Å®ÉúСÊÓƵ

Hyperactive PR people at the US Space Telescope Science Institute in
Baltimore put out 29 press releases last year about the Hubble Space Telescope.

Hubble triumph, it seems, has followed Hubble triumph. Hubble has seen
black holes all over the place. Matter tumbling into black holes, jets bursting
out of black holes and galaxies dominated by black holes are routine discoveries
announced from the institute.

Remote things pop up regularly, too. The most distant galaxy, far-off
quasar or gravitational lens is meat and drink to Hubble’s public relations
staff. Only last month, Hubble found the most distant cluster of galaxies
and ‘some suspected ancestors of today’s galaxies’. All in all, thanks to
Hubble, the frontiers of planetary science are rolling back week by week.

But hang on a minute. Feedback has a hunch that these announcements-
which have been happily swallowed by much of the media-should be greeted
with just a smidgeon of scepticism. Because if all these triumphs are that
dramatic, then why on earth is it necessary to spend $300 million in 1994
correcting Hubble’s warped optical system so that it can start seeing things
of real value?

* * *

The Citizen’s Charter is the distinctive feature of John Major’s government,
supposedly marking a decisive break with the doctrine diktats of Thatcherism.
It has been widely imitated by national agencies, as in the case of British
rail’s customer’s Charter.

Distinctive it may be, original it is not. From Feedback’s files falls
BR’s commuters’ Charter, which ‘defines the standard of service the commuter
has a right to expect as value for money, in terms of punctuality, reliability,
comfort, cleanliness and information’.

So how does that differ from the Customer’s Charter? The clue lies in
the apostrophe. The Commuters’ charter dates from 1981, back in the days
when BR still aspired to carrying more than one passenger (as we used to
call them).

* * *

William Waldegrave, of course, is the minister responsible for both
the charter and science. In a speech last month he described the charter
as ‘a seismic change in the bedrock-to mix my metaphors’ and improvised
a joke: ‘I know I’m science minister but whoever drafted this speech wasn’t
a geologist.’

Sadly, although the definition of bedrock varies somewhat, it is indeed
more or less where seismic changes do occur. Perhaps it would be safer to
refer to the charter in future as being a ‘minor earthquake’.

* * *

Now that the fulcrum of political power in America rests in Arkansas,
we wondered how much support New Å®ÉúСÊÓƵ enjoys there. We went to our
computerised list of subscribers, and found that a grand total of eight
copies of this magazine are sold in Bill Clinton’s home state. Eight. Arkansas
is tied last among US states in New Å®ÉúСÊÓƵ subscriptions- with Nevada,
home of gambling halls, a nuclear test site, and not much else.

The interesting question is: will any of the loyal Arkansan eight soon
be changing their address to Washington DC?

* * *

With the ever increasing impact of technology on education, it’s nice
to see that Olympia in London will be hosting a large exhibition next week
to show off the latest gizmos and computers for broadening young minds.

‘BETT’93 is the largest national technology exhibition, dedicated to
every sector of education,’ runs the blurb. But if you do decide to go,
don’t forget to leave the kids at home. ‘Sorry, no children allowed,’ says
the invite in bold letters. ‘BETT is an exhibition for professionals. Therefore,
we do not admit any visitors who are under the age of 18.’

* * *

An extremely weighty tome arrived at the New Å®ÉúСÊÓƵ office the other
day. It came from the Oxford University Press, and was entitled, The Dictionary
of National Biography: Missing Persons. At first Feedback thought that in
a moment of aberration the authors had hit on the bizarre idea of combing
through police archives in order to come up with the biographies of 1086
people who had run away from their parents, spouses or creditors, or otherwise
vanished without a trace.

Not so, however. The 1086 entries are culled down from over 100 000
individuals that outraged readers of OUP’s The Dictionary of National Biography
had considered eminent enough to be included in the work, but weren’t. Some,
such as Wilfred Owen and Stan Laurel, are household names whose exclusion
from the main dictionary is a puzzle. But many are also scientists, for,
as the OUP press release disarmingly admits, ‘Science, technology, maths
are all areas that weren’t treated particularly handsomely in the DNB up
to now.’

The book, which will initally cost £65 (rising to £80 on
31 March), is published on 28 January.

* * *

Feedback is ever on the lookout for signs that computers are getting
above their station, so it was alarming to hear this message on phoning
the University of Edinburgh the other day:

‘Hello, this is the Centre for Speech Technology Research. I’m sorry,
there is no one else here just now. There’s nobody here but computers. If
you’d like to leave a message after the tone, we’ll see that it gets passed
to a human when they get back.’

* * *

A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. German hi-fi magazine Stereo
has its own test laboratory where engineers check the performance of new
equipment. Recently the laboratory decided to develop its own test CD, pressed
with a mixture of test and musical signals. ‘Test’ and ‘musical’ were two
of the small number of words the engineers knew in English, so they decided
to combine them to come up with a catchy title. Unfortunately, they only
showed it to a British engineer after printing the artwork.

‘Check your HiFi System by having fun with the one and only TESTICAL,’
exhorts the sleeve note.