a thousand miles away. Mr. Robinson, Mark as his closest friends call him, is a quiet, reserved man. He is still haunted by the memory of his late wife’s death and her long battle with breast cancer, which left him to raise a young daughter while managing a career as a research medical director, a stressful job that demands nearly eighteen hours of work every day. His face is weathered and pockmarked not ruggedly handsome, his body fit and lean and all but adept at all things sporting. An expert marksman and avid hunter, he spends most of his time in the Sawtooth mountains near the small mountain town of Smiley Creek during deer and elk season, ever chasing the trophy to add to a burgeoning collection that adorns his study walls just a few feet away from the dining hall. Mark Robinson is now working with his most challenging prey of all, the preteen female daughter. Before his wife’s untimely death at the age of thirty-four, Mark had the run of a bachelor although he was married: weekends skiing in Aspen followed by cigars and whiskey at the New York New York Hotel bar in Vegas and golf trips on the Caribbean peninsula of the Yucatan in Cancun. Mark and the family traveled together on many vacations across the globe, hitting the hot spot theme parks and the sandy beach resorts, but were still just like most affluent families, splitting vacations up for some alone time. But, unlike many unwilling fathers around the globe or the uncaring, Mark is and always has been a doting father. He would take Sara along on many adventures around the globe, although she was always accompanied by a nanny to attend to the female problems associated with a daughter. And the fact that she is a girl did not stop him from challenging her to achieve things that most young girls would not consider doing. Karate lessons are on the agenda this fall morning, followed by a flight lesson in their vintage Aeronca airplane that is hangared a short distance from the house, with a conveniently and equally impressive grass airstrip that stretches out just beyond the gardens and pool. No, Sara would not have the normal childhood existence that the other girls her age would experience. Hers would be framed by luxury, opulence, and a rigorous schedule. Sara loves it, too; she rarely questions her father’s requirement to achieve her best at everything she attempts. On a large, flat screen television above the fireplace, a public service warning starts beeping.
“Warning, all citizens should tune in,” followed by an opening from a news anchor.
“Good morning, this is Bill Simmons and Channel Twelve News at eight. We have just recently been made aware that a mass global event is imminent. Our reporter Lupita Rodriquez is on scene with scientists at The Space and Weather Prediction Center of the Rockies.”
“Lupita, how are things looking out there in Boulder, Colorado?”
“Good morning, Bill, I have been speaking with Dr. Frank Bishop, senior astrophysicist here at the space center in Boulder, and in just a few minutes, he will make a worldwide announcement about the potential for a solar storm soon.” Lupita looks over her shoulder to the outdoor podium that is set up in front of the space weather building. Two competing local television stations are also reporting from the center and are standing nearby but are not transmitting live. She brushes the long, jet-black hair away from her face and is about to talk about the weather in Boulder, Colorado, when she sees a group of scientists walk out of the building.
“Bill, it looks like we will start soon. The gentleman walking in the front of the group is Dr. Bishop. Let’s see what they have to say.”
Lupita turns her back to the camera as the camera pans off her and zooms in on the podium.
Dr. Bishop steps up to the podium and adjusts one of the three microphones, making it squeak.
“Good morning, I’m Dr. Frank Bishop, lead scientist with The Space Weather and Prediction Center.