12618/Worlds Made Of Diamond

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Worlds Made Of Diamond
Date of Scene: 29 August 2022
Location: Classroom - East
Synopsis: Open question day turns into talk about FTL drives and the modal nature of scientific paradigms. Miss Darnell is NOT invisible at all.
Cast of Characters: Michael Erickson, Razili Darnell




Michael Erickson has posed:
    He's supposed to be an alien. But really, Mr. Erickson is a tall, lean, handsome sort with shaggy black hair and dressed in the shirt/sweater/slacks/tweed jacket combination that puts him squarely in central casting for a young and 'with it' professor of the 1970s and 80s. Leather patches on the elbows and everything! The early classes of his Astronomy course have begun, and up to now, it's been entirely normal -- which, perhaps, might disappoint some people considering his supposed provenance.

    Today, however, will be different.

    Whilst the students file in and get settled, the thirty-something man gestures to a completely blank, enormous chalkboard that dominates the wall behind his desk, one that has up to now had diagrams of the solar system or various planets sketched up with careful notation - a bit odd, perhaps, but it's an old habit of his time with star charts. Not that he's even raised the fact that he's anything but 'Mister Erickson, your Astronomy instructor for the term.' So what gives? He stands there, one hands behind his back, the other still gesturing to the chalkboard, at attention whilst the students file in. Expression calm, even friendly, but perhaps also a bit distant. Perhaps he's always in some other world.

    "Good afternoon," he proclaims in a rich, warm baritone. No accent there. "Please, take your seats."

Razili Darnell has posed:
    Razili's hood is up as she sits at a remote seat already. It's always wise to get there early so you can sit in the back and not be seen...well, not that she needed help with that part, but she still acts like someone who doesn't want to be seen.
    Raz has her tablet on the desk in front of her, digitizer pen wiggling between gloved fingers. She raps it quietly against the knuckle of her other hand's thumb. She's very ready to take notes on the black AMOLED screen. Her lensless glasses perched on her nose, she's not even spoken to Mr. Erickson directly outside of responding to role call. She's just doing her best to be 'normal'. That's a lot easier when the other students have actual powers.
    Razili doesn't have powers, at least not in her mind. She's like those mutants who just look different. In this case, looking different is being completely transparent.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Once everyone takes their seats, he begins. Erickson doesn't take roll; he doesn't /have/ to, apparently. Checks everyone's face as they enter. Even, weirdly enough, if they don't have a visible one. Raz isn't forgotten by the man in the front, who now takes a seat on the edge of his desk and looks out across at the kids arrayed there. She isn't /stared/ at, but in this classroom, she is not invisible. Not to him.

    "Right, then," he says after a moment, the distance in his mein up to now receding somewhat. "Today, we are going to start with open questions. Does anyone have any?"

Razili Darnell has posed:
    Razili looks around. There's a lot of questions she has for an actual alien instructor. It's a terrifying position for a teenager to be in under normal circumstances in a new school, but with an alien instructor...wow, so much more. However, Razili's hand does go up, her hoodie sleeve sliding up her arm, appearing to just reveal nothingness behind her glove up to her elbow.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    Aha. A smile, now, from the man. Encouraging, but not too much. "Miss Darnell," he affirms. "Please, go ahead."

Razili Darnell has posed:
    "Uh," Raz starts. She'd be blushing if she had visible skin. "Yeah," she continues, putting her hand down and tugging her sleeve down her arm to her wrist to hide her 'condition'. "How do real FTL drives work?"

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Ah!" His smile splits into a grin at the question; he squares his shoulders as he sits back, palms flat upon the desktop. "A future engineer! I suppose with all the talk about the new spaceport and my background, it would be a question to ask - well done, Darnell, nobody's asked that before. Of course, the question is a broad one: there are a variety of methods by which faster-than-light travel can take place, and since this isn't Physics, I'll be brief in describing them: there is standard relativistic flight through high-velocity drives, teleportation by various transdimensional means, ah, slingshotting around synthetic singularities - I'm not a scientist in that way, alas, but I've encountered a number of methods. I believe that the G.I.R.L. organization headed by Miss Van Dyne also makes use of a dimensional-shifting Zeta Beam technology as well, but I admit that I know little of its mechanics."

    He pauses a moment to think, and tapping the bridge of his Roman nose sits up again to continue. "My people, the Shi'ar, make extensive use of spatial warp technology: this is a bit like what you'd think of when you think of Star Trek, where spatial bubbles are formed around a vessel and capitalize on distortion action to propel them at high speeds. This takes a great deal of energy and is rather expensive, however, so a great deal of travel in the Empire is facilitated by what we call stargates - think of science fiction television and you'll see what I mean. Spatial tears, or wormholes, that are stabilized by mechanical means." Now, a look to Darnell and the other students, expectant. Curious as to the reaction of such revelations to the young.

Razili Darnell has posed:
    Raz takes notes on everything, but she's making new pages in her digital notebook with every new thing he talks about. Her digital stylus scribbles a lot, but she doesn't even take her gaze away from Mr. Erickson. When he pauses, she pauses, too. "Yeah, but how does any of that stuff work?" she asks. "We know it exists. How can it bypass the information speed barrier?" In the depth of the question, she has completely forgotten about all the teen angst and wanting to disappear. Good job, question!

Michael Erickson has posed:
    He's grinning, now. Ah, kids who like to learn. This gives him hope for the species. "Well," Michael begins, "What is a barrier to information but the method by which it is transmitted? Quantum entanglement, superluminal transmission by exotic particles, all manner of methods have been harnessed to breach these obstacles in the past. The speed of light is, as you understand it, an unbreakable law - that is a figment of human science, not a reality of the universe. Else how would I be sitting before you now? Einsteinian physics are simply one of many scientific paradigms, one that a number of other species share in some form or fashion but one that has been shattered by others. Now understand, Miss Darnell, I am not a scientist, so I am giving you the broad strokes here out of brevity - the mechanics of superluminal flight are not to be tied down to a single session."

    He gets up, then, drumming the fingers of one hand as he saunters around the back of his desk to stand by the chalkboard. "The importance is not the barrier, but how to get around it. Einsteinian physics is not a literal barrier, but a realistic one: that is to say that because it is believed to be that way, it is so. Observation being reality. The various scientific models are, then, a modal method of defining reality local to a technology, a society, a world; not all star systems are heliocentric, for example. There are worlds out there that are nothing but spheres of natural diamond. These things should not exist thanks to many prevalent scientific models, yet there they are."

Razili Darnell has posed:
    "Yeah, but--" Raz hasn't raised her hand, this time. She's just asking. "--time isn't a dimension, space costs light some miniscule amount of energy to travel through, and the most distant star systems we can see look the same as the ones close up because the universe was generated in a state designed to be more static than we thought. Those are all observational truths. I get what you mean that scientists on this planet cling to untrue models of reality, but if you want to overthrow those models, you have to provide at least as consistent a mathematical proof of your new model as the one that currently exists."

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Tell you what." This is going to go on for a while, and Michael knows a curious but skeptical soul when he hears one - as any good scientist should be. "Forgive me, Miss Darnell; as I say, I am not a stardrive scientist. I am a soldier with an education in, among many things, astronomy. Come by my classroom after dinner and we can sit down and discuss this matter in greater detail, eh?"

    Then, with smile undimmed, he gestures to the class. "Right, then. Who's next?"

Razili Darnell has posed:
    Raz bites her lip, though nobody can see the gesture. She looks down at the notes she's taken and starts making more, completely ignoring the next student who raises his hand. "Have you ever killed anyone?!" the boy asks, probably a little too enthusiastically.
    Raz, meanwhile, scribbles doodles and potential math equasions, none of which are anything close to accurate, but she's thinking and trying. This isn't something that's in her textbooks. It might be a couple years after she's graduated, but right now, this is all too new.

Michael Erickson has posed:
    "Yes," Michael says, blinking at the young man. "A great many. I was a member of the Imperial military until last year, and started my education at the Imperial War College when I was fifteen years old. It is the single most terrible thing that you can do to another sapient, something to be done only in the defense of others or when there is no other option available."

    Oh. So there's, uh, that.