Fall to Earth

By Arthur K Davenport

Could you ever lose your job, your income, your life? Could you put it back together? And if what caused the loss follows you without your knowledge, would you be smart enough to get it before it gets you -- and everyone else? Can you be outsmarted? Are you as clever as you think you are, especially when you are distracted by a new job that brings a different and antagonistic professional culture with it?

Ask Doug Whittier! He's about to find out. And he doesn't even know it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arthur K Davenport
• Release date: May 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301886050

Arthur K Davenport

Mr. Davenport started his professional career in the United States Air Force after receiving his undergraduate degree in engineering from Stevens Institute of Technology. He later received a Master of Science Degree in Mechanical Engineering from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. Following the Air Force, Mr. Davenport worked for Hamilton Standard on the design and development of the Apollo Back Pack. So, why would a guy who reads mostly technical books write a novel? He doesn't know, but he once said, "Language is the logic of the mind. Ignore it at your peril." Unlike his protagonists, Mr. Davenport avoids peril whenever possible. Mr. Davenport now lives with his wife and two dogs in Washington State on an island in Puget Sound.

Book preview

The room was dimly lit and resonant with echoes. Adults spoke in hushed tones. Children, small ones especially, tested their skill in producing noises that reverberated off the domed ceiling. We found seats near the center and were grateful for a place to rest. Eventually the lights lowered to darkness. At that point I would have been happy to sleep for an hour. Our first major vacation together as a family had been a lot of work.

We heard a voice from the center of the room, and our children perked up.

Hold onto your seats everyone, came the voice.

Immediately the spherical surface over our heads was covered in the star pinpoints of a summer night. I felt a strong sense of falling upwards. Ooh's and ah's wafted through the audience. It was beautiful, and I was destined not to sleep. Surprisingly, I had never been in a planetarium before, and neither had my wife, Jess, nor our three children. I had been by the planetarium next to the New York Museum of Natural History many times as a boy, and I had long wished to go inside and see what it was like. Now I was there, and I knew exactly how my children were feeling.

The show that day about the solar system was spectacular, with wonderful projections of the planets on the ceiling. When I was a boy, the images would have been less detailed. Back then we didn't have probes drifting through empty space taking pictures. We could only see the planets through ground based telescopes. The universe, when I was a boy, was much smaller, much safer, and in many ways, more mysterious, more beautiful.

Man's knowledge of the solar system had undergone a revolution during the first twenty some years of my lifetime. Of course, many fields of knowledge had undergone revolutionary change during that interval. Some innocence had been lost during those years. Truth has a way of bringing you up to speed faster than you sometimes want.

Toward the end of the show there was a section on comets, meteors, and asteroids. We saw pictures of some of the most spectacular comets ever photographed. The discussion about the comets and asteroids eventually led to another branch of science, paleontology. We heard again what has become a familiar theory about the disappearance of the dinosaurs. The speaker explained that there was strong evidence that a large asteroid hit the earth about 65 million years ago. According to the speaker, the death and destruction it would have caused could easily explain the massive loss of life that ended the age of the dinosaurs. No one was absolutely sure that the event had really occurred, but they were fairly confident that if it had, the destruction would have been unbelievably devastating on a global basis.

At the end of the show the lights were brought up slowly, and I don't think there was a child in the audience who wanted the show to end. Everyone was awestruck by the beauty of outer space. Nothing else filled their thinking. At that point a man at the center of the room introduced himself to the audience as an astrophysicist who worked for NASA. He asked if anyone had any questions. The questioning started slowly and covered a wide range of things. Most of the questions were asked by children, and their small faces beamed with excitement as the answers came. Then a small boy near us asked the key question of the day.

How big was the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs?

Well, we estimate that it was about six miles in diameter, answered the scientist.

That doesn't sound very big, said Will, our oldest son. Isn't the world 8000 miles in diameter? How can something that small kill off the whole earth?

It was going very, very fast, came the answer.

But wouldn't the air have slowed it down? asked Will.

It's difficult to explain this, but the asteroid wouldn't have even noticed the atmosphere. Asteroids of that size have unbelievable power. It would have been more powerful than all of the nuclear weapons ever built, replied the scientist.

I could feel the room growing more tense with each new question. And Will wouldn't give up. He should have, and the scientist should have kept his mouth shut.

Well, what kills everything? I mean, how can a rock that's only six miles in diameter kill something that's a hundred miles away? asked Will. Will had the man on the hook, and it was a challenge that the scientist's ego wasn't about to refuse. I could see by the look on Jess's face that she'd really rather not know the gory details.

Look son, came the authoritative voice, first of all, this thing was not a rock, it was a six mile diameter ball of metal and it was going nearly one hundred thousand miles per hour. It was the biggest bullet in the universe -- and the fastest. It would have caused enormous earthquakes all around the world. Most likely it fell into the ocean where it would have instantly formed tidal waves as high as some mountain ranges. It would have raised the air temperature around the earth to levels beyond what most life could withstand, but that would have only lasted a few hours or a day or two. However, it would have thrown so much dust into the air that it would have been years before the life left on earth saw the sun again. It truly would have caused a global ice age. Even the oceans would have frozen. If you had been there when it happened, you wouldn't have lasted long at all.

My son was impressed. So was everyone else. Many people seemed disturbed. I could hear some children starting to cry. Will, thinking that he had really added to the fun of the day, had only one more thing to say. I should have stopped him.

Boy, I'm sure glad that kinda stuff doesn't happen anymore!

If it had been left at that, if the scientist hadn't taken his role as expert lecturer so seriously, we all might have gone home feeling safe in our intellectually superior world, safe from the dangers of being a dinosaur -- but no, he had to open his mouth one more time.

Well actually son, it could very easily happen to us tomorrow, or even before you go home tonight. Events like that happen every 50 or 100 million years. We're about due for one. It's a very real threat to life as we know it.

There was an audience-sized intake of breath followed by an instant of absolute silence. The lights were fully on at this point, but the room seemed filled with blackness. Little by little more children began to cry. Parents frantically tried to assure them that they were safe, but many of the parents were not so sure of safety themselves. Fortunately for us, our other two children were too small to concern themselves with an issue of this proportion. Will smiled with glee at the adventure of being so close to danger. I suppose many boys his age in the room were smiling in the same way. At that moment I wasn't particularly proud of my working in the field of science and engineering. All in all it wasn't the right way to end our first big vacation.

Outside of the planetarium, in the sunshine, the things we had heard lacked a sense of reality. The emotions that had been conjured up in that circular room in the dark seemed totally foreign. Still, the intellectual question remained. Could it really happen? Since I was the technical member of the family, I was faced with the job of explaining it.

I feel a little silly getting all upset about this, said Jess. Was what he said the truth?

Beats me, I replied. So what if it is? If the frequency of occurrence is only once every 100 million years, then the probability of its happening during your lifetime is less than one in a million. That may not seem comforting for such a cataclysmic event, but your chances of biting the dust by some other more mundane method, like an accident, are far greater -- and you don't worry about that.

It's just that he made it sound like it was due any day now, remarked Jess.

Yeah Dad, said Will, somewhat disappointed with my answer, if it hasn't happened for 65 million years, doesn't that mean it's going to happen soon?

I hate to spoil your enthusiasm for planetary mass destruction, I said, but that's just not how random events happen. It's no more likely to happen today than it is any other day, regardless of how long it has been since the last time it happened.

With that, it was time to move on to more friendly subjects. We left the planetarium. We left New York. We headed for the Midwest and the safety of home.

We didn't see it, but our friends back home said that the local TV news had a short human interest blurb about some NASA guy who had gotten everybody upset at the Hayden Planetarium. The museum people said that he had misled the audience about the danger and that they were sorry for all the fuss. The scientist had been asked to tone things down a bit.

It would be many years before the subject would come up again in my life.

Oh, I'm Doug Whittier by the way.

Chapter 1

ORBITAL MOMENTUM INC. -- Purpose, Plan, Product. That was, and still is today, the motto of Orbital Momentum Incorporated, my first employer. It was written everywhere -- on letterheads, on banners, on signs. You couldn't avoid it. It was meant to show that Orbital was an organized, coherent, pro-active company. Orbital was that, and more, and the more eventually found me.

It was now 1992, a time just before the establishment of emails and cell phones as common place parts of life. Twenty years had passed since our trip to the Hayden Planetarium. I had worked on a wide variety of engineering projects since then, and my memory of it had of necessity, been squashed into a small corner of my mind. At the time the trouble began, I was working on a project for a commercial application of an aircraft breathing regulator. I won't bore you with the details of the project. They have nothing to do with the story. What would be helpful, would be for you to understand how Orbital kept track of the costs. Many companies do it in the same way.

Time and dollars expenditures are recorded in the memory of a computer. Each individual program (not a computer program, but a job that is being done for a customer) has a list of unique charge numbers. They're like credit card account numbers. As you spend time or money on a program, you report those expenditures. When you report them, you assign them to a particular charge number. It's not a bad system -- if you're honest.

Periodically, I would review the charges listed against our program to see how much time my group was spending on the project, and to see that no mistakes were made in the charges. Mistakes weren't common, but they happened now and then. The day that things started to unravel, I found a rather uncommon mistake on the list of charges. According to the list, my group had spent slightly over fifty thousand dollars on the purchase of some electronic parts. Since we were a mechanical design group, and we never bought parts anyway, the charge was obviously wrong. So, I did what I normally would. I checked with the accountant who was responsible for my program.

Orbital's main complex consists of a number of one and two story buildings arranged in a college campus style setting. My group was located in a single story building off in an isolated corner of the property. The accountant's office was in the two story headquarters building about half a mile away. Normally, I would have called the accountant, but it was such a lovely day outside, I decided to go for a walk. It was my last happy memory of Orbital, and oddly enough, it was the decision to walk that precipitated my leaving Orbital.

It was a warm late spring day. There had been ample rain that year, and the plants showed their appreciation. I passed a few friends on the way over to the accountant, and I stopped to talk a few times. Everyone seemed content. It wasn't until I was approaching the headquarters building that I began to suspect that something was wrong. It was there that I ran into Alex Trask, an old friend who used to work for Orbital. He had quit several years back and had gone to work as a government auditor.

Hi Alex. I thought they never let accountants out in the sun.

Oh, hi Doug. Yes, that's actually true. If an accountant shows up with a sun tan, everyone thinks he's been stealing from the company.

Well, find any fraudulent activities at Orbital lately? I said jokingly.

He hesitated for a moment, looked at me seriously, and then said, You didn't hear this from me, but watch yourself.

What are you talking about? I asked.

I can't say anything more, he said quietly, and then abruptly walked away.

Well, Alex always was the serious type. He was born to be an auditor. He expected trouble around every tree. His comment added a certain chill to the air.

A few moments later, I entered the building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. I then walked what seemed to be another half mile past the offices of the exalted hierarchy at Orbital. When I got to the desk of Jim Nakura, I sat down in a visitor's chair and dropped the computer printout in front of him.

What's this fifty thousand dollar expenditure on my charge number, I asked.

Shhh! Keep your voice down, Jim replied in a near whisper. There are auditors crawling all over this place.

What's going on? I asked.

I'm not sure, but there have been panic meetings going on all day. And from what I hear, this isn't small stuff. The FBI is involved.

I showed Jim the erroneous charge. When he saw it he drew a quick breath.

I can't help you with this. he said.

What do you mean? It's obviously a mistake. Get it transferred to the right account. I said with slight irritation.

It's not that easy. I'll give you a call later, he responded.

Come on, Jim. What's goin' on around here? What does the FBI have to do with this?

I'll call you. That's all I can tell you.

I shrugged and went away. On the way back I got caught in a late spring shower. My mood was beginning to darken. Moist, but hot from running, I sat down at my desk. Almost immediately, the phone rang. It was Jim.

You'd better get back over here. The government wants to talk to you. Next time call me on the phone with your problems. Some guy overheard us talking.

So, I said, we didn't say anything illegal. And what's the government got to do with my program? This is a commercial job.

Just get over here -- now! he pleaded.

It was still raining, so I took my car. Even so, by the time I got to Jim's area, I was soaked to the skin in most areas -- so much for weathermen. I saw Alex a few desks away. We exchanged glances without being obvious. His right arm was drooping below the side of his chair. He crossed the fingers of his right hand just long enough for me to see.

Jim introduced me to an auditor named Phil Entway. He looked to be in his late fifties and seemed brusque and alert. The three of us went to a small conference room that apparently had been set up for the auditors' use. We sat down, and he came right to the point.

What can you tell me about this mischarge on your program, Mr. Whittier? he asked.

My guard was up immediately. I proceeded with caution.

Well, I can't actually tell you anything. I have no knowledge of the charge. It may even be legitimate, I answered.

Didn't you come to see Mr. Nakura here a little while ago asking to have the charge removed?

Yes.

Well then, you must have known it was illegitimate, he replied.

At the time, I had assumed it was a mistake, but I didn't know for sure. I figured that Jim would check it out, I said, throwing the ball over into Jim's court.

Phil Entway turned and stared at Jim.

What? What? Jim blurted out.

Is it a legitimate charge Mr. Nakura?

I assume it is, he said, to my surprise. Jim evidently got his courage back. Do you have any proof that it's not?

Auditor Entway hesitated for a moment.

No, I have no proof, but I'll get some, you can bet on it. His anger was beginning to show.

Well, if you two ever come to an agreement on this, give me a call, I said, and I got up and left.

Chapter 2

A week went by, and I saw on the latest finance report that the fifty thousand dollar charge had not gone away. I called Jim. He explained that the company position was that the charge was legitimate.

You must be kidding! I said.

No, he replied, that's the official company stand on the issue.

Well, who charged it to the program? I asked.

You did, he said without comment.

You're crazy! came my automatic reply. What's going on here? I yelled.

Jim hung up the phone. I slammed mine down and stood up violently. What kind of nonsense is this? I said in anger to nobody in particular. A few eyebrows raised around me. They were used to small outbursts at Orbital now and then, but I quickly sat down and tried to look calm.

Nothing made sense. The finance reports have different codes for the groups that use the funds. So, I looked back at the latest finance report. Sure enough, it had my group's code next to the expenditure. The six people who worked for me were all designers and had no cause to order parts of any kind. Even so, I called the group together for a minute and inquired about the charge. All I got was blank stares. They knew no more than I did. I decided to go talk to my boss.

Harry Jones had an office along the outside wall. It wasn't big or plush, but that didn't matter much to Harry. I had worked for him for nearly ten years. He had a reputation for being ruthless; nevertheless, he had been as good a boss as I had grown