Chapter 11

I Can See For Miles

2/03/52 Consulting engineers reported to AEC that a rise in the Salton Sea water level of 1 foot annually for the next 10 years could be expected.

6/24/52 Additional $530 million allocated for materials testing at SSTB.

9/11/52 Water covers much of airstrip area. New airstrip constructed west of original.

1953-1954 Decision made to continue materials testing at SSTB despite rising water. Earth dike constructed to protect main buildings from rising water.


Sam sat in the fifth floor lobby of the executive offices of the Coachella Tribune. The receptionist was beautiful, brunette, and impeccably dressed; a cool demeanor and low submissive voice, but with a sharp blade of refusal for the caller or visitor who was not worthy of entry. The magazines were up to date, in Sam’s view, always the sure sign of a going concern. They were mostly up-market business journals like Forbes or Fortune. There were no loud noises; the sound that emanated from the 5th floor was that of a purr.

Fifteen minutes passed and the receptionist directed him to Alan Turing’s office. He was directed to an office at the end of the hall on the right. He was surprised that Turning would want to meet him here, but he argued that this was private and no one would guess Sam’s business.

Turing smiled and extended his hand. Sam took a seat in front of Turing’s desk. The window behind him had a view of Mt. San Jacinto looming two miles over Palm Springs like a massive flat hand about to pass judgment.

“Mr. Bauer.” Mr. Turning stood up and extended his hand. His voice had a hint of expression, of some effort to appear pleasant. Whether sincere or a facade, it was a gesture that appeared to require much effort. “You’ve seen my wife more than I have this last month.” It was the first time he had ever this man make any attempt at humor.

“Yes, well, a temporary situation. I have some information here that should alleviate some worry on your part–“

“—really?” Turing leaned forward over his desk.

“That’s right.” Some opened a folder stuffed with photos. “From what I can tell your wife is not spending her days in the arms of a lover but caught up in a hobby.”

Mr. Turing paged through the photos showing Samantha laying down her enigmatic panels at various locales. “I had no idea she had a creative bent…”

“Do you know why she would keep this activity a secret?”

“No, not at all…,” Turing said flipping through the photos. “Unless, it’s a surprise for me, but what the hell is she doing here? Laying these painted squares in a huge formation on the dirt? Sending signals to aircraft?”

Sam laughed, “I have no idea.”

“Well, I’d like you to have an idea,” Turning snapped, “This is odd behavior.”

“You hired me because you were afraid that your wife was cheating on you. You now have your answer. I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“Yes, I suppose. But… look here… where is she getting these panels? If she’s making them, painting them, where is she doing this? I never see any painting supplies around the house or these panels stacked up anywhere in the garage or out back? Does she have a studio somewhere?”

Sam was stunned. This was a huge hole, one Sam should have caught. How could he miss that? “I’m with her all day, from the moment you leave in the morning until you return at night. Always. She’s never out of my sight. She is never more than a few hundred yards away from me. If she has a studio somewhere, I’d know about it.” Sam was doing his best to cover his embarrassment. He was flustered, staring down at his notes until he could get a grip on this slip-up. Turing just kept flipping through the photos. He was on the third go-around now, saying nothing as the photos shuffled in his hands.

Sam looked up from his notes. “What time do you go to bed?”

“Around nine.”

“What time does your wife go to bed?”

Alan stopped shuffling the photos, “She usually stays up late…”

The two of them were quiet for about twenty seconds. “How much extra would it cost for you to keep an eye out on her during the evenings as well?”