SPOOF OF THE WEEK

The Invention Of Heat And Light

Part Five of The Invention of Everything;
An Eyewitness Account

Continuing Readers: Please, page down past the brief material in italics.

New Readers: If you missed a previous part, you’ll find it appended after Part Five. Here’s the brief introduction to these remarkable notes, repeated for your convenience.

An unexpected manuscript showed up in our inbox. We were immediately convinced of its authenticity and decided we had to share it with you. It was accompanied by the following note:

“Hi, there. How’s life working out? Who am I? That’s for me to know and for you to guess. Let me just say that I witnessed the invention of everything. And I kept good meeting notes.

"I wanted every planet to come with an instruction manual, but my suggestion was a nonstarter. I decided the next best thing I could do is release my notes. I hope they help clarify things for you.

"I sent them by Multi-Verse Mail to all the planets projected to have life on them that could read. As far as the earth goes, I addressed it to NewsLugh.com. I figured it would exist about the time the news would come in especially handy. Why a humor magazine? Hey, I think I’m a bit of humorist myself.

"Sorry, but I have to be a little vague about the participants in the meeting, because they’re all very high up the totem pole of the universe and like to keep out of the spotlight. But I assure you that my notes are accurate.

"I thought I’d start with the invention of sex, since that seems to be the foundation of a lot of things. This particular invention was a tough one because we weren’t sure how to make it work.

"For instance, some of the participants wanted direct physical contact. Others thought the male could mail his sperm to the female, and she could deposit it in an egg bank.

"Direct contact between the two, though it seemed like a daring idea at first, won on its overall merits.

"Then the question became, should it feel good or not? I’m happy to say that feeling good won by a unanimous vote. After all, we want you to like us.

"Looking back, I think we made the right decisions, not only about sex, but about everything. And, speaking of everything, you'll find how it was invented in my notes, too, or, at least, the highlights, like land and water, air, light, people, other animals, plants, and details like gravity and magnetism.

"I hope my doodles help you understand why things are the way they are and appreciate our handiwork. Nothing would make me happier.

"In conclusion, I just want you to know we did our best, and I sure hope you like us for what we decided.”

The Invention of Heat and Light

Part Five of The Invention of Everything; An Eyewitness Account

At our prior meeting, we realized that, once we had invented land, water, and the sky, we had the stage set, except we needed light. We also considered the advisability of including heat. In today’s meeting, we planned to work out the details.

“To get the meeting rolling, can we recap where we are?”

“Yes, boss. We decided we want the creatures to be able to see where they’re going, so we need light.”

“Go on.”

“We also decided we want them to be comfortable; ergo, we need heat.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“The suggestion was also made that we go for overheads, but there was concern that the sky could be too crowded. Tech assured us they had a way to combine light and heat into one thing.”

“OK, so let’s see if we can throw some light on the entire subject. You confident you can pull off the heat-and-light combo?”

“I think we’ve got a good handle on it. I believe I mentioned Helen’s idea of ‘fishin.’”

“I thought you were going to respell that to avoid confusion?”

“That was my intention.”

“How did you make out?”

“She was a little put off at first.”

“Did you take our suggestion that she could keep the sound of the word if she just spelled it differently?”

“Of course. But she told me that couldn’t possibly work.”

“Sounds like Helen. Why not?”

“Actually, for what is, I decided, a very understandable reason.”

“Please, explain.”

“She called it ‘fishin’ to differentiate it from another process we considered for heat and light, called ‘fission. As you know, the latter is a much clunkier process that entails breaking up this big item we call uranium, instead of combining Helen’s little H’s.”

“I’m sorry. I’m terminally confused.”

“Good. That’s actually part of the explanation.”

“What is?”

“Confusion.”

“Please, explain.”

“Sure. The two words that were under consideration, ‘fishin’ and ‘fission,’ already sound pretty much the same and are spelled differently. So that kind of stole our thunder.”

“Too bad.”

“Don’t sweat it. I told Helen I myself was actually a bit confused by her nomenclature.”

“And?”

“She made a comment I’d rather not repeat. But I decided the better part of valor was to gloss over the affront and attempt to cheer her up. So I said jokingly, ‘What if we take my confusion and make it part of a new name for your alternate process?’”

“I commend your patience. How did she react?”

“She was fine with that. It isn’t very often that your boss gives you the opportunity to have fun at his expense, right?”

“So what did you come up with?”

“’Fusion.’”

“I suppose that's intended to be a felicitous combination of her ‘fishin’ plus your ‘confusion’?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I think it's a neat name, especially considering you derived it from ‘confusion.’”

“Thanks.”

“It works for me, too. So let’s go with it. Can you provide some detail on the process?”

“Sure. As Helen sees it, two of her H’s combine.”

“Right.”

“Then two more combine.”

“Wait a minute. Why two and two?”

“To prepare for the big event.”

“What’s that?”

“Now, the two that combined first smack into the two that combined second.”

“And so?”

“What do you think?”

“Now we have four, right?”

“Not quite. That was a trick question.”

“What do you mean?”

“The really important thing is that we don’t quite get a total of four.”

“OK, let’s go with that. Now, two and two don’t make four? How can that possibly be right?”

“Not in this case, which only confirms that making ‘confusion’ part of the name was a brainstorm.”

“We’ll see about that. What do they make?”

“3.97.”

“Hold on. Two plus two now equals 3.97?”

“Well, in the part of the universe called heat and light.”

“Mind explaining that?”

“Not at all. When the two and two combine, the missing amount is transformed into the big event.”

“Which is?”

“Energy!”

“Energy? I thought we were talking about heat and light?”

“In this case, the energy comes out as heat and light.”

“Wow, terrific stuff. But, if what you’re saying is true, that means only .03 of the four H’s becomes energy. How good is that?”

“Actually, it’s astonishing.”

“Why is that?”

“It means the process can go on for as long as we need it to.”

“I’m sorry. Can I have some clarification here?”

“Gladly. First, you have to imagine the process happening all over this big round ball in the sky billions of time a millisecond. Then we get the two things we need.”

“Here we go again. And what do they add up to?”

“We’re not adding anymore. Just making a list. Mind if I go on?”

“Please, I can’t wait.”

“OK, so what do we get? Numero uno: lots and lots of heat and light. And, numero dos, a process that can go on and on.”

“I’m all for that. It goes perfectly with the entire invention.”

“And the reason is?”

“It produces all this energy with relatively little matter.”

“That seems like a very important matter. Like, how long?”

“Oh, depends on the size of the big round agglomeration. On average, ten billion or so years.”

“Wow, that’s plenty long. Are we going to make any creatures that last ten billion years?”

“Let’s just put it this way. They shouldn’t worry about heat and light. They’ll have plenty.”

“Besides, if they figure out how to last ten billion years, they should be able to figure out how to hop to one of the billions of planets we’re planning that will be near a star with lots of energy to spare, right?”

“One would hope. But let’s stay real. With ten-billion years worth of heat and light in the bank, I wouldn’t call running out their immediate concern.”

“A point well taken. Now, I notice you refer to this source of heat and light as a big round ball in the sky. I’m not sure you want such a thing to get too close to the planets, especially the ones with creatures on them. They could be toast. Am I correct?”

“Crispy critters. So we figure it should be some distance from the planets, in particular, the ones that are going to sprout life.”

“What? They can’t all sprout life?”

“How? If we put them too close together, they could bang into one another. So we figure the ones that are too close will be too hot, the ones that are too far away will be too cold, but the lucky one or ones that are just the right distance from the heat and light will be the right temp for the molecules and atoms to go to work and come up with actual creatures.”

“How about as the big round ball burns up? Won’t it cool down?”

“Good point. I think I know where you’re headed. Yeah, as things cool down, the planets closer in could sprout life, while the ones farther out could freeze up. Plenty of matter on every planet that’s rock-solid to start things cooking.”

“I love where you’re going with this. I’m a big advocate of your end benefit: Life in as many places as possible. I don’t want to waste anymore planets than we have to.”

“Excuse me. What do you mean, 'waste'? I’m not in the business of wasting entire planets.”

“What do you mean? How about the ones that are too hot or too cold for anything much to happen?”

“No, no, you’re not getting the whole picture. They help set up the balancing act that keeps the planets that can sprout life in the right position for all the good things to happen.”

“Oh, great. But don’t go overboard. I also like a lot of junk to be just there. It helps balance the stuff that’s really necessary.”

“Yeah, somehow allowing for just about everything – no junk, along with plenty of junk – feels more natural.”

“Agreed. So now we have a handle on heat and light. But I’ve noticed that you keep referring to this amazing item as a big round ball. Can’t we do a little better on the name?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll make a note.”

“Think about this. How many of them are there going to be in a system where you have planets swirling around them?”

“Pretty much only one to a group. Anything else seems unnecessary and could prove quite distracting.”

“I’m always for simplicity, as long as it works. So maybe you should work with that concept to come up with a name.”

“One?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You’ll also want to work out a name for all of them collectively. I mean, you’ll have all these big bright things out there. The creatures look up. They see them. They need a name.”

“Oh, we already have the group name.”

“You do? Let’s hear it.”

“We’re worked with the word ‘far,’ because they’ll have to be far away.”

“Right.”

“Then we took the concept that they’ll be producing heat and light almost nonstop.”

“Yeah.”

“So we took the ‘s’ and the ‘t’ from ‘nonstop’ and came up with the name ‘star.'”

“’Far,’ ‘star’?”

“Right.”

“Meets with my approval. Why not just do the same thing with the name for one of them.”

“In what way?”

“I dunno. Maybe just take the ‘s’ and add it to ‘one.’”

“So we get ‘sone.'”

“Yeah.”

“Nice sound. Let me play with the spelling a little bit, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Sure.”

“Before we wrap, I want to return to an issue that came up during the last meeting.”

“What’s that?”

“The background color for the sky. You said it depended on how we work out heat and light.”

“Yep.”

“And?”

“We’re thinking sky blue.”

“Nice. Like it. But how do you get there?”

“The light comes down from what we’re calling the sone. It hits the air. Some of the light gets through and some doesn’t. What gets through looks blue.”

“Ah, ha! Got a name for that?”

“Diffraction.”

“Where did that come from?”

“We developed it out of the idea of a fraction of the light.”

“As in ‘da fraction?’”

“A bit hip-hoppy for me. But you can think of it that way if want to. Our real inspiration was the word 'dazzling.'"

"Oh. Mind if I stay with 'da fraction'? ”

"Entirely up to you."

“Settled. May I review the color scheme?”

“Go ahead.”

“Down we have brown; that’s the land. Up we have blue; that’s the sky.”

“Don’t forget the white and grey clouds.”

“Depending on how much water they’re lugging around?”

“Right.”

“OK, and in the water, we have clear.”

“Why clear?”

“So what’s swimming around in it can see where it’s going.”

“Good thought. Still sounds kind of plain.”

“Don’t forget. Now it can reflect the blue sky, or whatever other color happens to be up there.”

“OK, OK, that’s enough already with the color scheme. My planet is spinning from it all! I mean, my head.”

“All right, let me recap. We have this bright round thing up there that’s a star, which, in the singular, we’re referring to by the working name of the ‘sone.’ It produces heat and light for approximately ten billion years. So now, in terms of the entire setting, we have land, water, air, heat and light.”

“You got it.”

“Sounds like the stage is set to me.”

“Don’t tell me we can finally get around to what should be walking around on it?”

“Don’t forget swimming.”

“Right. Walking and swimming.”

“We also have other concepts.”

“Here we go again. Like what?”

“Flying.”

“Don’t tell me.”

“Come on, remember the sky? We’ll want something to make use of all that space, won’t we?”

“I can’t see the whole thing being there without something in it, can you?”

“Not really. But aren’t we’re starting to get into the next meeting? I suggest we adjourn for today. Excellent work and see you tomorrow.”

So one hot meeting came to an end. I don’t know. Sometimes you make just one addition to a plan and you feel entirely different about the whole thing. Once we had heat and light, I was really starting to warm up to the idea of the universe.

By Tom Attea

The Invention Of The Sky

Part Four Of The Invention Of Everything;
An Eyewitness Account

Once we invented water, we realized that for rain to work right we had to have a place for it to go up into and fall back down from. We settled on a working name called the sky and set aside today’s meeting to invent it. As usual, the CEO kicked off the discussion.

“We seem to be moving in the right direction. So far we’ve got –“

He pointed to my notepad.

“– sex, land, and water,” I recapped.

“Good. So let’s take up the sky. Any thoughts?”

“It can’t be too heavy.”

“Why not?”

“It’s going to be on top of everything else, isn’t it?”

“Good point.”

“It shouldn’t be too thick, either.”

“Why?”

“Getting around could be tough.”

“Agreed. But can we move on to what it should be?”

“Sure. Let's think about its functions.”

“As I noted in yesterday’s meeting, we need a place for water to go up into and come back down from.”

“So all we need is a big empty space?”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. You know I can’t stand empty spaces. As soon as I see one, I have this irresistible urge to fill it up with something. And I'm not about to settle for part-time content like rain."

“Good thinking, boss.”

“Well, that’s kind of the inspiration for our whole agenda, isn’t it? We decided that something is better than nothing.”

“Absolutely. How can nothing possibly compare with something?”

“Can we just move on with the matter at hand? Here’s this enormous space, called the sky. What goes in it, I mean, besides rain traffic?”

“Well, let’s think about the creatures we plan to invent. What could they use the sky for?”

“Excellent question. Here they are, alive. What do they need besides fresh water?”

“We have a concept called fresh air.”

“Air? Can you elaborate?”

“Sure. If they’re alive, they need all kinds of processes to keep them that way.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We’re developing a laundry list. I’ll share it with you in time. Right now, I’m only prepared to discuss how being alive might relate to the sky.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, what happens when any kind of process goes on?”

“You tell me.”

“You need energy to power it.”

“I wish there was a way around that but I can’t think of any.”

“Don’t tell me we need to hook everything up with wires?”

“No, no, we’re way past that. We only need wires to hook them up inside.”

“What are you calling that wiring?”

“The nervous system. We’ll also need tubes to transport fluids. But more about those things later. Right now, let’s stick with energy.”

“OK, I’ll bite. How does the creature get it?”

“Internal combustion.”

“Go on.”

“It takes in things, which we’re putting under the general heading of food, and burns it up.”

“Without catching on fire?”

“Right. It’s a different kind of combustion. Totally flame-free. ”

“Interesting. How does it work?”

“Oh, it takes a lot of chemical processes, which we’re fleshing out in the lab. The relevant thing, in terms of the sky, is what do we need in it to faciitate combustion?”

“I know that. Two of the atomic thingamajigs Oscar invented.”

“O2?”

“Right. So think about this. If we put it in the sky, they can get it from there.”

“How? They reach up?”

“No, no. We have this really innovative idea called breathing.”

“Breathing?”

“Yeah, it’s a way to get the fresh air into each and every creature.”

“Good. How do you manage that?”

“We plan to provide them with various means – basically holes the O2 goes into and dedicated devices to get it to where it’s needed.”

“OK. So the O2 goes in. What happens next?”

“What else? It fuels the combustion.”

“Done. No point overworking the issue. Anything else to consider?”

“Well, there’s an esthetic matter. Should breathing take a major effort or be something that’s really easy?”

“As I see it, we can’t very well tire them out while they’re trying to get something they need to keep from getting tired.”

“Right. Then they might give up on breathing.”

“Yikes. What would happen if they did that?”

“No fuel, no processes.”

“That’s a major downside. We better make O2 very easy to get.”

“I agree. So the O2 goes in easy as can be, and we have combustion. But, as the saying goes, what goes in must come out, right?”

“With certain exceptions."

“So what comes out?”

“We figure a combo of Oscar’s O2’s and Chuck’s atomic invention.”

“How so?”

“Chuck devised a really efficient way for his gizmo to hook up with the O’s.”

“And so?”

“It comes out as Chuck One, plus Oscar Two.”

“That’s one ‘C’ and two ‘O’s’?”

"Right. In a word, CO2.”

“Like it. An epiphany of efficiency.”

“So let me get this straight. The O2 goes in. We have combustion. Then the CO2 comes out.”

“You got it.”

“So far, so good. I endorse cycles, since they can go on and on, which fits with our overall plan, right?”

“Yep.”

“Hold it. I think we skipped a step.”

“What?”

“Where in the heck does the O2 come from?”

“Good point. We need a source.”

“We’re thinking of a team effort.”

“In what sense?”

“Well, since the creatures need the O2, we need something to make it.”

“Any thoughts?”

“Of course. Do you think I’d come to the meeting unprepared?”

“Sorry. Don’t be so touchy, OK?”

“I’ll try, but I expect you to show a little respect.”

“Can we just move on?”

“All right. Now, we figure the neatest setup would be if they take the CO2 the other creatures are producing and, come on, come on, think about it.”

“They turn it back into O2?”

“Right.”

“Brilliant. We have creatures who need O2 and turn it into CO2, and we have these other creatures walking around who take CO2 and turn it back into O2?”

“Right, except we figure that the ones that take in the CO2 and make the O2 won’t be able to walk around.”

“Why not?”

“There might be disagreements. One half of the team could say, ‘Look, we produce all the O2, which you need like breath itself.’ And the other half could come back with, ‘Hey, we could say the same thing about the CO2.’ No need to set up a potential confrontation.”

“So the things that make the O2 just stand there?”

“Yeah. Or maybe wrap around a handy support item. The key thing is they wouldn’t have movable feet. In fact, just to be on safe side, we don’t even think they should talk.”

“They can’t walk or talk?”

“No. Got a problem with that?”

“How happy can they be?”

“Depends on how we structure their needs. If they can satisfy them, no reason they can’t be happy.”

“Fair enough. Are we talking about what’s on land and in the water?”

“Essentially. But when it comes to water the things that produce the O2 could also float around, as long as they don’t have feet or voices. “

“Got a name for this half of the team?”

“As a matter of fact, two names."

"I see you've really got a handle on this."

"Thanks. They’re such an essential part of the plan we thought we’d tie the nomenclature in with the word ‘plan.’”

“The way we did when we came up with ‘planets’?”

“Right. In fact, we took that word as our jumping-off point.”

“How so?”

“Since they’re not going to be everywhere, but only on planets that can support creatures, we thought, Why not just drop the ‘e’ from ‘planets?’”

“So we get ‘plants'?”

“Exactly.”

“Same thing goes for the ones on land and in the water, right? ”

“Oh, for sure, I mean, for the ones that just standing there. But we thought it would only be right to give the things that float around a slightly different name.”

“What did you settle on?”

“’Plankton.’”

“Why that?”

“We figured there’d be a ton of it, floating here and there.”

“I like it. Everybody for calling the part of the team that makes 02 ‘plants’ and ‘plankton,’ please raise your hands.”

“’Plants’ and ‘plankton’ they are.”

“So let's recap. We have the half of the team that that moves around taking in O2 and sending out CO2, right?”

“Right.”

“And the other half taking in the CO2 sending out the O2?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, what a beautiful dynamic.”

“Yeah. Back and forth, and everybody’s alive and happy.”

“I only have one question.”

“What?”

“How can the things that make the O2 have a process if they don’t start with O2?”

“Good question. We’re giving them a slightly different approach. Basically, it’s a setup that lets them borrow combustion.”

“They borrow it?”

“Yeah.”

“Who from?”

“You mean, where from?”

“A mere technicality. Please, explain.”

“They’ll download it from the next thing we need to invent.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t you sense that something is missing?”

“I sense that a lot is still missing. I just don’t know what part of the puzzle you’re referring to.”

“Here’s a hint. We’ve got land here, water there, and the sky up here. The stage is set, except for?”

“Lights?”

“Right. We need stage lights? What else? Come on, come on.”

“I dunno. If I did, I’d be in tech.”

“Heat.”

“Oh, right. We don’t want the team to be cold, at least, not all the time.”

“No way. They’d be miserable.”

“And we don’t want that.”

“So we need light and heat.”

“How do we manage that?”

“We’re thinking of overheads.”

“Overhead lighting?”

“Yeah. Also, heating.”

“All that, hanging up there? I don’t know. This sky is starting to sound kind of busy to me.”

“That’s because you’re not seeing it the way we are.”

“Go on.”

“Helen has a fantastic idea for her atomic brainstorm.”

“What?”

“Instead of just planets, we create these other agglomerations that produce heat and light.”

“One for heat, another for light?”

“No, no. The way we envision it, one does the work of two.”

“Great, if you can pull it off."

"But how? Just with Helen’s ‘H’s.’”

“That's the plan.”

“I say, go for it.”

“Will do.”

“How long do you think these agglomerations can do both things?”

“The way we’re thinking, for plenty long enough.”

“How so?”

“Helen, who, as you know, is a very outdoorsy type, who just loves to go fly fishing.’“

"I don’t understand what that has to do with the longevity of heat and light."

“One day when she was on the stream she had this idea that she calls ‘fishin.’”

“'Fishin?’”

“Yeah. It’s a process that makes heat and light with H’s for an incredibly long time.”

“I’m fine on the process. But the name? Way too confusing.”

“Why?”

“Because ‘fishin’ is done down in the water, and this happens up in the sky.”

“I pointed that out to her. But you know Helen. When she gets an idea, she’s really hard to dissuade.”

“May I suggest a compromise?”

“Always.”

“Give her the sound she wants, but spell it differently.”

“Do you think she’ll go for that?”

“Give it a shot.”

“OK. I’ll let you know.”

“I think we’ve gotten a little ahead of ourselves with all this discussion of heat and light. Let’s get back to the sky. Anything we haven’t covered?”

“There is an important detail. It has to move around.”

“Why?”

“So it can take the water from one place and drop it on another place.”

“Makes sense. But how can the sky carry it around? I don’t see something that light having arms, legs, and buckets, do you?”

“No way.”

“And it can’t swim around with it, can it?”

“No.”

“Then how do you expect it to lug the water around?”

“What do walking and swimming have in common?”

“Go on.”

“It’s all about the pressure principle. You press your foot down and the ground pushes you forward. You push the water to the side, and the water pushes you ahead. Action, reaction.”

“I don’t understand how that applies to the sky?”

“Simple. We’re going to make it so there’s pressure up there that will fluctuate from one place to the next.”

“And?”

“It gets high in one place, and low in another place. So what happens? One kind of pressure is always pushing out or sucking in the other kind of pressure.”

“Hmm, what do you call such movement?”

“We’re adapting the concept of winding up and winding down.”

“So you get?”

“We’re just going with the first syllable.”

“’Wind?’”

“Right. But to avoid confusion with ‘winding,’ we thought we’d say it differently.”

“How?”

“Oh, the change is as light as the invention itself. We just moved in a short ‘i’ for the long one and came up with ‘wind.’”

“’Wind,’ as in the ‘wind flows,’ sort of like how we decided water flows?”

“Almost. We thought we’d give it its own word for movement, but we didn't want to go too far afield, so we went for a handy rhyme.”

“What?”

“’Blows.’”

“The wind blows?”

“Right.”

“And the water flows. I like that.”

“Sounds good."

"Thanks. Of course, sometimes the sky can pretty much just sit there. Picture this: movement and stability, perfectly joined?”

“I can see that.”

“I have a concern.”

“Go ahead.”

"Light as it is, the sky is enormous. So it can’t move too fast. Or it might blow all the land and water away.”

“We figure that most of the time it will blow gently.”

“Good.”

“But what about at other times?”

“Remember our variety principle – and that you can’t appreciate one thing without the other. Gentle wind, hard wind. But don’t worry. We set limits.”

“Like what?”

“It won’t blow all the land or water away at once. That we know for sure. But we’re still calibrating.”

“OK. Work on it. Anymore additions to the sky?”

“I know it’s moving. But I still don't see how it’s going to carry the water around? It’s light, water’s heavy. Frankly, I find the whole issue troubling.”

“We considered that apparent contradiction, but we quickly realized it’s not really a contradiction. All we had to do is make sure the sky has the right luggage.”

“This I can’t wait to hear. Tell me about the luggage in the sky.”

“Remember I said we plan to make the rain out of itty-bitty pieces of H2O, so it can ‘uperate.’ Sorry, I keep forgetting, ‘evaporate.’”

“Yeah?”

“We figure once they're up there the itty-bitty pieces can get together and make their own luggage.”

“Neato! How?”

“We went back to agglomeration.”

“You’re finding that concept very useful?”

“Yes, we are. You have a problem with that?”

“No, just pointing it out.”

“Trust me, we need all the workable principles we can get. Now, to return to the rain. The itty-bitty particles will agglomerate into luggage we’re calling clouds.”

“Clouds?”

“It’s just our word for mounds in the sky.”

“Fine. So the itty-bitty water particles agglomerate, like dust, excuse me, atoms and molecules, agglomerate into what we call land? Only now they’re clouds.”

“Kind of, but, unlike land, the agglomeration proceeds in a much more diaphanous way."

"'Di-' what?"

"Lighter to you. So the clouds can still stay up there.”

“And move from place to place?”

“Right. Only when they agglomerate a certain amount of water, they let go and down it comes.”

“Neat. But not too much at once.”

“Well, no guarantees there. Remember our variety principle.”

“Just set some limits, OK? I don’t want to see the whole thing we’re making get washed away.”

“We’re in the same boat.”

“Good.”

“Esthetically speaking, got a color for clouds?”

“We think white when they’re light; then, as they get more H2O in them, since they’re heavier, they’ll look darker.”

“Seems right. So when they’re darker, the creatures will be able to expect rain?”

“Frequently.”

“Why isn’t anything with you ever just one thing or the other?”

“What? You want simplicity, too? Let’s just get the universe right, OK?”

“He’s right. Anyway we can manage the task. Please, continue.”

“At other times, the dark clouds could just go somewhere else before they dump.”

“Excellent. Got a background color for all this cloud activity?”

“Not yet. It has to wait until we invent the lights.”

“Why?”

“They’re kind of tied together.”

“In what way?”

“Oh, with what gets through and what doesn’t.”

“I think we’re getting into tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Let’s just stay with the sky a moment longer. Anything else to it?”

“Lots.”

“Like?”

“Well, for one, Nancy has a real contribution.”

“What, ‘N?’ I’m not sure about this practice of letting the people in tech name their inventions after themselves.”

“Why? We find it to be a great morale builder. And, given the amount of OT we’re putting in, we sure can use it.”

“I’m in complete agreement. What to talk anymore about the ‘N’?"

“Maybe at a later time. Before we call it a wrap, I do want to mention that we have an alternate name for the sky.”

“What?”

“Sometimes we call it the atmosphere.”

“Why that?”

“Well, the “at” part kind of stands for the atoms we put into it, and the ‘sphere’ stands for how it kind of wraps around the land and water.”

“Could get a little cumbersome.”

“We thought about that. So for short we also decided to call it ‘air.’ It comes from ‘fair.’”

“’Fair?’ Why that?”

“When the sky is calm and clear, we decided to call that condition ‘fair weather.’”

“Oh, I see. ‘Fair,’ ‘air’?”

“Right. We wanted to go witha name that accents the positive.”

“Excellent! I think that about does it. We’re into detail work that’s better off left to you people in the lab.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“So next on the agenda, we need some bright thinking about heat and light. Good work and everybody have a nice evening.”

So now we had the sky pretty much under control. I could see it now, sort of like beautiful wrapping paper for a planet. But bringing heat and light together into one thing. That really gave me something to exercise my noggin about.

By Tom Attea

The Invention of Water

Part Three of The Invention of Everything;
An Eyewitness Account

Now that we had invented land, everybody wondered, what could be missing? The day before, there was some talk about an idea called water. Today, we were scheduled to work on it. As usual, the big boss kicked things off.

“OK, it’s time to dive into water. Any thoughts?”

“I’m concerned.”

“Why?”

“Well, we just invented land. Why cover it up?”

“I have another take on the issue.”

“What?”

“It might be kind of neat to balance things out. Land here, water there.”

“That jives with the way we’re thinking about H2O.”

“H2O? Never heard of it. ”

“Sorry. We’re making water out of two of the atomic gizmos Helen invented and one that Oscar came up with. Basic, but the combination works.”

“OK. Go on.”

“Well, he said ‘Land here, water there.’ We’re thinking land is dry, so maybe water is wet.”

“Sounds right."

"Then I think the question becomes, how much water are we talking about?”

“You mean – “

“– I can go with the concept, just not all over the place.”

“Wisely said. Make a note of that. Water in moderation.”

“Sure, boss.”

“What else?”

“I want to know exactly where it goes – on top of the land, under it, inside of it, or above it?”

“We’re thinking it would mostly go on top. But it could actually go anywhere.”

“Then what’s left for land?”

“I don’t think you’re seeing the whole picture. You see, the water is different.”

“How so?”

“It won’t just sit there like land. It will move around.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. Can you provide some detail?”

“We have a concept called “flow,” as in ‘go with the flow.’”

“Go where?”

“Mostly, downhill.”

“How does that work?”

“We plan to make it relatively heavy. So the flow will go to where the land is low. See how it all ties together?”

“Oh, flow, go, low. Got it! So the land is still everywhere that’s high?”

“Generally speaking, yes.”

“Except?”

“We’re working on a way to get it to places where it can’t just flow.”

“What for?”

“Let’s say the land is just sitting there. It’s dry. Now, remember when I said the atoms and molecules would combine in different ways?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we need a way to move things along, and we thought maybe the water could facilitate that.”

“You mean like social grease?”

“Exactly. The water becomes the social grease. And we wouldn’t want to deprive land that just happens to be high of all the interesting possibilities, right?”

“Seems fair. So how do we get it up there?”

“We have an idea with the working name of ‘uporation.’”

“I think you might want to work on that terminology. It’s a little clunky.”

“Mark it for evaluation.”

“Sure. ‘Eva –‘ What if we just tab it as ‘evaporation’?”

“Done deal.”

“Include that for short we call it ‘rain.’”

“I don’t now how you get from ‘uporation’ to 'rain.' It seems like a bit of a stretch.”

“Not really. First the water ‘uporates.’ Excuse me, ‘evaporates.’ Then it rains back down.”

“Like a cycle.”

“Sure. Land high, water low. Question: how do you get water up? Answer: itty-bitty amounts of H2O float up. Get it? That’s why we made the structure so simple.”

“You guys in tech are really on it.”

“Thanks.”

“So go on.”

“Now what happens is, it can drift here, there, and everywhere, and then, at some point, it falls back down.”

“On the land where it’s high?”

“Right. But actually on any land or even on water that happens to be under it. Down it comes. Whoosh!”

“And everything under it gets a fresh supply of social grease?”

“You got it.”

“Like it. Do you have in mind any other function besides social grease?”

“Oh, sure. But no need to go into that now, except I might mention a nifty detail.”

“What’s that?”

“When the land is out of place, say, on your hands, because you’ve been working with it.”

“Yeah?”

“And it’s time to eat, so you want it off of there.”

“You don’t eat land?”

“Not in its basic form. I’ll cover that in time. Let’s stay with land on your hands.”

“OK. What do you do?”

“You employ the flow to move it off.”

“Hey, neat.”

“What about water? Do you eat it?”

“Yes, but we call that by a different name.”

“Why?”

“You don’t chew it. It flows down into you.”

“I see. What are you calling that process?”

“’Downing,’ as in, 'I think I’ll down a glass of water.'”

“Think about that. The whole idea of ‘down’ strikes me as kind of a bummer, especially for the long-term.”

“Sure.”

“I have an easy fix. Why not combine ‘downing’ with what he just said?”

“In what way?”

“You said ‘downing,’ he said, ‘think,’ so how about ‘dinking?’”

“I’m not sure that’s spot on. But play around with it and get back to us.”

“You got it.”

“Any other thoughts on water?”

“Well, as long as it’s there, shouldn’t there be something in it?”

“I’m glad you asked that. We’ve already got some prototypes.”

“Like what?”

“Depends on how long the water and the land have been mixing things up.”

“They don’t do that from the get-go?”

“How can they? The water can’t arrive until after what you sometimes still derogate as dust agglomerates into planets.”

“That’s understandable. But then where does it come from?”

“Good question. We figure we’ll add it with these traveling objects we’re calling comets.”

“They lug the water around? How do they do that without it flying off? Are there compartments?”

“Not necessary. We plan for the comets to spend most of their time where the temps are quite cold, so the water freezes and locks onto whatever land the comet is made of.”

“Cool. And?”

“Well, as you know, all the items in the really big thing we’re inventing are moving in three directions at once – spinning, circling, or heading out, sometimes maybe in. So, statistically speaking, they’re bound to intersect from time to time.”

“So the comet smacks into the agglomeration?”

“Not only that. The impact generates heat. The ice melts. And voila! We have land and water.”

“Sounds perfectly natural to me.”

“Thanks. I take that as a compliment. But now here’s where everything comes together.”

“In what sense?”

“Now that the social grease is in place, the atoms and the molecules start to get together. The more they socialize, the more they make.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Tell me exactly how they make things besides themselves.”

“No problem. They’re loaded with energy. Remember energy?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, and what is energy?”

“You tell me.”

“What else? The most basic kind of what we decided to call life.”

“It is?”

“Sure. What do you think life is, the absence of energy?”

“OK. I can go with that. So we have all these things – land, water –”

“– atoms, molecules – all loaded with energy. And they’re – “

"– all set to combine into more complex forms of life.”

“Depending on?”

“The conditions they find themselves in. Remember when I told you we programmed them so they could be perfectly responsive to whatever environment they get together in.”

“Right. So? “

“We’ve got the ideal deal – land, water, a mixture – “

“– And the result is?”

“The right mix.”

“Wow, I like that.”

“Brilliant. You guys in tech are just awesome.”

“Thanks. Let’s just hope whatever results from all this appreciates what we put into it.”

“How can they not, I mean, to the extent they can?”

“Well put.”

“Can you provide any specifics about what combos might result?”

“There are just a tremendous number of possibilities.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Can you give us some for instances?”

“A couple of basics, more as our thinking evolves. We figure, given the size of the agglomerations we plan to include, or, as we decided to call them, planets, whatever develops would have plenty of room for feet.”

“On land?”

“Right.”

“What about in the water?”

“Remember it’s heavy. So walking would be tough.”

“Got a way around that?”

“We’re looking into a prototype that gets around without feet.”

“That’s interesting. What are you thinking?"

“Something we’re calling swimming.”

“’Swimming’?”

“Yeah. It’s this really sleek thing that can slip through the water by kind of wiggling from side to side, pushing water this way and that, which in turn pushes it forward.”

“Seems like an appropriate accommodation.”

“So nothing in the water walks?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Don’t forget. Way at the bottom of the water there’s land. Some things could walk on that, especially if they’re smaller, so they wouldn’t have to move much water out of the way as they go along.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you’re intimating that we could have creatures all over the place? Land, water, wherever. ”

“Well, everywhere that can support something. That’s the way the atoms and molecules are set up. They have this great urge to combine. Give them a chance and, blam, they snap together and make something that fits into whatever the livable niche is.”

“Can I just ask a detail? You know I’m a visual type.”

“Sure.”

“What color is the water?”

“We haven’t addressed that yet.”

“Any thoughts?”

“So far it’s just clear.”

“You can see right through it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Anybody have any suggestions?”

“I have a no-brainer.”

“What’s that?”

“When it moves a lot of land around, it could take on the color of whatever land it’s moving around.”

“Good match of form and function. Any other ideas before we wrap things up?”

“Let me just say, even though it’s actually clear, it could reflect things.”

“You mean, whatever happens to be above it?”

“I thought the only thing higher than land and water is rain?”

“Well, evaporation does need a place to go up into and then rain down from.”

“Oh, right. Any thoughts?”

“Some preliminary stuff. We call it, for short, the sky.”

“Seems like a fundamental part of the mix. May I suggest we make that the subject of our next meeting?”

“Then we’re done with water?”

“At least, for the nonce.”

“Good work. Mark the agenda. Tomorrow, we delve into the sky.”

“Already done, boss.”

So now we had a pretty good grip on land and water. An amazing duo, if you ask me. Now, I was looking forward to inventing sky. After all that went into land and water, it seemed like a pretty transparent task. But you never know. Sometimes projects that seem easy as sky turn out to be anything but.

By Tom Attea

The Invention of Land

Part Two of The Invention of Everything;
An Eyewitness Account

Now, it came time to invent land. First, we had to tackle a big question: Why should there be anything, instead of nothing? Here are my notes on the meeting:

"OK, today is the day we invent – what did we decide to call the dry stuff?"

"Land, boss."

"Thanks."

"May I say something?"

"Sure."

"Before we go and invent land, let’s ask the big question. Why should there be anything, instead of nothing?"

"Why? You like nothing better? Sounds kind of empty to me."

"Boring!"

"Well, we’re here. That’s already something."

"True, and, as long as we are, don’t we want to do something constructive?"

"Sounds right to me."

"OK, then, that’s it. All in favor of inventing land, raise your hands."

Everybody raised their hands.

"Good. So let’s go on. How do we get the job done?"

"How else? The usual way. Little by little. Then, over time, we have something really big."

"OK. So what do we call the stuff we start with?"

"How about dust?"

"Dust? You want to call the atoms and molecules I’ve been working on for over a week dust?"

"Sorry. It looks like dust."

"That’s what you know. I put all the intelligence required in those tiny wonders for my so-called dust to combine into all kinds of higher creatures and plants."

"You did?"

"Yeah. And don’t think it was easy."

"How do they do that?"

"Easy. They respond to whatever kind of environment they find themselves in and get to work."

"OK, I like that."

"Sure, sure, but right now the dust is just sitting idly by. How do we get it going, so it can amount to something?"

"You’re right. Say, what if we pack it into a really tight ball – I mean, like, incredibly tight – and suddenly, wham-bam, it releases all the energy we squeezed it together with and it flies apart."

"Energy? You never mentioned that before? Is it something new?"

"Oh, sorry about that. You’re right. I forgot to tell you energy is the other half of the tiny wonders I cobbled together in the lab. It makes all the itty-bitty parts do their things – swirl, attract, repel, and combine in all kinds of ways. You name it."

"Oh. Good thing you thought to make it."

"Thanks. Now, I don’t mind the name 'energy.' But can we please think up another name for 'dust'? I can’t stand knocking my marvelously capable inventions like that anymore."

"OK, OK, anybody got any suggestions?"

"I have it. The dust is the foundation of everything, right?"

"Right. So it really matters?"

"Un-huh."

"Then, hey, why don’t we call it matter?"

"Matters? Matter. I like that. Neat tie-in."

"Then it’s settled. Everything is made up of energy and matter."

"Why don’t we say them in the order they’d logically occur: first we have matter and then we have energy?"

"I could go for that but, to tell you the truth, I made them so they’re interchangeable."

"You did?"

"Yeah. But I’ll grant you this. They sound better if you put the 'matter' first, as in 'matter and energy.' Turn that on your tongue, and I think you’ll agree."

"Sounds better to me. So let’s go with that. Everything in the universe we plan on building is made up of matter and energy."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"What about where all the stuff goes? We need a place for it."

"When you’re right, you’re right. So we also have a place."

"Sounds way too indefinite. How about we alter the word 'place' a wee bit?"

"As in?"

"Well, what if we take out the “l,” which is just standing there all by itself, bend it into an “s” shape, and put it first. Then we’d have 'space.'"

"Nice word. Sounds right."

"I agree. So then 'space' it is! Anything else?"

"Is the big thing we’re going to invent going to be there a while or is all this effort for next to nothing?"

"Let’s hope for a long while."

"We have to provide for that, don't we?"

"For what?"

"The duration."

Good point. But 'duration'? Do we like that?"

"Sounds kind of wimpy to me."

"Yeah, the syllables just seem to tumble all over each other."

"Let's just do what we did with 'dust' and think up a neater name."

"Excellent."

"Hey, why not pick a word that goes with how big a job we have ahead of us?"

"Like what?"

"Time."

"Has a nice ring to it."

"Yeah. Sounds long, too. Anybody for changing the name 'duration' to 'time'?"

Once again, everybody raised their hands.

"OK, so now, let’s review things. We have four things: matter and energy, space and time. Are we all right on that?"

"What do you think? You did the grunt work on most most of the stuff."

"I think it will do for now. I mean, we’d be getting ahead of ourselves, but the guys down in the lab are working on the ways these things interact."

"Interact? Oh, yeah, I can see that. Can you be a little more specific?"

"No problem. We’re toying with concepts like motion, gravity, magnetism."

"Sounds fascinating. But let’s stay with the topic at hand."

"You’re right, boss. Land is tough enough to invent."

"OK, now, we’ve got all this matter. We pack it into a tight ball. When it’s packed tight enough, the pressure releases and sends the matter flying every which way. How’s that?"

"So far, so good. We should have a name for such a big event. Any ideas?"

"First, let me ask, should it have a sound effect?"

"Why?"

"What, a big thing like that should happen and there’s no sound?"

"You’re right. Even when we play pool and one little ball bangs off another one, there’s a smack. A sound effect is only fitting."

"Who's going to be there to hear it?"

"Always metaphysical. Can we just stay with the practical stuff for now?"

"Sure. Just thought I'd bring it up."

"Anybody got a name suggestion?"

"Well, since the whole thing is so sudden it could all kind of go bang."

"Sounds reasonable. So we call it a 'bang.'"

"You mean, 'The Bang.'"

"Right."

"That’s it? Something this big?"

"OK, OK, how about 'The Big Bang'?"

"Very workable. But I don’t know if it captures the romance of it all."

"Only a scientist could think of such a clunky name for such a grand event."

"You’re the literary person. Give us a little help here."

"Sure, sure. Well, it’s really kind of like a birth, right?"

"Yeah. A birth. Go on."

"So that’s what we call it. 'The Birth.'"

"Much better than 'The Bang' if you ask me. But can’t we give it some appropriate magnitude, like the way we put 'big' into 'The Bang'?"

"How about this? We call it 'The Birth of the Universe.'"

"Wow, that knocks me out."

"OK, it’s settled. 'The Birth of the Universe' it is. I’m making an executive decision on that. Now, here we have this matter, flying out in all directions. What happens next?"

"What else has to happen?"

"Are we going to invent creatures or aren’t we?"

"Yes, we agreed on that."

"So where are they supposed to walk. On the dust?"

"You’ve got a point there."

"Don’t tell me."

"What?"

"No sooner do we send the dust flying – sorry, I mean the matter – than we have to get it to come back together again."

"No, no, we’re past just a redo. We need to work it out so that now the matter agglomerates in a whole lot of disparate places."

"Aggloma – what?"

" – erates, as in clumps up."

"Oh, fancy word for the same thing if you ask me. But go ahead."

"OK, so it agglomerates into really big things that creatures can actually walk on."

"That big, hunh?"

"Only other choice is to make their feet really tiny."

"Right again. You’ve got an incredible understanding of this."

"Thanks. I’ve thought about it a lot."

"So now it sits there, and we have what part of the plan in place."

"Space."

"What?"

"In space. Remember, we renamed 'place'?"

"Oh, right."

"Well, it's a very basic part of things. After all, no agglomerations, no places for much of anything else."

"Solid thinking. So these agglomerations are really 'it?'"

"Well, fundamentally speaking. Hey, I have it. Why don’t we put the word 'plan' together with the word 'it'? So we call each one of the agglomerations a 'planit.'"

"Way too transparent. We can be more subtle than that, can’t we?"

"OK, OK, let me think. What’s the most artful way to get the job done?"

"What else? We change only one letter in the name."

"Same old, same old."

"But it works. So let’s stay with that. Now, we don’t want to mess with the word 'plan,' do we?"

"Too essential to the entire process. After all, what can you do without a plan except make a mishmash?"

"So then we’re down to 'it.'"

“'It' it is. And I like the way it ends, with that very definite 't' sound at the end."

"Me, too. So that leaves only the 'i' to work with. What do we know about it?"

"You mean, about the 'i' in 'it'?"

"What else?"

"We decided way back when to call the thing a vowel, right?"

Right."

"So let’s just work with the available variations."

"Why don