 Mystery: January 15, 2013 Issue [#5469] |
  Mystery
This week: A Universe Full of Possibilities Edited by: Jeff  
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"Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known."
-- Carl Sagan
Mystery Trivia of the Week: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in addition to creating one of literature's most memorable and enduring characters in Sherlock Holmes, also tried his hand at several other careers. Over the course of his life, Doyle was a doctor, a ship's surgeon, a football (soccer) player, an ophthalmologist, and a political activist. He wrote during his tenure at most of these jobs, particularly his stint as an ophthalmologist. Doyle admitted to having never had a single customer, and that's also the point when he first contemplated killing off his famous detective. His mother (as well as general public outcry) convinced him to continue writing Sherlock Holmes stories off and on for another ten years.
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A UNIVERSE FULL OF POSSIBILITIES
Let's talk a little bit about the universe. And other planets. And alien things. It may seem strange to be talking about these things in a mystery newsletter, but the truth is that except for science fiction (and actual science), few genres are more apt to apply to the universe than the mystery genre. We've only scratched the surface of our own planet, let alone the other eight. (I don't care what people say; Pluto still counts!  ) And our sun is only one of 100-400 billion other stars in our Milky Way galaxy. And the Milky Way galaxy is one of hundreds of billions of galaxies in the observable universe... which is merely the slice of the universe that we've been able to observe from our own little tiny planet. That means that there are a minimum of 10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stars just in the part of the universe we can see, each containing its own solar system with who knows how many planets. 
Now let's pretend that we're only looking for life similar to our own. For the purposes of this discussion, we're not even going to talk about the fact that there are 118 known chemical elements on our own planet, and who knows how many others in existence on those oh so many other planets, any of which may combine to create strange and incomprehensible life forms. If we're talking strictly about humanoid life forms, we have to stay within the Goldilocks Zone, or those planets which are within a certain distance range from their own stars to support comparable life (i.e. the potential for similar atmospheres and temperatures, for standing water on the planet's surface, etc.). In our own solar system, Earth and Mars are the only planets entirely in that zone. So even if we assume that only one or two planets in each solar system can sustain humanoid life, and even if we pretend that only one in ten thousand stars even have planets in that habitable range, we're still talking about 1-2 quintillion (that's eighteen zeroes!) planets that could be similar enough to our own to sustain some kind of intelligent life.
When we think of aliens as little green martian men, or "Greys," or any of the other caricatures of that so often come to mind when we conjure images of extraterrestrial life, it's easy to dismiss the notion as ridiculous. Heck, even if you're looking at it from a scientific standpoint, what are the chances that - with all the adaptations and developments necessary for humans to thrive here on Earth - that another one of those planets underwent a similar set of improbable and fortuitous circumstances that led to similar evolution?
Then again, from a purely statistical point of view, what are the odds that we're the only planet out of those 1-2 quintillion that has any kind of life on it?
Consider all the mysteries and unanswered questions that our universe contains... the sheer vastness of its size and the possibilities that can be found on distant planets. Or maybe the mystery is even in how we're going to get to these places that are millions of light years away, considering our current technology still requires three days to get to the moon and nearly a year to get to Mars. Whatever aspect of the universe appeals to you, there are a seemingly endless number of possible mysteries to explore in your fiction. Maybe people will call it science fiction, but it's also rife with mystery.
Until next time,
-- Jeff
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I encourage you to check out the following mystery items:
It was hard to believe there had been a fierce storm last night, though the worst of it had been far out to sea. Now the sky was cloudless, and even though the sun was high in the sky, the breeze coming off the water made the air feel cool. Jerry's shoes, laces tied together, were hung around his neck, as he walked barefooted along the beach with water splashing over his feet. He carried a small canvas bag for the shells he hoped to add to his collection at home.
He saw a dark blue bottle with a cork stopper, half buried in the sand. Inside it, he could see a piece of rolled-up paper. He pulled out the cork, turned the bottle upside down and shook it hard trying to get the paper out. He gave the bottle a couple more shakes. The paper would not come out. The way the paper was curled he could see that there was writing on it but he could not read it. He replaced the cork and put the bottle into his bag. He would try again at home. He laughed. Already his writer's imagination was off and running. What was on the paper? It could be anything, even a treasure map.
"Miyo, Danny, Jay and his family are coming to town tomorrow, want to go visit them?" My mom called from the downstairs kitchen.
"Yeah, we should go!" Danny, my little brother, jumped of my bed dropping his video game controller, and turn to look at me with his shinning emerald green eyes. His big grin and messy brown hair was blocking the T.V. He was thirteen but had more courage and energy than anyone I knew everyone but Jay.
"It was December 1929 when I met him," continued Wiseman," on a hot, clear Summer's evening in Mananjary. Never shall I relish and lament any moment more than I do that brief, fortuitous, tragic chapter in not only my life, but in life itself as we know it - or thought we knew it."
I regarded Wiseman with interest (and dare I say, a hint of scepticism,) sat back in my chair and prepared for what portended to be a highly intriguing account of the events unfolding from this first meeting between Charles Wiseman and the mysterious Jérôme Lazare.
The credibility of his tale as yet remained uncertain, but for now he had my most unflinching attention.
"The café was scented with chocolate, freshly baked pastries and coffee. Oh the heavenly coffee. At "The Coffee Bean" it has been rumored for years that customers get exactly what they need. If you had a broken heart they would serve you the perfect espresso milkshake with a special touch that put a smile back on your face, or the perfect chocolate mousse cake that would draw out those tears that you were hiding so that you could move on."
After twenty years of business the place had gotten on more lips than their coffee. Andrea Fitz, a young journalist for the The Times was writing a piece on the place.
"I hate hot pockets!" Dean exclaimed, as he slammed his drink down on the table, sending a few droplets of wine soaring through the air. He also didn't like pockets that were hot, but he thought this to be something rather confidential, so he thought it would be best if he'd keep it to himself.
"You're trying to confuse me. Don't swamp me with trivial details." Officer Jenson stated, "I don't care if the sun was shining. All I want to know is where you were last Friday."
Sammy folded his hands on the green table, quiet.
Officer Jenson sat in a seat across from Sammy, "Mr. Datum, finger prints were found on various objects at the crime scene." Officer Jenson opened a folder, placing a photo onto the table, "Does this look familiar? It's the murder weapon."
We were waiting. Waiting to die, waiting to be rescued, waiting for a sign. . .
We had become drifters, stranded in the deep blue sea with no land in sight. It was just the six of us---James Henderson, Mike Davis, Bart Waldron, Allan York, Jeff Thomson and me, Will McCloud. Six men who were about to die.
"Are you familiar with subliminal messages?" she asked calmly.
"What? You mean if you flash the words "drink more soda" during a show I'll have an insatiable thirst for some soda?" he replied, grinning.
"What if I told you it wasn't only limited to things like television and movies? What if your thoughts could be controlled by what you read?"
"I'm listening."
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Feedback from my last newsletter about magic:
Quick-Quill  writes, "I saw this picture and had to write about it. "Eastern Penn Tours" "
That's a great photo! I can see why you were inspired to write about it. 
NaNoNette  writes, "This was a neat NL about Urban Exploration. I fondly remember my adventure inside the Berlin U-Bahn tunnels until one of us almost fell to her death. (did I just admit to that in public?)"
Wow, that sounds like quite a story! And here I am thinking a behind the scenes tour at Universal Studios is exciting! 
blue jellybaby  writes, "I've never heard of Urban Exploration before but it sounds like something I'd love and indeed a great inspiration for a wealth of ideas. Googling now... "
I've never been urban exploring myself, but the next time I go on a trip, I'm definitely going to give it a try. Especially with the United States less than 250 years old, I'd love to really explore all the hidden gems of a much, much older city like Rome or Kyoto or Marrakesh. The history of cities like that are so amazing, I can only imagine the kinds of secrets they hide! 
DB Cooper writes, "You are a genius! Writers do a terrible job exploiting this exact subject."
 Thank you so much for the flattering compliment!
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