Jack

Origin

Late Middle English: from Jack, pet form of the given name John. The term was used originally to denote an ordinary man ( jack (sense 6)), also a youth (mid 16th century), hence the ‘knave’ in cards and ‘male animal’. 

The word also denoted various devices saving human labour, as though one had a helper ( jack (sense 1, jack sense 3, jack sense 9, jack sense 10), and in compounds such as jackhammer and jackknife); the general sense ‘labourer’ arose in the early 18th century and survives in cheapjack, lumberjack, steeplejack, etc. 

Since the mid 16th century a notion of ‘smallness’ has arisen, hence jack (sense 4, jack sense 5, jack sense 7, jack sense 13).

jack

ADJECTIVE

Australian 

informal 

predicative Tired of or bored with someone or something.

‘people are getting jack of strikes’

" The fictional company which owns and operates the lunar base is called Lunar Industries Ltd.  As a nod to this, the production company used to make the movie is also called Lunar Industries Ltd (UK Companies House company number 06346944), whose company directors are Duncan Zowie Hayward Jones (the movie's director) and Stuart Douglas Fenegan (one of the movie's producers). "

So, how is it a fictional company?

And who is Stuart Douglas Fenegan....?

And what does "Hayward" mean....? 

Other than being the forename of Haywood Floyd, the Chairman of the National Council of Astronautics and protagonist of both the novel and movie 2010 : The Year We Make Contact AND the novel 2061 : The Next Odyssey (which is about rogue Affrikaaner agents illegally prospecting for diamonds on the surface of (a populated/inhabited) Europa.

 JACK 
I don't understand. Why does a weak person have to go out and find a strong person... to hang onto?

 MARLA 
What do you get out of it?

 Faint SOUND of SAWING and HAMMERING. Jack can't quite figure where it's coming from.

 JACK 
You hear that?

 MARLA Hear what?

 JACK 
That... sawing and hammering.

 MARLA 
Have we been talking too long? Must we change the subject?

 Jack turns -- through the crack of the open basement door, Tyler's staring at Jack from the bottom of the stairs.

 TYLER (harsh whisper) 
You're not talking about me, are you?

 Jack reacts, turns back to Marla.

 JACK (to Marla and Tyler) 
No.

 MARLA 
That day you came over to my place to play doctor... what was going on there?

 TYLER (still a whisper) 
What are you talking about?

 JACK (to Marla and Tyler) Nothing.

 MARLA Nothing? I don't think so.

 TYLER (whisper) This conversation...

 JACK This conversation...

 TYLER ... is over.

 JACK ... is over.

 Marla comes to touch Jack's hair. Jack closes the basement door. Marla sees the kiss-scar on Jack's hand, grabs his hand. Jack tries to pull it back, but Marla keeps a grip.

 MARLA What is this? Who did this?

 JACK ... A person.

 MARLA Guy or girl?

 JACK Why would you ask if it's a guy or a girl?!

 MARLA Why would you get bent if I asked?

 JACK Let go of me... (pulls his hand free) Leave me alone.

 MARLA You're afraid to say.

 Marla backs away, closes her eyes, struggling with frustration. She leaves out the back door, not looking back.

 Jack leans against the wall. After a moment, he opens the basement door, heads downstairs...

 INT. BASEMENT STAIRCASE

 Tyler walks upstairs, passing as Jack continues down...

 INT. BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS

 Jack looks around. TRIPLE-DECKER BUNKS clutter the basement, as many as can fit into the space.

 JACK (calling upstairs) Tyler... ? What's this for?

 From upstairs, the SOUND of the DOORBELL.

 INT. LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

 Jack opens the door. Ricky stands on the porch, staring ahead in subordinate military style. He's in black pants, black shirt, black shoes, holds a PAPER BAG, with an army surplus MATTRESS rolled-up at his feet.

 JACK Um... what can I do for you, Ricky?

 Tyler steps up beside Jack, looks Ricky over.

 TYLER You're too young. Sorry.

 JACK Wait a minute...

 Tyler comes back inside, shuts the door.

 JACK "Too young?"

 TYLER If the applicant is young, we tell him he's too young. Old, too old. Fat, too fat.

 JACK "Applicant?"

 TYLER If the applicant waits at the door for three days without food, shelter or encouragement, then he can enter and begin training.

 JACK "Training?" Tyler...

 EXT. PORCH - MOMENTS LATER

 Jack comes out, walks around Ricky, hands in his pockets, unsure. Tyler watches, nods for Jack to go ahead.

 JACK Uh, look. You're too... young to... train here. You should probably be on you way.

 No response from Ricky, who remains at attention. Jack goes back inside. Tyler closes the door.

 EXT. PORCH - NIGHT

 Ricky remains at attention. Jack bursts out with a BROOM, knocks the brown bag out of Ricky's hand, kicks it away.

 JACK Are you deaf?! I told you to leave! You will never get inside this house!

 EXT. PORCH - MORNING

 Ricky's still there. Tyler comes out, friendly.

 TYLER Look, friend, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. It's not the end of the world. Just go away. You're trespassing and I will call the police. Nothing personal.

 EXT. PORCH - NIGHT

 Ricky, same spot. Jack bursts outside with the broom again.

 JACK You're never getting through this door, you stupid little weasel! Look at me when I talk to you... !

 He WHACKS Ricky in the shoulder with the broom.

 JACK What is your major malfunction!?

 INT. JACK'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

 At the window, Tyler sips coffee, watches this scene on the PORCH below.

 JACK (V.O.) Sooner or later, we all became what Tyler wanted us to be.

 EXT. PORCH - MORNING

 Ricky's there. Bob is now next to him, in black, with a paper bag in hand, mattress at his feet. Tyler steps out. Jack stays in the doorway, locking eyes on Bob. To all the following questions, Ricky answers "Sir!" --

 TYLER You have two black shirts? Two pair black trousers? One pair black boots? Two pair black socks? One black coat? Three hundred dollars personal burial money? Go inside.

 Ricky goes in. Tyler turns to Bob.

 TYLER You're too old. Sorry. And, you're too fat. Nice seeing you.

 Bob looks genuinely hurt. He picks up his mattress and starts away. Tyler looks at Jack and rolls his eyes. Jack follows Bob...

 JACK Bob... Bob, wait... (leading Bob back) Let me explain this to you...

 EXT. PORCH -- NIGHT

 CRICKETS CHIRP. Bob stands at at rigid attention.

 INT. 2ND FLOOR LANDING - NIGHT

 Tyler and Jack stand in bathroom doorway, watching Ricky finish SHAVING off all of his HAIR. Tyler comes to give the top of Ricky's head a sharp SLAP.

 TYLER A monkey, ready to be shot into space. A Space Monkey, ready to sacrifice himself for Project Mayhem.

 From here on, all those with shaved heads: "SPACE MONKEYS."

 EXT. PORCH - DAY

 Jack looks out the window. Bob stands motionless. There's another "applicant," a SHORT GUY, beside Bob. Ricky comes out the front door with the BROOM...

 RICKY (to Bob) You're too fucking old, fatty! We don't want your kind here! (to short guy) You're too short. Go away, stumpy! Go back to the circus!

 Ricky HITS them with the broom, then goes in, SLAMS THE DOOR.

 JACK (V.O.) So it went...

 EXT. BACKYARD - DAY

 Tyler works with a HALF DOZEN SPACE MONKEYS, preparing the square of backyard. They pull weeds, clear rocks; working with shovels, rakes, etc. They cart away WHEELBARROWS of rocks and carry in SACKS of FERTILIZER.

 JACK (V.O.) Tyler built his army.

 IN THE KITCHEN WINDOW, Jack watches...

 INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

 Jack keeps watching out the window, eats toast.

 JACK (V.O.) To what purpose, might one ask? Well, one might ask, if not for the first rule of Project Mayhem.

 Jack turns to look around the kitchen. THREE SPACE MONKEYS work -- one SCRUBBING the FLOOR, one WASHING DISHES, one SCRUBBING the walls. Jack walks out.

 JACK (V.O.) In Tyler We Trust.

 INT. JACK'S ROOM - DAY

 Jack opens his eyes, awakening to sunlight thru the window.

 JACK (V.O.) And, then...

 INT. UPSTAIRS LANDING - DAY

 Jack slowly pushes open the door to Tyler's room...

 JACK Tyler...

 The room is empty. Jack stares.

 JACK (V.O.) He was gone.

 INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

 Jack comes downstairs... finds DOZENS of SPACE MONKEYS.

 INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

 Jack enters. Space Monkeys render fat and make soap. They pinch HERBS, adding them to the mix. They add VODKA. Off to the side, a couple Monkeys stir a vat of RICE. On the wall is a big bulletin board with HUNDREDS of DRIVER's LICENSES; a sign above it: "HUMAN SACRIFICES."

 FRECKLED SPACE MONKEY "You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We are all part of the same compost heap."

 JACK (V.O.) Planet Tyler.

 Jack dips a spoon into the rice, chomps on it irritatingly.

 FRECKLED SPACE MONKEY "We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world."

 Jack picks up a BOTTLE of VODKA.

 JACK (V.O.) I had to hug the walls, trapped inside this clockwork of Space Monkeys, cooking and working and sleeping in teams.

 INT. READING ROOM - NIGHT

 Jack enters, vodka in hand. TEN SPACE MONKEYS here, reading.

 JACK (V.O.) The house became a living thing, wet inside from so many people sweating and breathing. So many people moving, the house moved.

 Jack walks out.

 INT. OFFICE - DAY

 Jack enters. Angel Face reads a book, marks on a chart. Space Monkeys shuffle PAPERS and NEWS CLIPPINGS. Walls are lined with FILES, each labeled with a STREET ADDRESS, under SIGNS: "Mischief," "Disinformation," "Arson."

 Jack's eye lingers on "Arson." He starts flipping through a file. Angel Face comes to take the file from him.

 ANGEL FACE That wouldn't interest you.

 JACK Where's Tyler?

 ANGEL FACE The first rule of Project --

 JACK Right, right.

 As Angel Face replaces the file, Jack notices -- a LYE- BURNED KISS-SCAR on the back of Angel Face's hand.

 EXT. BACK YARD - NIGHT

 Jack takes a swig of vodka, smokes. In the BACKGROUND, a Space Monkey WHACKS an APPLICANT with a BROOM. It's a ritual; no words. Other Space Monkeys tend the garden.

 JACK (V.O.) 
I'm all alone. I Am Jack's Broken Heart.

 Jack drops his cigarette in the gravel, steps on it. A Space Monkey immediately comes to clean it up.

The Second Coming 

BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst   

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.   

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,   

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.   

The darkness drops again; but now I know   

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,   

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Europa

 

Echoes - Pink Floyd 2001 Space Odyssey from Jordi Bou on Vimeo.

ALL THESE WORLDS

ARE YOURS EXCEPT

EUROPA

ATTEMPT NO

LANDING THERE

2001 and 2010

Written by a high free mason, Arthur C. Clarke, shows a Masonic belief system semi-obscured in allegory. Really tells a new world order beginning in 2001, ending with Part 2 - 2010. 

For follow up on final story, see Arthur C. Clarke's book 3001.

New Age Magazine 

(Formally retitled "Scottish Rite Magazine" following complications with the churches in the 1990s)

November 1969

Buzz performs a zero-G variant of the Hidden Hand

(Without the benefit of a top-coat)

Lucifer Rising

A Monolith

A Stereolith

The Monolith on Europa 

(and Elm)

As Above, So Below

2001 : Anno Lucis

2010 : The Year We Make Contact

Arthur C Clarke is still going to be Sir Arthur but the ceremony may have to wait for his reincarnation in another galaxy. That seemed the implication of the announcement from the seaside home of the prophet of the Space Age yesterday, as the impact of the Sunday Mirror's story slowly sank in to this sleepy corner of the global village.

On Sunday the newspaper declared Clarke to be a self-confessed paedophile. He was quoted admitting as much, and a Sri Lankan "friend" - head of current affairs at the Sri Lankan Broadcasting Company - alleged that Clarke was still having sex with boys "a few months ago". Clarke claimed he had not been sexually active for 20 years.

Yesterday it was announced that he had requested the conferment of his knighthood to be postponed, to avoid embarrassing Prince Charles. The request was accepted. The ceremony was due to be at the British High Commission tomorrow. Clarke was also said to be discussing the Mirror's story with his lawyers. In Sri Lanka, even the astrophysicist operates at a sedate, pre-modern pace, so 36 hours after the Mirror's story broke it was my duty to bring it to the attention of the director of the institute that bears Clarke's name. Professor Sam Karunaratne was visibly stunned.

"I can't even believe that a person of the calibre of Dr Clarke would be descending to things of this nature," he said. "It's unimaginable ... People are going to be, what do you say, flabbergasted about this."

I also showed the story to Sri Lanka's most energetic campaigner against paedophilia, Maureen Seneviratne, who was equally appalled. "It was the general opinion in the country that he was gay, but a paedophile... it's beyond my comprehension. He is one of the people that nobody could touch. A highly reputed figure, very influential."

There are seedy aspects of foreign involvement with Sri Lanka. Elsewhere in Asia, paedophilia means sex tourism. In Sri Lanka some Europeans have come into the country posing - and even performing - as businessmen or philanthropists. They set up homes close to the idyllic west or south coast beaches, and also close to communities of impoverished former fishermen. They then win the trust of local boys and begin abusing them, paying them tiny sums of money in return.

A German man is serving a two-year sentence and two other cases are going through the courts, and up to 100 suspected paedophiles are deported every year. Ms Seneviratne's organisation Peace (Protecting Environment and Children Everywhere) believes that as many as 7,000 children are involved in the trade at any one time. "Previous governments didn't even look into it, because all they were concerned about was tourism," said Ms Seneviratne.

"When we began working on the problem six years ago people thought the foreign paedophile was a wonderful fairy godfather giving out presents - so why were we rocking the boat? People were only outraged when the facts were brought to light."

The government of President Chandrika Kumaratunga has now taken Peace's research to heart and a presidential task force is investigating. Clarke has indeed been a wonderful fairy godfather for Sri Lanka. He set up the Arthur Clarke Centre for Modern Technologies 15 years ago with the money he received with a Marconi International Fellowship, and in a country that is still in many cases crushingly poor it is an inspiring success. Thanks to the centre, and Clarke's generosity with his contacts, many Sri Lankan scientists punch well above their nation's weight in research and development.

Whatever Clarke's past activities, his friends at the centre insist that he now lives a life of intense respectability.

The point is further emphasised in the novel 2061 : South Africans in Space.

" Even in this diffused light, it glittered strangely, and Floyd could see that it had a vicious edge

'The sharpest knife in the known universe, said van dr Berg happily.'

'We've been through all this to find a knife?'

Van dr Berg started to laugh, then found it wasn't easy inside his mask.

'So you still dont know what this is about?'

'I'm beginning to feel I'm the only one who doesn't.

Van dr Berg look his companion by the shoulder, and turned him to face the looming mass of Mount Zeus. From this distance, it filled half the sky - not merely the greatest, but the only mountain on this whole world.

'Admire the view just for one minute. I have an important  call to make.

He punched a code sequence on his corset, wails  for the READY light to flash, and said: 'Ganymede Central 109 - this is Van. Do you receive?'

After no more than the minimum timelag, an obviously electronic voice answered:

'Hello, Van. This is Ganymede Central 109. Ready to receive.'

Van dr Berg paused, savouting the moment he would remember for the rest of his life.

Contact Earth Ident Uncle 737. Relay following message. LUCY IS HERE.

LUCY IS HERE. End message. Please repeat.'

Perhaps l should have stopped him saying that, whatever it means, thought Floyd, as Ganymede repeated the message. But it's too late now. It will reach Earth within the hour.

'Sorry about that, Chris,' grinned van dr Berg. 'l wanted to establish priority - amongst other things.

'Unless you start talking soon, I`ll begin carving you up with one of these patent glass knives.'

Glass, indeed! Well, the explanation can wait - its absolutely fascinating, but quite complicated. So I'll give you the straight facts.

'Mount Zeus is a single diamond, approximate mass one million million tons.

Or, if you prefer it that way, about two times ten to the seventeenth carats. But l can't guarantee that it's all gem quality.' "

VII THE GREAT WALL

49  Shine

As they unloadcd the cqulpmcnt from Blll Tee and set it up on their little granite landing-pad Chris Floyd found it hard to tear his eyes away from the mountain looming above them. A single diamond bigger than Everest! Why, the scattered fragments lying round the shuttle must be worth billions rather than millions.

On the other hand they might be worth no more than well scraps of broken glass. The value of diamonds had always been controlled by the dealers and producers but If a literal gem mountain came suddenly on the market prices would obviously collapse completely. Now Floyd began to understand why so many interested parties had focused their attention upon Europa the  political and economic ramifications were endless

Now that he had at last proved his theory. Van dr Berg had become again the dedicated and single-minded scientist anxious to complete his experiment with no further distraction. With Floyds help - it was not easy to get some of the bulkier pieces of equlprnent out of Bill Tee's cramped cabin - they first drilled a metro-long core with a posable electric drill and carried it caieftlll  back to the shuttle.

Floyd would have had a different set of priorities but he recognized that it made sense In do the harder tasks first. Not until they had laid out a seismograph array and erected a panoramic TV camera on a low heavy tripod did van dr Berg condescend to collect some of the incomputable riches lying all around them.

'At the very least,' he said as he carefully selected some of the less lethal fragments they'll make good souvenirs)

Unless Robbie's friends murder us to get them

Van dr Berg looked sharply at his companion he wondered how much Floyd really knew - and how much, like all of them, he was guessmg.

Not worth then while now that the secrets out. In about an hour's time the Stock Exchange computers will be going crazy!'

'You bastard!' said Floyd with admiration rather than rancour.

'So that's what your rnesssage was about'

'Theres no law that says a scientist shouldn't make a little profit on the side - but I'm leaving the sordid details to my friends on Earth Honestly Im much more interested in the job were doing here. Let me have that wrench please...'

Three times before they had finished establishing  Zeus Station they were almost knocked off their feet by quakes. They could 89 them first as a vibration underfoot then everythirtg would start shaking then there would be a horrible long drawn-out groaning sound that seerrld to come from every direction. It was even mrborne, which to Floyd seemed strangest of all. He could not quote get used to the fact that there was enough atmosphere around them to allow short range conversations without radio.

Van der Berk kept assuring him that the quakes were still quite harmless but Floyd had learned never do put too much trust in experts. Though the geologist had just been proved spectacularly right as he looked at Bill Tee heaving on its shock-absorbers like a sloop~classed ship, he hoped that Van's luck would hold for at least afew more minutes.

That seems to be it said the scientist at last to Floyds great relief.

Ganymede seemed to be getting good data on all charnels. The batteries will last for years with the solar panel to keep recharging theyn.

"For a moment il seemed as if the mountain was rising again - but it was the camera tripod toppling over The very last scene from Europa was a close-up of a glowing wave of molten sulphur about to engulf the equipment.

Gone for every lamented Willis. Riches infinitely greater than all the wealth that Golconda or Kimberley ever produced! What a tragic, heartbreaking lossy

'What a stupid idiot!' spluttemd Dr Kreuger. 'Doesn't he realize..'

It was time for another letter to Nature. And this secret would be much too big to hide.

56 Penurbation Theory

From: Professor Paul Kreuger, FRS, etc.

To: The Editor NATU RE Data Bank (Public access)

Subject: MOUNT ZEUS AND JDVIAN DIAMONDS

As is now well understood, the Europan foliation known as Mount Zeus was originally part of Jupiter. The suggestion that the cores of the gas giants might consist of diamond was first made by Marvin Ross of the University of California's Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in a classic pa er The ice layer in Uranus and Neptune - diamonds in the sky?' (Nature val 292 No. 5822 pp 435-6, 30 July 1981). Surprisingly Ross did not extend his calculations to Jupiter.

The sinking of Mount Zeus has produced a veritable choir  of lamentations all of which are totally ridiculous - for the reasons given below.

Without going into details, which will be presented in a later communication, l estimate that the diamond cone of Jupiter must have had an original mass of at least 10*28 grams. This is ten billion times that of Mount Zeus.

Although much of this material would doubtless have been destroyed in the detonation of the planet and the formation of the - apparently artificial - sun Lucifer, it is inconceivable that Mount Zeus was the only fragment to survive.

Although much would have fallen back on to Lucifer, a substantial percentage must have gone into orbit - and must still be there. 

Elementary peturbation theory shows that it will return periodically to its point of origin. lt is not of course, possible to make an exact calculation but I estimate that at least a million times the mass of Mount Zeus is still orbiting on the vicinity of Lucifer. The loss of one small fragment, in any Case most inconveniently located on Europa, is therefore of virtually no importance. l propose the establishment, as soon as possible, of a dedicated space-radar system to Search for this material.

Although extremely thin diamond film has been mass-produced since as long ago as 1982 it has never been possible to make diamond in bulk. 

Its availability in megaton quantities could totally transform many industries and create wholly new ones. In canicular, as was pointed out by Isaacs et al almost a hundred years ago (see Science, 151, pp. 682-3 1965) diamond is the only construction material which would make possible the So-called "space elevator", allowing transportation away from Earth at negligible cost. The diamond mountains now orbiting among the satellites of Jupiter may open up the entire Solar System; how trivial, by comparison, appear all the ancient uses of the quartic-crystallized form of carbon!

For completeness, l would like to mention another possible location for enormous quantities of diamond - a place, unfortunately, even more inaccessible than the core of a giant planet...

It has been suggested that the crusts of neutron stars may be largely composed of diamond. As the nearest known neutron star is fifteen light   years away and has a surface gravity seventy thousand million times that of ours.

And this can hardly be...

" And it had all happened long before the human race existed. 

Although some mysterious accident had befallen Discovery in orbit around Jupiter, there was no real evidence that it involved anythmg more than a shipboard malfunction. Although the philosophical consequences of TMA-1 were profound,  for all practical purposes mankind was still alone in the universe.

It's Kirby's Wife again - Big Barda.

Now that was no longer true. Only light minutes away - a mere stones throw in the Cosmos - was an Intelligence that could create a star and for its own inscrutable purpose destroy a planet a thousand times the size of Earth. Even more ominous was the fact that it had shown awareness of mankind through the last message that Discovery had beamed back from the moons of Jupiter just before the fiery birth of Lucifer had destroyed it:

ALL THESE WORLDS ARE YOURS EXCEPT EUROPA -  ATTEMPT NO LANDINGS THERE.

The brilliant new star which had banished night except for the few months in each year when it was passing behind the Sun had brought both hope and fear to mankind. 

Fear because the Unknown especially when it appears  linked with impotence could not fail to rouse such primeval emotions. 

Hope - because of the transformation it had wrought in global politics. 

It had often been said that the only thing that could unite mankind was a threat from space. Whether Lucifer was a threat no-one knew but it was certainly a challenge. 

And that as it turned out, was enough.

Heywood Floyd had watched the geopolitical changes from his vantage point on Pasteur, almost as If he was an alien observer himself.  At first he had no intention of remaining on space once his recovery was complete. To the baffled annoyance of his doctors that took an altogether unreasonable length of time.

Looking back from the tranquillity of later years Floyd knew exactly why his bones refused to mend.

He simply did not wish to return to Edith: there was nothing for him down on the dazzling blue and white globe that filled his sky. 

There were times when he could well understand how Chandra might have lost the will to live.

It was pure chance that he had not getn with his f test wife on that flight to Europe. Now Marion was part of another life that rntght have beloved to someone else and their two daughters were amiable strangers with families oftheir own.

But he had lost Caroline through his own actions even though he had no real choice in the matter. She had never understood (had he really done so himself?)

Why he had left the beautiful home they had made together to exile himself for years on the cold wastes far from the Sun.

Though he had known, even before the mission was half over that Caroline would not wait he had hoped desperately that Chis would forgive him. But even this consolation had been denied his son had been without a father for too long. By the time that Floyd resumed she had found another in the man who had taken his place in Carolines life. The estrangement was complete he thought he would never get over it but of course he did - after a fashion.

His body had cunningly conspired with his unconscious desires. 

When at last he returned to Earth after his protracted convalescence to Pasteur he promptly developed such alarming symptoms - including something suspiciously like bone necrosis that he was immediately rushed into orbit. And there he had stayed, apart from a few excursions to the Moon completely adapted to living in the zero to one-sixth gravity regime of the slowly rotating space hospital.

He was not a recluse - far from it. Even while he was convalescing he was dictaling repots. Giving evidence to endless commissions, being interviewed by media representatives. He was a famous man and enjoyed the experience while it lasted. "

"So I did it and...there was a something, like a flower, like a chrysanthemum in orange and yellow that was sort of spinning, spinning, and then it was like I was pushed from behind and I fell through the chrysanthemum into another place that didn't seem like a state of mind, it seemed like another place. 

And what was going on in this place aside from the tastefully soffited indirect lighting, and the crawling geometric hallucinations along the domed walls, what was happening was that there were a lot of beings in there, what I call self-transforming machine elves. 

Sort of like jeweled basketballs all dribbling their way toward me. 

And if they'd had faces they would have been grinning, but they didn't have faces. 

And they assured me that they loved me and they told me not to be amazed; not to give way to astonishment."

— Terence McKenna, Alien Dreamtime