Quote of the day:
‘What are you doing on the roof?’

 

Already the first signs of the struggle are rising to the surface. The day begins with the impossibility of fingerprint logging into the PCs, medics say it is a consequence of the rust and cuts collected over three days. It has been three days, three days of agony, of work under the smouldering heat, during the day the dome becomes like a sauna, allowing the torrid rays of the hot giant to slowly cook you. Like in 'The Duel' it is courage and determination which fuels the day.

 

Today's task was to understand why the lighting did not work. The engineers had fled in despair with the coming of the great darkness some 20 years ago, reports have it that they thought it best to leave the dome in the shadows, hoping that one day someone would bring lustre to those holy grounds of knowledge.

 

There seemed to be power. We dismantled the box; and saw that the lighting was separate from the mains switches; this meant that the lighting could not be fixed today, due to a lack of sunlight. The light would not shine today, nor tomorrow, but small glimmers of hope would creep into the dome from day to day with every problem solved, every plan actuated and every dream coalesced into reality.

 

After the failure of the first task, our morale was low, but we were eager to accept the challenge strewn before us. Malcolm gave me a 15kg steel disk roughly 3 cm thick and 25cm in diameter to ‘flake’. Mission guidelines reported that; ‘it is not necessary for it to be completely polished, that would take forever, but just make sure that no bits of paints can come off.'

 

After gentle flaking, more bits came off and again… more after that; I decided to completely polish it. I had to buy some sandpaper, a tool box, a can of WD-40 (engineers will know) and a rubber duck. The only available items at the store though were the sandpaper and the duck. The duck mascot would be called Alfredo, in memory of an old friend's unorthodox explanation of our existence. 

 

After transforming an old rusty disk back into a Murano-like mirror I got greeted with a gust of rain and wind inside the dome. Bad weather was at hand, it announced itself as a silent chill whisper; as soft as the spoken word of a lover in your ear, slowly increasing in intensity the more you surrender yourself to it. Before being won over by the nymphs of the coolness, before being subdued by the temptations of the chill providing refuge against the smouldering heat I rotated the dome against the wind. The shower came crashing down like a thousand horses trampling in the wild. The roof was leaking, confirmed by the unusual but colourful green tint above my head. Once the sky had decided it would weep no more, I decided to investigate. Things gradually went downhill from here.

 

Not confident with using a ladder, as there was very little floor space I decided to use one of the telescope chairs as a support to get onto the three metre high roof. I put my foot on a 70° slanted part of the exterior wall and heaved myself up, I thank my training sessions before my recruitment for the ease with which the obstacle was surmounted.

 

While on the roof I understood what the problem was but before taking action I was interrupted by the call. That call, that unmistakable call from the Boss. I cannot recall the exact dialogue which followed but engraved in memory were these few lines:

 

The Boss:           Edo?
Private Edo:        Yeah ?
The Boss:           What are you doing on the roof?           
Private Edo:        Chilling
The Boss:           Do you know that if you fall through the roof I get fired?
Private Edo:        (In my head: I think I would probably first think about me                             in hospital)     

                          Real Answer: Yeah, but chill, its safe, mind getting me a                             beer or Pepsi?
The Boss:           Aite
Edo:                   Cheers

 

 

Malcolm was right, that roof wouldn’t survive the winter, (spoiler alert) unless it was a Game of Thrones winter which is announced in Season 1… and in Season 4 is still ‘coming’. My main concern was not the multitude of faces squished against the glass windows anticipating my fall, who to me looked like many piglets staring out of their glass prisons. No, mine was more a question of principle; in Physics everything on Earth that goes up must come down unless they are travelling upwards with a speed of 11km per second. The how, however is rarely, if at all explained. In the training manual on how to survive an internship the three dreaded letters spell it out for you: DIY.

 

I decided to gracefully suspend myself in mid-air in what could be described as a dip, and harmoniously managed to reach a less excited state. 

 

From the rooftop investigations I noticed that there were cracks between the dome and the rooftop; this was probably the reason why the floor of the dome was wet when we first opened it today. 

 

Hunting for cleaning equipment did make me look like a hybrid between Santa Klaus and a hobgoblin; with a rubbish bag thrust over my shoulder, half cut wellies, shorts with matching white socks and a Michelin–Man T-Shirt. Classic. Mission Uniforms these days are anything but standard, meant to blend in with civilians does take its toll on pride.

 

Scavenging in the -1 levels I found a vacuum cleaner, and a pretty powerful one at that. Bleach, Fairy Gel and anything which could be used to clean up. How I managed to get my hands on a presumably new aluminium–cast part of a synchrotron pump remains in the 'don't ask' book…

 

The remainder of the day was spent lubricating the dome wheels and yes, now it spins like a beauty, I finally understood what the WD-40 can was for. I did feel a bit ashamed when I proposed to Dr. M to use olive oil as a lubricant, I did deserve a dressing down, (pun not intended) , but in my defence I did say it should have been extra virgin. The bizarre turned into the ordinary that day, much like Malcolm's face turned from serious to that of a carp's when I asked him for a toothbrush. Even carps can ask; ‘Are you serious?’. Rummaging through his drawers he finds it and reluctantly hands it over; I expect he knows he will never see it again. Such attachment to objects is to be admired only in the case of towels; they are indispensable for space exploration.

 

The toothbrush sadly passed away in the process of lubricating the wheels which were made of a white plastic and actually did seem to rotate quite well. After oiling, I realised that as the dome passed over a metal plate on the outside, it scratches and its rotation is hindered. I tried hammering and chiiping pieces off the dome but to no avail, the motor will have to be more powerful for this section.

 

I will complain to the logistics team once all this is done. To access services I have to get dressed, lock three doors, and walk through the Geography department into the Physics one. Same story for the water I use for cleaning, simply because if I use the hose on the roof it might set off the fire alarm and lead to imminent hero status. This was quoted from Corporal Julian, who is responsible for security… I really could compare him to Dr. Manhattan, he seems to know everything about everything everywhere; he could find you a soldering iron in a rubbish bag in a locked room. By the way, although there is no logical connection to the previous phrase apart from Julian, he doesn’t like handshakes. 

 

The next task was to create a head-banging damper for tall people (also called a cushion). I had no material available apart from some 30m of polystyrene tubing. I cut it into strips, attached the pieces together with tape and stuck it on the wall. At this stage, with mud everywhere, this crazy make-shift invention hanging from the ceiling I just have to quote Springsteen: ‘Did you throw your senses to the wall, or did you lose them in the flood?’ – 

 

Anyone thinking that electrical tape can sustain polystyrene cushioning on a wall deserves to whack their head against it (deprived of polystyrene). However, the cushion stuck eventually, resulting in no more head-bruises.

 

While on break, I was spotted by a security guard. I couldn't tell if he was friend or foe. He stooped towards me followed me down closing all doors behind him, without saying a word, I looked at him in a half confused half ‘say what?’ manner, but proceeded to reopen the doors and reflect about the silent guard, life, the Universe and everything.

 

FLASHFORWARD

I was going to have to deal with the guard in the future as well.

 

FLASHBACK

The remainder of the day was spent avoiding being guillotined by the hatch (a real death trap) from this moment on it will be called hatchet. I tried to access the roof from the inside of the dome; this resulted in an unplanned backflip  with my knees as pivots and a large cut on the leg, leaving me dangling down like a pear dripping blood on the floor. It was hilarious, especially because the only thing that went through my head while oscillating was ‘More than a feeling….’ When I got home I was greeted by Malcolm’s updated blog: DarkLondonSkies  in which my adventures were recorded, I became an instant success.