The Triumph of Hypatia

William Kelly


It was a hot morning, a Saturday in Arizona. Even though it was only about nine A.M., it was hot. In a small bungalow on a back road, Willa Whiddich sat up in bed. She rubbed sleep from her eyes.

Friday had been a long day at the McMath Solar Observatory at Kitt Peak. It had been an even longer night restoring the computer system that had gone down, threatening to ruin the records of the day's observations. At least, she thought, it happened on the night before my day off.

She pulled on her jeans, the white blouse she had worn the day before, her old running shoes. Then she walked out toward the kitchen. As she passed the other bedroom, she could see that her understudy, David French, was also rousing himself from sleep.

In the kitchen, she put on the coffeepot, put bread in to toast. She realized that neither she
nor David had stopped to check the mail or the answering machine on the telephone when they had driven back from the observatory during the wee hours of the morning.

Willa walked into the hallway, through the small living room and stepped out through the front door. She walked past her worn white Volkswagon Golf and headed down the walk to the mailbox marked "W. Whiddich" and "D. French". She opened it, found a pile of mail, took it out and headed back up the walkway toward the house.

Willa had applied for at least a score of new positions in the field of astronomical research,
to agencies and institutes up and down the length of the United States. She missed her native
Massachusetts, her family and friends in that part of the country. She hoped to be able to work in an observatory that, at least, was east of the Mississippi. With a newly minted doctorate in
astronomy and several years of experience, that shouldn't be too difficult she thought.

On top of the pile of mail was a letter with a postmark from a small town in Maine. It was from her boyfriend Lloyd Crichton. She and Lloyd had met some years earlier in an advanced mathematics class in college. She was the pretty, shy, introverted, brown-haired astronomy major from western Massachusetts, he the tall, slender, shy, introverted, bespectacled structural engineering major from Maryland. They had become very close friends during their college years and might have married, had their careers not carried them so far apart. Her career had brought her here to an astronomical observatory in Arizona. His had taken him to the design studio of a manufacturer of yachts and small craft on the coast of Maine.

Maybe that's the ultimate irony in your life, Willa, she thought. He's the only man you ever loved and you're the only woman he ever loved. He designs and builds and tests yachts in a small
town by the Atlantic Ocean while you live a continent away in a desert. She tucked the letter
away in the back pocket of her jeans as she reached the front door. Although her relationship with David French was a thoroughly professional and platonic one, David, at least at times seemed to hope it could be more. He sometimes gave the impression that his life would be a little happier if Lloyd Crichton wasn't there.

She looked through the rest of the pile as she stepped inside. Electric bill, David's Citibank-
Visa, a postcard from his sister vacationing in California, Willa's Shell oil bill.

She looked up, saw David in the kitchen. He was trying to get the answering machine to play back any calls that might have been left on it during the previous day. There were blurbs of static, scratching sounds. There was a Mr.Ross calling for Willa, then another scratching sound.

David drew a long breath. "I think I can get it working again, Willa. Even if the message is lost, they'll call back."

"Yeah, no problem David," she replied. She looked down at the rest of the pile of mall. Book of the month club wants money and my life insurance is due....

She stopped for a moment. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. The last envelope had come by express mail and had the NASA logo on it in the upper left-hand corner. Perhaps not coincidentally, there was an office number with the name of a Mr. Ross on it.

A lot flashed through her mind, memories of her trip to Houston months ago. They really couldn't have accepted me... Excitedly, she tore the envelope open. She began to read.

Dear Dr. Whiddich,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration for training as an astronaut candidate- began the letter.

"David!" she shrieked, "David! I made it, I made it!" She threw her arms around David. "I made
it, I made it!" she shouted again. She kissed him, looked him in the eyes then kissed him again.