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        Day 4.

How are you doing today ?  Still weirded-out ? Chin up..
We’ll get through this, you and I, we’ll both get through.
Are you finding enough of the knobbly leaves on which to feed ?
I sure hope so, or else I just don’t know what you’re gonna do.
But you should, they’re pretty common – at least, they are for me.
As long as they’re not seasonal – now there’s a nasty thought !
But then again, they’re hardly leaves at all, but something else –
Something alien.  But ‘leaves’ will do for now, don’t let’s get fraught.
They’re also full of water, so you’ll never have to risk a drink
Of what the locals drink – which, trust me, is by far best left alone !
To tell the truth, I’ve eaten every leaf and swallowed every berry,
And thrown them all back up again – ah, the joys of the unknown !
I had to try them all, of course, and I can say without a shadow
That the knobbly leaves are absolutely all that you can trust.
In fact, I’m only starting on this journal as I lie here, weakly,
Trying to recover as my body learns to readjust.
I was beset with fever, and I swore that should it ever break
I’d save the next poor refugee the horror that was brought on me.
So here it is – a promise kept.  And soon, adventure beckons –
Let’s make the most of sighting all these things we’d never sought to see.

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        Day 1.

Don’t panic.

Really, try.

Try not to panic.
Try not to cry.

I know…I know how you must feel,
Because I felt the same –
UFO and tractor beam,
The whole stupid game.
Who’d have thought the Future
Would be such a cliché ?  Retro-chic ?
Who’d have thought the Aliens
Would look so green and meek ?
I guess they had a job to do,
Exploring ev’ry human zone –
We’re prodded, probed and watched…always watched,
Yet always so alone.
And then after days, or weeks, or months,
Or who knows who cares how long,
Given back our clothes and liberty,
Turfed-out where we don’t belong.
But what do I know ?  Yours could be different –
It really matters none.
What matters is you’re here right now –
Your adventure’s just begun.
But unlike me, you’ve something more
Than the togs in which you stand.
You have my guide you’re holding now
To this very foreign land.
By chance, I had this notebook on me
When I reached these distant shores –
And now I shall record my journey,
Turn my good luck into yours.
You’re not alone, not any more –
I went before you, found the way –
I left this log, the one you found
On some scared and future day.
Just hope that you can read English –
If you can…well, then, hello.
It seems we’re living in science fiction,
Don’t let it give you vertigo.
Forgive me if I give voice to some wit
And a joke or two –
Especially from one author,
Who was far more right than he ever knew.
I hope they raise a knowing smile from you
And not a frown.
I wouldn’t like to think that I am
Getting anybody down.
I can’t give you answers
Over how or what or why –
All that I can tell you is –

Don’t panic.

Really, try.

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Parallels

Somewhere, in a parallel world,
My life has gone the way I’d wish –
Well lucky me, with a wink and swish,
At least I made it somewhere !

Out there in a parallel world,
My work fulfils, my dreams bear fruit,
My wife is smart, my kids are cute,
And I really made it somewhere !

Statistic’ly, I must be me
So he can be what I cannot –
Ah well, at least he got a shot,
No need to be a hater.

So have your perfect life on me,
And make the most of happenstance,
The luck is yours, so grab your chance –
Who knows what’s coming later ?

Somewhere, in a parallel world,
My life has gone the way I dread –
Oh woeful me, with a heavy tread
At the horrors yet to come there.

Out there in a parallel world
Another me, whose dreams are shot,
May sigh, with all the breath he’s got
“I hope I made it somewhere…”

Statistics favour av’rage lives –
Less rich and poor, more inbetween,
Regressing to the boring mean.
I guess we all obey them.

But must we balance out our lives ?
Must parallels be zero-sum ?
Or is it just a rule-of-thumb
To make sense of the mayhem ?

So, somewhere in a parallel world,
I know we must have beat the odds –
Well good for us, the jammy sods,
In a universe unfair.

But right here in this parallel world,
I reckon with some sweat and pluck
We all can work to change our luck,
And make this world a somewhere.

Tidal Locking

The Moon is locked into the Earth,
She only shows her best side,
Keeps her dark side turned away.
But the Earth has nothing to hide,
Beneath her gaze, we spin on full display,
For the Earth is not beholden to the Moon –
Not yet, at least –
And it won’t be soon,
For the Earth is a massive beast.
Yet the Moon is trying, trying,
And will yet succeed, one day –
But not before the seas have boiled away.

Now take a smaller star instead,
Like Proxima Centauri –
Very dwarven, very red.
But orbiting we see Proxima Bee –
A planet similar to Earth,
An eighth as close as Mercury,
With liquid water on its bed.
Except, to be precise,
More likely steam and ice,
With one side always baking dry,
The other frozen, dark and dead.
You see, when this close in, it does not spin –
But wait, that’s wrong,
We ought to say it has a year-long day,
Where the tide is strong.

Now let’s imagine orbiting round Rigel,
A super-blue, so hot and bright,
And though a massive mass, his heat and light
Outpace his gravity –
So if we were to move the Earth to where
We’ll get a decent share to keep it all anthropical,
To keep the Arctic icy and to keep the tropics tropical,
We wouldn’t be so deep within his spacetime cavity.
You see – we’d need to be about, say, twelve-times-Neptune out –
That’s over two light-days.
Our seasons would last centuries, our year now thirteen-hundred years
And all to catch enough, but strictly not too many rays.
And actually, the daylight would be rather dim, I hear –
As most of Rigel’s output, it appears,
Is in the UV band,
And not the visible so much, not that far out.
So even though it’s warm, no doubt,
The photosynthesis of plants now won’t get such a shout,
While all of us get super-tanned.
His stellar wind is vicious, but I think we could withstand
From this far off – but satellites may end in tears.
But at least we get to spin on our own gears,
So that’s a win.
Rigel hasn’t got a hope to lock us in !

As I understand it, a planet wouldn’t naturally form so far out from its parent star, as there’s not enough material. Of course, it could be a captured rogue planet or ripped from another star.

Also, I saw Rigel’s name written down in the astronomy books of my youth long before I heard anyone ever pronounce it, so for me Rigel will always have a hard G.

Meanwhile, you can catch-up some more with Proxima Bee over here, and see a cameo by Rigel thisaway.

Un-Umbra

Another eclipse I’ve missed, I’ve missed,
Just like the others that passed me by –
Ev’ry couple of years there’s one
In Vladivostok or Uruguay –
But they never shine round here these days,
They never shine round here…

I s’pose I could go chase them, chase them,
To the Hindu Cush or the Cape
But all that cost, and what if it’s cloudy ?,
For two-odd minutes of tickertape…
And they damn don’t dance round here these days,
They damn don’t dance round here…

Stand in a spot a long time, long time,
Eventu’ly, an eclipse will call –
But nothing can ever be worth such wait,
In longer than empires rise and fall.
And they won’t rise soon round here these days,
They won’t rise soon round here.

Another eclipse I’ve missed, I’ve missed,
And maybe I’ll miss them ev’ry one –
But life goes on regardless if
The Moon may cross before the Sun
And the Sun still shines round here these days,
The Sun still shines round here.