h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

In footnote 4, where you define a Planck unit as 1.05 * 10^-34, I don't think this should really be a pure number without any units. I'm not sure, but I think this is referring to h-bar (Planck's constant divided by 2 pi) in which case the units would be J s.
Ekaterin.

You are quite right. Thank you for pointing that out. I should have written that spin is measured in half-'h-bars' i.e. one unit of spin is half of Planck's constant divided by 2 pi, which is 5.273*10^-35 (per unit of spin).

The actual value of Planck's constant (h) is about 6.626*10^-34 joule seconds, but unfortunately the entry is now edited and I don't think I can alter it. Thanks anyway.

And why not take a look at my new entry at A2271205?

Baryon (I once had a bat named baryon!)

I noticed that in two of the conversations you alluded to things you might change, but that the entry had been edited.

It wouldn't hurt to try and ask 'Spelugx the Beige' to correct mistakes of content. Frivolous changes may be frowned upon, but the hope is that most guide entries are accurate, if not definitively accurate.

Give it a go. What have you got to lose?

Thank you. I've asked about it.

Perhaps I'll regret this, but what happened to your bat named baryon?

Ah, now you've done it! You've asked about Barry the Bat.

Baryon was a very brief member of my household. My wife and I were living in a second-floor apartment that was being upgraded with all new windows.

When they pulled the bedroom window, the replacement didn't fit. They had to take it out to their truck to work on it, and left the window unguarded. This poor bat (we figured) must've come through that untended window, around dusk; and, as luck would have it, into a place with three cats.

Strangely, the cats never reacted to his prescence! We only knew that he had spent time in the house because he had perched in an almost hidden corner of the kitchen, above the counter, but below the cabinet. He must have looked like a small brown thumb jammed up into his crevice. (We know that this was his spot, because of the small amount of guano we found later that next morning.)

Sometime during the wee early hours, he must've wakened and began looking for a morning drink. I had, uncharacteristically, left the kitchen sink filled with about four inches of the last night's dishwater and he headed for that. Unfortunately, he fell in and his young wet wings couldn't get him out. He had probably never been in a puddle from which he couldn't crawl out.

I don't know how long he must've been splashing around in there, doing the breast stroke, when I came out to the kitchen; but I got the distinct impression that his young little wings were starting to wear out. The panicked look on his face said to me, "Oh no, oh no, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this!" And, "It couldn't ... OH SH*T!" when he saw me.

I called back to my wife to stay put in the bedroom and grabbed a dishtowel.

My intent was to pull the towel under him, and raise him up out of the water. The towel wouldn't cooperate, and neither did Baryon (as I was now thinking of him. (Well, it started out 'Barry-the-Bat'; but that seemed so undignified.)

The towel dropped over him, and became immediately soaked. I got concerned about his being able to breathe, and just scooped up him and the towel. I swiftly carried him through the door to the hall, down, and out the back door. I spread out the towel on the cement, to allow it to drain away, drawn by the porous surface. I soon placed it out onto the grass because of the softer texture, and to get him off the path.

I had to get ready for work, but my wife decided that he was not harmless and pitiful. She offered to watch over him and keep me informed.

Before I left, he had crawled up onto the porch beneath our balcony for awhile, crawled up the red-brick wall and spread himself out to dry, and still later he crawled up into the upper corner to cling and rest from his ordeal (that's how I knew what he must've looked like in the kitchen).

We were careful not to tell anyone of his presence for fear of his safety.

Toward dusk, my wife did warn some neighbor kids not to play close to that porch for a while. They did not believe her claim that there was a bat about to fly out; but, sure enough, he did.

It drew the most delightful screams from the kids, I'm told, and made my wife feel good to know he was on his way back home.

Well, that's Baryon! Perhaps when the evil alien vampire bat-people invade the planet, he'll put in a good word for me.

Should've previewed that one!

My wife decided he WAS harmless and pitiful. Perhaps calling him Baryon made him seem more like a lost pet, than a threat.

That's a very moving story. Do you have any other interesting pets?

Well, In a previous apartment (half above ground, half below) we had a window in a well and caught a young vole. It was a bit weak, so we nursed it back to health before releasing it in the field behind the building.

We've had rabbits, guinea pigs, parakeets, a dog, and the cats. My wife had some fish that she cleaned to death (we just didn't know that constantly changing the clouded water was a bad thing).

When I was a kid I had a mud-turtle for a summer, and released it back where I caught it just before fall. And I once had a pet blue-gill, or sunfish.

No alligators or komodo dragons or anything. My wife would never have spiders or snakes in the house. She would love an otter, but knows that they need their freedom.

How's 'bout you?

I have only ever had one pet, which was a hamster. It was constantly escaping, but I always found it somehow (maybe it quantum tunelled out of the cage). But nothing very exciting happened with it.

You seem to have had quite a lot of experience with animals! Tell me, is it really possible to clean a fish?

Aquarium fish apparently (I'm no expert, and don't know for which breeds this holds true) eat and eliminate in their environment. The bacteria starts a clouding and breakdown process that, over time, becomes balanced.

The water doesn't cloud up much if the filter is working and they are not overfed. And some of the bacteria is necessary to them.

My wife was changing the water so often that the water never stabilized. The constant changing would cause their fins and skin to break down and they lost their overall health. The strain on them can kill them.

We should obviously have learned more about them before subjecting them to such a kindly-intended torture. It just never looked that hard.

The only other 'cleaning' that fish get - of which I am aware - is the type that game fish get, just before they are cooked. This kind is also not healthy for them, as it entails entrails.

My brother (3 yrs senior) had a hamster when he was about 12. Another case of over-loving care, he gave it pellets, but filled it full of greens and veggies. It died of wet-tail because of the veggie-centric diet. It would have been healthier with just pellets. (And maybe the occasional treat.)

The only thing that I have had that might really be considered exotic has been a pet ghost, but that has been more of a family pet.

Interesting. Did the ghost need feeding or is that being nosy of me?

Nosey? Perish the thought!

We believe that he was first noticed by my brother (the hamster killer), as a ball of light traveling through my parents basement, in and out of the bedsheets hanging to dry (it was too cold and wet outside for drying, and dryers weren't as common back then). He followed it around the basement for a couple of minutes, until it vanished into a corner and disappeared.

We began to notice strange things occurring. Items would be lost for days and found in the open. Other things would be moved when no one was around (all explainable sounding phenomena). More sounds than sights let us know that "Uncle Henry" was around.

We got into the habit of playing with it when things would disappear (especially if needed immediately for school or some such). We began a ritual of turning slowly, in the middle of a room, chanting "Okay, who stole my [name item here]?" After the third rotation and chant, we would stop; and the missing item would be nearly directly in front of us. It became known as the family method for finding lost items.

An uncle came to visit from hundreds of miles away. When he returned, we noticed that Uncle Henry had stopped. Before long, we began hearing strange stories from him.

As a teenager, I went to visit my uncle's family on holiday. While alone in the house one afternoon, I was making a sandwich when I noticed a figure (at first, barely within my peripheral vision) standing by the rear door. At first, I assumed a family member had come back and was waiting to surprise me when I turned.

As the figure stood, stock-still and silent, I grew concerned that it may be a prowler. I reached for a knife, ostensibly to cut the sandwich, and turned ever so slightly to get a better look.

Still nearly out of range, I could make out a tall, gaunt, beardless man, dressed completely in black, with a tallish hat on his head and some kind of cloak or cape around his shoulders.

I looked momentarily to my other side to close the refrigerator door, and then turned to face the interloper. There was nothing there. Not just nobody, but no dark shadows, clothes, brooms; just a cheery lemon-chiffon wall and a white door.

Despite the speed and silence with which it disappeared, I had the presence of mind to check the stairway leading downstairs from the door, and the basement. Again, nothing.

I mentioned it to my uncle's family. They said "So, you've seen him?" They told me that mine was the most detailed look anyone had gotten, but it fit with previous impressions about which I had not been told.

Strangely, when I returned home, their symptoms ceased, and he had apparently come back with me!

He has been benign, if occasionall a prankster. The only person who really regretted upsetting him was a brother-in-law of mine.

Nowadays, I don't know what part of the family he is with, for sure, but occasionally get the feeling that he's still around.

Are you sorry you asked?

(Lock your door when you go to sleep at night, not that it does any good, but it might make you feel better.)

Very spooky! As spooky as quantum entanglement and action-at-a-distance, if not more so, I should say.

Have you read The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul by Douglas Adams? There are some spooky things in there too.

Absolutely loved it! -glance-*pop*-glance-*pop*-glance-*pop*-
Thor was great, and I loved the herbal treatment for his wounds. Made me check out my wife's conjouring stuff.

Did you read 'Dirk Gently - Holistic Detective'?

I loved his treatment of death as a handicap!
And that electronic Monk?? I need me one of them!
A bit too much Coleridge, though. But, I guess it was necessary.

Yes I loved the Holistic Detective Agency. The new Dirk Gently book was going to be called the Salmon of Doubt, but of course it was never finished.

Wasn't there a bit written from the point of view of a rhinocerous (It's been some time since I read it. I must read it again! But I haven't even read the Lord of the Rings yet so I've been putting off DNA re-reads. Have you read the Lord of the Rings?)

Never got through the Tolkein books, but I did love the Salmon of Doubt book (story, as you mentioned, unfinished).

What really amazed me was that he began to feel that it should really have been another H2G2 book! Something he showed no interest in continuing previously!

What also surprised me was that you didn't ask about the brother-in-law. Just as well, that one is spooky.

I wonder if DNA's wife would give permission to someone else to write another H2G2 book on spec?

That's a good idea! After all, the sci-fi writer called Stephen Baxter was given permission to write the sequel to the Time Machine, which he called 'The Time Ships'.

But I expect there are few people who could match the brilliance of DNA's humour and the book might be met by fierce moral criticisms. Perhaps the H2G2 community could write it collectively like the collaborative guide entries, and then get it published, with a percentage of the proceedings being given to each contributor...?

Or am I just dreaming?
Do I dare ask of the incident with the brother-in-law...?

Dream on! Dream on! Though final editing should be written in one author-voice.

Oh, the brother-in-law.

I was dating my yet-to-be wife, when she had Uncle Henry living with her. He really took a liking to her.

She went to visit her brother and made the mistake of mentioning UH. He scoffed, of course.

She told him a couple of stories, and warned him not to make too light of it. He, being an absolute biter, thought to challenge UH.

She again warned him, but he stood in the middle of the room calling, "Okay, Uncle Henry, here I am. Do your worst."

Just then, his own closet door fell of the hinges and 'whumped' to the floor, just a few inches behind him. Needless to say, he was shocked. He fell to his knees in an approximation of the 'Wizard of Oz' cowardly lion saying, 'I do believe in spooks. I do believe in spooks."

When he finally got up, they checked the door and hinges. Both sides of the hinges were still in their respective places, on the door jamb, and on the door. What was stranger still is that both hinge pins were still in place, too.

Nobody messes with my Uncle Henry.