounded tentative, um, um, umbra meant shadow or darkness. Not very promising for a young umbrella. In French the word umbrella meant small, small shadow was the meaning of umbrella. And the brothers weren't sure they liked it. But the smallest of the three decided that's what an umbrella was for, to be a small shadow. And he said, I'll spend my life sheltering folks from the rain. Surely that's what an umbrella is. Destiny must be. Nobody could disagree. Most umbrellas only came out on rainy days after all, but the next biggest brother wasn't so sure. Being somewhat of a linguist, umbrellas did go to school you know, he knew that another name for Umbrella was parasol. That's what I'll do in my life. He boasted no rain for me. Para means shielding against. And Sol obviously means sun. I will only come out on sunny days and keep folks cool in hot weather. And everyone thought that was a worthy goal. The only thing better than coming out on rainy days was to be useful on sunny ones. But then the two brothers looked up at the biggest and asked him well, what about you? The biggest brother patted his two smaller siblings on the back. And brothers do have backs you know, and he encouraged them that they were worthy of these traditional umbrella pursuits. But I think I'll do something a little different, he said thoughtfully. I want to be something more than a small shadow in my life. I want to hold up something for others to see, something for others to share and gaze in wonder at. I want to hold up the stars! Hearing this, his two smaller companions laughed at first, but then gasped in wonder when he slowly and majestically spread his arms and rose into the sky. The sun went down and the rain stopped and slowly one by one, the stars came out and reflected their glory on his shining outspread white face. Like his brother's, the biggest umbrella had found his destiny. He would be a reflector of the glory and the wonder shining above in the stars. And so throughout their long and useful lives, the three umbrella brothers were happy in their callings. So may we all as well.

Walt Whitman

 And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths,

(No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.)

I am large.  I contain multitudes

I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven,

O suns—O grass of graves—O perpetual transfers and promotions,

If you do not say any thing how can I say any thing?

Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest,

Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight,

Toss, sparkles of day and dusk—toss on the black stems that decay in the muck,

Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.

I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night,

I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected,

And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small.

When the Stars Go Blue

 premise - the stars are tired ..  they are tired of being appealed to, compared to, reached for, told they arent listening, followed, wished upon.   they have gone blue - they are tired

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1 - It had to happen - the stars grow tired of humanity 

 It had to happen sooner or later.    The stars were tired of humanity and all the expectations that were undendingly put upon them.  Now for our purposes here, some assumptions must  be made.  Assumptions which are completely arbitrary, and may dance precariously close to science, faith, religion, and philosophy.  But what subject doesn't these days.  Assumption 1 is, for our story here, we are the only ones looking at 'the stars'.  There are no other perspectives if there are no other intelligent races to contend with, and no other animal in the history of the earth that we know of has ever said a thing we could understand.  So the assumption, we are alone in our looking at the stars.  That means we've had millenia to build up our observations, expectations, emotions, and conclusions.  I use 'the stars' itself as as a anthromorphomism, as if the 2000 or so visible from earth were another one of us, only up THERE.   Like us and yet unlike us.   The metaphors need never end.  Some blow up.  Some fall, shooting as they go.  Some blaze brightly. some not so much.   Some are part of pictures we call constellations, which are back by myths from various epochs and earthly cultures.  Sometimes they can be seen, other times, even at night, they cannot be.   They are dominated by day by the one of their kind we happen to orbit.  This appears to be purely by chance.  Others of their kind can dimly be seen in vast spiral and other structures in the uber distant background.  We take the stars as a two dimension entity, denyng their three dimensional reality.   We make endless demands and requests upon them. 

Is it any wonder they began to go blue?

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2 - its complicated 

This may be a little more complicated than it first seems, this question of WHY humans have always invoked the stars down through the ages.  Your first impulse might be to say, well they listen and reflect back what we want to hear!  But do they, there's plenty of popular songs for example nowadays to suggest they DONT listen, they are indifferent to our arguments - what we want is literally 'not written in the stars' .    hence sometimes our need or at least our wish to somehow rewrite them.  Do the stars allow us to vent to them?   Yes they do, and that may be a prime reason humanity has always directed their thoughts and eyes towards them, lf not their very voices.  So the stars can make us feel better.   But they may also go beyond that and provide an outlet or catalyst for helping us think through our own issues, desires, and wishes.  We tend to reserve that role to close friends, or spouses, or even pets dont we?  But why not also the stars?

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3 - the stars become romantic

We've seen how the stars, seen by humanity alone for all practical purposes, have somehow functioned not only as a springboard for myth itself, but as a kind of surrogate sounding board for our hopes, dreams, and all purpose ventings.  But when did romance creep into the equation?  How did the stars become romantic is a question we might well ask ourselves, but its one thats tangled up with other sky phenomena like the moon, sunrises, sunsets ..   from the get go its hard to even separate pure starlight from moonlight and the spectacular dusks and dawns we have contemplated since we first crawled out of the primordial swamps and looked up.  For romance brought emotion into our expectations of the stars.  And for every romantic dream fulfilled, how many romantic dreams are dashed upon the rocks of fate or circumstance, or even reality itself?  The stars situation only gets more and more complicated as we go along does it not?    And from verbal tales round the campfire to poetry and literature to hollywood and shakespeare, those expectations only got amplified didnt they.  

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4 - the stars become life cycle dumbed down

One example of a lifecycle, particularly one in which things seem to be getting dumber (if you'll pardon the expression), can be found in constellations and star names.  In particular, modern culture seems to regard the stars as simply an anonymous group enterprise - they are seldom called out by name.  Whereas poems like Locksley Hall (Tennyson) named the  Pleaides, tangled in a silver braid, or mighty Orion stalking, contrast that with today's cultural 'a dream for every star, a song for every star' from So Many Stars, a much recorded tune.  Taken anonymously and collectively like this, its no wonder that identity is not only lost, it simply doesnt matter.  The stars are a two dimensional anonymous cloud.  Here the planetarium of course can help.  Or used to - but havent most planetariums returned the stars to this role anyway, fading them into the forgotten background?  Specifics to generalities.  Why learn the stars - just sing to them?  

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5 - planetariums inevitably slide toward the derelict domes

Everything put together sooner or later falls apart, this seems to be a universal truth.  This of course ties in with the life cycles people, places, and all things inevitably go through, and hardly anything ends better than it started out.  The same can be said about planetariums and the stars they, for better or worse, portrait above our wondering heads.  If we fast forward to the endgame of planetariums, they are invariably junked for newer models, only a few of which are snatched up by home planetarium enthusiasts.  If we imagine even the world where somehow home planetariums became more and more commonplace, a fun fantasy around these parts, this fate would be equally inescapable.  For this reason, my small museum I have constructed what I call 'strange beasts' out of unlikely what you well call 'junk', has now been dedicated to showing a few examples of what that endgame of home planetaria might look like.  The derelict domes.   

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6 -  DOMES not just projectors go to seed

Your first line in the podcast bit is about denouement, and you didn't know it!

I'm intrigued by your perception of things not improving as they are upgraded, but declining. I think most would focus on the planetarium itself--it got better cause we got new equipment! But, you're focusing on the components, which will inevitably wear out or become outdated or in some way decline or be replaced. In your version, progress is decline. It's something of a dark perspective, though not inaccurate, and hints vaguely of a sci fi theme.

i have never seen Willy Wonka, doesnt he have some famous lines?  the stuff in the barn, the small stuff, resembles how people describe what a tornado leaves behind.  i like that though.   theres integrity in something thats been out in the rain for a year and then still works.   i found a tiny flicker candle thing, it had been out who knows how long.  i flipped the switch and it started flickering.  that is now in a place of honor.  it paid its dues!  

a plot ending - an untying - now that has to be a whole paragraph.  for this book idea im writing a paragraph a day on an idea or concept.    a denouement, i didnt see that.   dam youre good

upgrades now do what?  they used to fix bugs.  now they cram in features and redsigns we dont want!  theres a third paragraph!  they redesign things we loved as they were.   

but heres the new twist.   ive seen the decline and fall of the analog monsters of the midway projectors.  salvaged occasionallly but mostly wheeled out to dumpsters.   but NOBODY has ever shown a deteriorated DOME - with holes in it ..   again, that rain coming in .    and it ties into one of my short stories.   this is several paragraphs

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7 - A Dark Meloncholy Turn

you said:  It's something of a dark perspective, though not inaccurate, and hints vaguely of a sci fi theme.

well its right out of Remi's book to be honest, if you read that final Celine blurb, its melancholy.   All this old dusty junk trying one last hurrah to be 'art' or 'science' and ANYTHING before that final dump truck ride into the oblivion of the landfill, or the fire.  and all of it was once shiny and out of the box and exciting.  curling irons and waffle makers and salad shooters and fake christmas trees, so why not domes and long replaced 'anythings possible' scientific apparatus.   and of course its the way im feeling.  

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8 - not derelict, demented

the stars were fed up with how they were portrayed in society, they were downright pissed.  they were followed, scrutinized, questioned unendingly by scientists, astrologers, and lovers alike.  they had to listen to endless wishes, demands, requests to connect up with other distant humans like some sort of magical telephone.  and for all this, they were still in the background - sure some stars were, well, stars, but most weren't - they were simply background, 2 dimensional pawns in this 'thing' called the stars.  the moon almost alway still got more romance and respect than the stars did.  the last straw though was planetaria - first they were digitized, and they didnt want to be.   a star burning in the night is about as analog as it gets, converting hydrogen into heavier elements?  thats a long way from the 0's and 1's that digital everything consists of.  but then even the planetaria became dull lifeless black boxes ..  projecting o blase domes.  it was time for revolution.  it was time for Demented Planetaria....

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