Choir Practice
by
Richard Leland
Tory often compared the large Cray computers he controlled to the pipes of the large organ in his church. He would adjust switches and listen to the universe. Lately, the sounds he heard reminded him of a large choir whose origin was a distant galaxy. He enjoyed operating the computers that performed complex astronomical computations, in the observatory, but not as much as he
enjoyed singing baritone in his church choir. He wished that his choir were larger and knew
some day he would sing in a large, maybe gigantic, perhaps several billion voices spread out over many galaxies as far as the farthest nebula. He enjoyed the sounds he heard from his computers.
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.............an Excerpt...............
Tory pressed the mainframe’s
interrupt switch to check a stellar display on the computer’s monitor. It showed colors he had not
seen before in any quadrant. Whatever it is must be coming from beyond those stars, farther away
than those stellar gases, at least in this quadrant. He would scan all twenty-four quads, the universe
the scope allowed, before his shift ended. Six hours to go, he thought.
“I’ve got to hear those sounds
again; decide where they come from. Can’t believe that Harry hears only the pretty beeps.” He
pressed more switches, various combinations and surveyed the pushbuttons on the computer console.
The large monitor alternated
displays: views by the university’s telescope and contrasting Hubble scope scans, many light years
from earth. The scope saw miracles that humanity would not see for many years while the Hubble
display presented galactic scenes the human eye might never see.
He gazed up through the dome’s
opening and marvelled at the night sky. “Mostly white blinking stars. Not even an exciting view
compared to what the scope sees.”
The click of switches had echoed
throughout the small space of the observatory’s computer room. Fritzi perked an ear, put one straight
up, raised his head and opened his eyes. He stared at Tory, his eyes half open, sniffing and expecting
a ritual: Tory would stand, push his chair back, set some switches and walk to the door. Tory didn’t
get up so Fritzi laid his head on his rug and went back to sleep, expelling a heavy sigh.
Tory brushed his hair from his
forehead and smiled at his pet, the smartest little dog alive. He frowned as he read his business card
and told himself he had made the right decision to leave the observatory. He would pack tonight.
Although he preferred not to resign, for money reasons, he had convinced himself that he would go
far away, take Fritzi, possibly to Africa to search out other jobs related to ancient world studies,
work that would pay enough to support them and hold his interest: perhaps make his life relevant. He
wanted to crawl into bed at night, exhausted, but anticipate working long hours the next day.
He recalled Harry’s objections and
his tirade. “Hey, Tory, leaving here is like walking away from rainbow’s end and the pot of gold. A
few years of research and we’ll be famous the world over. Listen, guy, it doesn’t matter whether
you’re bored or not. The money they’re paying us can cancel out boredom. Tory, I took this job because I want to work with you. We’ve been friends since we were little kids. What’s in Africa?
Deserts, jungles and forgotten ruins. There is no past. Only a future. I don’t know what I’ll do If you
leave. Your problem is, you’re a romantic. There’s nothing in this world but hard work. And this place is easy street ... as long as you’re here with me.”
“There is more. There’s another
world, another life.”
“Oh, Tory. Don’t come at me with
that Bible stuff. See? That’s what I mean. You’re a romantic.”
“I wish you believed.”
“Well, I don’t, but I don’t care if
you do, if that’s what you want.” Tory recalled the tears in Harry’s eyes. “You’re the only friend I
have. The only friend I want. I don’t want to lose you.”
Tory had heard Harry’s words
many times but Harry hadn’t said anything to get Tory to change his mind. As he finalized his
decision to leave and stopped thinking about one of the many resignation discussions with Harry, he
observed the monitor change from deep space constant colors, pale purple to bright gold, and for the
first time noted all thirty-three Cray computers lit up and began parallel computations. “That’s the
first time that’s happened.” His heart quickened. He thought. What willl I see through the powerful scope? What sounds will I hear?
End of the Excerpt from Choir Practice
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