Burn World of the Dragon: Dragon World, #4

1: The Electric sun

The older scientist sipped his hot beverage and peered carefully over the top of the mug at the younger theoretician. We were looking for fresh blood to shake things up at the Institute. It looks like our wish is about to be fulfilled.

There are some new ideas that need to be examined.  The younger scientist, Lojor by name, set his mug on the scratched tabletop.  He tapped the mug several times, producing musical tones.

The older researcher, Talapon, looked at his new colleague’s clawed finger, the source of the pleasing sounds. Have we also hired a percussionist?

If an equation needs to be hit with a stick, it will be hit with a stick.

Ah, confidence.  We like that in our newly hired mathematical astrophysicists.

The modern world runs on equations, and the confidence to wring from them their secret truths.

So it does, and well put, young Lojor. Welcome to the Institute, be it ever so humble.  Talapon raised his mug in salute; Lojor did likewise and the two specialists in stellar theory touch their mugs together.  The older scientist intentionally misspoke, but not to deceive.  Both researchers knew full well that the Imperial Institute for Astrophysics was the premier center for astronomical research in Nest Zero, the capital city of the world’s greatest empire.  The Institute could choose to limit hiring offers to the best applicants and Lojor appeared to be the best of the best.

Lojor dipped his head at the welcoming comment.  He reached out and tapped his mug again.

Talapon had noticed early on during the hiring process that Lojor had a tendency toward lapses in conversation and long silences; many theoreticians exhibited the same self-absorbed behavior and in the world of the Institute it was usually a good trait, but Talapon wished to loosen things up a bit.  Everyone hoped that Lojor would generate great ideas, but those ideas needed to be shared.  Attempting to spark conversation, the older scientist looked at the younger’s clawed finger and asked, How is the health?

The health is fine.

Talapon rubbed the end of his prognathous face with both hands.  Apparently Lojor was better at producing arcane theories than conversation.  Thinking about what to say next, Talapon held his hands out in front, idly noticing that his claws, like Lojor’s, were unadorned with dyes or metallic replacements as had become fashionable in certain social circles.  Making another attempt at small talk, he asked, How are the living accommodations?

Its new nest is fine. It thanks thee for asking.

There is no need for True Talk inside the Institute, Talapon said, with a few exceptions.

Excellent.

Oops. It spoke too soon, Talapon said, lowering his voice. Here comes our boss, one of the exceptions. Don’t worry; she’s nice.

Lojor pushed his stool back nervously, preparing to stand.

A large female appeared at their table, smiling down at the two males in a friendly manner. No need to get up, she said, speaking to Lojor.

Talapon hastily made introductions. Lojor, this is Okolo, the head of the Institute.  Back in the day, she was pretty handy with the odd equation when she wanted to be. Rumor has it that she used to extract thirteenth roots in her head to lull herself to sleep at night.

That sort of thing was not conducive to sleep, the female said. It did it whilst waiting in line. And only up to seventh roots, not thirteenth.

Close enough, Talapon said.

Impressive, Lojor added.  It depends on Its probot for such tasks.

Indeed, Okolo said. The personal clawheld robot: where would we be without it?

We’d be standing in line, trying to extract high-order roots in our heads.

Okolo laughed easily at Talapon’s joke.  She had appeared at the table with a carafe of hot matzal to refill the emptying mugs of the male scientists.  After serving her employees, she stood over them, arms akimbo and tail extended straight out behind.  Adult females were normally slightly larger than males, enhancing their authority.  In fact, it was normal to see females in positions of authority throughout society, although there were exceptions. Because it had been that way for many generations, few questioned it; it was as normal as the sun rising in the east.

The great nest or nation-state they lived in was known as the Amber Feather Empire owing to the most common coloration of its citizens, although extending over a great swath of the Earth’s largest continent it necessarily included a wide variety of physical types, colorations, accents, speaking styles, and political persuasions.  Okolo’s honey-hued feathers fairly represented the most common adult plumage; the feathers of children were generally tawny or brown.  Because Okolo eschewed ostentation, excessive jewelry, painting of claws and talons, and the clipping or dyeing of her feathers, her appearance was representative of many adults. Those feathers were of several types. Most obviously, a line of tall feathers ran along the spine from the back of her head to halfway down her tail. Shorter feathers covered most of her neck and body, giving way to scales below the elbows and knees and tip of tail. Most of the face was free of feathers and covered in small, light-brown scales in her case, though green was also common and no color could be ruled out. Small, downy feathers, hard to see in adults, were prominent in childhood and sometimes reappeared in old age after the larger feathers dropped off without replacement.  Her eyes were large and golden.  Her hands ended in three claws, two finger-claws and an opposable thumb-claw.  Her unshod feet ended in talons. The tip of her tail was prehensile.  She was wearing a blue cape highlighting her yellowish feathers but was otherwise free of clothing.

Okolo was a member of Earth’s dominant species, a large bird-like creature with arms instead of wings. They had emerged from the jungles and savannahs thousands of years before, where and when the drab plumage of their children had served to hide them from numberless fierce predators.  As it happened, Okolo’s species was itself a predator; indeed, it turned out to be the top predator and by the time she showed up with steaming carafe, it was well along the way to bending every resource of the planet to its will. Now it had started to explore the rest of the solar system, eager for new adventures and new worlds to conquer.

Okolo’s amber feathers justified the name Amber Feather Empire. However, even though there was just the single species, individuals emerged from their eggs throughout the Empire and all over the Earth in an astonishing variety of pigments and patterns, and that was before cosmetic vanities added to the colorful mix.

So, Talapon said, completing the introduction, Okolo, this is Lojor, the mathematical wizard It was telling thee about.

Yes, It remembers.  Welcome to the Institute, Lojor. May thou find it pleasing to thy interests and enhancing to thy career.

It thanks thee, Madam, Lojor replied, dipping his head respectfully.

Not at all, Okolo replied. It and Its colleagues thank thee for choosing the Institute as thy new nest.  It had hoped to interview thee Itself but a foreign conference scheduled last year called It away at the critical juncture.  It did have time, however, to review thy list of accomplishments.  Having done so and been convinced of thy potential, It spoke to Talapon at once and said, Don’t let this one get away!"

Again, It thanks thee, Madam, Lojor said, embarrassed.

Back when our boss did real work, she was a theoretician specializing in stellar interiors, too. Didst thou know that?

Lojor hissed involuntarily, shrinking away from the female slightly.  "Thou art the Okolo, Madam?"

Okolo laughed. There are others?

The name is not rare, Lojor said, nervously licking his scaly lips.  But now It feels a fool.  It should have put thirteen and thirteen together.  Obviously the mother of modern stellar theory would end up working at a place like this.  To be honest, thou were just a famous reference in the holobooks and It had assumed thou were already dead.

Okolo clapped one of her clawed hands to her chest. No, not dead yet—the old ticker is still ticking.

Talapon leaned toward Lojor.  "Listen, my new friend: Okolo is not only in the textbooks; she wrote the leading textbook of our age.  But thou probably realize that now."

"Without a doubt.  Madam Okolo, Its copy of thy seminal work Stellar Evolution: The Modern Synthesis is one of Its most treasured possessions. It hath printed out many passages and studied them quite closely."

Now it is Its turn to be embarrassed.  It thanks thee, Lojor.

Sure, Lojor said awkwardly.

So.  Okolo looked down at Lojor expectantly.

Madam?

What dost thou think?

What doth It think about what?

What dost thou think about Its theory regarding stellar interiors?

Lojor looked nervously at Okolo and Talapon.  Both of his new superiors were staring at him with frozen, unreadable expressions.  Several long heartbeats passed in a lounge suddenly very quiet.

Lojor looked away and picked up his mug of matzal.  He sipped, wincing at the slurping noise.  When he put the mug back down, his clawed hand trembled.

Madam Okolo, It thinks that, that—

Lojor paused, licking his lips a second time.

Madam Okolo, he began again in a stronger voice, "It thinks that … that thou art wrong."

Okolo placed both hands on the table and leaned down toward Lojor. I heard you loud and clear, my fine-feathered friend. Now I want you to tell me what just happened.

Her failure to use the polite indirections of True Talk to someone she had just been introduced to suggested several disturbing possibilities: that she was angry, that she wished to be disrespectful, possibly that she was deliberately speaking to Lojor like a child.  The fact that she was a female made everything worse.  He drew back from her looming face, one of the wheels of his stool squealing painfully loud.

Answer me, Okolo demanded. Tell me what just happened.

Lojor swallowed hard.  Madam, It thinks maybe … that Its first day at the Institute is also Its last.

Several heartbeats passed in silence. Suddenly Okolo burst out laughing, followed by Talapon.

What is going on? Lojor asked. It is confused.

Okolo grabbed a tuft of feathers protruding from the back of Lojor’s head and pulled the smaller male toward her. She kissed him on top of the head.

Please tell Itself, Lojor pleaded, what is going on?

Technically, hazing is forbidden here at the Institute, Talapon said, smiling, but really, Okolo does whatever she likes.  And what she likes to do sometimes is see whether new hires possess honesty and courage.  It seems that you have both those attributes, damn your dung.  You’re in for sure now; welcome to the Institute!

Thanks, Lojor said, rubbing the feathers that Okolo had pulled on.  At least, It thinks It should say that.

Interview or hazing, Okolo laughed. You get one or the other, no escape.

It thinks It would have preferred the interview.

Maybe, Talapon said. The interviews go on longer.

Thou asked what is going on, Okolo said.  "Now It will tell thee.  It did not wish to take this position, to become a bureaucrat.  It wished to remain a researcher, cloistered in her cell; truly It did.  But important dragons whined and complained, so eventually It gave in.  But before It gave in, It told everyone It intended to run a scientific enterprise, an Institute, not some hidebound bureaucratic monstrosity that serves no purpose except to convince old eggheads that they had been right all along.  Now It—Okolo—is one of the old eggheads.  So is Talapon; we both believe the same basic things about the sun and the other stars.  Thou hast a weird theory, Lojor, a very weird theory about the electric sun and it is for that reason that thou hast been invited to work here.  Dost thou understand what It is saying to thee?"

Yes.

"Good, but let It make doubly certain of that.  Thy job, Lojor, is to go through the old theories and the old books and to rip them up, if need be. And when It says the old books It means even—indeed especially—Its own books, including Stellar Evolution. Thou said that thou had printed out parts of it.  Print out the whole thing and then tear it to pieces, page by page and equation by equation. If thou dost that, thou wilt have done thy job, and It Its job by hiring thee.  Understand?"

Yes, Madam.

Excellent.  Welcome to the Institute.  Now It commands thee: go forth and slay the old theories and lay waste to the old theorists.  This Talapon fellow, for instance: grab him by the throat and knock his teeth out.

Yes, Madam.

Okolo turned to go. She strode quickly across the small lounge, her bare talons clicking on the hard floor. A door split into two halves at a diagonal, the sections disappearing momentarily into the walls. At the last moment she stopped and turned around:

There is one more thing, Lojor.

Yes?

It was of course speaking metaphorically about physically assaulting Talapon.  It finds his pointy white teeth make for a pleasant smile and It would be somewhat saddened should he suffer the loss of same.

Of course.

2: Two Scientists in a Lounge

That went very well, Talapon said, referring to Lojor’s first meeting with the Institute’s director.

    Thanks.  The two of you had me worried for a few heartbeats.  Now that the supervisor was gone, True Talk was dropped again.

    Not to worry.  You did fine.  She really did hire you because of your theory about the electric sun.  Naturally, we both think you’re wrong but that’s only because we know we’re right. Talapon smiled to soften his words.

Naturally, I think she and you are wrong.

It’s not just the two of us; it’s most of the rest of the world. Well, the rest of the astronomy community anyway. The average dragon on the street doesn’t know and doesn’t care what makes the sun and the stars shine. Sometimes that bothers me, doing all this work and then nobody cares.

I like the fact that nobody cares, Lojor said.  That’s one of the aspects that attracted me to this sort of life.  I’m looking for interesting work, learned colleagues, and steady income, but not wanting to get involved in any life-or-death controversies. An intellectual argument here and there is fine, but nothing more.

Well, nothing much seems to happen here at the Institute. Sometimes we get visitors; sometimes we go to conferences; that’s about it.  I think the life we’re living here is not that different from the way monks used to live long ago, scratching away at esoteric gibberish sequestered from the rest of the world.

That’s exactly what I want.

Then you’ve come to the right place.

I’ve read all your articles, Lojor; several of us have, including Okolo. I’m familiar with your idea about the electric sun but I’d like to hear what you have to say in your own words.

Lojor shrugged.  It’s pretty simple, really.  Stars generate a great deal of energy over millions to billions of years.  If you integrate the bolometric luminosity over time, you come up with a colossal number. There is no reasonable source of that energy except nuclear fusion of light elements into heavier elements. Everyone can agree on that much.

Right.  We’re walking down the same path so far.

The two of us disagree on where and how nuclear fusion takes place inside the sun and the other stars.

Indeed, Lojor. We are separated by just those two small, sticking points: where and how.  So knock my teeth out.  What’s wrong with the standard model of the sun?

Lojor pensively sipped his matzal.  Your model, the standard model—

The standard model is Okolo’s model, by the way.

Lojor shook his head in disbelief.  I know that.  I still find it hard to credit that I am working for the creator of the standard model.

Talapon smiled. You are. You have arrived at the pinnacle of your profession, and at a very young age, too.

Lojor nodded.  I prefer to call the standard model the gravitational model, whereas the opposing idea—

Don’t be modest. It’s your idea.

Perhaps—

No, seriously.  Okolo hired you not merely because you are advocating a different position but because you came up with the idea.

If I have seen farther, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants.

You are still being too modest. Okolo tasked me with the responsibility of determining who originated the idea of the electric sun. And while I saw that others came close, those others drew back at the last moment while you sailed boldly ahead; you were the first one. That is what I told her and that is why she hired you.

Thanks.

Thank yourself. Now go on.

So we have these two models for generating power inside the stars: gravitational and electric.  The prevailing idea is that the massive gravitational pressure at the core of stars forces protons—hydrogen nuclei—together, overcoming the mutual repulsion arising from like positive charges.  At some point nuclei are forced so close together than the strong nuclear force becomes dominant, and then the protons merge in a complex concatenation of events resulting in helium or heavier atoms.  But the ending mass is less than the starting mass, the discrepancy having been turned into gamma rays, photons which multiply in number as they step down in frequency and energy, ultimately showing up as low-frequency, low-energy sunlight here on Earth.

You don’t like that theory.

It explains some observed phenomena but not others.

What does it not explain?

According to the gravitational model, the hottest part of the sun is the core, where the fusion is taking place.

Talapon nodded. Yes.

Then it follows that as one recedes from the core, the temperature should drop.

True enough.

But it doesn’t. The surface of the sun is relatively cool. Your theory—Okolo’s theory—suggests that the temperature should continue to fall moving away from the sun, until it merges with the interstellar medium, which is barely above absolute zero. In fact, the observed temperature of the corona is thirteen or even thirteen times thirteen times as high as the surface, although it is farther from the presumed fusion reactions at the core.

That’s been known for years, Talapon said, waving a clawed hand dismissively. There are several possible explanations—

No! Lojor hissed, leaning forward unexpectedly.  A correct theory should not need post hoc patches.

Talapon was taken aback; it was the first time he had seen real passion in the young scientist. Well, you say they are post hoc—

They are.  And what do you have to say about the missing neutrinos?

That one’s easy, Talapon said.  They’re not missing.  There are different types of neutrinos.  They mutate from type to type as they travel from the fusion core to Earth; at present our equipment can only detect one type.  The so-called missing neutrinos aren’t missing at all; the apparent discrepancy is an artifact of inadequacies in the detection technology. The missing neutrinos will be found one day.

No, Lojor said emphatically.  "The missing neutrinos will never be found.  They will never be found because they do not exist." He slammed a fist into the table, jostling the matzal in the mugs.

Can you prove that?

Can I prove a negative? Lojor retorted.  "No, I can’t, but the electric theory doesn’t need those neutrinos.  Your theory does.  Your theory requires yet another post hoc fix-up.  Your theory is a pile of three-horn dung!"

The two scientists stared at each across the table, Lojor breathing heavily.

After several heartbeats, Talapon laughed.  Okolo left too soon!  I wish she had hung around to hear the new hire trash her life’s work on his first day on the job!

Lojor took a deep breath.  Sorry.  I got a little bit wound up there.

No, you’re fine.

Lojor stared into his mug of matzal.  I despise post hoc rationalizations, he muttered.

Sometimes they turn out to be correct explanations.

Sometimes, and if they do, that’s fine. But in the meantime they look like excuses. Explanations are fine; excuses are lame.

Talapon picked up the carafe Okolo had left on the table. He refilled both mugs.

Thanks.

You’re welcome. Now, tell me about the electric sun.

Stars are born by the aggregation of dust and molecules and atoms in regions of relatively high density; such regions are known as stellar nurseries.

Your theory starts out the same as the gravitational hypothesis, Talapon observed.

Only in general outline.  There are differences almost from the start.  For example, most of the angular momentum in our solar system is in the planets.  Following the logic of the gravitational hypothesis, it should reside in the sun, because that’s where the bulk of the mass is. The sun should rotate in less than a day; in fact, it takes about a moonth. Yet almost all the angular momentum is found in the two largest planets. No doubt your side has a post hoc explanation for that discrepancy.

Actually, we don’t, Talapon admitted. Do you?

No, but I don’t need one.

Nicely sidestepped, said Talapon, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Not at all.  In your model, there shouldn’t be any angular momentum to explain, assuming the individual atoms in the protostellar nebula were floating around with random velocities.  Your theory produces something from nothing, and then can’t explain it.

Talapon pursed his lips, thinking.

The theory of the electric sun gets complicated when we get down to particulars; I wish it weren’t so but stars are big and complex things. The universe is the way it is and we can’t have it be simple no matter how much we wish it to be. But to boil it down to basics, the central ideas behind the electric sun hypothesis are these.

Lojor paused to sip his matzal.  Talapon waited expectantly.

Here goes. Okolo’s gravitational model depends on the weakest force in the universe. That should raise a warning flag right there. The electric force is far stronger. A cheap, tiny magnet can overcome the gravitational attraction of the entire earth; that’s one of the things that got me thinking along these lines in the first place. Magnetism arises from electrical fields. The temperature of the sun varies wildly throughout, but it is everywhere a plasma—

A plasma being an electrically conducting gas, Talapon interrupted.

"Yes.  Now we have to ask ourselves: what can we do with a giant ball of plasma?  Or rather, what can it do?  Well, it can do a lot of things.  In particular, it can accelerate charged particles; it can accelerate almost without limit, although always observing the speed of light.  And now: what happens if two of those charged particles—protons for my purposes, not electrons—happen to—merely based on the statistical probabilities that flow from inconceivably large numbers of available protons—smash into one another at high speed?"

Lojor paused, inviting the older scientist to hazard a response.

They might fuse, Talapon said, speaking slowly.

Yes, Lojor said, his eyes shining.  "They might fuse.  Listen, old dragon: It tells thee that they will fuse—some of them, some of the time.  And the system doesn’t care where that happens inside the sun; yes, the core would be a likely place, simply because the density is higher, but the possibility for sustained fusion is present throughout the sun, even into its atmosphere!"

You mean the corona?

Could be; possibly; it can’t be ruled out at present.

Talapon rubbed the end of his reptilian muzzle pensively. But the old theory works, he murmured.

It works like a vehicle with an out-of-round wheel.  It’s been clunky from the start.  The thing is, is you’ve gotten used to the clunks and rattles.  You ignore them, belittle them, or explain them away with mental gymnastics.  Gravity obviously plays a role in the sun but the truth is that the sun and all other stars are fundamentally creatures of the electric force. Your side depends on the electric force to explain more of the observational data than gravity!

Now you’re going too far.

No! I’m just forcing you to see what you’ve been doing all along. Not only is the standard gravitational model rife with post hoc fix-ups, but ironically, you depend on the electric force to patch the holes!

No, Talapon said, shaking his head. I can’t follow you there.

In that case, I guess I’ll have to drag your sorry tail over to my side.

I don’t think you can do that.

Lojor picked up his mug and drank from it.  He set in down and spoke again.  Maybe not all the way, but I’ll bet I can drag you out of your comfort zone.

You can try.

Fine. Explain sunspots using your theory.

You know damn well we attribute them to regions of opposing magnetic—

I know damn well that magnetism arises from electric currents, a barb in the feather of the electric theory, a post hoc fix-up in the gravitational theory.

Maybe.

No maybe about it.  How do you explain prominences?  Solar storms? Spicules?

Talapon opened his mouth slightly, exposing two rows of small, sharp teeth.

No answers?  How do you explain the granulated appearance of the sun’s visible surface?

That’s easy. The granulation results from looking at the tops of convections cells, like thunderheads on the sun. Do you have a problem with that?

"You have a problem with that—you and Okolo.  And you don’t even acknowledge it."

How so?

Given the high temperature of the plasma, we should not be seeing orderly arrays of convection cells; instead, we should be seeing a swirling sea of violent chaos. I have not published yet, but am about to, the calculated difference between the actual forces at play and the much lower force that would permit convection cells to form and persist. There is a discrepancy, a large discrepancy. Care to guess how big that discrepancy is?

Not having read your article or even thought about the issue until this very moment, no, I would not care to guess.

"The difference is about one hundred billion.  It is a large difference, a huge difference.  Under your theory, those so-called convection cells—"

Should not exist? Talapon said, finishing the younger astrophysicist’s thought.

"Those convection cells cannot exist," Lojor said, correcting him.

Listen, Lojor. I hear what you’re saying, but you have to realize that the gravitational theory is evolving—

"The gravitational theory is clunking along.  If it’s evolving, it’s doing so like the Allosaurus: evolving itself out of existence."

That remains to be seen.

So it does.

Where do we go from here? Talapon asked.

As I understand it, my contract says I can work on whatever I want.

True.  Okolo was very generous with you.  Usually she provides at least some guidance and it is difficult for a new hire to completely ignore her.  She was so impressed by your background, however, that she left you untethered from any specific obligations.  As well, she appears serious in wanting you to challenge the prevailing view of stellar evolution, which just happens to be based on her own work.

She is courageous, Lojor murmured, and I am grateful.

So, what do you plan to do once you get settled in?

I see myself devoting a lot of time to the mathematical particularities of magnetohydrodynamics as a way of theoretically exploring fusion reactions driven by electrically accelerated protons.  In other words, I plan to attack the specifics of the electric sun theory as opposed to the generalities, which we were just now discussing.

Be careful.  I caution you not to let your youthful exuberance lead you into a blind alley.  At some point you need to generate interesting results, not just squeeze equations back and forth. From what I understand of magnetohydrodynamics, it is a minefield of mathematical complexity.

Without a doubt, Lojor agreed.  I will need help from the calculational engines here at the Institute.  It was those calculational resources along with the freedom to pursue my own research agenda that caused me to rank the Institute highest on my list of preferred places to work.  Okolo promised me a certain block of calculational cycles for the first three years.

That’s all well and good, but you still need to be careful. All the calculational cycles in the world won’t help you if you end up in a mathematical swamp. You wouldn’t be the first eager young researcher to start out promising but then disappear without a trace because he can’t move his research along.

I am aware of the career hazard but I can’t think of a better approach. Can you?

Talapon frowned.  "Not right off.  What we’re missing here is data.  We need to know a great deal more about the sun than we do a present.  Observational data is the only sure means of separating factual ore from theoretical dross.  When I first heard about the electric sun, my reaction was negative; I thought the idea was absurd.  But then I realized I could not rule out the basic idea from first principles.  I then further realized that we really have no way of proving where in the sun fusion reactions are taking place."

"True.  At the end of the day, the mathematical models and the calculational engines cannot prove anything; they can only suggest."

Well put, young Lojor.  That is why we need more data, and lots of it.  How will we go about getting it?

I have an idea but it is crazy.

Tell me; don’t hold back.  Once one has made so bold as to conjure the crazy of an electric sun, one should keep on conjuring the craziness.

Okay. My idea is not crazy in that it won’t work; I believe it will work. It is crazy because no one will pay to make it happen, at least not in our lifetimes.

You have the advantage of being much younger.

Lojor laughed.  So I do, but I still don’t see my dream coming true while I am alive.

What is that dream?

The sun shines above our heads all the time, pouring forth warmth and light—and data. The sun is talking to us all the time. To better listen to it, we should go to the sun.

The sun is warm as you say. Indeed, it is very hot, dangerously hot. Nuclear fusion is taking place there, or so I have heard.

Lojor nodded.  "Dangerously hot is right.  I don’t plan to go all the way to the sun but here on earth we are simply too far away.  We must get our instruments closer but at the same time strike a reasonable compromise."

And what is that reasonable compromise?

Lojor embellished his answer by inserting a pause, lifting his mug of matzal and peering at Talapon over the rim:

I propose a mission to the Burn World.

You mean the Innermost Planet? Talapon asked, giving the first planet out from the sun its more common name.  It was also called the First Planet.

Yes! Lojor replied enthusiastically.  "I have played around with the idea over the years.  It turns out that the Burn World is more inviting to research than most dragons think.  Near the pole there may be both areas of permanent shadow and other areas of permanent light.  That would allow relative ease of installation