From the USM Southworth Planetarium
“Soft touched”
THE DAILY ASTRONOMER February 3, 2010 And, Then, the Astrophysicist Had to Explain
Nobody has ever explained that strange prickly neck phenomenon. By which I mean that sudden warm sensation that one experiences around the back of the neck. The neck hairs become erect; you gulp, sometimes even gasp, and are at once seized by the conviction that you’re being watched. It is baffling that we should have a warning system that doesn’t involve any obvious sensory input. Perhaps it is nature’s means of compensating us for the fact that 180 degrees of our surroundings always remain invisible. Be it natural provision or funny witchcraft, it is often reliable.
Case in point: the brawny teenager who had spent the previous five minutes holding a lumber plank in position along a deck that he and his father were constructing. The father instructed his son to hold it in place while the former hurried to the garage to fetch the tools necessary to secure it. One could argue, of course, that the thoughtless father could have thought to bring the tools with him in the first, thereby sparing his beleaguered son the labor he was presently enduring. And, it did seem to be an ordeal. His arms were reddened and trembling with the effort. Despite his concentration on the task at hand, he at one point became very still, sniffed the air, and looked behind him, where he saw a curious little man watching him steadfastly. The man’s eyes were wide; his stance firm. Only his right hand moved, for it was rapidly transporting sno-caps and sunflower seeds (the curious man’s favorite snack) from a paper bag held by the left hand. Upon seeing the teenager look at him, this little man waved and offered what he thought was a winsome smile, but instead appeared as a menacing grimace.
The teenager, whose gulp was audible all the way down the block, nodded and then looked hastily back to the lumber plank. He cast a few furtive glances around him, and discovered the same man in the same place wearing that same expression. I, incidentally, had been on a nearby park bench,determined to remain an impartial observer. That intention, of course, would change, soon after the father returned to the front of the house with, of all things, hammer and nails.
“Got ‘em. Hold it just a minute while I get it, ” the father said, putting nail to wood and then hammer to nail. As he hammered, the small man strutted confidently across the street. He whistled his favorite air, “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” as he walked and I knew the day was about to plummet to Hell.
While the teenager rubbed his arms, the man hopped up to the sidewalk and tossed the empty paper bag in a nearby trash bin. The teenager looked positively horrified as this chipper Gollum of a man tapped the father on the shoulder with a series of rapid, and likely painful, raps.
“What?!” the father asked irritably as he spun around, dropping the hammer, and causing one side of the plank to hang down from the deck. The son quickly grabbed the board and held it in place.
The astrophysicist, calm despite the man’s hostility, pointed his right arm toward the son with the rigidity of a fencer poised for the fatal thrust, and declared, “He wasn’t doing any work!”
“I, what?!” the teenage son shouted, dropping the plank, which then crashed to the ground. Stunned by this noise, a couple nearby neighbors quite judiciously went inside to fetch binoculars. I got up from the park bench. “Excuse me?” the father said, his brow furrowed angrily.
The astrophysicist repeated himself, and, while speaking, shook his head rapidly for emphasis. “I was watching him and I know he wasn’t doing any work.”
His arm trauma forgotten, the teenager stepped forward. “The hell I wasn’t doing any work!!”
“Why are you mad?” the astrophysicist inquired, pressing his hands to his hips.
So, then I had a choice: leave my friend to his fate or intervene on his behalf. The disagreeable moment when one has to choose between compassion and beneficial evolutionary culling. I consulted my personal oracle.
Heads.
“Damn!”
Both faces of father and son had exhibited quite pleasing shades of violet by the time I stepped over to the scene. The son was combat-ready; the father was restraining him; the astrophysicist was perplexed. I realized I had to quickly compose a speech to mollify the Pop and Junior so as to prevent violence. “Please don’t be distressed. I’m a pedagogue.”
In these situations, one struggles to find something to say to defuse the situation. During most of my approach I had no clue what to say and then, as I came upon them, I had an inspiration.
I set my hands on the astrophysicist’s shoulders and softly said, “He works at a planetarium.”
Their anger changed to sympathy and understanding, the two guys nodded sadly and turned away. I persuaded the astrophysicist to join me on a walk.
“I see on the first day of your visit to my city, you’re already making new friends.” “It’s not my fault if some people have foul tempers.”
“You can’t blame them. You said the son hadn’t done any work! You saw plain as day that he was working.” “Not really.”
“What do you mean?”
“You really should know..”
“Sorry. Afraid I don’t.”
“Well, then, I’m afraid you shall compel me to be didactic and pedagogical.” One more try. Heads! “Damn.”
“Go ahead. I’ll listen.”
“Now, as you know, I have a doctorate in astrophysics, and thus have some knowledge of the physical universe.” “So, I gather…”
“…and you realize that in my capacity of a planetarium astrophysicist, it is my duty to educate the public about the cosmos. I am sure that you do the same thing in your planetarium…” “Actually, they put us underground to keep us away from the public.”
He thought about this a moment, but then moved on to the original topic. “..and one part of my mission is to dispel false notions about certain physical concepts such as, well, work, hence my attempt to educate those two fire-faces.” “I don’t see how work has much to do with planetariums and astronomy.”
“Egad! It is nothing but work! In fact, I, and many of my colleagues, would insist that physics is little more than the study of energy. And, as even YOU must know, energy is defined as the ability to do work.” “Yes, I think I read that somewhere…”
“And what is ‘work?’”
“This conversation.”
“Work is, in mechanical physics form, energy transferred by a force operating over a distance.” “And?”
“And, as I was about to explain to those two guys before you interrupted, the son wasn’t doing any work because the force he exerted on that plank was not acting over a distance. He could have stood there all day and provided he didn’t move the plank, he wouldn’t have been doing any work.” “Oh!”
“Perfect, now you understand. You see, when I perambulated across the boulevard, I wanted to engage them in conversation. After I told the father that his son wasn’t doing any work, I expected him to smile and reply, ‘Why my good sir, whatever do you mean?’ That would have prompted an informed dialogue about work. Of course, he didn’t react that way and you came over so you get the lecture instead of them. I’ll bet you’re sorry now.” “‘Sorry’ doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Don’t fret, however, the day is not lost. Look over there at the coterie of shapely females congregating around the hot dog vendor. I would wager that very few of them know how natural processes have shaped them. The influence of planetary gravity fields upon human anatomy particularly interests me. I think I shall stroll over and engage them in what I hope shall be an illuminating discussion about all the unseen science around us.” “How will you do that?”
“Simple. I shall strike up a conversation by approaching one of these fine ladies and praising them with the line, ‘Gravity has done quite a job on you.’ I would, of course, invite you to accompany me, as a way of showing a fellow planetarian my skillful techniques, but you tend to ruin everything, so I think I shall proceed alone.”
“I’ll try to cope. Here, actually, take all the change in my pockets and buy yourself a hot dog.” “Wow! Really?”
“Yes.I want to be sure that I have no coins in my pocket while you’re educating those women.” “Thank you. You really are a fine fellow.”
“I try.”
