Junior Science by Mick Jackson Page A

that day would be to construct some sort of cabin in which he might continue his gravity-free investigations with a little privacy.
    There was a stack of old floorboards round the back of the garage. His father often talked about using them in some other capacity, but as far as Daniel could tell they hadn’t moved in years. So he carried them up the stairs and fed them, one by one, into the gravity-free pocket, until he felt that there was a sufficient number for his needs.
    He’d originally intended to nail them together but found that, in situ, it was more practical to arrange them a little less formally, bound with string and tape. This construction took up all of that second day and half the next one. The result was something like a large crate, but with fewer right angles. In fact, with no right angles at all. It had several windows but these came about quite accidentally, due to the fact that the boards were so varied in length.
    Daniel removed the boot, ball, book, etc. but kept the blanket. He fashioned some storage cupboards from a couple of old shoeboxes, in which he planned to stow away such things as measuring instruments and emergency food supplies. Every hour or so he would take a break from his labours and lie on his back with his hands folded across his chest like some ancient sarcophagus. During one of these breaks a bead of sweat slowly gathered itself together and gently slipped from his forehead. It hung before him, like a jewel.
    Daniel learned early on that it was best to avoid eating and drinking in the cabin. And when he stood on the lawn and stared up at his creation, thought it looked like a cross between a space station and a garden shed. No doubt, he would have slept up there had his parents not forbidden it. As they pointed out, the days were still quite warm but the temperature dropped considerably as soon as the sun went down.
    The following day he carried out a handful of experiments involving a spider and caterpillar (which he’d picked up in the garden) and a fly (which he’d trapped against the window in the living room). He carried them up to the cabin in three separate jam jars with the aim of gently introducing them to the world of weightlessness. The fly and spider clung most fixedly to the inside of their jars, apparently terrified, and the caterpillar emerged only after Daniel gave the jar a concerted pat, whereupon it drifted out, curled up in a tight little ball and hung in the air, quite motionless. Daniel had brought a pencil and notepad in which to record his findings – had high hopes of seeing the spider weave a new and unusual sort of web. But after a couple of minutes he took pity on the insects and returned them to their natural habitat, without having made a single note. Then he spent the rest of the day lounging round the cabin, wondering how an extended period in zero gravity – a whole year, say – might influence the growth of his hair, fingernails, etc. and, critically, whether it might impede the process of aging, essentially keeping him frozen at his current age for ever more.
    Around this time Daniel remembered the two old oars in the cellar which had once belonged to his grandfather. He lugged them up the stairs, inserted them through two of the cabin’s smaller windows and fixed them in place with a combination of screws and fuse wire. His hope was that if the oars reached far enough out he might be able to paddle the cabin and the pocket of zero gravity along with it. His fear was that he’d simply row the cabin right out of the zero gravity and plummet to the ground.
    Daniel placed his hands on the oars and pulled gently back on them. He and the cabin slowly began to leave the house behind. He pulled again and the cabin slid forward another couple of yards, without apparent calamity. By pulling on one oar more than the other Daniel found that he could change course, as in an ordinary rowing boat. And, overall, the pocket of zero gravity seemed quite happy