Gamma Cephei
In the constellation of Cepheus, in a rather empty part of the sky near the North Pole, there is a binary star system called Gamma Cephei.
Where, three billion years or so ago two young suns were tricked by gravity into a slow dance, to constantly fall towards each other but never get any closer.
They continue, trapped in their endless waltz, to this day.
You can see them, if you try, with your naked eye, in the night sky, so far away and distorted by atmospheric twinkling, they appear as one.
They are 21 million miles apart.
In between them a giant planet orbits:
Twice the size of Jupiter, its vivid rings of ice and rock slowly spin around torrid atmospheric storms of hydrogen, helium and methane below, casting multicolored shadows over her circling moons.
The biggest of these, slightly smaller than the Earth, orbital path through the giant planet’s gravity well causes huge tectonic creaks and groans as it is stretched and squeezed this way and that by gravitational tides.
Volcanoes and sulfuric vents spring up overnight, erupting through the ground, gushing up plumes of hot gas into clouds in a wet and humid air.
By these vents small sulphur eating bacteria live, deriving sustenance from the seismic energy cooked up underground. Over millions of years some evolved into small worms and others to weird plants that adapted to their volatile environment with leafs that fill up with air like balloons and so are blown away to safer climes by preemptive gaseous bursts of near by tectonic activity.
Some of these rudimentary plants became, traveling along the strange path between death and life, large trees, interlinked into groups, grasping each other for safety.
It is quite the sight to see a whole forest up root, majestically take off and gently float away across the celestial rings set on the jets of fire circling the horizon.
On these trees a species of worm evolved: eight legs, for gripping branches and under-hung munching of the gaseous leaves and over millions of years; big cheek pouches that filled up with the light tree leaf gas and could, if they felt the need, be used to float down to any passing forests below, cheeks puffed out, an alarmed look on their faces and their wiggly bodies dangling underneath.
The dimmest of these worms dropped to fiery ends down the volcano vents but the wiliest judgers of wind and relative velocity made the precarious drops to other flying forests and spread their knowledge and physical faculties. Over the generations the worms became a canny, wild eyed, puffy cheeked bunch.
Some started rearing up on six legs and the front two limbs developed into arms with 3 fingers and a thumb on each.
They found commutation useful and developed language that wasn’t based on types of sounds but on tones which carried better from floating forest to floating forest.
There wasn’t day and night as we understand them but eight different periods depending on which combination of the three bright heavenly bodies was in the sky. Each period was represented by the C major scale. Complete light and starry night the same note - just shifted an octave.
Eight fingers and thumbs led to a base eight numbering system each digit represented by D# minor.
More complicated words and sentences were made up of note combinations and chords.
The language was complicated further by the phase of the giant planet above changing the mode used.
When a lot of them chatted together it sounded not completely dissimilar to the most exquisite music.
Last Tuesday one of these worms misjudged his drop and landed on the ground.
As he scrambled up a cragged valley to find a way back to his life in the sky the two suns were eclipsed by the planet above, setting on its giant thin crescent, thirty times the size of Earth’s moon.
Darkness fell and the distant stars started to prick the velvet sky, he looked up and wondered if there was anything out there.
Where, three billion years or so ago two young suns were tricked by gravity into a slow dance, to constantly fall towards each other but never get any closer.
They continue, trapped in their endless waltz, to this day.
You can see them, if you try, with your naked eye, in the night sky, so far away and distorted by atmospheric twinkling, they appear as one.
They are 21 million miles apart.
In between them a giant planet orbits:
Twice the size of Jupiter, its vivid rings of ice and rock slowly spin around torrid atmospheric storms of hydrogen, helium and methane below, casting multicolored shadows over her circling moons.
The biggest of these, slightly smaller than the Earth, orbital path through the giant planet’s gravity well causes huge tectonic creaks and groans as it is stretched and squeezed this way and that by gravitational tides.
Volcanoes and sulfuric vents spring up overnight, erupting through the ground, gushing up plumes of hot gas into clouds in a wet and humid air.
By these vents small sulphur eating bacteria live, deriving sustenance from the seismic energy cooked up underground. Over millions of years some evolved into small worms and others to weird plants that adapted to their volatile environment with leafs that fill up with air like balloons and so are blown away to safer climes by preemptive gaseous bursts of near by tectonic activity.
Some of these rudimentary plants became, traveling along the strange path between death and life, large trees, interlinked into groups, grasping each other for safety.
It is quite the sight to see a whole forest up root, majestically take off and gently float away across the celestial rings set on the jets of fire circling the horizon.
On these trees a species of worm evolved: eight legs, for gripping branches and under-hung munching of the gaseous leaves and over millions of years; big cheek pouches that filled up with the light tree leaf gas and could, if they felt the need, be used to float down to any passing forests below, cheeks puffed out, an alarmed look on their faces and their wiggly bodies dangling underneath.
The dimmest of these worms dropped to fiery ends down the volcano vents but the wiliest judgers of wind and relative velocity made the precarious drops to other flying forests and spread their knowledge and physical faculties. Over the generations the worms became a canny, wild eyed, puffy cheeked bunch.
Some started rearing up on six legs and the front two limbs developed into arms with 3 fingers and a thumb on each.
They found commutation useful and developed language that wasn’t based on types of sounds but on tones which carried better from floating forest to floating forest.
There wasn’t day and night as we understand them but eight different periods depending on which combination of the three bright heavenly bodies was in the sky. Each period was represented by the C major scale. Complete light and starry night the same note - just shifted an octave.
Eight fingers and thumbs led to a base eight numbering system each digit represented by D# minor.
More complicated words and sentences were made up of note combinations and chords.
The language was complicated further by the phase of the giant planet above changing the mode used.
When a lot of them chatted together it sounded not completely dissimilar to the most exquisite music.
Last Tuesday one of these worms misjudged his drop and landed on the ground.
As he scrambled up a cragged valley to find a way back to his life in the sky the two suns were eclipsed by the planet above, setting on its giant thin crescent, thirty times the size of Earth’s moon.
Darkness fell and the distant stars started to prick the velvet sky, he looked up and wondered if there was anything out there.
posted by h at
1:14 am
4 Comments:
Marvellous
By
bloggin the Question, at 12:28 pm
Sounds very much like Holloway.
By
Wyndham, at 10:34 am
Thanks Helga - much appreciated to be appreciated.
Wyndham: it many ways it is - trying to get a bus there is a nightmare.
By
h, at 10:21 pm
I keep coming back for more, but I guess its kind of complete. And there is not even room for any comment. Wym=ndham's comment for example seems a bit of a non sequeter. Try as I might, I find no illuminating comparisons between Gamma Cephei and Holloway. They both have sentientworms False
They both are served by numerous bus routes ..................False
If you hear a group of locals talking it is like exquisite music.........................False
The locale is dominated by two stars dancing around each other but never touching............MAYBE!
Are there two celebrities who live in Holloway and go out dancing together but never get it on?
Hmm, put that on the back burner
They are both famous prisons....False
Perhaps I should leave this to a computer programme. There must be an illuminating comparison somewhere.
By
bloggin the Question, at 11:59 am
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