EOTU by D. R. SMITH (summer books .txt) 📕

Stefan Mikos lapped his dry rough-skinned fingers over the edge of the table and pushed himself back. As he stood up, he finished his lecture.

“You can keep the car though. It'll at least give you wheels to find and hold a job.... which I hope to God you do.” Then he turned and started to walk out. He paused at the doorway and without looking back in Eric's direction said, “We'll work out the payment details later” Then after several weight amplified footsteps, the catch on the door to the garage was heard snapping shut.

Eric Mikos sat in the now silent kitchen, with elbows on the tabletop and fists under cheekbones propping his head up and feeling very alone. His vision was fixated out the window on the bright green leaves swaying gently against the brilliant blue sky and the sunshine streaming between the foliage. The whole world was happily ignoring and almost mocking the disastrous life altering mess he had just experienced. 'Wasn't I always pretty much bullet proof?' he thought. 'This kind of crap never shackled itself to my ankles and pulled me under.' He knew his father's cultural makeup would ensure that the money WOULD be repaid. How could he have messed things up so badly. Stanford University was the problem. There is no way he's the only student they've ever had who was arrested for shoving a police officer in a drunken tirade. 'Bunch of stuff shirt pot smoking hypocrites... I'll show them and my dad', he thought. 'I'll make it big regardless of how I start out. It's not the journey that's significant. It's whether or not you reach the goal.'

His mind went blank for a moment. A wisp of cool air from the floor vent blew across his face as the air conditioner flipped on.

Suddenly, without moving his head from its knuckled perch, something moving out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A corner of his father's weekend newspaper shuddered from the vent air. The News Democrat was strewn over the tabletop and partially covered some of the other clutter items that had taken up permanent residence there since his mom's death. But more importantly was the want ad page that was staring back at him from it’s black and white printed cover.

He instantly sat upright and reached into his back pocket retrieving his cell. Naturally, he wasn't going to actually use a newspaper, for crying out loud. Dinosaurs. A moment later his thumbs started a world class speed typing and scrolling session that landed him smack dab on the page of the job listings he most likely would apply for. He was now slouched down in the chair in the same fashion his dad had previously been postured. “Management” the page heading displayed. Eric slid through them quickly and adeptly.... speed reading each detail while soaking up a generalized grasp of the management job market. He then retraced his steps, this time bookmarking the positions that had previously snagged his attention.

He read each listing in a quiet whisper...

Law firm seeks overall office manager. No law experience necessary but a degree in business or business administration is required. Hmm? He looked away for a few seconds imagining himself in a law firm setting. There are lots of women in law firms… at least I think there are, he pondered. A 55-year-old heavy woman with her gray hair in a bun wearing a business skirt and glasses on the end of her nose appeared in his mind. He shook his head. Nah!

Medical practice expanding to two new locations. Managers being sought for both. A bachelor’s degree needed. Related experience a plus but not necessary. Okay… wait a second. Nurses. Possibility. He pressed his thumb on the listing for a moment until the “Copy” option appeared which he then selected.

Research laboratory looking for supply manager. Science related degree or experience not necessary but a big plus. Ordering of general supplies and inventory management are among the primary duties. Oh yeah. That one is right up my alley, he surmised. Could be a door. He repeated the “Copy” sequence.

Eric stared at the start of his soon-to-be long list of employment possibilities. 'My undergrad degree in advanced mathematics should cover these academic requirements and in fact should impress the hell out of them,' he thought.

Suddenly a ker-plunk 'water drop' sound dripped from his phone and the top of his screen lit up with a notification of an incoming text message.

“Tracy: at the B Dubs in Fitchburg right now. everybody waitin on ya! California boy has returned! lol

He X'd out the message.

‘Run off on a drinking binge right after you just got chewed out for... DRINKING!?! Yeah. That would be not-cool’, he thought. With a quick rejecting shove, the phone slid across the table. He ran the fingers of both hands through his thick black hair.

He sat for nearly 5 minutes trying not to look at the glowing device, as if it would capture him in its hypnotic beam and lure him into doing something he'd regret. At some point during the 6th minute, his gaze locked onto the small black rectangle form three feet away from him.

He pondered, On the other hand, what better way could there be to drown the pain, frustration, and total loss of life direction that had just occurred than to go out with friends and 'tie one on'!? Besides, everything he and his father could possibly be at odds about had just been discussed and settled in the last hour or so. He rationalized that ‘If I’m kicked out of college and I have to pay the old man $51,700… then I should be able to do whatever I want!’

Bending forward and reaching across the polished wooden surface, he just barely got a nail to latch on to the corner of the phone's protective case.

                              Flipping it over, and while still reclined in the kitchen chair, his fingers rattled off a reply.

Eric M: See you in 25 minutes!

“The probability of success is difficult to estimate.

                                                       But if we never search, the chance of success is zero.”
                 

- A quote from Giuseppe Cocconi and Phillip Morrison's paper on “Searching for Interstellar Communications”

Eleven years later.....

September 19…present time

“Could you please not turn the lights off yet?”, Dr. Angie Hemmer pleaded through the cracked door of her office. After a moments pause and no response, she reiterated her request, only a bit louder this time. “Did you hear me? I would appre…”

“I did hear you Dr Hemmer. I’ll still be here quite awhile” the voice of the janitor interrupted. Pausing and caught in a deep thought stare, it occurred to her that he was possibly Nick Walker’s nephew. ‘Wait…” she pondered to herself “…what color is Trey’s hair?” She broke the spell and shook her head in an “Oh well, who cares” fashion.

“Great. Thank you” she replied as she swung the door closed. She then rolled over to her desk in her high back office chair. It took only a minute or two of scanning the triple HD monitors for her to recoup her thought process and find where she had left off. Her left hand sweeping her long blonde hair from in front of her eyes did little to interrupt her examining gaze. Slowly and unconsciously, she released it neatly behind her ear. No head movement was necessary. Her line of sight circled the charts and equations like a hawk scanning for prey. Everything was beginning to fall into place, and everyone was now waiting on Angie. It was her job to tie up loose ends and bring the venture’s final stage to a close.

The Horizon Mission Project was actually the brainchild of Dr Martin Truman, a not so notable astrophysicist who worked under Dr Carl Sagan for a mere four months… realistically, his only significant tenure. A 1979 paper titled “Man's Ability to Enter A Black Hole” that Truman authored, was laughed off and treated as science fiction... rather than science. But 30 years later, and a decade after Dr Truman's death, it would come to the attention of Dr Nicholas Walker, who not only gave it serious consideration, but actually drew up the blueprints for the spacecraft and project outline based on Truman's theories noted in that work. Walker genuinely embraced Truman's vision. And so, with a commitment that had lasted a lifetime and, of course, a number of financial backers later... the dream had finally taken shape.

What Walker did not foresee was the myriads of governmental, legal, and political obstacles he would need to hurdle before Horizon would become a reality. These hurdles continued to supplant themselves and Nick's tenacity continued to overcome them. By the summer of 2010 he had established MARCH, the Mid Atlantic Research Collaboration Headquarters, and presented The Horizon Mission Project to the board. By early 2011 the EHM and all of its on-board technology was being brought to life.

The EHM (pronounced as just 'M') or Event Horizon Module, was to become Earth’s first manned spacecraft that would journey directly to and INTO a black hole. It would be the first craft of its kind powered and guided by light and gravity. Once EHM’s initial booster rockets were spent and ejected, the ship would follow a single focused beam of laser light and would then devour that very beam as its propulsion mechanism. This form of propulsion would continue for 3 years, 7 months, 13 days, 9 hours, 41 minutes and 38 seconds... after which the EHM would come into direct view with the M87 black hole. This would be the moment where theory truly had to become reality.

Once M87BH was in its direct line of sight, with no other stars or astronomical bodies in its path, EHM would lock onto M87BH's enormous gravitational pull using a device called the NTWGT48, the abbreviation for Neutrino Time Warp Gravitational Towline 48x. Nicknamed the 'Net Weight 48' by the crew, this technological marvel would then drag the EHM to the skirt of the event horizon in less than 150 years. The long and short of Net Weight 48's functionality was that it would utilize the release of energy from the laser beams photon structure to 'funnel' the gravitational pull of M87BH through space-time. This ‘funnel’ would then engulf the EHM within that photon energy rope and tug it instantaneously through its warp tunnel. Sort of a 'self-made’ wormhole.

Once the crew was deep in hibernation the failure of the Net Weight 48 to do its job would unfortunately mean all 6 crew members would merely sleep eternity away in the outer reaches of space until systems failed. The ships programming would be designed to wake them in the event of a Net Weight 48 failure. But this would only give them the unfortunate luxury of being awake as they die a slow death 3 years away from