As exemplified by Thursday evening’s brief exposure to the timesense-warping effects of Triskaidekaphobicon, clearly the theory of attending BayCon is direct and clear, albeit a little boring, while the practice thereof is circuitous and exciting. Here we will continue our study of these contrasts by once more comparing plans and realities with a half-day experience on Opening Day:
Time Frame
What the Plan was
What really happened
Friday afternoon
Arrive early, go to opening ceremonies, then “Irreproducible Results” panel, then to a reading by Lois McMaster Bujold.
Just couldn’t get out the door. Forgot reading glasses, then key, then left door slightly ajar while trying to find my sunglasses (for driving), then became convinced (older/medical-issues) cat had sneaked out, so searched out front and called out back and looked under furniture. Finally discovered cat hunkered down behind a chair.Arrived halfway through Irreproducible Results panel, but got a front-row seat & enjoyed panel, from nuts and bolts revelations such as that the staff of JIR are unpaid to the audience teaching JIR’s editor the song “There’s a Hole in My Bucket” and locating for him several online sources for flexible rubber with which to make graph paper.
I took a quick look at the Art Show, where they were nice enough to take care of my bag for me. Theresa Mather‘s dragons were there. Which one is it that I bought for Tirion? I wondered, Should I bid on one of these dragon-butterfly prints? I decided to come back later and sign up as a bidder.
All of the cat-oriented artwork reminded me that I was worried about my cat (not to bore anyone with a pet’s medical issues, but no-one was home to check on Manta that day), but didn’t want to miss the reading. So stayed put for that.
Bujold read a piece she doesn’t really plan to publish at present, a work-in-progress that may or may not become part of something, but it’s a “Miles” story, so she knew it would please her fans. The humor bits got big laughs. And she was good about doing a little Q&A while waiting for late-comers to arrive. Turns out that one intellectual goal for âCurse of Chalionâ was to work out a society in which religion had a basis in physical reality.
By then, it was after five, but decided to drive home to check on the cat –through Memorial-day weekend traffic. The freeway was a parking lot from San Thomas Expressway to, probably, LA. So, enjoyed elaborately costumed Fanime fans thronging streets of downtown San Jose on the unfreeway route home. Made pretty good time, actually. Oh, yes, and the cat was fine. Time for a quick freezer-cleanup dinner and half an episode of “Castle” before evening sessions.
Friday evening
Find out what a “boffer weapon” is and make one in the new DIY Room. Then go upstairs and learn some Regency dancing. Maybe get in to panel on talking to people.
Boffer-making was not in the DIY room. I had to go alllll the way to the “Ballroom” and creep past the big room where they were having the “meet the guests” reception. Way too scary in there.  In the farthest room, kids were whapping each other with foam objects. Aha, thatâs boffing.
But no one was making weapons.Wandered about. Became “brave” and strolled nonchalantly through the reception. Darn, there had been food. Extroverts were happily chatting each other up.
Wandered back to boffers room to watch the swordplay. Maybe the “make your weapon” thing is over?  I wondered. The program said they started at 6 and it was already nearly 8. Suddenly, someone called out, “Who wants to make a weapon?” Apparently, I had arrived at exactly the right time.
Two hours later, I was working on the trickiest duct-taping tasks on three swords at once, after two teen sisters frantically realized they must dash off to what they described as âMomâs Concertâ and begged for coverage while they were away.  Another hour later, and they were back in time for adding the blade tape and the final decorations. Clever girls.
So finally 11:30 rolled around and I had myself a lovely PVC and pipe-insulation and duct-tape sword. But not prepared to wield it yet–too exhausted. Parked my sword in the car and wandered about a bit. Regency dancing was already up to a lesson on the Congress of Vienna waltz, which I can’t do with my broken shoulder yet, and which they use as the final dance.
Oh, well. Time to go home. Big plans for tomorrow.
In this activity, the most importantidea is to explore and experiment with models and games to understand how a cometâs tail behaves as the comet hurtles around the sun. The key concept is that the cometâs tail is being pushed away from the sun by the ionizing radiation, solar wind and even the light itself blasting out of the sun. This means that when the comet is inbound, approaching the sun, its tail streams behind it, like a horseâs tail. But on the outbound journey, as the comet leaves the sun behind, its tail flies out in front of it. What we hope the participants will take away from these activities is a picture of what a comet looks like as it moves and the knowledge of why it looks that way.
Comet-tail behavior simply makes sense when âexperiencedâ from the cometâs point of view. If by any chance some of these facts are a discovery for you, too, donât feel like you have to keep it a secret that you are learning–have fun with it. A key ingredient in the formula for growing a scientist is that finding out how the universe works is fun. Or, in the words of one physicist profiled in the film Particle Fever: The real answer to âwhy do we do this is . . . because itâs cool.â)
Keep in mind the constraints of your particular situation when assembling your materials and pre-planning the project. For instance, if there arenât enough classroom scissors or if session time is tightly constrained, you can pre-cut the ribbon for the individual comet models into 3-foot lengths. Be aware of opportunities for participants with special needsâfor instance, the comet-running activity does require at least one person to be standing still. In return, that one who just canât stand still could be a pinch-runner. If the group as a whole isnât particularly fast-moving, the ârunningâ game can be done at whatever pace suits the team.  (One can be a âstudentâ at any ageâmost of us middle-aged folks are not exactly speed-demons.) If you’re planning this as a home-schooling project, this is one you’ll want to save for a get-together with other home-schoolers–you need at least three players and it is ever so much more fun with a group.
Stage 1: The Small-Scale Experiment
This description may look long, but that’s just to let you walk through it easily and to share some photos to help. This whole Stage 1 should take about fifteen minutes, tops.  I’ll spare your weary eyes and park the “Stage 2” and “Stage 3” activities in the next posting–but don’t worry, the entire activity fits into a single science session if you can claim an hour’s time to play with.
Before distributing materials, bring out one individual model comet, the sample to be used for the models everyone will take home. Itâs simply an ordinary badminton birdie with long streamers of ribbon tied to it. For now, keep the ribbons bunched up inside the net of the birdie. Explain that the ball at the end of the birdie is the cometâs nucleus, the frilly part can be its atmosphere, or coma, which begins to form as the gas and dust which jets away from the outer layers comet as it warms up.
One Small Comet
Notes: Iâd suggest that you relax and let your sample comet be imperfectâcomets are messy creatures by nature and you donât need that one super-meticulous individual slowing down the whole event by striving to exactly matching a perfect sample. If you have an older, more experienced group of comet enthusiasts to work with, you can interject the extra information about the distinction between the ion and dust tailsâperhaps even represent them by different ribbon colors.On the other hand, if youâre working with anyone between the ages of 5 and 15, and you donât want to deal with distracting snickers and giggles erupting through the group, simply refrain from using the technical term for a birdie. Oh, come on, you know why.
OK, back to it. The ribbon represents those gases and dust particles that make up the cometâs tail(s). Now, if we toss our model across the room, what happens to the streamers tied to it? Right . . . they float out behind. They donât stretch out in front or clump in a bunch around the head of the âbirdieâ. You can demonstrate by trying to throw your comet backwards: hold the tail in front and toss, but the tail will just fall back to the head andâif your throw is a mighty oneâend up in back again..
Now, invite answers to a key question: why does the ribbon float behind? What pushes the tail behind the cone as it flies through the room? With a little nudging, you should get general agreement that it is the air pushing on the lightweight streamers, shoving them behind the âheadâ of our comet.
But now we must turn to a more difficult line of questioning. Pull out playground or soccer ball (a handy model for the sun), and ask one student to stand and hold up your Sun so everyone can see the next portion. Bunch up the cometâs tail in the back of the shuttlecock again, and carry the comet in a âflightâ around the âSunâ. As you move, ask the students to think hard about what happens to the cometâs tail as it whips around the sun.
Start easy. Shake out the streamers, and stretch them out with your free hand. Move the comet towards the sun. Which way should I point the streamers? Everyone will be quick to tell you to pull them backwards, away from the sun. Now, place the comet at its closest approach to the sun, just before it curves back to head into deep space again. âIâm at the Sun now,â you can say, âzooming around the back of it. And moving as fast as Iâll go in this journey. Which way should the streamers point?â
Usually this question generates some disagreement. A reasonable argument would be that you should hold the streamers behind the comet, as it moves, which would mean the cometâs tail would point along a tangent to its orbit around the Sun. (Even if the students are covering tangents in math, please donât interrupt yourself to pause and discuss tangents right now! Use this lesson later to enliven the math session.)
Tail Behind?
Tail In Front?
Tail Sideways?
Some students may suggestâquite logically–that when you are that close, the Sunâs gravity should pull the tail towards it. If the group is large enough, you should also get someone who can argue that the tail should point away from the sunâfor now, it doesnât matter if this is a knowledge-based claim or just a contrarian viewpoint from snarkiest person in the room. Whatever hypotheses are offered, just accept them as proposed solutions and demonstrate what each would look like.
Finally, move to the âoutboundâ portion of your cometâs orbit. âOur comet now flies on away from the sun, perhaps to return in another century or two. Now, which way should the cometâs tail point?â Again, if you have managed to keep a poker face so far, the most popular answer is likely have the tail streaming behind the comet. As before, accept and demonstrate each of the guesses. If students have reasons for their theories, let everyone hear them. Discussing and justifying hypotheses is an integral part of the real scientific process.
If you have access to a blackboard (oh, well, itâs modern times, so, okayokayokay, you can use your smelly whiteboard or that fancy tablet-linked projector), now is the moment to leave off demonstrating with the model and sketch the competing hypotheses for everyone to see. Your picture will look kind of like this. Please remember to Keep It Messy.
Discussing Possible Tail Directions
Have you ever read one of those annoying mystery stories in which the author leaves you in the dark about a critical fact that solves the entire case? Well, here too, we have denied our puzzle-solvers an important clue. So, tell the group itâs time for a change of topic. But actually what weâre doing is rolling out the narrative twist that makes the whole thing so cool.
Here on Earth, it is air that pushes the streamers on our comet model. But how much air is there out in space? (So little that you might as well say âzeroâ!) But without air, why should any comet have a tail at all?
What comes out of the sun? You should hear the following answers: heat, light, maybe even radiation. But has anyone heard of the solar wind? The sun blasts out particles, too? The sun is shooting out plasma, protons and electrons flying through the solar system at thousands of miles per hour. This is the solar wind, which blows through the solar system all the time, at thousands of miles per hour. The particles are tiny, not even as big as atoms, so it is an invisible wind. And like wind, itâs not perfectly even, it gusts and changes from moment to moment as the Sun itself changes.
All of those things we named help to make our comets look the way they do. Consider your audienceâŚ
Explanation #1: You are all correct. All of that stuff blasting out of the sun–light, radiation, heat, and the solar wind–shove all that stuff leaking out of the comet into a tail. And since all that stuff is coming from the sun, the only way the tail can point is away from the sun.
Explanation #2: All of those answers are correct . . . and they all combine to make a cometâs tail. The heat of the sun warms the comet to free the gases and dust. The solar wind blasts the gasesâand the particles in the solar wind also interact with those gases, stripping some of their electrons to make that part of the tail a glowing stream of ionized gas. The radiation from the sun actually can push things, and that pressure is just strong enough to shove those tiny dust particles enough to counteract their tendency to fall towards the sun. And the visible sunlight reflects from the spread-out cloud of dust, making the comet shine in our night sky.
Again, with older/experienced participants, now is the time to clue them in that radiation pressureâthe totally cool idea that sunlight itself exerts pressureâexists because light is electromagnetic radiation and electromagnetic radiation is a wave and a wave [http://physics.info/em-waves/] pushes on the objects it encounters. You may not feel battered and bruised by the TV and radio waves powering through you day and night or be physically bowled over by the sunlight forming a gorgeous rainbow. But: itâs enough to push fine grains of dust. The only sad thing about radiation pressure is itâs not common knowledge yetâitâs been proven since 1873.
To represent these solar forces, we need to make a breeze. For that job, a fan does the trick. When we turn it on, it blasts a healthy âsolarâ wind. (Be sure to experiment in advance with your fan and sample comet–there’s a lot of variation in fan settings.)
Inbound Comet
Hold the comet in the âinboundâ position, with the front of the birdie pointed at the Fan Sun. Yes! We were all correct: the tail points behind the comet as it moves towards the sun.
If the fan is strong enough, you can also use the model to hint at how the length of the cometâs tail changes. Far from the sun, the comet has no tail; far from the fan, our streamers dangle to the floor. A little closer in, a real comet’s tail appears as a pale streak behind it; as you approach your fan, the model’s streamers lift up and begin to flutter weakly behind it. Near the sun, the tail stretches out millions of miles behind a real cometâs head; near the fan, the your streamers stretch their full length.
Now, what about when the comet is heading away from the sun? Which way will the tail be pointing, now that we know about the solar “wind”? Nearly everyone will see, now, that it must point away from the sun.
Outbound Comet
Demonstrate that this works: you point the birdieâs nose away from the fan, turn on the blast, and the streamers flow out over the front of the birdie. The shape of the birdie helps emphasize the incongruity of our expectationâthat the tail goes behindâwith the reality: the solar forces push the tail.
If the class has patience for one more test, add the third question: what happens when the comet is rounding the far side of the sun, and is pointed âsidewaysâ? Hold the comet model perpendicular to the flow of the fan.
Comet At Perihelion
Let everyone see how the tail sweeps out to the side of the comet. It always points away from the sun, no matter what direction the comet is pointing.
In my previous post, I tried to explain how all those odd names ended up in my recently-published book and why I think it’s fun to play around with languages in the middle of a story.
So, what if you don’t really care about all that linquistic
nonsense, but just want a guide to pronouncing stuff in this particular story? In what follows, I’m going to share what I’ve
prepared for the person doing our audio book.
On the surface, it may look daunting, but, really, it all hangs together
with a few key elements:
Lots of the names end in a shortened “ay” sound I’ve tagged here as ei. It sounds almost like a long ay, but is cut short like you were going to pronounce a “y” on the end, but stopped yourself just in time, “say” without that teensy “eeya” sound that wraps up that word. Sort of like “sensei” as pronounced in Japan, or at least in anime and Japanese TV shows.
In names ending in e, the final e is always sounded–usually as that shortened “ay” sound.
The exception is “ere”, which is ayr-ee, wherever it happens to fall, so some names end with ayr-ee, while some have that in the middle or at the beginning.
Children (or adults being teased as if they are children) or intimate friends get their names shortened with a bit of a stop in the middle, so Ansegwe becomes An-s-wei, and Kantalare becomes K-a-la-rei
As an example of the “translated words” system: the “aunts” are “awnts”, Brit/Northeast/Southern style, rather than Midwestern style “ants”.
Digression: How come I like weird names? Well, jeepers, I’ve got one of my own, one
that often gets pronounced weird, though I don’t care, really, I’ve heard ’em
all. The “correct” way is
va-‘ness-uh ma-‘cla-ren-‘ray. There are
other pronunciations in use . . . but those are other Vanessas and other MacLarens.
OK, here we go. I’m not using really formal linguistic notation, but sound-shorthand that I think we all can follow. I put a single quote at the front of the stressed syllable in each word.
Our Main Characters
Varayla Ansegwe, Eskenyan Jemenga, Ensense Kantalare,
Varaylas Ansele and Adeleke, and Haillyen.
These all appear frequently, though it takes a while for Kantalare to
show up. See how what we call “last
names” (family names) come first, and “first names” (personal
names) come second.
Wary, indeed. Photo of sketch on wall, by Quinn Dombrowski, Berkeley, CA (CC BY-SA 2.0)
Varayla: Va-‘ray-la This
one’s pretty phonetic, the tricky thing, from listening to auditions for our
audio book, is that some people seem to read the “yla” as
“lya”. This reminds me of how
people read the second half of my last name as “Wary” instead of
“Wray”. Don’t let it worry
you, but if you prefer mispronouncing Varayla, just don’t go to Korlo.
In the bad old days, you could earn a set of cement overshoes for
mispronouncing that name to the wrong person.
Ansegwe: ‘ahn-seg-wei Our hero’s name is most likely to be mispronounced as on-‘seg-way, which is hilarious, as it makes me picture this enormous klutz trying to ride a Segway. The first syllable should be said relatively slowly, so the second two click together fast, so that you almost lose the sound of the “e” in the middle: ahns’gwei. It has a kind of Japanese flavor to it.
Eskenyan: ess-‘ken-yan It
sounds sort of like “a person from Kenya” (at least the way Americans
say it) plus “Ess” in front of it.
Jemenga: ja-‘meng-uh When
Jemenga is particularly pleased with himself, he really hits that middle
syllable, so it’s like Ja-MENG-ah!
The Varayla Syndicate’s above-board operations include space-based solar power satellites. (Not quite like this. This is NASA’s Solar-b satellite)
Ansele: ‘ahn-se-lei Tycoon
aunt #1.
Adeleke: a-‘del-e-kei Tycoon
aunt #2.
Haillyen: ‘hay-ul-lee-yen This is a “foreign” word to Ansegwe, so he’s basically phonetically “translated” it, the ‘y’ in the last syllable is a bridge sound you get when putting ee and en together between the ee and the en. Do ya get it? Yeah? The reader should get it about 100 pages before Ansegwe catches on.
Ensense: en-‘sens-ei You know, like, “sensei” with an “en” at the front.
Kantalare: kahn-tah-‘lahr-ei There’s a secondary stress on the first syllable. Just make it sound pretty in your head. Ansegwe is totally in love with her, so, whatever, hear her as beautiful
2. The people on the expedition
Some of these folks are only mentioned or quoted during the “expedition” chapters.
Tkonle: t-‘kawn-lei
Kulandere: koo-lahn-‘dayr-ee
Tekere: ta-‘kayr-ee
Tereinse: ‘tayr-ee-in-sei
Alekwa: ah-‘leek-wah
Nara: ‘nah-rah
Ensargen: en-‘sahr-gen It’s
a hard g, as in “gun”, not a soft one as in “generation”.
They don’t really use hard “g”
Korton: ‘kor-tun
Alawere: ah-la-‘wayr-ee
Tasegion: tah-‘seg-ee-on
Turame: too-‘rah-mei
3. People at home
Kateseo: ka-‘tay-see-oh
Kinshada: kin-‘shah-dah
Tumbal: ‘toom-bal
Erekulu: ayr-ee-‘koo-loo OK,
this one isn’t a person, he’s a domesticated animal, so his name is a little
goofy, meant to sound cute.
Tokal: toh-‘kahl
Ans’we: ‘ahn-se-wei This is
a nickname for Ansegwe, used mostly by Kantalare, but also used by his
expedition “friends” when they want to get on his case.
K’alare-: kah-‘lahr-ei This
is a nickname for Kantalare, used by Ansegwe.
Az-dyel: ahz-dee-‘ell Note
that this is another “foreign” word that Ansegwe has transcribed this
way, so it’s pretty phonetic, the three syllables have almost equal stress, I
hear just a little more on the last one, but you can feel more free to mess
around with this one–it’s the ONLY word in this language that appears at all.
Eskewere: ess-ke-wayr-ee
Ensense Halense: en-‘sen-sei hah-‘len-sei This is a member of Kantalare’s extended family that they happen to run into at some point.
4. List of authors.
About two-thirds of the way through, someone gives Ansegwe a
reading list, and the authors of the books are a mix of people from his world,
one from outside his culture, and one (the last) he’s going to spend a lot of
time with. I wouldn’t worry about these too much, but have fun with them. Yeah, uh-huh, that’s intentional.
Asvelan Kulumbu: ‘ahs-veh-lahn koo-‘loom-boo
Palawan Vejr: ‘pah-lah-wahn vee-‘yay-zher
Trjia Qwijlian: ‘trr-zhee-ah ‘kwizh-lee-ahn
Tsulander Tkonle: ‘Tzoo-lahn-der T’kawn-lei
5. People in quotes.
Yeah, this is one of those books where each chapter opens
with a quote from someone. I picture
these as remarks that people who know Ansegwe have made when interviewed about
the events in the story. Picture them
sitting across the desk on their version of The Daily Show, chatting with their
Trevor Noah. Most of the quoted
individuals made it into the final. A
few only get mentioned in these quotes.
These ones are mostly government officials. Make them sound stuffy, self-important, and
less-than-competent.
Insake Hailaware: ‘in-sah-kei hai-uh-la-‘wahr-ei (For fussiness, there’s
a secondary stress on first syllable in Hailaware. He will get all huffy if you
miss that and maybe will find some minor infraction to write you up for.)
Elesennen Haileski:
el-es-‘sen-en hai-uh-‘les-kee
Kinsala Tkerelon: kin-‘sah-lah T-‘kayr-ee-lon
6. Other words and place names.
The story takes place in a fairly limited set of
“alien” geographic locations.
But I do have some place names included and there are a few other
“thing” words that appear more than once.
The Kalinidor is something like this. Alexander Fleming’s Nobel Prize (1945) (Jemenga would discover penicillin if someone else hadn’t already.) Source: Science and Society Picture Library, London Museum of Science (CC BY-SA 2.0)
Korlo: ‘kor-low It simply
sounds like “core” “low”.
This is Ansegwe’s country.
Kalinidor: ka-‘lin-ee-dor This
is a person’s name that’s become an object name–sort of like the Nobel Prize, well,
actually, exactly like the Nobel prize.
Jemenga really really wants one of these.
Quazwallade: kwaz-‘wall-ah-dei This is a place name, just a foreign country,
one with some technological and cultural differences from Korlo.
Cignali: sig-‘nah-lee Let’s
say that probably this was originally a person’s name, but now it’s the name of
a famous university, think “Stanford”.
Utumwe: oo-‘tum-wei I told
you there were academics in this story.
This is another university, a medical school actually, one that Jemenga
lectures at, when they can get him.
Terende: ta-‘ren-dei Another place name.
Tule: ‘too-lei Yep, place
name. Doesn’t get much play, but even minor places count, says the writer who
lives in a town that isn’t a proper town, just a collection of farms, houses,
shops, and a gas station, that gets its own post office.
There’s a theory about attending a science fiction convention. It starts with studying the program, noting who the guests are, and planning out a strategy to participate every day and not get too worn out.
Then there’s the practice of being immersed in a con.
There is some similarity. One can see the relationship between theory and practice. But they are by no means the same.
What is important to remember is that this is just fine.
Take, for example, BayCon 2013, the San Francisco Bay Area annual convention. This year is dubbed Triskaidekaphobicon. Largely because this event houses the highest concentration of people who already know what that means.
For an eager preregistered participant, the event began the day before, on Thursday night. Last Thursday night, to be precise. So, for starters, consider plan and execution for this simple task.
Time Frame
What the Plan was
What really happened
Thursday night
Go to Hyatt on the way home from softball, at around 8:30, and pick up badge
A phone call delayed departure for my weekly session of cheering for the NASA Ames softball teams. By the time Great America Parkway was my next freeway interchange, it was just about 6 oâclock. So took a detour & stopped off at the Hyatt, which is sort of on the way to softball. Was the TENTH person to pick up my badge. Cool. They planned to put the first thirteen in the newsletter, and asked if that would be OK. “Of course,” I said. Double-cool. Asked if they needed âgofersâ still, but the pick-up team didnât know & couldnât locate the Head Gofer person. (Hint about future: never did get signed up, and that was all for the best for Baycon and for the family Wray.)
BayCon participants embellished the welcome sign profusely.