Fred Hoyle - The Black Cloud

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The Black Cloud (v1.1)

Fred Hoyle, 1959

PREFACE

I hope that my scientific colleagues will enjoy this frolic. After all, there is very

little here that could not conceivably happen.

Since institutional posts that actually exist are mentioned in the story, I have

been at particular pains to ensure that the associated characters have no

reference to actual holders of these posts.

It is commonplace to identify opinions forcibly expressed by a character with

the author's own. At the risk of triviality, I would add that this association may be

unwarranted.

F. H.

PROLOGUE

The episode of the Black Cloud has always had a great fascination for me. The

thesis that won me my Fellowship at Queens' College, Cambridge, was concerned

with some aspects of this epic event. This work was later published, after suitable

modifications, as a chapter in Sir Henry Clayton's History of the Black Cloud,

much to my gratification.

It was not altogether surprising therefore that Sir John McNeil, our late Senior

Fellow and well-known physician, should have willed to me on his death a

voluminous collection of papers dealing with his own personal experiences of the

Cloud. More surprising, however, was the letter that accompanied the papers. It

read:

Queens' College, 19 August, 2020

My dear Blythe,

I trust you will forgive an old man for chuckling occasionally to himself over

some of your speculations concerning the Black Cloud. As it happened, I was so

placed during the crisis that I learned of the real nature of the Cloud. This

information for various cogent reasons has never been made public and seems

unknown to the writers of official histories (sic!). It has caused me much anxiety

of mind to decide whether my knowledge should pass away with me or not. In

the event I have decided to hand on my difficulties and uncertainties to you.

These will I believe become clearer to you when you have read my MS., which,

incidentally, I have written in the third person so that I myself do not obtrude too

much on the story!

In addition to the MS., I am leaving you an envelope containing a roll of

punched paper tape. I beg you to guard this tape with the greatest care until you

come to understand its significance.

Sincerely,JOHN McNEIL

Chapter One

OPENING SCENES

It was eight o'clock along the Greenwich meridian. In England the wintry sun

of 7th January, 1964, was just rising. Throughout the length and breadth of the

land people were shivering in ill-heated houses as they read the morning papers,

ate their breakfasts, and grumbled about the weather, which, truth to tell, had

been appalling of late.

The Greenwich meridian southward passes through western France, over the

snow- covered Pyrenees and through the eastern corner of Spain. The line then

sweeps to the west of the Balearic Islands, where wise people from the north

were spending winter holidays - on a beach in Minorca a laughing party might

have been seen returning from an early morning bathe. And so to North Africa

and the Sahara.

The primary meridian then swings towards the equator through French Sudan,

Ashanti, and the Gold Coast, where new aluminum plants were going up along

the Volta River. Thence into a vast stretch of ocean, unbroken until Antarctica is

reached. Expeditions from a dozen nations were rubbing elbows with each other

there.

All the land to the east of this line, as far as New Zealand, was turned towards

the Sun. In Australia, evening was approaching. Long shadows were cast across

the cricket ground at Sydney. The last overs of the day were being bowled in a

match between New South Wales and Queensland. In Java, fishermen were

busying themselves in preparation for the coming night's work.

Over much of the huge expanse of the Pacific, over America, and over the

Atlantic it was night. It was three a.m. in New York. The city was blazing with

light, and there was still a good deal of traffic in spite of recent snow and a cold

wind from the north-west. And nowhere on the Earth at that moment was there

more activity than in Los Angeles. The evening was still young there, twelve

o'clock: the boulevards were crowded, cars raced along the freeways, restaurants

were still pretty full.

A hundred and twenty miles to the south the astronomers on Mount Palomar

had already begun their night's work. But although the night was clear and stars

were sparkling from horizon to zenith, conditions from the point of view of the

professional astronomer were poor, the 'seeing' was bad - there was too much

wind at high levels. So nobody was sorry to down tools for the midnight snack.

Earlier in the evening, when the outlook for the night already looked pretty

dubious, they had agreed to meet in the dome of the 48-inch Schmidt.

Paul Rogers walked the four hundred yards or so from the 200-inch telescope

to the Schmidt, only to find Bert Emerson was already at work on a bowl of soup.

Andy and Jim, the night assistants, were busy at the cooking stove.

"Sorry I got started," said Emerson, "but it looks as though tonight's going to

be a complete write-off."

Emerson was working on a special survey of the sky, and only good observing

conditions were suitable for his work.

"Bert, you're a lucky fellow. It looks as though you're going to get another

early night."

"I'll keep on for another hour or so. Then if there's no improvement I'll turn

in."

"Soup, bread and jam, sardines, and coltee," said Andy. "What'll you have?"

"A bowl of soup and cup of coffee, thanks," said Rogers.

"What're you going to do on the 200-inch? Use the jiggle camera?"

"Yes, I can get along tonight pretty well. There's several transfers that I want

to get done."

They were interrupted by Knut Jensen, who had walked the somewhat greater

distance from the 18-inch Schmidt.

He was greeted by Emerson.

"Hello, Knut, there's soup, bread and jam, sardines, and Andy's coffee."

"I think I'll start with soup and sardines, please."

The young Norwegian, who was a bit of a leg-puller, took a bowl of cream of

tomato, and proceeded to empty half a dozen sardines into it. The others looked

on in astonishment.

"Judas, the boy must be hungry," said Jim.

Knut looked up, apparently in some surprise.

"You don't eat sardines like this? Ah, then you don't know the real way to eat

sardines. Try it, you'll like it."

Then having created something of an effect, he added:

"I thought I smelled a skunk around just before I came in."

"Should go well with that concoction you're eating, Knut," said Rogers.

When the laugh had died away, Jim asked:

"Did you hear about the skunk we had a fortnight ago? He degassed himself

near the 200-inch air intake. Before anybody could stop the pump the place was

full of the stuff. It sure was some hundred per cent stink. There must have been

the best part of two hundred visitors inside the dome at the time."

"Lucky we don't charge for admission," chuckled Emerson, "otherwise the

Observatory'd be sunk in for compensation."

"But unlucky for the clothes cleaners," added Rogers.

On the way back to the 18-inch Schmidt, Jensen stood listening to the wind in

the trees on the north side of the mountain. Similarities to his native hills set off

an irrepressible wave of homesickness, longing to be with his family again,

longing to be with Greta. At twenty-four, he was in the United States on a two-

year studentship. He walked on, trying to kick himself out of what he felt to be a

ridiculous mood. Rationally he had no cause whatsoever to be dispirited.

Everyone treated him with great kindness, and he had a job ideally suited to a

beginner.

Astronomy is kind in its treatment of the beginner. There are many jobs to be

done, jobs that can lead to important results but which do not require great

experience. Jensen's was one of these. He was searching for supernovae, stars

that explode with uncanny violence. Within the next year he might reasonably

hope to find one or two. Since there was no telling when an outburst might occur,

nor where in the sky the exploding star might be situated, the only thing to do

was to keep on photographing the whole sky, night after night, month after

month. Some day he would strike lucky. It was true that should he find a

supernova located not too far away in the depths of space, then more

experienced hands than his would take over the work. Instead of the 18-inch

Schmidt, the full power of the great 200-inch would then be directed to revealing

the spectacular secrets of these strange stars. But at all events he would have

the honour of first discovery. And the experience he was gaining in the world's

greatest observatory would stand well in his favour when he returned home -

there were good hopes of a job. Then he and Greta could get married. So what

on earth was he worried about? He cursed himself for a fool to be unnerved by a

wind on the mountainside.

By this time he had reached the hut where the little Schmidt was housed.

Letting himself in, he first consulted his notebook to find the next section of the

sky due to be photographed.

Then he set the appropriate direction, south of the constellation of Orion: mid-

winter was the only time of the year when this particular region could be reached.

The next step was to start the exposure. All that remained was to wait until the

alarm clock should signal its end. There was nothing to do except sit waiting in

the dark, to let his mind wander where it listed.

Jensen worked through to dawn, following one exposure by another. Even so

his work was not at an end. He had still to develop the plates that had

accumulated during the night. This needed careful attention. A slip at this stage

would lose much hard work, and was not to be thought of.

Normally he would have been spared this last exacting task. Normally he

would have retired to the dormitory, slept for five or six hours, breakfasted at

noon, and only then would he have tackled the developing job. But this was the

end of his 'run'. The moon was now rising in the evening, and this meant the end

of observing for a fortnight, since the supernova search could not be carried on

during the half of the month when the moon was in the night sky - it was simply

that the moon gave so much light that the sensitive plates he was using would

have been hopelessly fogged.

So on this particular day he would be returning to the Observatory offices in

Pasadena, a hundred and twenty-five miles away. The transport to Pasadena left

at half-past eleven, and the developing must be done before then. Jensen

decided that it would be best done immediately. Then he would have four hours

sleep, a quick breakfast, and be ready for the trip back to town.

It worked out as he had planned, but it was a very tired young man who

travelled north that day in the Observatory transport. There were three of them:

the driver, Rogers, and Jensen. Emerson's run had still another two nights to go.

Jensen's friends in wind-blown, snow-wrapped Norway would have been

surprised to learn that he slept as the car sped through the miles of orange

groves that flanked the road.

Jensen slept late the following morning and it wasn't until eleven that he

reached the Observatory offices. He had about a week's work in front of him,

examining the plates taken during the last fortnight. What he had to do was to

compare his latest observations with other plates that he had taken in the

previous month. And this he had to do separately for each bit of the sky.

So on this late January morning of 8th January, 1964, Jensen was down in the

basement of the Observatory buildings setting up an instrument known as the

'blinker'. As its name implies, the 'blinker' was a device that enabled him to look

first at one plate, then at the other, then back to the first one again, and so on in

fairly rapid succession. When this was done, any star that had changed

appreciably during the time interval between the taking of the two plates stood

out as an oscillating or 'blinking' point of light, while on the other hand the vast

majority of stars that had not changed remained quite steady. In this way it was

possible to pick out with comparative ease the one star in ten thousand or so that

had changed. Enormous labour was therefore saved because every single star did

not have to be examined separately.

Great care was needed in preparing plates for use in the 'blinker'. They must

not only be taken with the same instrument, but so far as possible must be shot

under identical conditions. They must have the same exposure times and their

development must be as similar as the observing astronomer can contrive. This

explains why Jensen had been so careful about his exposures and development.

His difficulty now was that exploding stars are not the only sort to show

changes. Although the great majority of stars do not change, there are a number

of brands of oscillating stars, all of which 'blink' in the manner just described.

Such ordinary oscillators had to be checked separately and eliminated from the

search. Jensen had estimated that he would probably have to check and

eliminate the best part of ten thousand ordinary oscillators before he found one

supernova. Mostly he would reject a 'blinker' after a short examination, but

sometimes there were doubtful cases. Then he would have to resort to a star

catalogue, and this meant measuring up the exact position of the star in

question. So all in all there was quite a bit of work to do before he got through

his pile of plates - work that was not a little tedious.

By 14th January he had nearly finished the whole pile. In the evening he

decided to go back to the Observatory. The afternoon he had spent at the

California Institute of Technology, where there had been an interesting seminar

on the subject of the spiral arms of the galaxies. There had been quite a

discussion after the seminar. Indeed he and his friends had argued throughout

dinner about it and during the drive back to the Observatory. He reckoned he

would just about get through the last batch of plates, the ones he had taken on

the night of 7th January.

He finished the first of the batch. It turned out a finicking job. Once again,

every one of the 'possibilities' resolved into an ordinary, known oscillator. He

would be glad when the job was done. Better to be on the mountain at the end of

a telescope than straining his eyes with this damned instrument, he thought, as

he bent down to the eye-piece. He pressed the switch and the second pair

flashed up in the field of view. An instant later Jensen was fumbling at the plates,

pulling them out of their holders. He took them over to the light, examined them

for a long time, then replaced them in the blinker, and switched on again. In a

rich star field was a large, almost exactly circular, dark patch. But it was the ring

of stars surrounding the patch that he found so astonishing. There they were,

oscillating, blinking, all of them. Why? He could think of no satisfactory answer to

the question, for he had never seen or heard of anything like this before.

Jensen found himself unable to continue with the job. He was too excited

about this singular discovery. He felt he simply must talk to someone about it.

The obvious man of course was Dr. Marlowe, one of the senior staff members.

Most astronomers specialise on one or other of the many facets of their subject.

Marlowe had his specialties too, but he was above all a man of immense general

knowledge. Perhaps because of this he made fewer mistakes than most people.

He was ready to talk astronomy at all hours of the day and night, and he would

talk with intense enthusiasm to anyone, whether a distinguished scientist like

himself or a young man at the threshold of his career. It was natural therefore

that Jensen should wish to tell Marlowe about his curious find.

He carefully put the two plates in question in a box, switched off the electrical

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摘要：

TheBlackCloud(v1.1)FredHoyle,1959PREFACEIhopethatmyscientificcolleagueswillenjoythisfrolic.Afterall,thereisverylittleherethatcouldnotconceivablyhappen.Sinceinstitutionalpoststhatactuallyexistarementionedinthestory,Ihavebeenatparticularpainstoensurethattheassociatedcharactershavenoreferencetoactualho...

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Fred Hoyle - The Black Cloud

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