Posts tagged ‘news’
WALT TRIZNA: ON THE ROAD TO MISSILES
ON THE ROAD TO MISSILES
After my check ride the handwriting was not only on the wall, it covered every wall, the ceiling and floor.
Also, a formal hearing was held with a panel listening to the testimony of my instructors. These were guys I sat next to in the T37. With what they related about their experience with me. That I was a complete moron when it came to flying the jet. Unfortunately, they were right. I’m surprised that, during the hearing, hand me a stick of gum and challenge me to walk knowing for sure that I would fall.
During the hearing I was asked if I wanted another chance and reenter pilot training. I was more than familiar with the handwriting all over the room and declined. Then they asked me if I would like to train to be a navigator. And I’m thinking how this would work out with my nonexistent sense of direction.
At the end of the hearing, I was given a phone number to call, if I remember right it was a phone number to Randolf Air Force Base, and I would be given a list of assignments from which I could select my future in the air force. I think that it was highly unusual to be given you choice of what you wanted to do in the military.
After the hearing I had to turn in some of the equipment I was issued when I began pilot training. During each encounter when the person I was dealing with learned that I had washed out I fully expected to be given another stick of gum.
I made the call to Randolf and one of the possibilities I was offered was missile duty. I had heard that while you were on a missile crew there was often the ability to study at a college. I thought that going to graduate school might be a good idea since my education was in science and that science changes so rapidly that being away from science for four years would not make it easy to get a job. I did not plan on a recession during 1973 while I was looking for a job and even with graduate school under my belt it still took me nearly a year to find employment. More on that later.
On thing I did not know when I made my choice for missiles I was guaranteed to be assigned to missile the air force was having trouble getting officers to serve on crews. This was ever with the fact that this was during the Viet Nam war, and you were guaranteed not to leave the United States for four years because of the extensive training involved. The air force was having so much trouble getting officers for missile crews that they lowered the requirements for OTS (officer training school). In no time at all I received orders to report to Sheppard Air Force Base in Wichita Falls, Texas to begin missile training for my career in missiles.
ELMO’S SOJOURN, CHAPTER 4
ELMO’S SOJOURN
CHAPTER 4
ELMO MEETS CAL
“Yes, my wife has breasts,” Valmid communicated. Elmo had momentarily forgotten that his mind was an open book. The thoughts he had as he gazed at the female walking towards his new youthful body were not meant for a husband to know. As Valmid’s wife approached, Elmo could not help but be aroused by the voluptuous figure, barely concealed under a tight red jumpsuit. Eight feet tall with a gray skinned hairless head or not, the body beneath the jumpsuit could easily be featured in any planet’s version of Playboy.
By now Valmid knew Elmo’s name, so he communicated, “Elmo, this is my wife Cal. Cal, this is Elmo.” As Cal stood next to Valmid, Elmo realized he had underestimated her height. She was well over eight feet tall.
Sensing Elmo’s mind about going into overdrive again, and not wanting to experience discomfort once more, Valmid began a lengthy discussion designed to answer some of Elmo’s questions.
“I know of your planet Elmo,” he said, “I’ve been there twice. I know that your society, although primitive, is rapidly progressing. Your species produce rare individuals that jump ahead of the pack when it comes to science. You are one of those individuals. I know the theory you developed about other planets – how they might harbor life if their stars and suns had the same traits as yours. We are the third planet from our sun, just as your planet is. There are basic similarities between us. Yet there are many differences, although they are mostly cosmetic. While our appearances vary strikingly, if you were to compare scans of our internal organs, your best medical personnel could not tell them apart. Another difference in our appearance, other than the obvious dissimilarities of skin color and hair, is that our females tend to be taller than the males.
“We have mastered the art of thought transference to enable us to communicate with beings from other planets. We do not, however, use such communication with each other. We are able to shield our thoughts so that they are hidden from our own species. If you are to stay here for any length of time, we will also teach you this ability.”
Elmo reflected on Valmid’s offer, but had no idea how long his stay would be.
Elmo’s mind revealed his confusion. As Valmid finished speaking, Cal desired to address Elmo. “Elmo,” she communicated, “you must wonder how we knew of your arrival. It was the dingo plants you tread upon that alerted us. Your planet uses burglar alarms to protect their properties and loved ones. We use dingo plants. We plant them around our house, and when disturbed, they cry out. They also produce flowers every morning that emit a rich soothing scent.
“With these plants around our house for protection, we feel totally safe. If you had arrived after dark, we still would have been aware of your presence even if you had not trodden upon the plants directly. For as night comes, the plants produce filaments, crossing the walkways and climbing up the walls and covering the roof of the house. If you come in contact with these filaments, the plants emit the cries you already heard, alerting the residents within. Through genetic engineering, we have produced a strain of dingo plants with the longest filaments, long enough to protect the roofs of our tallest structures, the most vulnerable part of our buildings.”
As Cal completed this last statement, Valmid gave her a stare that said, “Enough, more than enough,” and Cal’s mind abruptly ceased communication, leaving Elmo puzzling at the information he just heard.
“Why would you use such a seemingly primitive method of protecting your homes when you have such an advanced technology?” thought Elmo.
The sky had darkened further, with only a thin rim of emerald, green on the horizon. Both Valmid and Cal looked to the sky as Valmid suggested, “Let us go to our home and let the dingo plants do their nighttime work.” They walked the path to the house, and Elmo observed the plant’s filaments crossing the path behind them. His companions seemed relieved to enter the threshold of their home. Elmo entered the house, and was amazed how everything looked the same, yet different from the houses on earth. The chairs, of course, were too large for Elmo’s five-foot ten-inch frame. While Valmid and Cal reclined, Elmo felt like a small child climbing up onto an adult chair. He finally sat down with his feet dangling. The walls of the house, made of a composite that Elmo could not identify, glowed a soft bluish white light. Elmo’s attention was drawn to frames mounted on the walls as images within the frames continued to change from paintings to photos of aliens.
Valmid observed Elmo’s interest and told him, “You seem to be taken with our pictures. The frames contain very thin video screens and a wireless connection to our computer; practically the whole house is a computer. Stored pictures are beamed to the screen. We simply choose a series of pictures and the cycle time, then enjoy the display.”
Despite the modern technology of the house, Elmo noticed that the floors and stairs leading to the second floor were constructed of highly polished wood. The stairs, of course, he would need to take one at a time. Zytex squatted near Elmo’s chair as Elmo studied the first floor of the dwelling more closely. The kitchen was adjacent to the living room, with cupboards and a futuristic device resembling a stove.
It was night as Elmo sat with his new friends. With sunset the light emitted from the walls intensified, maintaining a steady level of illumination. All was quiet as the trio communicated; the only sound was the occasional scream of the dingo plants.
ELMO’S INVENTION, CHAPTER 9
ELMO’S INVENTION
CHAPTER 9
ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE
It was the morning of the sixth day after The New York Times people left town. The article about Elmo and his invention was published in The Los Alamos Herald and was the impetus for the visit from the Times. Much to Mildred’s joy and astonishment there were no immediate repercussions from the article in The New York Times. The residents of Los Alamos had already had their feathers ruffled by the topic and there were no further reactions. Elmo and Mildred began to relax, confident that all the problems involved with the invention were behind them. That morning Mildred asked Elmo, “Could you run out and get the paper? I’ll make you a nice breakfast before you go to work.” Mildred had mellowed and Elmo’s life was back to normal, but that was about to change in seconds.
Elmo opened the front door, took a few steps and then slowly backed up and closed the door. Their usually quiet street was overflowing with cars, buses and a great mass of people milling around appearing to anticipate something. Elmo had no idea what was going on but had a very bad feeling. Mildred was not going to like this. He peered through the window, and it was then he caught sight of a placard where his name appeared being carried towards his house.
Elmo had little choice. He had to let Mildred know that something was going on. If he didn’t, it would be like trying to hide a herd of elephants taking up residence on their front yard. He gently called, “Oh Mil, there’s something I think you should see. I’m sure it won’t amount to much.”
She entered the front room and asked, “What won’t amount to much?”
As she approached the front window Elmo pushed back the curtains. Mildred stood as if paralyzed, and then shouted, “I knew it! I told you talking to The Times was a big mistake. But no, you were going to save the world.” She stormed out of the room leaving Elmo alone with his thoughts of how this would all work out.
Soon more placards appeared identifying the various organizations present. There was The Friends and Relatives of Prisoners. They were joined by The Society of Prison Guards and another group representing ex-cons. A large group of construction workers were present, their group wearing hard hats, were involved in the building of prisons. Along with their signs, they paraded with a scarecrow suspended from a pole with of picture of Elmo’s face attached to the head.
Keeping to themselves, Elmo spied another small group which stood out like a sore thumb. Outfitted in expensive suits and equally expensive shoes, they held professionally manufactured signs proclaiming them as The Society of Defense Lawyers. Their main beef was the possible elimination of endless appeals which kept them supplied with their expensive attire.
Elmo found it strange, but not disappointing, that this great milling crowd of protesters was not protesting. He also noticed that a buffer zone was carefully observed between the house and the crowd. The answer to his observation of inactivity soon became clear when the news trucks began to arrive. What was the purpose of a protest if there was no one there to record it? Elmo thought it was something like that tree falling in the forest and no one heard it. He noticed something else most disturbing. There was a secondary crowd forming in the distance away from the main body of protesters. He could not recognize individual faces, but he knew who they were. They were the residents of Los Alamos coming to witness the spectacle. This would anger Mildred even more.
Once the cameras were in place and the reporters had their makeup on and were holding microphones, the crowd began to come alive holding up signs and voicing their respective opinions.
But all was not quite finished. The icing on the protest cake was the arrival, with as many lights flashing as possible and sirens wailing, of the Los Alamos police. Four police cars came to a skidding halt on Elmo’s front yard creating deep tire tracks. The chief of the Los Alamos police, John McFurdy first went over to the press and diligently spelled his name for them. Then he went to Elmo’s front door and knocked. Elmo asked the chief in and offered him a cup of coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, McFurdy said, “All the groups out there obtained permits to protest. There is nothing we can do but ensure that no damage happens to your property.”
Elmo recalled the deep groves he had observed in his front yard.
Chief McFurdy continued, “State police have formed a perimeter around you house to ensure that no one without a permit enters the protest zone.”
Elmo knew that the perimeter was not that great. His neighbors had already broken it. The term ‘protest zone’ made the hairs on the back of Elmo’s neck stand on end.
After McFurdy left, Elmo noticed that six officers had stationed themselves between Elmo’s house and the press. There was a hushed silence. The first camera lights came on and it was as if someone threw a switch: All hell broke loose.
The once silent crowd instantly created a roar. Each group shouted their rehearsed chants. Soon after the beginning of the protest, Elmo’s effigy burst into flames. The various groups began to hurl eggs and tomatoes at Elmo’s house and the police. The lawyer’s contingent hurled non-libelous insults and carefully recorded what they said. A few rocks were thrown, later determined to come from the area populated by the ex-cons, but no real damage was done to the house or bystanders including the police.
The protest went on for two days while the press conducted interviews. One woman came forward and held up a copy of The New York Times pointing to the before and after pictures of Elmo’s demonstration shouting, “My son is in prison. I don’t want him turned to ash.” Behind her stood a grizzled ex-con, his shaved head glistening in the sun. “Nobody is putting me in no fucking death chamber,” indicating his life of crime was not yet over.
After the media had their film and interviews they began to pack up and leave. With the media gone the protesters lost their enthusiasm and quietly slipped away leaving a mess of litter and protest signs. There were some portable toilets available, but not nearly enough to handle the large crowd, so the area around Elmo’s home was not only a mess but also a health hazard.
* * *
Once the protesters had left, Kingsley Dasher slowly made his way to Elmo’s residence not knowing what he would find. He climbed the front steps and knocked on the door. The Elmo that greeted him was one he didn’t know. The man appeared beaten, the image of a lost soul. Before he could stop himself, Kingsley asked, “How are you doing, Elmo?”
Elmo stood with slumped shoulders, and dark-rimmed eyes answered with a raspy voice, “I’ve been better.”
“May I come in?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t mind a little company right now.” Elmo led his friend into the living room and offered him a seat.
Kingsley said, “You had to endure quite a ruckus, Elmo. I feel guilty that I was the one who pointed out the obvious use of your invention. I suspected something might happen once the existence of your invention was made known, but I never imagined the level of hostility. The reality is our society is a fickle society. It professes one set of values, but it is mere lip service. The values that are actually in practice are completely different from those voiced.
“Money is the value our society holds dearest.
“Your invention would have saved millions of dollars, perhaps billions in doing away with the prison system and at the same time providing swift justice for the guilty. But at the same time, it would have deprived hundreds maybe thousands of people of their livelihood. Construction workers and prison guards would suffer and let us not forget the lawyers with their endless appeals. Society has problems with such sudden changes no matter how beneficial they are.”
Kingsley then took a moment to look around and wondered where Mildred was. “How is Mildred handling all this?”
“Not very well. The day the protests began she left for her sister’s home in Santa Fe. I call but she refuses to talk to me.”
“I’m sure she’ll come around once all this is over. It will just take some time. This whole experience was quite a blow for both of you. To say it was a life-disrupting event would be putting it mildly.”
The two men sat in silence for a while and then the phone rang. Elmo jumped up hoping it was Mildred, but he was to be extremely disappointed and further upset.
“Hello,” he said.
Kingsley watched Elmo’s face and immediately knew the news was not good. Elmo had little to say during the short call. After hanging up, he told Kingsley, “That was a representative of the American Civil Liberties Union calling to notify me that they are issuing a class-action lawsuit on behalf of prisoners, families of prisoners and ex-convicts. Apparently there are organizations of defense lawyers also preparing lawsuits. This whole thing is just getting worse and worse.
I was hoping to patent the device and make some money. Now it appears it may cost me everything I have. This is definitely not going to bring Mildred home.”
Kingsley knew that Elmo needed to be alone. He rose and said, “I would suggest you issue a statement saying that upon further consideration, you’ve decided to discontinue any further attempts in patenting or selling your machine.
“Your science was sound, Elmo. Society just wasn’t prepared for such a sudden advance.”
Kingsley left Elmo sitting on the couch, a man in love with science and defied by society.
ELMO’S INVENTION, CHAPTER 6
ELMO’S INVENTION
CHAPTER 6
ELMO’S PRISON
When Kingsley rose, everyone looked in his direction. It was not unprecedented that he would speak at a meeting, but it was a rare occurrence. What Kingsley said to the group would usually solve the problem at hand. Elmo prepared to hear great things from Kingsley and gain insight on how to fix his machine.
After once again clearing his throat, whether to gain everyone’s attention or because he found talking to be an effort, no one was sure, he began to speak. “Elmo, you must be rewarded for your effort. Although you have not accomplished what you set out to accomplish, and perhaps never will, your invention could possibly change the course of society. I have no doubt that mankind will greatly benefit from your invention, if they choose to embrace its benefits is a different matter. Only time will tell.”
Elmo, along with the rest of the group, was both puzzled and full of anticipation.
Kingsley continued, “However, I am a mathematician and not an ethicist and cannot predict the consequences of your discovery.”
Elmo said, “I am totally lost. You say I have made a great discovery, yet at the same time say that its use will produce ethical problems.”
“That’s correct, Elmo. Your invention, in my mind, would be the perfect prison.”
Elmo, along with William and James, stared at Kingsley in total disbelief, and then slowly began to understand what he was saying.
After a few moments of deep thought, Harold Kinter voiced his thoughts to the gathering, “Of course, I can see it now. Elmo, your invention, though unintended, could do away with prisons as we know them. Year-long sentences could be served in a matter of minutes. It would save society millions of dollars and save prisoners from the dangers inherent in incarceration.
“Think of it! No matter what the length of a prisoner’s sentence, the punishment could be delivered in a matter of minutes. Your invention could funnel money into projects that benefit society and save prisoners from harm.”
They all looked at Elmo. His visage was one of disappointment and disbelief. “I meant my invention to be a time machine; instead, you say I invented the perfect prison. I failed.”
Kingsley stepped totally out of character and attempted to comfort his colleague. “Elmo, some of the greatest discoveries in the world were made by accident. Look at all the lives that were saved by the discovery of penicillin. If Fleming had not noticed that petri dish with mold and dying bacteria, who knows how long it would have taken for someone else to discover that life-saving antibiotic.
“Think of the value of your discovery, and someday I am sure that you will determine the principle behind the device. With your invention, no matter the length of a prisoner’s sentence it could be served in minutes with virtually no expense to society. And when it comes to a death sentence, your machine can accomplish that too, but a death sentence is a death sentence no matter how it is accomplished.
Then James Forsyth began to speak, “I can think of another question which requires an answer. After a prisoner serves his term in your machine, what is his mental state? Is his mind the same as it was before the prison term? Or does his mind age along with his body? Although I cannot imagine how the mind ages with the lack of experience.”
Elmo said, “I can think of no answer to the question of mind aging. I feel this can only be determined with the test of a human subject. But I must add I owe a great deal of gratitude for introducing important questions I had not considered.”
“Your device could save society millions, perhaps billions of dollars and funnel the revenue into efforts that would better society. Education, medical research, providing for the elderly and that is only the tip of the iceberg of what could be affected by this machine. But I fear there will be obstacles to this scenario which I cannot anticipate.
“You see, our society is inconsistent. It professes one set of values yet lives by another. We say how important education is, but we do not support it the way we should, not to mention that the key to education is parental input. We pay lip service to medical advancement, but do not fund the conjecture that could become reality. And when a discovery is made, many times it is beyond the reach of those who would benefit. We say we value the elderly yet turn away when we could make their final years more comfortable.
“I fear there will be great objection to your discovery but cannot anticipate the form it will take. Good luck, Elmo. You have a difficult path ahead of you.”
ELMO’S SOJOURN
ELMO’S SOJOURN
Elmo’s Sojourn is a novella I wrote awhile ago and was first published by Bewildering Stories in 2007. Since then, it has been published by Mélange Books (no longer publishing) in an anthology, Curious Hearts, and as a stand-alone e-book.
The story involves Elmo, a retired Los Alamos retired scientist who accidentally discovers the ability to travel through space using wormholes. With this new knowledge he travels to a distant planet and discovers an alien civilization with a devastating problem. A problem for which he stumbles upon a solution.
I was checking Google to see what was being done with my published work when I stumbled upon the fact that the first two chapters of the novella has been published in China.
Just now I have also found that Elmo’s Sojourn is still available for sale. I’ve provided a link if anyone is interested.
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/elmos-sojourn-walt-trizna/1118770303
CAT’S EYES, PART VII
CAT’S EYES, PART VII
The time came for the bandages to be removed. Joe was full of anticipation. After the long period of having his eyes bandaged, he came to realize what being blind would be like. How going from seeing to not seeing changes your life. Dr. Glassy said, “We’ll be removing your bandages now. Do not open your eyes until I tell you to. After we remove the bandages, I want you to look down and remain looking down. I want to make sure the muscles are firmly attached. The room will be in total darkness. I don’t want to expose your new eyes to harsh light.”
“I understand,” responded Joe, anxious to experience how his new eyes would function.
He could feel the bandages being unwound from his head, and then thick gauze being removed from his eyes.
“All right, Joe. Slowly open your eyes.”
Joe did as he was told, keeping his eyes down. “I thought you said the room would be dark,” his voice full of anticipation.
“Joe,” Dr. Glassy said in a rush of excitement, “This room is pitch black. I cannot see you!”
With a quivering voice, Joe said, “But doctor, I can clearly see the floor, my legs. The light is dim, but I can see.”
Dr. Glassy, almost shouting, said, “Joe, I think the surgery was a success. Keep looking down, and slowly move your eyes from side to side.”
Joe did as he was told. “I have no trouble moving my eyes,” he said. It felt no different than when he still had his eyes, his human eyes.
“Is there any pain?”
“None.”
“Okay, Joe, we’re going to slowly increase the light. Tell me if you feel any discomfort.”
The light level was slowly raised to that of normal.
Joe said, “I have no problem. I see clearly. Especially objects which are close.”
“Great, Joe. Keep your eyes down. I’m going to show you a series of colored dots. Tell me what colors you see.” As expected, Joe could see only purple, blue and green. With that test concluded, Dr. Glassy said, “Now, Joe, look up at me.”
RETURNING TO SHORT STORIES
CAT’S EYES
Cat’s Eyes was published Books To Go Now in 2011.
The story involves a writer going blind and, as a last resort, comes up with a bizarre solution.
CAT’S EYES, PART I
Joe Flannelly sat with his good friend, Howard Long, at their standard table in their favorite pub. The first few rounds of beer went down easy and fast. When Joe lifted his glass and said, “Here’s looking at you, Howard.” But Joe offered his toast without his usual cheerfulness. In reality, he had offered the toast out of habit putting little thought into it.
Howard shook his head and mumbled, “Shit, Joe, can’t you come up with another toast? You say the same damn thing every time we get together for some beers. Okay for shit’s sake, I’m an ophthalmologist. I got it the first time you said it years ago.”
Joe’s expression suddenly grew serious, and he yelled, “Fuck you!” This was unlike Joe who had always appeared mellow, happy.
Taken by surprise, Howard asked, “Are you okay, buddy?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m not. I thought I might need glasses, so I had my eyes checked the other day. I have the wet form of macular degeneration, the worst type. I’ll lose the central part of my vision to the disease. I’m a writer, damn it. How the hell can I write like that? I’m only fifty-five, and my career is just beginning to come together. How do I finish the work I want to do? I might as well be dead.”
You could cut the silence with a knife.
Finally, Howard said, “Shit, man, I can’t imagine a tougher break.”
“I know, Howard, I guess my career will soon come to an end.”
Howard asked, “Can’t you dictate to the computer? I hear the programs have improved.”
Joe answered, “I guess I could, but that’s not my style. I need to see my words on a sheet of paper and think about where the story is going.”
Howard looked intently at his friend. Joe sipped his beer. He could tell Howard was struggling with a thought. Joe asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Howard took a long drag on his beer.
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone this.” His tone became hushed. “I have a friend, went to school with him. He’s an eye surgeon. He’s been experimenting with eye transplants and told me he just recently had a breakthrough.”
Excited, Joe said, “That’s great, Howard. That means there’s hope for me.”
“Not so fast, Joe. So far my friend has only experimented on animals. And the breakthrough has a major drawback. The donor eyes, to be useful, must be harvested functioning not just functional before the time of death. And the recipient must still possess some vision so that the sensory apparatus is intact. It’s not like any other transplant. The donor and recipient must be in the same room for a rapid transplant to ensure a chance of success. If the method was ever used, it would raise a host of moral questions. Taking the eyes of a living subject would leave the patient blind. That is if that I had any more life to live. I can’t imagine anyone volunteering offering their eyesight unless death is certain. Just around the corner like conditions such as euthanasia.
THE LONGEST MINUTE, A BOOK REVIEW
THE LONGEST MINUTE, A BOOK REVIEW
BY
MATTHEW J. DAVENPORT
The subject of The Longest Minute is the disastrous San Francisco earthquake of 1906. The destruction of property and loss of life due to the quake was huge. But the larger tragedy was caused by the massive fire which resulted from the earthquake.
The fire initially burned unchecked due to the magnitude of the destruction and the lack of adequate firefighting of that era.
One problem was the lack of fire hydrants due to corruption involved in their installation. Another problem was the formation of firebreaks by blowing up structures in the path of the fire. Initially, black powder was used due to the lack of immediate availability of dynamite. The black powder explosions only served to spread the fire with flying embers.
The emergency response was less than organized. A disaster of this extent was unexpected. The infant fire department was overwhelmed. The police were also stretched too thin, so assistance was requested from the military. The army and navy provided officers and men with their only orders were to aid the police with handling the disaster. That was it. There was a total lack of guidance or details on how to accomplish this. There was no plan, just do the job. Luckly, the military personnel assigned were resourceful and capable in making a meaningful contribution and provide immediate aid to population of San Francisco.
The level of destruction was not difficult to determine, but the loss of life was impossible to total. Many of the residents were reduced to ash mingled with the destroyed structures.
To deter looters the mayor issued a ‘shoot to kill’ order and at least one rescue worker was killed.
Once the world was made aware of the calamity, aid poured in without any hesitation. This was much different than the present-day opinion that no matter what happened in the United States the country could handle it on its own.
All in all, this is a thoroughly researched book providing a minute by minute telling of the disaster and the reconstruction of the city and how corruption in that effort reared its ugly head. And the telling heroic acts of individuals called upon to act with no plan, only a mission.
This book is a well-worth read of a major disaster experienced by the country.
BOOK REVIEWS CHALLENGER
CHALLENGER
By
ADAM HIGGENBOTHAM
This great read delves into the Challenger disaster and how, up to the night before the launch, there was concern about the solid fuel booster rockets due to the cold weather. Also, knowledge of problems with the o rings from previous launches added to concern about the launch.
The book reveals a disturbing history of NASA, primarily with upper management refusing to acknowledge problems which would hinder launches and thus the future of NASA.
The fatal accident which occurred while testing a capsule in which three astronauts died was also identified as having problems before the test, but the test was carried out anyway with disastrous results.
Finally, the destruction of the Columbia space shuttle was the result of foam coming off the fuel tank and hitting the shuttle’s wing. Previous launches also resulted in foam coming off the fuel tank, but a fix was never explored due to the fact that the foam had never caused a problem in the past.
For those interested in NASA and its accidents this is a must read.
WRITER’S FORUM INDIGENOUS JOURNALISTS
WEBSITES HELPFUL TO WRITERS
This is a series of posts which, I think, will be beneficial to writers.
But first, I would like to include my usual warning about using websites.
Whenever you check a website you are, in my opinion and I talk from experience, being put on a list for sale. So, expect the possibility of being bombarded by ads from companies you, perhaps, have never heard of and have no interest in.
By the same token, I feel that once you call a business for information you are also put on a list, for sale, of similar companies to the one you have called.
That’s just how it is in today’s society.
I hope you find the information offered in these posts helpful.
Anyone familiar with my blog is aware of the area, Writer’s Forum, which already offers a host of websites important for writers.
Indigenous Journalists Association
IndigenousJournalists.org
Membership based organization to aid Indigenous voices in all forms of media across all industries to ensure accurate reporting about Indigenous people and communities.
Offers resources such as a job board, webinars on subjects such as preventing fraud and scams targeting Native communities.
Indigenous Voice Fund supports careers and leadership for Indigenous journalists.
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