the space between our sun and the orbit of the earth. Ions, ahead of you is the riddle of the universe!”
Far far away, oh so far away like a far away star, was the world we were speeding to, on its outskirts a host of dead little moons circling on seven orbits.
“Ahead of you are the electrons, the ninety-two electrons of the uranium atom!”
I felt as if I had wings, wings of voltage immeasurable, winging through space to this distant solar system. I felt I had wings, and when we passed through the outermost of the seven orbits, oh, God, who can describe the feeling of wonder, a wonder Columbus must have felt when he sighted the new world — and a new world it was, blazing with color.
“The riddle of the universe where energy is changed into matter and matter into energy! The spectacle of the ages! Look at those particles of mass ahead of you! Those blue comets are positrons. Those purple meteors are mesons. Look at those particles of energy. Those orange asteroids are photons. Those green rays are gravitons. The spectacle of the ages! Matter into energy, energy into matter!”
Blue positrons, purple mesons, orange photons, green gravitons whirled on journeys of their own, streaking up and down and sideways like a colored rain defying gravity — and through that rain I could see the core of this universe, the nucleus of the atom becoming larger and larger. We roared through the last of the seven orbits and suddenly the nucleus had become immense, and it was vibrating, alive, its protons and neutrons — ninety-two protons and one hundred and forty-six neutrons — looming up like continents under clouds of purplish mesons, and between the continents strange islands formed and vanished, creation and annihilation in a single breath, the life and death of worlds within a world. And now, for the first time I felt that our furious momentum forward was being opposed, that some huge force within the world ahead of us was pushing out at us, stronger and stronger the closer we came, and I didn’t want to be pushed away, for there before me was the riddle of the universe, birth into death and death into birth, genesis. Forward we rushed against the force repelling us, and the continents were no longer separate, but merging, swallowing up the strange islands, and I felt that I, too, would be swallowed up, but I no longer cared, for the riddle of the universe was so close, so close, so close …
When suddenly we whizzed off our path like an arrow bent in midair, and with a dizzying sensation, I stared at the first of the electron orbits, the second orbit beyond it, and the third, and furthest away the seventh orbit with its circling dead moons. Through the seven orbits we traveled, and the Voice that had been silent was saying: “Your entertainment is Our pleasure, folks! Your entertainment is Our Pleasure, folks!”
Slower and slower we moved, and in my disappointment I turned towards Cleo. She was smiling, her eyelids fluttering. I watched them open and almost by the second they began to glaze, her smile vanishing, her face hardening into the cold face of the professional attendant she was.
“The ride’s over, folks. Step off the Rollercoaster, folks. Step lively, folks. The decelerating chamber is straight ahead.”
Folks, I thought numbly. We were folks! Human beings, only human beings. We had lost space and mystery, come back into our own bodies.
Cleo led me into what seemed to be the first of the glass rooms. As we entered we rose up from the glass floor like balloons. “Relax,” she said in her professional voice. “Close your eyes and relax.”
“Relax,” all the other attendants were saying. I felt brokenhearted at what I had lost, but I closed my eyes.
“The universe is made up of fundamental particles,” she whispered.
“Fundamental particles …” I heard the other attendants like a chorus.
And Cleo. “They combine to make iron or hydrogen, bone or muscle.”
“Bone or muscle,” I heard
Far far away, oh so far away like a far away star, was the world we were speeding to, on its outskirts a host of dead little moons circling on seven orbits.
“Ahead of you are the electrons, the ninety-two electrons of the uranium atom!”
I felt as if I had wings, wings of voltage immeasurable, winging through space to this distant solar system. I felt I had wings, and when we passed through the outermost of the seven orbits, oh, God, who can describe the feeling of wonder, a wonder Columbus must have felt when he sighted the new world — and a new world it was, blazing with color.
“The riddle of the universe where energy is changed into matter and matter into energy! The spectacle of the ages! Look at those particles of mass ahead of you! Those blue comets are positrons. Those purple meteors are mesons. Look at those particles of energy. Those orange asteroids are photons. Those green rays are gravitons. The spectacle of the ages! Matter into energy, energy into matter!”
Blue positrons, purple mesons, orange photons, green gravitons whirled on journeys of their own, streaking up and down and sideways like a colored rain defying gravity — and through that rain I could see the core of this universe, the nucleus of the atom becoming larger and larger. We roared through the last of the seven orbits and suddenly the nucleus had become immense, and it was vibrating, alive, its protons and neutrons — ninety-two protons and one hundred and forty-six neutrons — looming up like continents under clouds of purplish mesons, and between the continents strange islands formed and vanished, creation and annihilation in a single breath, the life and death of worlds within a world. And now, for the first time I felt that our furious momentum forward was being opposed, that some huge force within the world ahead of us was pushing out at us, stronger and stronger the closer we came, and I didn’t want to be pushed away, for there before me was the riddle of the universe, birth into death and death into birth, genesis. Forward we rushed against the force repelling us, and the continents were no longer separate, but merging, swallowing up the strange islands, and I felt that I, too, would be swallowed up, but I no longer cared, for the riddle of the universe was so close, so close, so close …
When suddenly we whizzed off our path like an arrow bent in midair, and with a dizzying sensation, I stared at the first of the electron orbits, the second orbit beyond it, and the third, and furthest away the seventh orbit with its circling dead moons. Through the seven orbits we traveled, and the Voice that had been silent was saying: “Your entertainment is Our pleasure, folks! Your entertainment is Our Pleasure, folks!”
Slower and slower we moved, and in my disappointment I turned towards Cleo. She was smiling, her eyelids fluttering. I watched them open and almost by the second they began to glaze, her smile vanishing, her face hardening into the cold face of the professional attendant she was.
“The ride’s over, folks. Step off the Rollercoaster, folks. Step lively, folks. The decelerating chamber is straight ahead.”
Folks, I thought numbly. We were folks! Human beings, only human beings. We had lost space and mystery, come back into our own bodies.
Cleo led me into what seemed to be the first of the glass rooms. As we entered we rose up from the glass floor like balloons. “Relax,” she said in her professional voice. “Close your eyes and relax.”
“Relax,” all the other attendants were saying. I felt brokenhearted at what I had lost, but I closed my eyes.
“The universe is made up of fundamental particles,” she whispered.
“Fundamental particles …” I heard the other attendants like a chorus.
And Cleo. “They combine to make iron or hydrogen, bone or muscle.”
“Bone or muscle,” I heard
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