Bing and Bucky and the Galaxy Orb

Bing and Bucky and the Galaxy Orb

Pete Cleary

Galaxy Journeys LLC

Copyright © 2024 by Pete Cleary

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Pete Cleary – pcleary@bingandbucky.com.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

1st edition 2024

To Aydan: You are the best reader I've ever known. I hope someday you can read this book to your children.

Growing up, the car ride to school was a daily occurrence that spanned up to two hours. Our family of five kids—comprising two girls and three boys—at that time were untouched by the distractions of cell phones, leaving vast stretches of time unfilled on our commutes. It was during these moments that my father’s vivid imagination came to life, transforming mundane car rides into epic tales of adventure and intrigue.

My father, a master storyteller, introduced us to Bing and Bucky, characters who became as familiar to us as members of our own family. He spun tales of Bing and Bucky battling the ethereal Light People and their perilous encounters with the formidable Razor Man. These stories, rich with creativity and suspense, captivated us completely, making the miles pass quickly. I was particularly mesmerized by my father’s ability to weave these narratives effortlessly, his imagination painting scenes more vivid than any landscape we passed by. My siblings and I hung on his every word, the stories making our journeys together not just bearable, but eagerly anticipated.

More than three decades have passed since my father’s departure from this world, yet his stories—especially those of Bing and Bucky—remain a cherished memory within our family. During holiday gatherings, reminiscences of those car rides and the fantastical worlds our father conjured would often surface, rekindling the warmth and wonder of those times.

It was a promise made in those moments of reflection—a vow to someday bring Bing and Bucky’s adventures to life on the page, not only as a tribute to my father’s extraordinary imagination but as a testament to the bond it fostered among us siblings.

This book, therefore, is dedicated to my dad, whose stories enchanted our childhood journeys and sparked our own imaginations. It serves as a homage to his creativity and a memento for my brothers and sisters, reminding us of the indelible mark those shared moments have left on our hearts. Through these pages, I hope to extend the legacy of Bing and Bucky, immortalizing the spirit of adventure and familial love that my father so brilliantly instilled in us.

Prologue

Out of all the stars and galaxies, we’re bound by our simple minds to discover the endless possibilities that lie ahead. Is it truly fair to leave such a burden upon ourselves? One wonders as the universe continues to live on, still untouched, still unknown, and still uncertain. Perhaps it is this very possibility of being simple-minded humans that pushes us to uniqueness, to greatness. Maybe our simple minds were made to explore these wonders, these mysteries. And maybe one day we will.

But that day is far away because the possibilities are endless, and the universe too.

***

When you seek love with all your heart, you shall find its echo in the universe. – Rumi

***

I don’t think it’s very useful to speculate on what God might or might not be able to do, rather we should examine what he actually does with the universe we live in. All our observations suggest that it operates according to well- defined laws. These laws may have been ordained by God, but it seems he does not intervene in the universe to break the laws, at least once he set the universe going. – Stephen Hawking.

***

After weeks at sea, the female Emperor penguin returned to the sprawling colony that painted the stark white ice with splotches of jet-black feathers. Her belly was full, her spirit alight with the rush of the hunt, but now her focus shifted—a primal, urgent need to reunite with her mate and their chick.

The ice echoed with the chorus of thousands of penguins, each uttering their own signature vibration. To any other creature, the sounds were indistinguishable from one another, a mere cacophony of nature. But to this mother, and to her kind, each vibration was as distinct as color, as individual as the very essence of the soul itself. Penguins vibrated their unique frequencies through the dense air, creating a tapestry of longing, duty, and recognition. It was through these vibrations that they found their families among the multitudes, the sound a direct resonance of their innermost selves—the very sound of their souls.

She positioned herself firmly on the ice, feeling the solid cold beneath her feet. She gathered a deep breath into her chest and released it, her throat and upper chest vibrating meticulously to emit her soul’s signature. This vibration was not just a sound but a beacon crafted by nature, modulated by tiny muscles and air sacs to carry her unique essence. It traveled across the ice, an invisible thread seeking its other end.

Far from the sea’s edge, nestled in a hollow carved into the snow, her mate stood guard over their fluffy, wide-eyed chick. His head was tilted, ever attentive to the symphony of sounds. Amidst the homogeneous calls, a thread of vibration struck him—a familiar, heart-stirring sequence that surged through his body. It was his mate’s vibration, her soul calling to his, a melody woven into the fabric of his being. He responded instinctively, his own body mirroring the action, sending out a complementary vibration, rich and deep, a testament of his presence and their enduring bond.

Guided by this intimate exchange of vibrations, she navigated through the maze of black and white bodies, each step bringing her closer to the source of the reply. The vibrational path was clear and strong, drawing her with an almost magnetic pull. As she approached, his form became distinct, and their chick, sensing the nearing vibration of its mother, chirped excitedly.

The moment she arrived, the three of them huddled closely, their bodies touching, sharing warmth. The vibrations ceased, their purpose fulfilled. They stood together in the silent assurance of reunion, their connection a private language understood only by them, amidst the chaotic orchestra of the colony. The sound of their souls had guided them back to each other, a miracle of nature played out on the endless ice.

Chapter one

Something Big Is Happening Out There

Miranda, bathed in the soft glow of bedside lamps, sat amidst a sea of papers and folders strewn across her bed. The dim light cast shadows around her room, highlighting the intensity in her eyes as she pored over the documents. The coming day’s presentation loomed over her—a presentation that could redefine their understanding of the universe.

Dr. Miranda Richards, director of the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory (LIGO) in Hanford, Washington, was a prodigy in the realm of astrophysics. At thirty-eight, her achievements were nothing short of remarkable, with an academic lineage tracing back to MIT and Stanford University. Yet, it wasn’t her credentials that set her apart tonight; it was the fervor with which she tackled the challenge before her.

Miranda, with her shoulder-length blonde hair and striking blue eyes, had a presence that was both commanding and charismatic. Her peers often joked about her multifaceted talents, suggesting she could excel in anything she set her mind to—be it leading groundbreaking research or inspiring the next generation of scientists with her dedication and passion.

Her journey started as a spirited, lone girl in a family with four brothers. Growing up in Colorado, hiking and skiing in the nearby mountains instilled in her a resilience that now defined her professional life. Her endless summer days traveling back to the northeast were spent exploring the campuses of MIT and the shores of Cape Cod, which nurtured a dream of adventure that had become her reality. Yet, as she sat there, her mind occasionally drifted to her nephews and nieces, whose pictures smiled back at her from the bedside table, a silent reminder of the world outside her scientific endeavors.

LIGO had two observatories, one in Hanford in southeastern Washington State, where Miranda lived, and the other in Livingston, tucked away in a pine forest east of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. It had the world’s largest gravitational wave observatory, comprising two enormous laser interferometers located 3000 kilometers apart.

These observatories, more sensitive than any instrument ever conceived, listen for the faint ripples in the fabric of spacetime—gravitational waves. These waves, once just theoretical predictions, were now the key to unlocking some of the most profound secrets of the universe. Gravitational waves are created from some of the most violent and energetic processes in the universe. So powerful, so extreme, that their echoes bend the very essence of reality.

She scribbled in the margins as she turned the pages of her notes. The end of her pen found its way to her lips, where she chewed on it, deep in thought.

The LIGO observatory had been detecting gravitational waves for the past several years, and her latest presentation to the LIGO engineers was to reconfigure the detectors for the newest set of observations and data collection.

Miranda was no stranger to the late-night shifts as they bore their inspiration from her profound love for science and cosmology. It was her driving force, and while she had worked hard to attain her current role, she often felt tremendous pressure to meet the expectations of the funding organizations.

Miranda’s heart always found its way back to the laughter and warmth of her oldest brother’s home in the Colorado mountains, where her nieces and nephews filled the rooms with joy. Each birthday and Christmas, she was there, her gifts often blending education with fun, a testament to her love for both family and science. These moments, precious and too infrequent, reminded her of roads not taken, of whispers of a different life amidst the clamor of her achievements.

Her romantic endeavors, though earnest, had wilted under the unyielding demand of her dedication to her work. Relationships, it seemed, were another experiment in balancing forces she had yet to master. The gentle ribbing from her family about finding someone who shared her unwavering commitment to the cosmos was met with laughter, yet behind her jest about being married to work lay an unspoken yearning for a partner who understood the stars that captivated her mind and the dreams that fueled her soul.

Miranda’s heart skipped as the sudden ring of her cell phone shattered the night’s silence, its vibration a harsh contrast to the stillness of her bedroom. She cast a bewildered glance at the device as it persisted with its insistent melody. Who could possibly need me at this hour? she wondered aloud, the annoyance tinged with a trace of concern.

Leaning over, her eyes narrowed on the caller ID illuminating the screen. The lab? she whispered to herself, a mix of surprise and intrigue coloring her voice. Without hesitation, she grabbed the phone as it beckoned her once more.

This is Miranda, she answered, her voice steady despite the unexpected call.

Dr. Richards, my apologies for the late call, came the earnest voice from the other end, tinged with urgency. ‘James, what’s up? Miranda questioned, recognizing his voice.

We’ve encountered something... extraordinary with the detectors over the past couple of hours. We all agreed it was important we reach you immediately, he said with a hint of excitement in his voice.

Extraordinary? What’s happening, Dr. Spellman? Miranda pressed, her initial irritation now replaced with a growing curiosity and concern.

Dr. Spellman’s reply was measured, yet Miranda could detect the undercurrent of excitement in his voice. We’ve conducted thorough diagnostics to rule out any anomalies. The equipment is functioning perfectly, but the signals we’re receiving are unprecedented. The amplitudes are unlike anything we’ve ever recorded. And it’s consistent across both here and Livingston.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Miranda as she scribbled down the details Spellman provided, her mind racing with the implications of his words. And the source? Have we pinpointed where these waves are coming from? she asked, her voice barely concealing her anticipation.

The team is finalizing the calculations as we speak, he assured her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Miranda’s decision was made. I’m on my way, she declared, a mixture of determination and excitement in her voice.

Miranda efficiently gathered her papers into her briefcase and switched her bedclothes for more suitable attire for the lab. The drive from her home to the laboratory, a 12-mile journey, was swift and uneventful. Upon her arrival, she greeted the security guard at the entrance gate with her badge.

Working late again, Dr. Richards? he asked, a familiar routine between them.

Maybe something big, George, Miranda responded with a brief smile and nod in response before proceeding through the gate. After parking in her usual spot, she paused for a moment before entering the building, taking a moment to gaze at the star-filled sky—a habit born from her lifelong fascination with the cosmos.

What do you have for me tonight? she said quietly to herself, always curious about the unknown forces shaping the universe.

Inside the main LIGO operations center was somewhat reminiscent of NASA’s control rooms, though on a smaller scale. Screens displayed an array of graphs and data, including some alerts and messages Miranda hadn’t seen before, indicating something unusual was happening.

A technician came up and handed her a tablet, its display echoing the information shown on the larger screens. She scrutinized the data, her expression one of focused concern as she began to piece together the unusual signals they were receiving.

Looking at the tablet, she said, A broad range of wave frequencies, some fluctuating or modulating in patterns. I have not seen this before. The signal is intermittent, with bursts of gravitational waves. Very unusual harmonics, she said, interpreting the data.

Doctor James Spellman, a young astrophysicist who had been working at the observatory for the past year, approached Miranda and said, Notice the low-frequency wave overlaid with various higher-frequency components and intermittent amplitude spikes. We’ve never seen anything like this.

As he explained, Miranda’s eyes darted back and forth across her tablet again.

The gravitational wave’s polarization exhibits unusual characteristics not seen in waves from any conventional astrophysical events we’ve observed, Doctor Spellman continued. Like a noisy signal.

Miranda couldn’t hide her frustration and skepticism. She turned to Doctor Spellman and asked, This doesn’t make any sense. Are you absolutely certain the detectors are functioning properly?

Doctor Richards, Livingston recorded the same signal signatures, the same frequency, and amplitude, Doctor Spellman responded. They also said the source is very close, given the strength and wavelength of the signal.

How close? Miranda asked.

We should know shortly. Bob is running the telemetry models now, but Livingston gave an estimate of approximately six billion kilometers, the technician responded.

Kilometers? Not light years? Miranda said incredulously. That’s impossible! That’s just outside our solar system, about 1 billion kilometers from Pluto, I believe.

Suddenly, a cacophony of alarms shattered the routine hum of the control room, signaling a departure far from their typical observations. These were not the alerts the team was accustomed to; they signified something extraordinary—a profound deviation in the laser’s behavior or a failure in the machinery that veered sharply from the known and expected. The monitors burst into life, their screens awash with urgent, flashing messages, capturing the attention of everyone present.

The Gravitational Wave monitor then translated the wave frequencies of space itself into sound—a sound that, for a moment, bridged the cosmic expanse. Initially, there was a subtle hum, so deep and resonant that it seemed to vibrate in their very bodies. This was not the characteristic chirp associated with black hole mergers, but rather a continuous, undulating tone, rich with complexity. Layered upon this bass were transient, varied pitches; some tones soared high and brief, while others stretched out, low and haunting.

In an instant, the room plunged into a dense silence, the auditory window into the cosmos abruptly closed.

The team in the LIGO control room froze, enveloped in a collective, breathless anticipation. The data on the monitors confirmed it—the gravitational wave detections from both Livingston and Hanford mirrored each other perfectly, dispelling any notion of error or anomaly.

I just got the distance calculation of the wave source, Bob spoke loud enough for the entire control room to hear. It’s approximately six billion kilometers, the same as the Livingston calculation.

What in God’s name is going on out there? Miranda said softly.

Several of the physicists who had been in the operations room watching the event gathered around Miranda. They stood close, their eyes fixed on her, silently awaiting her insights.

Well, Miranda began, since we observed the same signals from Livingston, we have to assume that we just witnessed some kind of real gravitational wave event.

Miranda looked over their concerned faces.

Let’s talk about these observations, starting with your insights, Bob. Miranda turned towards Bob, the observatory’s sage, whose wisdom was as evident as the years etched in the lines of his face and the untamed, thinning hair that spoke of countless nights spent under the stars.

Bob had long been the cornerstone of their team, his knack for navigating the labyrinth of complex calculations and machinery adjustments revered by all. Yet, even he seemed momentarily adrift in the sea of the unknown.

Truthfully, Dr. Richards, Bob admitted, his voice laced with a rare uncertainty, the phenomena we’re observing are unprecedented in my experience. Fluctuating amplitudes of this nature? They’re not accounted for in any of our models. This is uncharted territory for us.

As the conversation made its way around the room, a chorus of perplexity echoed Bob’s sentiments. Each physicist, in turn, confessed their bewilderment, underscoring the anomaly’s deviation from the expected and known.

Miranda’s gaze then shifted to Lori, the newest addition to their constellation of minds. Lori, what’s your perspective?

Lori Johnson, barely two months into her tenure at the observatory, stood on the precipice of theory and discovery. Her arrival was fresh with the latest insights from the scientific academic community.

Lori began, her voice laced with hesitation, Last year, at a conference... I sat in on a session where... She trailed off, her gaze sweeping across the room, meeting the eyes of her colleagues who awaited her next words. They discussed the theoretical signatures of gravitational waves emanating from something… um.. a wormhole, she finally declared, the word ‘wormhole’ hanging in the air like a revelation.

The room instantly buzzed with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. The mere mention of a wormhole sparked a flurry of voices, each physicist eager to contribute their thoughts, theories, and speculations to the unfolding mystery.

Miranda’s hand sliced through the cacophony, restoring order. Continue, Lori. What specifics did the paper outline? she encouraged, signaling for Lori to elaborate on her groundbreaking proposition.

Regaining her composure, Lori spoke with renewed confidence, The presentation detailed how a wormhole’s formation would emit gravitational waves with distinctive characteristics—intensely powerful and unmistakably unique. Such spacetime disturbances would dwarf the signals of conventional cosmic events, making our current findings not just plausible but indicative of something like a wormhole’s emergence.

The room fell into a contemplative silence, every mind grappling with the implications of