My Mind is Made Up

© 2014 Mr. David R. Dorrycott

Chapter Eleven

We were in the cafeteria, it was time to grade our science projects. “I am going to make this easy on everyone” Mrs Martin announced. “You will place your science projects on your table, I will then walk down the rows making my decisions. One row behind me will come Mr. Rice, he is a University Science teacher. Between us we will select the winner, runner up and third place projects. They will receive fifty, twenty five and twenty points to their final grade. Everyone who did at least an adequate project will be given ten points, everyone else will be given nothing. Are there any questions?”

There were none, Mrs Martin was very good at explaining things, it was why there were only two students looking at failing. One was Clara Thompson who was already a proud owner of her MRS degree, this would be her last year in any school. The other was George Harper, his father ran the local moonshine business and George was an excellent moonshiner, he would probably drop out before the end of this school year. At least his science project showed true genius, how to filter drinking alcohol to remove all impurities using only items at hand.

My science project? I had gotten fathers help to create a simple pellet gun, one that fired a small ball bearing at various angles and speeds. Once he had gotten over our ‘chat’ and realized that his wife and daughter really loved him this had brightened up, the dour look on his face vanishing when presented with a problem that he saw as simple. As I needed to show both impact and explosive craters we had butted our heads together, actually I knew exactly what I needed but I let my father, with a bit of help from myself, discover the answer. So before me were twenty small square forms, each filled with colored layers of gypsum plaster, the colors to indicate strata. Ten had impact crates, ten had explosive craters, the explosions caused by tiny loads of gunpowder no more than a small fire cracker in size. Also was a carefully typed booklet (one hundred and thirty seven pages cannot be termed a pamphlet) giving proof of my theory.

Mrs Martin only paused a few seconds at my display, she frowned, looked at the hand drawn map of Volcano Lake and the thick stack of hand bound paper. “You intend to win” she noted.

“I intend to wake our world up to a truth Mrs Martin” I replied.

She raised an eyebrow, then continued on. Mr. Rice though stopped, read what was on the card board (it had been a cardboard box just a week ago) and started studying the craters, then he picked up my book and started reading.

“Mr. Rice, there are still thirteen projects to grade” Mrs Martin called a few minutes later. Looking up the man turned to look around as though he was lost. “Oh yes, the others” he replied. Then he looked at me with a stern face. “You, young lady are going nowhere.” Then he picked up his pad and completed the run.

George Harper made third place, Samuel Patterson made second with a study of various types of rock and their internal structure, I took first. I took first and was pulled from class to sit down with Professor Rice, he wanted facts, figures and exactly how I created the craters. This was all information that I was happy to give him, then he hit me with a curve ball.

“I would like to take this to the University and present it to my fellows” he said, still reading my report. “This is Graduate Student work Miss Baker, it is almost impossible that a near failing High School student could come up with this. I almost want to ask who really did the work.”

“You mean impossible for a simple girl” I said in answer, seeing the torpedo hit home. “Come to my father farm, I will show you the equipment we built to do this, I will walk you through it and let you take samples.” Reaching over I snagged my book from him, “But this stays with me, a copy has already gone to the Imperial Archives, three days ago, along with a copy to the Imperial Science Academy. You and your Fellows are not stealing this one.”

Professor Rice surprised me, he laughed. “Oh my dear girl that was probably exactly what would have eventually occurred, since your material has already been sent to review, anything I do now is useless. Still, I want to see how a farm girl and her father did what scientist have missed for thousands of years, and you are right, Volcano Crater is a perfect example of an impact crater.”

Standing I shoved my report into my carry bag, looking down at the still seated man. “You are taking this very well” I admitted. “I expected screaming, an attempt to prove me wrong.”

“Oh that will happen Miss Baker, that will happen however my Fellows and I had been wondering about all the circular lakes in this world. You have even given a possible time line, one hundred and sixty million years. Amazing, simply amazing. Will you be going to University after High School?”

“I am applying to Indiana State University when my Senior years starts, it is the soonest that I may apply” I admitted. “Due to family problems that I will never explain my last three years were pitiful, you must know that this is my second run though Junior High School. It will be very difficult to raise my grades enough, but I will be trying.”

Professor Rice nodded yes to me, “And when you get to the university, I’d like to work with you, you have some amazing ideas. Now, any questions?”

“Why don’t we have aircraft?” I asked bluntly.

A raised eyebrow answered me, “But we have Blimps and Dirigibles, that’s enough isn’t it Miss Baker?”

“I mean heavier that air craft” I corrected.

“Ah, well everyone knows that heavier than air aircraft are impractical, they just don’t have the power to weight ration needed to make them economical, even if you could build one it would crash from lack of lift, it is why we stay with Blimps and Dirigibles after all.”

“Oh.” I left it at that and walked away, leaving my display behind but my report held closely to my chest. I had a lot to think about now, apparently this worlds intelligent race wasn’t exactly THAT intelligent after all. In comparison to the reason just given me I was a flipping super genius. Why, my work was so simple that in my world someone would have tripped over it generations ago. Was it something about the bombardment that dulled these peoples minds into taking something for granted, or was it just genetics I wondered. It would be a very long time before I had that answer.