surprising myself. "I think we should call it Trick."
"After Charles Trick Currelly, no doubt," said Klicks, wanting to demonstrate that he got the reference. C. T. Currelly, an early-twentieth-century archaeologist, was the founder of the Royal Ontario Museum, where I worked. One of my occasional forays into the world of popular writing had been a biography of him for
Rotunda,
the ROM’s member magazine. Klicks did not dispute my choice of name and I was grateful for that small miracle.
We watched the two moons for some time. It seemed that Trick was catching up with Luna, meaning that it was in a much lower orbit. Since Luna is tidally locked, so that the same side always faces Earth, that would mean that Trick probably was also. It must be under a lot of gravitational stress being that much closer…
Aha!
"There goes the periodic extinction theory," I said, excitement in my voice.
The Alvarez Group at Berkeley published their asteroid-impact extinction theory in
Science
in 1980. About the same time, an interesting hypothesis was making the rounds concerning the Eocene-Oligocene extinctions, the ones that would come 30 million years after the demise of the dinosaurs. According to it, those later extinctions resulted from a general cooling caused by the breakup of an ancient second moon, leaving Earth with a temporary equatorial ring of orbiting debris that blocked enough sunlight to lower temperatures for a million years or so. The Alvarez theory, sexy because it dealt with dinosaurs and embraced by many pop-science communicators after Sagan had linked it to nuclear winter, eclipsed the ringed-Earth discussions.
Others, including Klicks, tried to push the Alvarez theory a step further, claiming that bolide impacts at regular intervals, caused perhaps by a dark star periodically disturbing either the asteroid belt or the Oort cloud, were responsible for a regular schedule of extinctions, including both the K-T and the E-O. That idea never washed with me, since to get the 26-million-year periodicity you had to use the late Ordovician dyings, which were obviously just the result of plate tectonics moving the supercontinent Gondwanaland over the south pole, causing an ice age.
Klicks knew my position on all of that, of course, so I simply pointed at the second moon. "Trick provides a one-of-a-kind explanation for the Eocene-Oligocene extinctions," I said. "There’s nothing periodic about a moon breaking up."
To his credit, Klicks didn’t contest that. But he did say, "Why link it to those deaths? Why not to the ones that are about to occur?"
"Tektites," I said, referring to the glassy, moon-like rocks found at various locations on Earth. "The age of the southeastern U.S. tektite field coincides with the E-O boundary. I bet they were caused by the impacts of the remnants of Trick."
Klicks was quiet for a minute or so, although I could hear him grinding his teeth in the dark, the way he does when he’s thinking — chewing over a problem, you might say. Finally he spoke. "We have sleeping pills."
"Huh?" I guess the change of subject meant I had won that round, but I couldn’t see what he was getting at.
"I said, we could take something to get to sleep. We’re going to be useless in the morning if we stay awake all night."
I never took sleeping pills. I knew I had an addictive personality — another one of Dr. Schroeder’s little insights. That meant messing with any drug would be out of the question for me. Hell, I have a hard enough time avoiding pizza, and Schroeder swears that there’s nothing in the old double-cheese-and-pepperoni that could cause a chemical dependency. Still, what Klicks said made sense. I could hear him moving around the dark cabin. When he opened our medicine refrigerator a small yellow bulb came on, illuminating its interior. Klicks found the bottle he was looking for and, leaving the door open so that he’d have some light, went to the sink and filled a couple of paper cups. We had