It’s all in the subject line. Now, bed.

I’m configuring an old laptop with all the tools I need for browsing, blogging, and checking email while at Comic-Con. This particular laptop runs optimally with Win98 on it.

Ah, good times. This OS is older than two of my children. It’s older than my comic. In internet years it is positively ANCIENT.

But it works. (Knocking on wood now…)

I looked at today’s APOD and wondered “how big is that galaxy?”

The article said “the arcing structures form tenuous loops extending more than 150,000 light-years from the narrow, edge-on spiral,” so a thumbnail measurement told me that the disc was around 150,000 light-years across… assuming the loops and the disc were all the same distance from the camera. Clicking on the links in the article gave me a bunch of information that did not include helpful things like “this galaxy has an estimated diameter of…”

But they DID tell me that it was 40,000,000 light-years away*, and was 12.8 arc-seconds in diameter as observed from Earth. It’s been a long time since I took any trigonometry, but I remembered enough to know that I had all the information I needed to calculate diameter. I just needed to google the formula.

The formula, so you know, is D (diameter) = (2pi*(distance)(angular diameter))/360, where angular diameter and “360” are both expressed in degrees. Thus “degrees/degrees” drops that unit from the result, leaving only the unit of measure used for “distance” behind to be applied to the diameter (or in this case “length” since the object being observed is does not present a disc)

Rounding to the comma, the galaxy in question is 146,000 light-years in diameter.

(*Note: I didn’t ask how astronomers measured the distance to the galaxy in question, but I assume it has to do with luminosity, red-shift, and other stuff. Obviously if the distance figure changes as a result of new measurements, the calculated diameter of the object will also change.)

The man stands in front of his open locker after an hour’s worth of pushing metal contrivances in various directions. He is on his way to the shower, and assorted ‘ceps and ‘oids glisten as he strips out of his clever-slogan t-shirt. From the shelf of his locker, his phone rings. It is a sensible bell-tone, not one of those annoying tune-rings that will get stuck in your head.

He considers his phone, and for just a moment he is the very picture of responsibility. He would rather have the shower right now, but this call must be taken. Wearing nothing but shorts and a layer of sweat he answers the phone. Naturally, the observer can only hear his end of the conversation:

“Hi, Bob.”

pause…

“So how far out are you?”

pause…

“No, that’s fine. I’ll see you in forty minutes, and I’ll pass the word along.”

He pushes the “end call” button, and scowls ever so slightly as he looks at the phone’s clock. Apparently the word must be passed along now, before the hot shower these rippling, aching muscles demand. He holds down a single key, speed-dialing.

“Hi Mike.”

pause…

“Yeah, Bob just called. He’s going to be late for the game. Could you holler across the store at my D&D group and tell them the Dungeon Master is about forty minutes out?”

pause…

“Yeah, I’m on my way, but I forgot dice. It’s okay, though… I think we’re leveling characters tonight anyway.”

And as he hangs up, he transforms, the words “Dungeon Master” stripping away layers of illusion. He may have looked responsible and ripplingly athletic for a moment, but he clearly fritters his evenings away as an imaginary hero. Those rippling bits no longer appear to be ‘ceps, ‘oids, or even remotely muscular. He is short, he is on the dumpy side of stocky, and he’s kind of clumsy getting that towel around his bulging middle. At least he’s showering. Everyone has heard horrible things about “game funk.”

That was me, yesterday at 4:58pm, in a locker room that wasn’t half as empty as providence might have made it… though it seemed to empty pretty quickly after I finished calling Mike.