Did you know it’s voting day in Chile? A whole national holiday, everyone off the mountain to go participate in government. (Well not viscachas. But all the human crew.) Really! They brought the turno bus up on the weekend, instead of a typical Tuesday. The summit was going to be mine, a little staycation, some peace and quiet, boundless bouncing, etc.
But those kids… there they were. Here when no one else was. Cawing to my colleague Carlos. Scarfing down cold empanadas like it was 12 midnight instead of 12 noon. Napping on public couches. Rolling on public pool tables. Crawling around the boulders. Cracking open stones. Performing impressionistic rock percussion (hearing bells chime). Staring off to the vistas.
Now I’m a humble viscacha. I have my perch, and I stick to it. I huddle close to the eves in the mornings, and I sun bathe in the evenings. It’s demanding, standing watch over the cleanroom. I don’t mind. What better place to keep an eye on things?
Want to know what I notice? That every few seasons there are these astronomers that just don’t quit. They’re here week after week, even when the turno changes. Even when they think, or even mutter to themselves “I know I got to get away.” So of course these were the astronomers to upend a quiet weekend.
I’m a Vizzy who minds his business. But even I noticed a regular wasn’t here this time. Not that I was prying, but there were a lot more questions and running around this time. Like “are you sure that’s where that cable goes?” and “wait did we remember to grab the nitrogen tank?” and “what do you mean it’s not in the handbook?” and “dos? Dos? Dos mas??” Not that I’d get involved, but seemed a lot like a tricycle operation learning to be a bike. Whole new levels of confidence and skill to get things off the ground.
But they did it. Just in case anyone needed some kind of, oh I don’t know, summary or conclusive account. From someone in a senior position.
Those kids worked themselves and their telescope to the bone. Who else would let so much morning light into Clay’s dome? Who else would have a TO shuttle up 20ish pounds of empanadas? What other crew would attempt to commission a half dozen new technologies in just two weeks? What other team could get so many of them to be success?
(Please see: documentation of dawn observing submitted to evidence.)
I think this means something. Like they’ve grown up. Or that shiny box they keep shuttling around has passed some sort of say, bus test.
After weeks of this nonsense, seems like they’ve finally packed up. The AO kids have been trickling out for the last few days. I know if [they] don’t, [they]’ll go out of [their] mind. I got some good byes, some good last chats. This final crew? I think they got a good last sunset too. The whole package, green flash and all.
So. The kids are alright. Old kids and new kids (and new new kids). And kids who didn’t make it this time. I know them all pretty well. I’ll look forward to seeing big smiles next time they see me. Which will probably be in what, three months, four? They just can’t stay away.
