©copyright 1998 by Keith Cowing

Dialing VERY long distance

Conducting a SETI search is a rather straightforward, and highly automated operation - that is, once all of the software and hardware can be coerced into cooperating. One of the calibration activities involved pointing the dish at a known radio source. First on the menu was Pioneer 6, a 140 pound solar satellite in an orbit between that of Earth and Venus and still transmitting data despite having been launched back in December 1965. As the German film crews' cameras recorded a computer screen, a few commands and a few minutes of observation revealed a strong signal. Further observations of Pioneer 10, now outside our solar system, were thwarted when the dish operator announced that the probe was on the other side of the Earth - hence unobservable.

The process whereby the radio telescope is directed to a target is actually rather simple. Using a HP Apollo workstation running X-Windows, Jill called up a program called "Scheduler". From a menu of various search methodologies and pre-set procedures, she selected a pre-determined program for Pioneer 6 and presto - the search began.

Later, Jill began another calibrative search - this time to SETI Star 4064 Right Ascension 18 hrs 49 min 49.3 sec Declination 23 deg 50 min 10 sec I was later to learn that this was a M3.5V * class star 10 light years away known in different catalogs as either GL 729 or V1216 Sgr or R 154.

During the process of getting everything to work, there was lots of speed dialing going on. Much attention of late has been given at NASA to "virtual science" i.e. "telepresence" or "virtual collaboration". Such discussions usually revolve around how high bandwidth Internet connections at 10, 20, even 30 mbps which can afford researchers various interactive modalities. Well, this may be true, but I watched as simple tools such as a 1.544 mbps T- 1 link and a standard telephone line seemed to allow all the interaction required for a major SETI search.

Cheaper, Better, Faster can also be Older

The next time you look up at the sky, remember that the light you see "now" , rather the photons hitting your retina, ranges in age from minutes to billions of years. Just as your "now" is a curious snapshot of events spread back over time, so is this observatory. Someone (Einstein?) once spoke of life as a collection of non-simultaneous events. Well, SETI uses hardware that stretches back across a large chunk of this century.

As you approach the 140 foot dish, you are confronted with a weather-beaten behemoth. It is old and dirty - not unlike the bridge of one of those aircraft carriers often used as a nautical museum. The structure is designed not only to bear the weight of the immense dish, but also to withstand the strong winds which bear upon it.

The word "monument" seems to be more fitting than "radio telescope".

Being so close to the cusp of the 21st century, and in such close proximity to something so inherently futuristic as listening for alien civilizations, you can't help but form a preconception of hi-tech gadgetry inside. Well, that is not what greets you when you enter the control room of the 140 foot dish.

I was struck immediately by the decor - something very reminiscent of the 1960s Apollo-era offices I worked in at a southern California aerospace contractor in the early 1980s - you know, that government green and tan color everywhere, furniture, walls, ceiling - made all the more blatant by banks of fluorescent lights.

As you turn the corner you are confronted with an array of electronic gear ranging from early 1960s to last week in vintage. Mechanical switches and relays, dials, and status lights - with little light bulbs from the 60s are mounted in racks adjacent to tape drives from the 70s, VCRs from the 80s, and 90s ethernet-connected UNIX workstations. Its almost as if someone was starting a technology museum.

Next to the control console for the dish stands a double rack of hardware with virtually no external features, on wheels, painted incongruous powder blue. This is some of the special stuff installed for Project Phoenix Its under-stated shape, and out of place color serve to accentuate the cutting edge aspects of the technology inside.

Just as you've processed the visual scenery, the auditory channels start to kick in. Despite sound dampening tiles adhered on every possible free piece of ceiling and wall, the room is awash in white noise, undulating from a horde of cooling fans.

Yet it all works - just like the 1970s vintage Space Shuttle flies with its newly installed 1990s avionics. Just because something is old doesn't mean it is without usefulness.

Back to the future

At one point during the day, I went over to the Observatory's "dorm" to drop off my back pack. The dorm is an amazingly preserved throwback to the 1960s. The rooms all have heavy shades to block out daylight. Regardless of which portion of the EM spectrum they study, Astronomers have strange duty cycles, ones driven by the Earth's rotation. The only concession for the 80s or 90s was a ground fault interrupt outlet in the bathroom and a digital alarm clock. No TV. Even if there was a TV, it would be useless here - unless you hooked it to a satellite dish pointed at the sky.

With the exception of simple intrusions by the late 20th century, I found myself in a pristine example of research institution architecture from the dawn of the space age - back in the middle of the century. The cafeteria is an equally well-preserved relic. The food is traditional Americana (no lattes, salad bars, or fajitas) - indeed, the prices even seem to have been preserved from the 60s.

The tables are equipped with notepads and pencils to make mealtime notes easily portable. While the room can seat 100 people, no more than a handful of people are here at mealtimes. People came and went with not the slightest sign of being rushed in any way. Some arrived in old diesel-powered "Checker" cabs, others on one-speed bicycles whose paint faded 20 years ago, and others by foot. If it weren't for the giant radio telescopes looming nearby you'd have no reason to suspect you were in the midst of a major astronomical observatory. None whatsoever.

Much of the campus is unchanged from the days when the very first SETI searches were done. Once built, things are maintained so as to be functional, but not distracting to those who work here. In some ways, it reminds me of an ancient monastery where monks quietly contemplate the wonders of the cosmos today while building upon the work - and walking in the footsteps - of their long gone predecessors.

External Combustion and Shrinking Planets

After a day of filming and hardware calibration, Jill and I managed to grab some food in the Dorm's cafeteria just as they were starting to close. After a few minutes, Jill realized that she needed to get over to the 140 footer to get some papers. Off we went on a diesel odyssey. Before you go anywhere, you need to unplug your vehicle. The diesel vehicles are all equipped with electrical block heaters. It can get very cold here and unheated blocks can become so cold as to prevent a diesel engine from operating. Each time you park your assigned vehicle you need to plug it in.

We managed to make it down to the 140 footer wherein Jill grabbed her papers. As we walked back from the telescope's control console, the telescope's operator (Don) asked me if I had been to "The Gendarme" climbing shop in Seneca Rocks (I was wearing one of their T-shirts). I said yes. A conversation ensued wherein I learned that Don had not only been to the Gendarme's website, but actually knew the owner of the Gendarme.

Yikes, what a small planet.

As we walked out of the control room, Jill remarked upon the coincidence that this fellow would know me - and my website. There is a curious irony in hearing Jill Tarter, of all people, say this. Recently, I sent her an email to see if she'd be around when I visited California. She responded that she was in Japan and would be there for a while. A few minutes after the email exchange I went to shut off the TV only to see Jill on MSNBC. Flash forward a month. Just after I had confirmed my Green Bank visit with Jill via email, I told my wife I was going to West Virginia to catch up with Jill. My wife said "speaking of the devil, come out here." I did. There was Jill on the Discovery Channel.

Small planet indeed.