The Radio Telescope on Monte Tlapan

 

The Huntress

The Radio Telescope on Monte Tlapán

It was 9:00 p.m., and the alarm in her watch beeped softly as Shoko Satiru, the director of the observatory, finished her work for the day. Changing out of her work clothes, she remembered that Pedro would be arriving shortly. For almost two years now she had repeated the same routine every Tuesday. She finished entering the settings for the radio telescope, and like a creature shedding its bright yellow skin, slipped out of her overalls. Fixing her hair, she compared her Asian features with those in the photo she had carefully placed in one corner of the mirror. She never ceased to admire that Aztec face, so like her own.

The image of The Huntress, as the archeologists called her, had been sculpted into solid stone some seven hundred years earlier. The figure was female, viewed in profile. In one hand she held a rectangular object, from which protruded a thin rod. Scholars had identified it as a hunting dagger. As for the other details, no one could provide any reasonable explanation for her strange clothing. However they did note that the plumed headdress was like those worn by the ancient Aztecs—though to the untrained eye it merely resembled windblown hair.

Shoko had first met Pedro at the site of the archeological dig. Presenting her with a photograph of The Huntress, he had murmured slowly, “Now I know who you are.” That phrase was the beginning of a wonderful relationship.

Shoko prepared herself for another evening in town with her companion. In a moment she would hear the crunching of tires on gravel as the car strained up the final hill that ended in the observatory’s parking lot. The security guard would watch on closed-circuit TV as Pedro approached the entrance. Pedro would chat briefly with him through the speaker, and soon Pedro and Shoko would be together below, enveloped in the warm, starry night.

But this time their Tuesday ritual was disrupted. Skipping his usual small-talk with the guard, Pedro climbed directly up the steps to the dome. The metal door opened and he entered quickly.

“You’ve got to fix this, Shoko. If we send it to the city, it will take them days to get it working right. You’ve got all the tools you need here and you know how to do it. Without this remote control we’ll have to open and close the gate at the dig by hand.”

“Sure,” she said, “of course.” Turning down the sound coming from the telescope’s monitors, she took the remote to a workbench. Instinctively, she took her yellow overalls down off the hook and in a few seconds was back in them. Pushing her hair out the way, she began working on the piece of equipment.

“It’s a short circuit,” she muttered. The defect was obvious in the waveform visible on the oscilloscope. As she changed the damaged transistor, Pedro’s fantasy wandered from lips and breath to skin and the burning depths of bodies meeting.

“We’re going to have to readjust the transmission frequencies so it will operate at four meters, two centimeters, and five millimeters.” A brilliant telecommunications engineer, she worked with that singular focus that had made her so valued by the company back in Japan. “Imagine, this primitive toy is made out of transistors, without even a single chip. It works only up to a distance of a couple of meters, while our radio telescopes receive signals from thousands of light years away. Four meters, two centimeters, five millimeters. Just over 168 megahertz—there. Done!”

Extending the antenna on the remote control, she pushed the “on” button. Immediately, the lights in the laboratory flickered. A dull thud could be heard coming from the dome’s motors, and the parabolic antenna of the radio telescope began to rotate slowly, searching for a message from the distant stars. The lights in the dome grew dim as the monitors suddenly brightened. Perhaps because of these contrasting effects, Pedro had the sensation that he was losing Shoko down a stroboscopic tunnel. Caught up in an electric blue wind, she seemed to be moving away into the distance, with the remote control still in her hand. At that moment, all twenty monitors came back to life, each displaying the profile of The Huntress.

The people brought rushing into the dome by the power failure were stopped short and stood dumbfounded in front of the screens. Eventually they turned their attention to regaining control of the radio telescope, but with the main power out it was impossible to move the telescope. Telephones rang, and with the help of the other observatories they were eventually able to confirm that the transmission of the human figure had originated right there—at the radio telescope of Monte Tlapán itself. The network of observatories around the world was connected so that an image detected at one location was simultaneously displayed at all other points in the network. Despite the brownout, Monte Tlapán had continued transmitting to its sister stations. But what was unclear was the original source of the image of The Huntress. Eight minutes after the initial disturbance, the normal flow of electricity was restored, and with it the image vanished. Once again the twenty monitors bore the traces of stellar objects arriving from the other radio telescopes.

After Shoko changed out of her overalls, Pedro followed her as she walked quickly down to the parking lot. As they drove off, her grip tightened nervously on the remote and the photograph she had retrieved from the dome. In the warm, starry night, the vehicle began its descent toward the distant lights of the town.

Fragile Memory

They didn’t speak until they had entered the large, rambling house. “I saw a series of flashing lights, like the strobe lights in dance clubs that make the dancers’ movements seem to jerk in a series of freeze frames. But in this case, it was your silhouette that seemed to be moving quickly away from me into the distance, to the rhythm of blue flashing lights.” “How can that be, Pedro? The frequency was almost sixteen cycles per second. Our monitors can’t display a signal in that range.”

“Maybe. But I do know that I smelled a strong odor of ozone at the same time that I was feeling myself being pushed away from you by some kind of wind.”

“You’re not making any sense. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” cried Shoko, almost hysterical. Pedro gently put his arm around her and slowly continued, “You were moving away from me down a long tunnel. It didn’t last more than two or three seconds, but when you came back and I saw you with the remote in your hand, I could tell that you were The Huntress. It’s not just a cute phrase anymore, like it was in the beginning. For two years we haven’t spoken about this, and now it’s just blown up in our faces.” She let out a sob, but quickly regained her composure, interrupting Pedro.

“Let’s start at the beginning. I know something happened, but I have no idea how much time passed. It’s like waking up from a dream and not being able to remember anything. For me, time was suspended. For you, seconds passed that you experienced without any interruption. Then there was that eight minutes with the image frozen on the monitors.”

Pedro suggested that they write everything down and not worry about it until the next day. After a while, they collapsed on the bed, exhausted, distressed, and confused. A short time later, Pedro was sound asleep.

Shoko tossed and turned, rehashing it all in her troubled dreams. At the summit of Monte Tlapán, there was no observatory. Instead, she found herself facing the dazzling figure of a man dressed in the style of the ancient Aztecs. In a flash, this luminous sculptor had translated her features onto a block of stone. Her clothing, the remote control, and her windblown hair were all carved into the rock, but while the images were now etched there they nonetheless moved as if alive. Then, without words he explained something about the balance of the Earth and how it would be reestablished through a device that he would leave hidden for a period of centuries.

Unintentionally, she would accelerate the process, putting the entire project at risk. It would be necessary to turn part of the excess energy back on itself, contracting it until it became matter. This process would return her to the original point in time, and the same would be true of everything related to the moment of the accident. It was a way of reordering things without setting off a chain of events that would affect larger systems. Shoko thought she grasped how her own deep memory of time would also remain enchained to a time centuries before her own birth, through an event that would only take place in the future. But then this luminous being opened his hands wide, and she was thrown once again into her own world.

They jumped out of bed as the floor started to move and the furniture began to creak. It was an earthquake, but by the time they got outside onto the large patio it had subsided. Day was breaking, and a gentle breeze blew in the direction of Tlapán.

 

 

The Aztec Calendar

Around the year 1300, the region of Tlapán was an important center of the Aztec empire. Guarded there was the illustrated record recounting the story of the long journey through the darkness of those who had first arrived and established the original people. Not far from here was the mountain on which the god Quetzalcoatl had descended, and from which he had visited different regions of the Earth. It was also there that, for a time, he taught everything-that-is. But one morning, other gods, riding an enormous plumed serpent, came seeking him. Before departing he left behind a gift, the enormous flying ship in which he had arrived, but he hid it in a place known only to a wise few. The descendants of these learned ones would know what to do when the appropriate moment arrived, because he left instructions for them engraved on a stone disk. But if anyone made a mistake, the flying ship would fly away and return to its master. Thus, Quetzalcoatl and the other gods drew away from the mortals, flying toward the morning star.

A century later, Montezuma II found that this troublesome story was spreading throughout his kingdom. He traveled to Tlapán and summoned the wise ones so that they would reveal the secret of Quetzalcoatl to him. The emperor’s learned subjects explained to him that the significance of the stone disk had been greatly exaggerated. In truth, it was a calendar so useful that it served equally well to predict the astronomical cycles and to determine the right time to plant and to harvest. With the emperor’s blessing, Tlapán was designated as the favored location from which to observe the stars and the fates. In any case, with the arrival of the white man the region was abandoned.

But these climatic and geographical truths, long distorted in legend, were reestablished centuries later when one of the worldwide network of radio telescopes was constructed on a high point in the region known as Monte Tlapán. Otherwise, the region was noteworthy only for its history, in particular the archeological dig located near the observatory. The staff from both sites would often cross paths in the sleepy little town, where they would trade stories of distant stars and fabulous kingdoms. It was not surprising, then, that the head of the archeological team should meet a Japanese expatriate at the site. After all, she was working only a short distance away and was curious about the history of the area.

Time and Rock

Leaving the house, they headed toward the foothills. But first they stopped at the dig. It was early and even the work crews had not yet arrived. There was a hint of alarm in the voices of the security guards who came out to meet them.

“Don Pedrito, there was a big quake last night, and then a wind that nearly sent us flying. We wanted to go into the compound, but we were afraid something would fall on us.”

“Don’t worry, Juan. We’ll go check it out.”

To one side, the stepped faces of the pyramid rose to a truncated apex. They began climbing the pyramid, finally reaching the terrace and the door that guarded the entrance. Pedro extended the antenna on the remote. When he pushed the button, the motor responded, and the heavy metal gate slowly opened. He gave Shoko a gentle pat on the back, “Good job!”

Entering the site, Pedro unlocked a shed and turned on the lights. It was filled with sawhorses, work tables, chests, and shelves covered with artifacts. In a dimly lit corner, a stone tablet revealed the true dimensions of The Huntress. The visitors stood enthralled for a moment as they contemplated the figure. In a soft voice Shoko asked about the place where it had been found. Pedro told her how the stone had been uncovered when excavation began on Monte Tlapán to supply building material for the observatory’s foundation. Later on, the figure had been brought down to the main dig site, and finally moved to its present location.

A new earthquake drowned out Pedro’s voice. The noise of ceramic objects clattering against each other, the cracking of stone walls, and the banging of the metal door accompanied the swaying of the lights that hung from long cables. At that moment they stood paralyzed, unable to flee, watching as the image of The Huntress appeared to move, almost stretching, as a soft phosphorescent glow bathed the tablet. It seemed to them that the relief of the carving had lost some of its flawless detail, as if it were suddenly showing the effects of the passage of time. Shoko felt that something was beginning to awaken deep in her memory.

Meanwhile, the crew of workers had arrived with their usual commotion. A short time later, at the base of the pyramid, Pedro gave instructions for measures to reinforce the site, in case of further earthquakes.

Pedro and Shoko left the dig and set off for the mountain. On the way, it was apparent that the wind was picking up and starting to blow toward Tlapán from every direction. Before long, they arrived at the observatory. Shoko rushed in, while Pedro waited patiently in the car. Finally, she came out again. Leaning back against the seat, Shoko sighed and began to talk about how things were getting more and more messed up, how after every little tremor the circuits would overload—and now the wind, which had been blowing nonstop since last night, had created a cloud of dust in the air that was interfering with signal reception by the radio telescope. She had changed two voltage regulators herself and needed to go back to town to order replacements. Not wanting to go by helicopter, she would take her car or one of the observatory’s vans. They kissed, promising to meet that evening back at the house.

The Sierra Madre Is to Blame

“Report of the Investigating Committee Regarding the Incident Referred to as the Case of ‘Echo Retransmission.’ Field team directed by Dr. M. Pri and Prof. A. Gort.

“At 9:12 p.m. on March 15, 1990, the observatory at Monte Tlapán ceased retransmission of radio astronomical signals. A video signal transmitted from the affected observatory was detected on the network, which at that time included stations in Costa Rica, Sydney, Xining, and Osaka. For a period of eight minutes the image of a human figure was observed in place of the usual non-terrestrial signals. In the initial investigation, the technicians reported that the automatic tracking system had accidentally focused on NGC-132, receiving signals from this radio source, some 352 light years away. Dr. Shoko Satiru stated that the seventeen staff members under her supervision concurred that there had been a brownout lasting eight minutes, after which system function was restored. Under these conditions, the Monte Tlapán transmitter should simply have stopped feeding data to the network. However, the transmission of a video image from that point forces us to consider the possibility that an echo from a commercial television transmitter may have interfered with Tlapán, with this television signal overriding the non-terrestrial source. Phenomena of this type have been reported previously and may be attributed to television signals bouncing off the Sierra Madre del Sur.

“With nothing further to report, we send our regards,

                                                                  “M. Pri and A. Gort

                                                                  “Mexico City, March 20, 1990”

Five days had passed since the event at the observatory. Earth tremors were occurring with greater frequency and intensity. At first the seismologists from Mexico City also blamed the Sierra Madre. There was a known fault where tectonic plates met that from time to time produced sizable earthquakes. But then things changed.

A large area around Tlapán was covered with seismographs and other devices. Curious onlookers were arriving from all over, and the army had cordoned off the area to prevent them from getting too close to the danger zone. By now the scientists felt that they were registering underground volcanic activity of some kind, and they were sure that if the situation continued it would end in some kind of eruption. The graphs of the instruments were following a curve that was growing nearly exponentially. At first the tremors occurred at twelve-hour intervals, then every eight hours, and so on. The observatory and the dig site were evacuated. Someone with binoculars looking around from a safe distance would not have discovered much—only a few stealthy television reporters foolishly risking their lives by venturing into the restricted area.

In the late afternoon, Shoko and Pedro arrived at the gate that led up to the observatory. They showed their credentials, and after being given the runaround were finally allowed through. They were still several kilometers from Tlapán when they were forced to pull off the road, stopping in a dry riverbed to seek shelter from the wind, which at times reached hurricane force.

Return to the Heavens

Toward midnight the wind and tremors ceased. Pedro tried to start the car, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. The warm, beautiful night enticed them into walking back up to the road. The moon and the stars gave enough light for them to see without stumbling. Suddenly, they stopped. The high-tension wires that carried electricity to the area began to buzz loudly, giving off a bluish glow along their entire length. Ahead they could see Monte Tlapán bathed in light. Had they been far to the north, they would have sworn this was the aurora borealis, dancing in ever-changing colors, descending to earth.

They sat down on some rocks to watch the spectacle. Soon they noticed that the lights in town were flickering to the rhythm of the resplendent light show taking place on Tlapán. Finally, as the lights on the mountain grew even brighter, the town was left in total darkness.

They tried to organize their confused thoughts. Somehow the remote control for the gate had produced a harmonic effect that had activated the motors of the radio telescope. Sweeping past other signals, the telescope had stopped exactly on NGC-132, some 352 light years away, yet somehow captured images produced 704 years earlier at this very spot. These two points had entered into a resonance that lasted until the rotation of the Earth shifted the radio telescope’s field of reception eight minutes later. But for this to happen, it would have been necessary to somehow have been present on the mountain 704 years earlier. It was all too unbelievable. But it might have been possible if, for example, the remote had activated an enormous amplifier, either in the observatory or nearby. If this were the case, the microvoltages of a person’s cerebral activity at sixteen cycles per second might have been amplified, producing the stroboscopic effects that were observed. That is to say, the amplifier might have had the ability to project images captured from a nearby nervous system, say, of someone thinking of the photograph of The Huntress. Of course, that doesn’t explain how these amplified images could have interfered with the radio telescope. Such an amplifier may also have caused a phenomenon of ionic absorption, displacing layers of air and producing the unusual gusts of wind.

As for the rest, the electrical disturbance that led to this absorption could have broken down the ohmic resistance between the tectonic plates, increasing their conductivity and allowing them to move; thus the earth tremors. All right, but this amplifier, which is at the heart of the explanation, is something that couldn’t even exist. Similarly, the leap into the past was something completely impossible, unthinkable as a hypothesis. And so all of this was filled with contradictions from start to finish.

The glow from Tlapán increased as dawn approached. As Venus rose above the horizon, they could hear a roar that grew louder until it was almost unbearable. The high-tension towers began swaying, and many were torn right off their bases. Pedro and Shoko clutched one another tightly on the ground as they felt the beginnings of another powerful earthquake. Lightning bolts struck Tlapán with increasing intensity, until suddenly, as if it had been dynamited, the top of the mountain was blown completely off—the observatory was gone, and a short time later the mountain cracked open like an egg. Enormous pieces fell all around, and then there was silence.

A huge metallic form began rising slowly from what had been Monte Tlapán. Glowing in flames of changing color, it rose higher and higher until it appeared to be an enormous disk. It began moving toward the terrified observers. For a time, the ship hovered over them, and they could clearly see the symbol of Quetzalcoatl on its side. Finally it took off abruptly in the direction of the morning star. At that moment Shoko’s deep memory was liberated, and she knew that The Huntress had been forever freed from her stone prison.

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Reference: this short history is from the book The Day of the Winged Lion, Silo. To get a free copy visit : www.silo.net