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  ANALOG SCIENCE FICTION AND FACT

  Vol. CXXVI No. 12, December 2006

  Cover design by Victoria Green

  Cover Art by Mark A. Garlick

  SERIAL

  ROLLBACK, Part III of IV, Robert J. Sawyer

  NOVELETTES

  IMPERFECT GODS, C. Sanford Lowe & G. David Nordley

  DOUBLE DEAD, Grey Rollins

  SHORT STORIES

  OPENSHOT, Craig DeLancey

  DIATOMACEOUS EARTH, Jerry Oltion

  THE TECHNETIUM RUSH, Wil McCarthy

  LONG WINTER'S NAP, Catherine H. Shaffer

  SCIENCE FACT

  FLOATWORLDS, Stephen L. Gillett, Ph.D.

  PROBABILITY ZERO

  UPGRADE, Eric James Stone

  READER'S DEPARTMENTS

  THE EDITOR'S PAGE

  IN TIMES TO COME

  THE ALTERNATE VIEW, John G. Cramer

  THE REFERENCE LIBRARY, Tom Easton

  BRASS TACKS

  UPCOMING EVENTS, Anthony Lewis

  Click a Link for Easy Navigation

  CONTENTS

  EDITORIAL: EXTRACURRICULAR EDUCATION by Stanley Schmidt

  IMPERFECT GODS by C. Sanford Lowe & G. David Nordley

  FLOATWORLDS by Stephen L. Gillett, Ph.D.

  IN TIMES TO COME

  DOUBLE DEAD by Grey Rollins

  OPENSHOT by Craig Delancey

  THE ALTERNATE VIEW: EPR COMMUNICATION: SIGNALS FROM THE FUTURE? by John G. Cramer

  PROBABILITY ZERO: UPGRADE by Eric James Stone

  Diatomaceous Earth by Jerry Oltion

  The Technetium Rush by Wil McCarthy

  LONG WINTER'S NAP by Catherine H. Shaffer

  ROLLBACK: PART III OF IV by Robert J. Sawyer

  THE REFERENCE LIBRARY by Tom Easton

  BRASS TACKS

  UPCOMING EVENTS by Anthony Lewis

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  EDITORIAL: EXTRACURRICULAR EDUCATION by Stanley Schmidt

  It's become a popular truism in our culture that many of the most important lessons we learn are not parts of the formal school curriculum. Far be it from me to deny that. In fact, I plan to suggest that it applies even in some ways that people who like to quote it seldom mention—and would just as soon others didn't, either.

  Probably any of us can cite examples from our own experience. I, for instance, learned to speed-read (an indispensable tool in my daily work) in school—but probably would have got in trouble had my social studies teacher known I was doing it. (I taught myself so I could read a borrowed science fiction novelette during one of her classes while paying enough attention to get a good grade.) I learned that even highly intelligent, reasonable people can have emotional hot buttons that can trigger sudden and alarming personality changes if you inadvertently hit one of them. And I learned that the more you like and respect a person, the harder it is to forgive them when they unexpectedly and uncharacteristically do something you can't respect.

  All of these things are valuable to know, but they're not what my teachers were hired to teach me, or what their employers (the taxpayers) were paying them for. Their main function was to teach me things like English, math, science, Spanish, music, and industrial arts. Those are valuable to know, too, and they should be the top priority of schools. Yes, students will learn some of those extracurricular life lessons in school, too, but they'll also learn them wherever they are—and they are not the reason for going to school. School is for systematically teaching and learning things that most students are not likely to learn elsewhere, and that are needed to function intelligently in a democratic society.

  As I write this, my local polls are open for a vote on a proposed school budget for next year. If approved, this budget will produce a very substantial increase in property taxes that are already some of the highest in the country—and school taxes are by far the largest part of the total. None of this is necessarily a reason to reject the budget increase (which would force the board to adopt a smaller but still quite hefty contingency budget), but it is certainly a reason to question the arguments for it and seriously consider whether they justify the additional burden on taxpayers.

  That's where this matter becomes of general enough interest to warrant discussing it here. The school budget of one northeastern town is not, in itself, of any concern to anyone living anywhere else. But the kinds of reasoning being put forth in support or opposition provide a good example of some cultural trends that have a lot to do with where our culture is now and where it's headed in the future.

  Which is, of course, a major concern of this magazine and most of its readers.

  So: what will be done with this extra money, if a majority of voters agree to have it taken from their (and their unwilling neighbors') pockets? The most extensive coverage I saw in the local newspaper was a ten-inch article, most of which detailed how the new budget would expand sports options by such means as buying additional equipment and hiring five additional coaches (for two schools) to insure continuation of a “no cut” policy. A considerably smaller part of the article mentioned (almost in passing, it seemed to me) that it would maintain current academic programs and class sizes (on the order of 20 to 25 students).

  A mere half-inch was given to the comment of one resident (a retired teacher) that he would rather see the money go to academics.

  Well, so would I, if the extra money is approved at all; but I think even that is subject to question. Remember, this is in a time and place where school taxes are already so high, and for several years have been increasing so much faster than the general rate of inflation, that they're literally driving people from homes they've lived in for years or decades because they can no longer afford the taxes. Demanding that they pay still more, I respectfully suggest, requires very compelling reasons.

  So what are we offered?

  According to the article, the superintendent recognizes that his schools offer unusually extensive athletic opportunities and that that isn't easy. But, it goes on to say, he believes sports are “crucial to a child's development” because they “keep students active ... and help them feel as though they are part of a group.” (The quotes identify the newspaper's words and not necessarily the superintendent's, since the article apparently paraphrased or summarized.)

  If that's what he thinks, that's where his views and mine begin to diverge. Sports were not crucial to my development or to that of many others I knew, so the suggestion that they're “crucial” to “every child” leaves me more than a little cold. And while it may be a fine thing for students to be Active and Feel As Though They Are Part of a Group, I don't think it is the schools’ responsibility (or mine as a taxpayer) to make them so. I venture to suggest (and I realize this is heresy in our current culture) that they and their families should take some responsibility for finding worthwhile and satisfying things to do with their time.

  I am not saying that I think everything athletic should be stricken from the curriculum or from extracurricular activities—or everything musical, artistic, journalistic, dramatic, or whatever. But I do think that the amount of public money spent on any of these things should bear some relation to what the taxpay
ers can reasonably afford. A “no cut” policy, as I understand it, means that the district provides enough equipment and coaches to run multiple teams in multiple sports, so that anybody who wants to play one can do so. A nice luxury, if you can afford it, but hardly a necessity so compelling as to forcibly require people who don't want it to pay for it. Radical suggestion: maybe a “no cut” policy is a bad idea. Most people at most schools seem to like having teams that play similar teams from other schools, but what is so wrong with the idea of making those teams something that interested students can aspire to, and be proud of achieving if they do, but not take for granted?

  I make this suggestion as one who would not have made the cut for any such team at my high school (which produced some very good professional athletes), and would not have been crushed by my inability to do so. I had my own interests that lay elsewhere, and I wouldn't have wanted to see a “no cut” policy in those, either. My junior high and high school music experiences were some of the most rewarding in my entire time as a student, and I'm grateful to my schools for making them possible. But I would never have expected them to pay for my instrument or accessories, and the experience would have been much diminished if the band and orchestra had been thrown open to anyone who wanted to play in them, no matter how ineptly.

  I should also add that I have similar reservations even about certain academic extravagances—and, at the same time, that I have been a professional educator (in an academic field), took the job very seriously indeed, and still do. As one of the main places where people are prepared to keep our civilization alive and growing in the future, education is one of the most important professions we have, and deserves all the meaningful support we can reasonably afford to give it.

  But is it really necessary for public schools to give every student a laptop computer, as some in my local system would have us believe? I'm far from convinced. Even though computer prices have come down dramatically, they're still far more expensive than other supplies such as textbooks—which, at the junior high and high school levels, are typically loaned to students. I don't question that computers can be a valuable aid in the teaching or learning of almost any subject, or that they have already become such an integral part of how our culture does almost everything that students need to be able to use them comfortably. I do question whether every student is entitled to a new one as a gift from the public, to use through and beyond his or her time in the school. Why can't those, like books, be loaned for the duration and then reissued to another student? Certainly they can and should last long enough to serve at least two or three students that way.

  I have anticipated, and reject, the argument you may make that while computers may physically last several years, they become obsolete almost immediately. True enough, in the bizarre sense that they become unable to run some of the newer software that manufacturers would love to sell us every few months. But there's no reason why students need to have the very latest hardware or software. Whatever version they use in school will surely be obsolete, at least in that sense, by the time they get out and go to college or work. So it really doesn't much matter that they learn to use any particular kind of computer or application. What matters is that they learn to use some kind, and thereby develop the kinds of general skills and ways of thinking that they'll be able to transfer to other kinds as the field continues to evolve. And they can do that just as well on a five-year-old model as they can on a brand-new one.

  I also anticipate your objection that many of them will be frustrated with such equipment because they're used to using newer computers and software at home. Fine, I say; let them use the ones they have at home. In fact, that can further reduce the schools’ costs: let the schools provide computers only for those who don't already have their own—which is a steadily decreasing number.

  As a teacher, I well understand the frustration of using equipment that's antiquated or in poor repair, or of having to teach excessively large classes. As a teacher, of course I would rather teach 15 students than 50, and I would prefer to use brand-new, state-of-the-art equipment. But I don't consider it my inalienable right and expect others to provide me with that opportunity, or to consider their failure to do so an excuse for my failure to teach well. I do recognize that providing me with the best of all possible working conditions is not the only thing they must consider in managing their own finances.

  And that the quality of education is not directly determined by the amount of money you throw at it. As Ben Bova observed in a conversation many years ago, “Probably the best classroom ever was a grove of olive trees with Socrates in it."

  That grove might not be quite adequate for today's needs, but Socrates could surely accomplish a lot with far less equipment than many people have come to consider necessary. A good teacher or student can even derive educational benefit from learning to cope with less than optimal equipment. (The first comment of special approval I ever got on a college physics paper was on an appendix to a lab report titled “Special Notes on the Collapse of the Apparatus.")

  The problem I see shining through the discussion of my local school budget proposal is a far larger one that has come to pervade our culture: too many of us have been so spoiled by the ready availability of luxuries that we have come to regard them as necessities.

  Perhaps the most telling quote (or paraphrase) from that superintendent is this: “You never want to limit a child's potential.” You may never want to, but sometimes you have to, because you have to live within your means—and that's a lesson worth learning. People have too often been allowed to think that they can get whatever they want just because they want it. Children need to learn that they can't—and so do school boards.

  Copyright (c) 2006 Stanley Schmidt

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  IMPERFECT GODS by C. Sanford Lowe & G. David Nordley

  People must act on the best information they have. But what if there's no way to check it?

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  Illustration by William R. Warren, Jr.

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  Chapter 1

  Spaceport, Planet New Antarctica,

  Erebus System, 12 April 2272

  She's on that ship, Naomi Abila thought as she watched the incoming interplanetary shuttle rise slowly in the far north like a supernova kicked loose from the firmament, a brilliant point of light that got higher and brighter every second. As it grew brighter and nearer, it began a majestic sweep eastward and inscribed a thin, glowing trace across Canis Major and then Orion. Gently, its path curved back until it was again headed directly for their base on New Antarctica.

  Naomi smiled at her son, Sasha. She worried that he might resent having another person becoming, effectively, lead on New Antarctica's part of the project to create a mini black hole. That had been pretty much hers up to now. On the other hand, he idolized Dr. Brunhilda Kremer for solving the Quark star minimum mass problem, all the more since the story had arrived of how she helped derail an attempt to sabotage the project back in Sol's System. And, of course, in a time when age difference no longer mattered, Dr. Kremer was single.

  The glow faded from blue-white to dull red to nothing. Flood beams stabbed up past the tiny yellow disk of their local giant planet, Amundsen, into the Milky Way and found their target, a tiny ball so reflective it might have been made of liquid mercury. Rapidly it descended toward them. At first it seemed like a small chromium moon, then, as it dropped lower, Naomi's perspective changed, and she saw the light scatter off a teardrop hull as big as a hill and shiny as a mirror.

  A beam of brilliant green glowing plasma lanced up from the landing area and blossomed into a violet flower just beneath the broad part of the hull where its force spent itself against a silent expanse. Distant ice fields around their “dry island” city glowed in response.

  The spacecraft slowed and followed the beam down toward the landing zone with the ponderous stateliness of objects of its scale. A hundred meters up, the plasma flickered out and the two-hundred-meter-
long teardrop settled down through wind-whipped snow as if held by some giant hand. The sight of a thousand tons of mass effortlessly floating on magnetic fields never failed to inspire awe in Naomi. At times like this her mind went back to ancient legends; we are heirs of Prometheus, she thought.

  The port dome flowed around the ship as it slipped down into the colony docks.

  Naomi turned to Sasha. “Let's go meet the new boss."

  "Us?"

  Naomi laughed. “Your Uncle Ted is out at the site and Wotan Kremer's tied up in a meeting about ice sheet slippage."

  "Dr. Kremer is his daughter, isn't she? Hard to imagine Grandpa Abila staying away if it were you."

  Indeed it would. Dad was always there to greet her when she came back from the construction site, even if only for a week. But Wotan Kremer was notorious for not letting personal matters interfere with business. “Yes, but melting planets has to be done just right. He'll probably see her tomorrow."

  "I wonder what they'll call New Antarctica when they're done melting the ice."

  Naomi sparkled. “Come on. You'll want to make a good impression."

  He chuckled and followed her into the elevator.

  She'd reserved a table on the upper level, where they could watch the disembarkation. She liked to watch the new arrivals and imagine who they might be and what their personalities would be like. Sasha shared that general interest, but today was a little more special.

  They arrived in the great cylindrical cavern just as massive sections of the shuttle's hull swung aside, exposing its innards to the business of unloading. The hull was covered with frost and there was a sharp nippy smell to the air just mixed with the icy nitrogen above. They could even see their breath. Sasha tried blowing a ring of mist.

  They walked to their table, a semicircle that curved away from the low, transparent guard wall. Four pod-chairs rimmed the table; they took the middle two. She settled into the infrared warmth of the chair and savored the sensation of breathing crisp air. They ordered coffee and watched four ramps slide out from the sides of the cylinder into the ship. A host of robot unloaders rolled down three of them to get to the cargo. Above them was a large sign, “Welcome to New Antarctica. Erebus (Groombridge 34A) Star System.” The name they'd given the star was so new that someone had thought to add the old catalog name in parentheses.