"That's the closest stellar object, but from here I can see much more. In fact, there doesn't seem to be a limit. It's like…heaven."
Jihyun didn't answer Lamont's question. Instead, she looked fixedly out at the infinitely deep field of stars before them, her small mouth drawn in a tight line. Lamont noticed that her raven-black hair, normally fixed in an elaborate bun, and lately pulled into a pony tail, was now loose. It partially concealed her face, draping over her shoulder and down her back, long enough that two or three inches trailed on the ground. Her fingers toyed absently with the faux leather cover of her notebook.
"Are those astronomical notes?" Lamont asked. She nodded, and he asked, "May I see?"
With slight hesitation, Lee handed the book over to him, and he began to leaf through it. It was nearly full. He had expected to see columns of numbers, diagrams, equations, and he did. But even to his unlearned eye, something was surprising: Included in the notes were sketches of planetary surfaces, the orbits of moons, even what looked like depictions of alien structures. There was no clear demarcation between the subjects; just like the constellation diagrams, the more fantastical sketches were accompanied by mathematical figures and element lists. "Are you extrapolating these from what you see here?" Lamont asked, nodding toward the starscape outside.
"Not extrapolations," Lee answered. "Observations."
She stood, taking two long strides toward the field of stars and nebula. Lamont was seized by a sudden animal panic that a moment later she would be drifting away into empty space, and he jerked to his feet. She stopped, though, pressing outspread fingers against an invisible surface, looking for all the world like a mime. "Can you see this?" She asked.
She began with her hands nearly touching, and then spread them out as if pulling apart curtains. As she did so, the scene before her seemed to warp into a bubble; countless stars rushed past, curving along its edges until, inside a clearly defined circular outline, Lamont could see a globular cloud of orange gas in the center of which was a sullen red glow about the size of a human head.
"I thought I'd become immune to surprise," he whispered.
"This is the star of this system," Jihyun explained, gazing at it thoughtfully. "A red giant. Dying, its outer shell escaping into the system as it expands. As it does, it warms the surfaces of outer planets that were once frozen. There will be time for entire species to evolve and perhaps build civilizations while the star takes its final breaths." She lowered her hands. The field of stars rippled like the surface of a pond and then returned to what looked like a normal view from the position of the tower. Lee looked over her shoulder at Lamont. "That's the closest stellar object, but from here I can see much more. In fact, there doesn't seem to be a limit. It's like…heaven."
Lamont felt his fists clenching. She was an astronomer, after all. Why would she want to leave the ultimate observatory? After a long moment of silence, he quietly asked: "Can we see Westward from here?"
"Of course," Lee answered. She pointed her finger to their left, toward a bright glimmer of blue-white light that was flashing on and off at roughly one-second intervals.
He was formulating a speech to appeal to her loyalty, but a question occurred to him. "Why is it blinking?"
"Even though the surface isn't very reflective, the light from the gas giant catches it quite brilliantly," Jihyun answered with academic clarity. "We're seeing the light reflect off its broad side as it spins."
"As it—" Lamont whispered. "Oh, hell."