Simulated Ascent

We met downtown for lunch. It had been a long time, and the last time we were supposed to meet, I confused the days. So we had a lot to catch up on.

He told me a little about his new job. I told him a little about my family. I asked him about his family. And he asked me about my new job.

I told him about the first day there, about one of the simulations they are working on.

I described how parts of the simulation ran in Virginia, Alabama, California, and Texas and how cool it was when each of them started up and new box popped up on the control panel. And I described how the log file window would stream with output as this happened.

I took a straw. This is the rocket, I said.

And then I described the simulated launch. How the graphics depicted the rocket standing on the pad from a bird's eye view. I held the straw vertically against the table.

I described how after launch the rocket lifted off with orange fire and began to arc eastward over the ocean. I held the straw above the table and pointed to where the fire came out.

I described how in the background, the shoreline of Florida (the table), was drawn from photographic images of the Cape. How the images receded and more distant ones appeared as the rocket climbed higher. He was staring at the straw which was about level with our faces.

And I told him about the abort scenario they ran, in which the simulated crew in California triggered an abort and the simulation in Virginia took over control. How the capsule pulled away from the ascending rocket. I pointed to the top of the straw and made an looping motion with my finger back towards the table.

Wow, he said.

Mind you I'm not actually doing any of that cool stuff! I said. I just got to watch! And I told him how my job would relate to what I had just described.

Still, he said, at least you can describe your work to your family again, and they will sit and listen.

That made us both laugh.

6:47:10 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []  

The Boy Came Briefly Home

The boy came briefly home. And the dog barked. And the dog jumped. And he raced up and down the hall, telling me that the boy was home, the boy was home!

But the boy wouldn't stay for long. The sun was going down, and he planned to leave in time to ride his bike to a friend's house before dark.

Take the dog for a walk up and down the block, ok? I asked. (The dog was so happy to see him.)

So the boy took the dog, and they went out into the cold and ran down and up the street—to the corner and back. The dog must have pulled hard on the leash. He must have run hard. He doesn't get to do that with the boy often enough any more.

And now the boy is gone. Helmet, lock, bike and boy are somewhere between here and Convict Hill, and the sun is going down behind the houses across the street.

And the dog is quiet. Sitting still on my lap. Ears perked. Staring out into the pre-evening gloom of the house. Waiting for the boy. Wondering where he went. Waiting for the boy to return.

5:04:51 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []