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| Ed Young (left) and Doug Rumble (right) with isotope vacuum line requiring liquid nitrogen, circa 1993 |
Every workplace has its dose of
office politics. The Carnegie’s Geophysical Laboratory was no exception. As
just a rank-and-file staff scientist, we had serious domain over our
laboratories, but little sway in the grand scheme of things. All of us were
assigned lab duties. Mine was “ethanol disbursement officer” meaning that I had
the keys to jugs of pure unadulterated alcohol that could intoxicate the entire
campus. George Cody’s duty was to keep track of a large liquid nitrogen
cylinder at the loading dock of the Lab. Sometimes that chore kept him busier
than he would have liked.
Liquid nitrogen is used for many
things in a laboratory. It’s temperature is -196°C. It will freeze just about
anything. In fact, if liquid nitrogen drops remain on your skin for too long,
you’ll get a nasty burn. Accordingly, dermatologists use liquid nitrogen to
remove cancerous tissue and unwanted moles on skin. George used it to cool his
NMR magnet and needed over 100 liters every week, usually on Friday afternoon.
I used it for making chemical products of amino acids. Doug Rumble needed it
for measuring oxygen isotopes in rocks.
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| Doug Rumble (l) and Craig Schiffries (r) using an isotope line with liquid nitrogen, circa 1992 |
Filling the big cylinder outside
happened via a delivery truck about every 4-5 weeks and was quite expensive.
Not only was there a definite need to have liquid nitrogen on hand at all times
for science, but there was a cost issue as well. Users were asked to fill out a
simple signup sheet posted by the door. Often folks forgot. In the winter of
2004-2005, there were several times in which the big cylinder was somehow
left open, bleeding the precious liquid into thin air, leaving the
cylinder completely empty. No one would admit to leaving open a valve or forgetting
to shut off the main tank. Although no person admitted to a mistake, people
began to talk about seeing a raccoon in the area, thinking that just possibly….
In response to Lab hallway theories
and discussions, I penned a “Nancy Drew” story with the names of Carnegie
people thinly disguised. For those of you who have never heard of Nancy Drew (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nancy_Drew),
she was a young gal who often solved mysteries that her police chief dad
struggled with. In my day (1960s), all girls in middle school (10-13 years old)
read Nancy Drew books. Some reacted to my story that I had the mentality and
sense of humor of a high school student. Younger folks on campus thought that I
was pretty bad ass. If I could have figured out how to put that on my CV, I
would have.
Below is my first Nancy Drew story.
Not anywhere near the Great American Novel, but a start.
-------- Forwarded Message --------
Subject:
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[Everyone] Special Notice for Alert Scientists
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Date:
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Wed, 26 Jan 2005 13:18:23 -0500 (EST)
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From:
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Marilyn Fogel <m.fogel@gl.ciw.edu>
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Reply-To:
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To:
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CC:
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The Mystery of the Disappearing Nitrogen
by Nancy Drew
Nancy was drinking a glass of whole milk after
school one afternoon, when
her father, Chief Inspector Albert Drew, came
home, threw his brief case
on the floor and bellowed out a loud,
"Dagnab it!" Nancy jumped almost a
foot off of her chair, because her normally
serious and competent father
had almost never (but not quite) used a swear
word.
"Gee Dad, what's up? Can I help?"
"Its the most puzzling case I've ever had to
deal with. There were clues
everywhere, and now this!" he answered her.
Nancy took a sip of milk,
offered the Old Man a cookie, and waited for him
to continue.
"At first," he said, "I was
certain we had a simple open and shut valve
case with the liquid nitrogen tank. It was
certainly nothing a little
common sense and good old gum shoe work could
solve. But this afternoon
the case was blown wide open by the most
disturbing news."
Nancy nodded, drank more milk, and offered him
another cookie.
Bolstered with sugar and chocolate, he continued,
" The tip came in this
morning and I just can't believe it yet. My head
is blowing off steam like
a leaking nitrogen tank. I was snooping around
the gas cylinders, poking
my head in the dumpster, and looking at the tell
tale patterns of 4 liter
nitrogen dewars in the snow, when I first saw
it."
Nancy poured another glass of milk, this time
adding a shot of brandy
while her father was deep in thought. She offered
him some brandy to go with his third cookie.
"There high in a tree next to the liquid
nitrogen tank was the fattest
raccoon I have ever seen, and I can tell you that
while I've been on the
force, I've seen a lot fat ones waddling through
vacant alleyways. But
this one was different! He had a Huge Grin and
suddenly starting talking
to me. I noticed that he was holding a hose made
of braided stainless
steel and he was inhaling deeply."
Nancy got a clean glass from the sparkling
cabinets in her mom's clean
kitchen and filled it with brandy laced with a
bit of tequila. For the
Inspector, she topped off his glass with tequila
this time, hoping it
would not ignite as he lit his pipe.
The Chief went on. "As I stared at the
Raccoon, he started talking to me.
Then, I started answering him and even went on to
ask him some questions.
Before you knew it, I was deep in conversation
with him. Without much
prodding he admitted that he was the culprit
responsible for the liquid
nitrogen losses over the weekend and Monday
night. Imagine that! Not
only was this raccoon capable of filling up a
dewar (and presumably then
inhaling it), he was also mischievious enough to
do it twice. I thought it
was the biggest break in my career, when suddenly
the raccoon dissolved in
front of my very eyes."
He downed his tequila, wiped his mouth, and drank
staight from the bottle
this time. Nancy poured herself a shot, salted her
hand, and tipped her
head back to deliver the tequila straight home.
Inspector Drew drew himself up to his full,
incredible height, his crewcut
trimmed and waxed just so, his shoes polished and
brilliant, before
admitting the last piece of information that
would trouble the family for
a long time. "All that was left of him was
his big shining smile. I used
my cell phone to take a picture of that smile,
but guess what? Blank,
nothing there. I slapped myself a couple of
times, fired off a few rounds
of my service revolver, and looked again. There
they were. Tracks. Raccoon
tracks in the snow. I heard the laughing of that
raccoon as the gas valve
opened again as I watched it."
Draining the remaining tequila in the bottle and
sitting down finally. He
blurted out what he was afraid of from the start.
"Nancy, I am convinced
that Raccoon was no ordinary urban animal seeking
food. I believe he came
straight from Titan, the distant methane moon. He
must have needed to
breathe pure nitrogen because all organisms on
that planetary body are
anaerobes, shunning oxygen."
"Daddy!' Nancy squeeled, delirious with the
news. "You've found
Extraterrestrial Life!" just before she and
the Inspector passed out at
the kitchen table.
Stay tuned for Chapter Two.
To be continued.
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