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Answer Man by Mark Donahue |
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads. Walden, The Pond In Winter, Henry David Thoreau |
Prologue
2018
Lifeless and frigid a rock the size of a major Mid-Western city sped through the darkness somewhere between Jupiter and Mars as it had done for billions of years. Its speed varied based on the gravitational pull that was exerted on it from the millions of objects it passed on its journey through the void, but averaged over 62,000 miles per hour.
Its area was nearly forty square miles in the form of an imperfect rectangle. The danger it represented to any heavenly body it encountered was significant and potentially lethal.
It was made up of a potpourri of elements including oxygen, silicon, iron, nickel, and magnesium. Its precise weight was incalculable. Its precise potential for devastation was immeasurable.
It was one of millions in the asteroid belt but unlike some, it did not rotate around its principle axis, but rather, tumbled chaotically through the void similar to a Phil Niekro knuckleball thrown on a windless day in Yankee stadium.
The rock was no stranger to those who had followed its progress or more importantly, its revised destination.
“Why the change?”
“Has to be Jupiter.”
“Yeah, has to be Jupiter.”
“What do you think?”
“The numbers don’t lie.”
“I know the damn numbers don’t lie, but what do you think?”
“I think we’re fucked.”
“Yeah, I think we’re fucked too.”
Lifeless and frigid a rock the size of a major Mid-Western city sped through the darkness somewhere between Jupiter and Mars as it had done for billions of years. Its speed varied based on the gravitational pull that was exerted on it from the millions of objects it passed on its journey through the void, but averaged over 62,000 miles per hour.
Its area was nearly forty square miles in the form of an imperfect rectangle. The danger it represented to any heavenly body it encountered was significant and potentially lethal.
It was made up of a potpourri of elements including oxygen, silicon, iron, nickel, and magnesium. Its precise weight was incalculable. Its precise potential for devastation was immeasurable.
It was one of millions in the asteroid belt but unlike some, it did not rotate around its principle axis, but rather, tumbled chaotically through the void similar to a Phil Niekro knuckleball thrown on a windless day in Yankee stadium.
The rock was no stranger to those who had followed its progress or more importantly, its revised destination.
“Why the change?”
“Has to be Jupiter.”
“Yeah, has to be Jupiter.”
“What do you think?”
“The numbers don’t lie.”
“I know the damn numbers don’t lie, but what do you think?”
“I think we’re fucked.”
“Yeah, I think we’re fucked too.”
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