Gods cue ball

I boarded the train, from Liverpool Street Station to Cambridge at three of the afternoon on a cold but clear skyed Thursday in March, early in the fifth decade of Victoria’s reign, at the behest of my good friend Professor Rupert Armitage, head of the University Observatory.

Armitage had invited me to join him and the distinguished astronomer, William Lassell, FRS, FRSE, FRSL, FRAS, at the observatory. Lassell was the recipient of an honorary degree from Cambridge but the elderly gentleman asked, no demanded, to see the observatory. My editor had agreed that a short piece celebrating this man’s achievements as one of England’s greatest amateur astronomers, not to mention the wealthy owner of a brewery that supplied the thirsty of Liverpool with fine ales, would benefit the Sunday edition.

When the train pulling into Cambridge station, groaning, venting steam, came to a halt, I stepped from the first-class carriage at the front of the train, flicking gently at the smuts on my grey overcoat with my handkerchief. Outside the station, I looked around for an omnibus to bear me into town and saw a figure waving from across the road where the hansoms for hire were lined up.

Crossing the road, when I reached Armitage, for it was indeed him, I was greeted warmly. I asked if he had been waiting long but he told me no more than a few minutes for the train had for once been on time. Once aboard, the cab moved off and we settled back to enjoy the ride.

It had been some years since I had last been in Cambridge and there had been a number of changes to the buildings as we made our way along Hills Road, Regent Street and Sidney Street. Crossed the River Cam in Bridge Street passing the Round Church then into Northampton Street and finally onto Madingley Road. In the distance I could see the central dome of the Observatory Building as the horse trotted along briskly.

Armitage spoke in general terms of the town and University. The ‘Town and Gown’ rivalries had not diminished in any way since our own time as undergraduates and in fact had increased to some extent. He informed me that, along with Lassell, we would be dining with the Observatory Director, James Challis in his quarters before going to the Northumberland telescope one of two on site. The skies were going to be exceptionally clear this evening which promised excellent viewing conditions. The telescope had carefully been orientated to the section of sky in which Neptune would rise. Both Challis and Lassell had narrowly missed receiving the kudos of discovering Neptune but Lassell’s finding of Triton, Neptune’s large moon was an achievement in itself.

Challis, of an age with Lassell, claimed his old bones were no longer up to spending a winter’s evening in a draughty observatory. So, we three, wrapped up warmly, the glow of Challis’s brandy warming us from the inside, made our way to the smaller building and dome where the Northumberland telescope was housed.

Inside, some kind undergraduates, no doubt at the prompting of Armitage, had placed a number of paraffin heaters around the telescope room and left ample refill for them. The warmth, would alas, soon be dispelled once we opened the roof to allow the telescope to ‘see’ and we would be grateful for our coats, scarves, hats and gloves.

With the roof open, Armitage offered his distinguished colleague the first look through the eyepiece. While not as large as the telescope Lassell owned and used in many of his discoveries it was still an exceptional piece of equipment and capable of giving a good view of both Neptune and Triton.

The pair of astronomers spent the first hour talking and gazing through the viewfinder before halting for a welcome mug of chocolate kept hot in its urn by a small burner. We nursed our drinks, savouring its heat, warming hands at the same time. When we had finished Armitage asked me if I would care for a look. I of course said yes. Who would not take such an opportunity to view another world let alone two of them. It would also add to my column to describe first-hand observations akin to those Lassell had undertaken to make his discoveries.

He warned me not to touch any part of the telescope as it could cause the equipment to lose its focus. He made a quick check to ensure that those remote points of light were still clear and centred in the view piece by the clockwork gearing that turned the great tube on its gimbals to follow an object across the heavens. Adjustment to the vertical position checked he waved me forward onto the platform. I leant against the bar that had been put there for that purpose, grasping it with both hands and put my eye close to the viewing lens. A slightly hazy round object swam into view, filling the area I could see, then as Armitage adjusted the focus it sharpened and I saw in its turn a smaller sphere against the backdrop of the larger orb.

I watched entranced by this vista for some minutes, barely breathing, in case I disturbed the telescope. I could hear the gentle murmur of Armitage and Lassell’s voices as they talked ‘shop’ but it did not intrude upon my reverie. The distance between the Earth and the orbs I beheld was immense. Almost three billion miles Armitage had told me, an inconceivable distance. The faint light reflected from the surface of the planet and its moon had left them over four hours ago and I pondered in my mind how I might explain adequately such an enormous distance to our readers, or to my editor for that matter.

As I watched there came an actinic flash of light towards the top of the image, leaving a long bright white trail across the face of Neptune before impacting Triton. It appeared it had hit upon the hemisphere that always faced Neptune for Triton is tidally locked as is our own Moon. As I watched there came a great gout of material rising into view above the shoulder of Triton full of light and roiling grey, white and black clouds. The moon visibly quivered in the viewfinder and I cried out in horror at the scene and in my haste to move away from the telescope, I inadvertently knocked against it.

Armitage yelled in anguish, for many hours had been spent preparing the telescope for this evening’s viewing and even the slightest movement could move the distant objects from the purview of the apparatus. He rushed over to where I stood transfixed both by what I had seen and my unfortunate contact with the apparatus, scolding me soundly for my clumsiness as he bent to the viewfinder and found the planet and its moon gone from view. When he paused for breath, I found my voice and described what I had seen that caused my reaction.

Lassell came over to us and listened intently to my words, while Armitage regarded me open mouthed. The pair looked at the telescope in unconcealed frustration, that confirmation was denied them.

“Can we not return to the same position? I barely touched it,” I asked diffidently.

“You forget my friend,” said Armitage more calmly. “Both the Earth and the heavens are constantly moving, changing the position of heavenly bodies so that even were we to align the telescope to those exact same co-ordinates, allowing for any movement in our calculations, by the time we had done so, I fear that Neptune and Triton will have moved sufficient to make alignment difficult,” he said sadly.

“Surely we can try! Is it not worth the attempt to see what is occurring on that distant world?” I pleaded.

“Come Armitage, he is right. It is worth the try. From his description we may be witness to the strike of a cometary object on a large celestial body. That surely if it is the case is worth any effort,” said Lassell.

For the next hour, while Lassell checked after each slight correction that Armitage made to the telescope, we strove to find Neptune and his injured companion. The frustrations we suffered during this time were enough to try the patience of a saint but as we neared the half way mark of the second hour, Lassell called a pause in the adjustments.

“There is something starting to appear in the lower right quadrant of the field of view,” he announced.

Armitage made a small adjustment to the base of the telescope and when Lassell checked, he confirmed we were on the right track. Further minute adjustments of the system that raised and lowered the telescope finally managed to centre the object of out attention. Lassell turned the small focusing knob on the side of the viewing lens and sighed in satisfaction as the image sharpened, then there came a sharp intake of breath and Lassell stepped back and turned a stricken gaze on Armitage and myself.

“My God! It is unbelievable,” he said, gesturing Armitage to look.

Armitage bent slightly to peer into the viewfinder and he too made a sound that was a mixture of horror and amazement. He looked at Lassell then myself without speaking then retreated so that I might look. Two hours had passed since I last saw the distant face of Triton as a calm disc floating in front of its parent. I saw with growing horror that now the face of the moon was riven with great cracks from which flaming clouds of material streamed in all directions into space.

“What am I seeing Armitage?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“I believe we are witness to a planet killing event. A cometary body of some size has impacted the surface with enough force to materially damage Triton. To cause it to break apart. It must have been an object of either great size or density, travelling at prodigious speed to damage the moon thus. That I fear is what we are witnessing,” he sighed.

“I must send telegrams to the American, and Australian observatories, to Paris and Berlin also. I hope someone will be able to take daguerreotype plates of this remarkable event. Please, wait for me, I will return as soon I might.”

With that he hurried from the dome, muttering to himself the names and locations of those he intended to contact. Lassell and I went back to the table on which the urn of chocolate stood and poured ourselves a mug of the still hot liquid, and each took one of the folding chairs and set it by the table along with a heater. We sat and waited for Armitage’s return, sipping from our mugs, nibbling on the sweet biscuits that had been put out for us, in companionable silence, each lost in thought. When I had finished, I withdrew a small notebook from my coat pocket and began jotting down some notes for my article.

Lassell watched me with interest for a time then asked, “how will you explain this to your readers?”

“With difficulty I fear Sir. Astronomy is still much of a mystery to many people. At times I feel there are still many who believe the Earth is flat and the Sun goes around it!”

Lassell chuckled at this, “I have met some of those myself over the years. Some of them members of the Astronomical Society.”

I grinned before saying, “it must be a blow to have your discovery come to such a pass”.

Lassell shrugged, “there is little any man can do to prevent such events, at least I the satisfaction of having found it.”

I put my notepad away and went back to the telescope whose clockwork had moved the apparatus to retain Neptune and Triton centred, but the later was no longer spherical. Great chunks were separating from the main mass, disrupting its outline and there were signs of impacts upon Neptune, it was clear the moon had suffered cataclysmic damage.

It was now the early hours of Friday morning and too late to do any more for the moment. Armitage had arranged a room for me but I was too keyed up to sleep and walked through the silent, cold darkness to the offices of the local newspaper in Sydney Street and finished the writing of my story there, then had them wire it through to the night editor of my paper. It arrived in time with little need for alteration so as to appear not as a column buried in the latter half of the paper but above the fold of the front page which pleased me greatly to see my by-line thus for the first time.

With further information of the event from sources around the world reported over the next week, the story was kept alive and my editor was happy for me to remain in Cambridge the site of the first observation of the calamity. The three nights after I had seen the moon rent asunder were overcast. No viewing was possible and intermittent clouds on the fourth and fifth nights made for difficult viewing but the sixth night proved clear and we were again able to see the changes that had and were still happening so remotely.

Little remained of Triton still orbiting Neptune, a celestial body once rivalling our own moon in size, The debris from the moon was expanding outwards rapidly and tracking even the largest portions was proving difficult. Observatories around the world tracked those objects identified as part of the destroyed moon moving into and out of the solar system. Those moving inward received the most interest, for as Armitage later put it to me when we met on the first anniversary of the event.

“It is rather like a celestial game of billiards, old chap,” and there was something in his voice which made my reporter’s ‘sixth sense’ twitch.

There was a certain tightness to his face, lips compressed in a thin line and I realised, that he knew far more than he was saying, yet despite my best efforts to elicit the information I was unsuccessful and we dined pleasantly with James Challis without speaking further of the matter.

On the evening of the second anniversary, I once again joined Armitage for dinner. My friend was now Director as sadly Challis had departed life during the year, as had Lassell and the two were sadly missed.

It was over brandy and cigars that Armitage finally told me the dire news he had bottled up all this time. Along with Paris, Sydney, Cambridge Massachusetts and San Francisco observatories, he had been tracking one of the larger pieces that had spiralled sunward and, in some manner, had managed to avoid collision with any of the giant planets, the ‘asteroid belt’ and looked to miss Mars as well.

He sighed and looked up at me miserably, “It seems God is expert at billiards. He has sent his cue ball accurately down the baize.”

I looked at him quizzically and he continued.

“According to our calculations, we shall be having a chance to observe a piece of Triton closely.”

“How closely?”

“We believe on the morning of 25^th December, two years hence it will strike the Earth, or the Moon there is some uncertainty there. As it falls sunward, each planet passed has accelerated it until now its speed is.... suffice it to say, when it strikes, the Earth is finished. If upon the Moon there is a possibility, the planet itself will survive, but there will be incalculable destruction. The Moon will disintegrate and fragments of both moons will rain down upon us. In either instance it is I fear... the end.”

I sat in stunned silence trying to absorb these words. One can, to some degree accept one’s own demise, but to contemplate the end of mankind… I shuddered and drained my glass in one swallow.

“There can be no doubt?” I asked and he shook his head.

He refilled our glasses, generously, for as he said wryly, “There seems little point in laying it or any wine down. It has been decided that for as long as maybe possible this news is to be kept from the world. The Queen, the American and French Presidents, the Tsar and the Kaiser along with other heads of state have been informed of course. All have agreed on this course of action or should I say non-action.”

“Why have you told me then Rupert? A newsman?” I asked quizzically.

“You were the first to see it, I felt that endowed you with certain ‘rights of discovery.’

We were quiet for a time then he asked simply, “Do you believe you should now tell the world? Tell them, that barring a miracle, their impending and unavoidable doom is upon them?”

I pondered his question for some time and he sat silently awaiting my response. At last, I too sighed deeply, shook my head, told him no. I could not sit down and write the world’s epitaph before its demise. I could, barely, envisage what would follow such a revelation. Widescale death, destruction, rioting, murder, theft, rapine and pillage, those old favourites, no doubt war of some kind as mankind unleashed all of its least desirable traits in an orgy of self-destruction before the heavens completed the task of removing mankind from the planet. The last time God used water to scour the Earth, now it seemed he would use fire to fulfil his goal.

As for me… I gave notice to the paper and spent the time left, visiting all the splendid, beautiful vistas and places upon this earth…

While they remained.