Free A Vomit of Diamonds by Boripat Lebel

what it was she meant. “It’s
sitting on a disk,” Minho observed with his usual bluntness. “Yep,”
said Sarah, nodding; “the platform rotates the telescope as it
tracks an object in the sky.” Maxine whistled appreciatively. “That
whole thing?” Balzac thought, speechless.
    “It was built during the early
eighties,” Sarah narrated, matter of fact; “As you can imagine,
pretty futuristic for its time. Today the telescope time is mainly
given to postgrads collecting data for their theses. So I suppose
you could say it’s been turned into a sort of training facility.”
The young ones looked hopeful. “What’s the telescope’s diameter?”
Perry asked, his expression contemplative. “Two point five,” was
the answer; “modest by today’s standards.”
    A marked hatchway allowed
outsiders within, and through this portal they entered the edifice.
Sarah entered last and closed the door shut behind her. All
was darkness .
“Well this is just awkward,” said Maxine flatly. “Any source of
light can potentially ruin your results,” came Sarah’s voice from
somewhere, “so the darker it is around your telescope the better.
Only the control room is light-proof, sort of. Now,” she said,
switching to a more commanding tone, “there’s a stairway that leads
to the control room. But you need to be really careful climbing
it.” So saying, she made her way to the front of the group to find
this ladder.
    One hand gripping the cold
rail while the other pinched the jacket of the person in front of
them, they slowly made their way up the stairs. “A caterpillar
train climbing a cave wall,” Balzac analogized to himself, his feet
landing uncertainly on the next step. Who knew the life of an
astronomer could be so much to the advantage of Hades; one misstep
or a wrong turn, and you could find yourself drinking from the Lethe. As if reading what was on all the
young minds, Sarah confirmed: “There’s been a few accidents. But
mainly b roken hips and a few bruises, that
sort of injury. Nothing serious.” From her tone, she could have
been talking about getting a paper cut while working in a paper
mill. “That’s. Nice?” Minho remarked, in front of Bouchard. “Sarah
doesn’t wear hiking attire for show,” Balzac observed,
inwardly.
    The Moirai sisters must have been in
an indulgent mood this darkling eventide, for the train arrived at
its terminus corporeally intact. There was a general sigh in the
air as Sarah opened a door at the top and ushered them within.
“This must be the red light district,” Maxine cracked up, causing
everyone to laugh; for the small closet-like room they had just
entered was dimly lit by a single red light bulb. “Decontamination
chamber,” Sarah corrected with a serious smile; “Need to let your
eyes readjust to light before we enter the control room.” The party
stood still for a moment, Sarah timing their
acclimation.
    Through the adjacent door they finally
arrived at the promised land. This room was slightly warmer than
outside. “Thank the Borg,” thought Balzac. A grey-haired woman came
up to greet them. She was the principal controller. “Hanah’s been
here since the beginning,” said Sarah, introducing them to the
grande dame.
    The control room could have passed for
Karl’s office were it not for the large operating station at the
side, complete with antique monitors, buttons and joysticks. “It’s
like a video arcade,” Perry commented with a boyish grin. Hanah
chuckled good-naturedly, as a grandmother does at her grandson’s
jokes. “Of course,” said she, in a wistful manner; “these days it’s
just a few clicks on the computer.” So saying she shook the mouse,
waking the computer up from its power nap, and dropped into her
chair. “Saturn should be visible tonight,” was the
suggestion.
    Shortly after clicking in a few
commands, the building began to shake. Balzac spun in confused
surprise; “What the Borg?” thought he. Everyone else, apart