Gummi Propulsion Unbearable

Space. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Gummi-Bear…

Captain’s log, star date 3/22/2000: We have beamed onto the campus of Whitworth, a private Presbyterian college located somewhere in the Eisenhower Nebula of Spokane’s north sector.

We have come to explore reports of a strange experiment being conducted inside the Eric Johnston Science Center.

According to a press release, physics professor Richard Stevens intends to demonstrate Gummi-Bear rocket fuel.

We scientists have long been aware of the capabilities of candy power, especially when burned in the internal engine of the adolescent biped.

Seconds after consuming several bags of, say, leftover Halloween Skittles, a kid often will blast off with the force of a scalded Vulcan.

Unfortunately, the energizing effects of sugar are short-lived. After a sweet high, a child often will fall to Earth harder than Lynard Skynard’s airplane.

Has Stevens finally unlocked the mystery of sugar power?

This could earn Whitworth a Nobel Prize, not to mention forever change the face of TV space cliches:

SCOTTY: “Aw, cawptan, the engines won’t hold. We nee’ more powahr.”

CAPT. KIRK: “Silence haggis brain. Shove these Necco Wafers into the reactor.”

SCOTTY: “We’re saaaaved.”

But getting back to the science center, Stevens uses a gas burner to liquefy some kind of salt in a clamped test tube.

He removes a Gummi-Bear from a package. A red one.

He dangles it over the tube. We in the audience lean forward as Stevens drops the hapless bruin into the molten material much the way sacrificial virgins are employed in certain volcanic situations.

“Whoooosh!” A jet of white-hot, gummy fire flames up the test tube with the thrusting force of Warp 6.

“If the test tube were not secured,” warns Stevens, peering at us through protective eyeware, “it would travel.”

Any questions?

Yes. Professor Stevens, have you ever gone where no physicist has gone before and fired up a Ho Ho?

“That would be completely off the scale,” he says.

Next?

Yes. Professor Stevens, in the movie, “Ghostbusters,” what, exactly, does it mean when they say “don’t cross the streams?”

“That means, don’t, DON’T ever cross the streams.”

Stevens, 32, doesn’t fit the stereotypical mold of science nerd. He’s a very cool guy with a highly evolved sense of humor.

(Translation: He laughed at my jokes.)

In conclusion, our investigation here has determined that this demonstration has nothing whatsoever to do with why Stevens has summoned the media.

It’s actually part of an experiment to see how many reporters will drive across town to watch flaming Gummi-Bears. Answer: 2. Only a reporter from Fox News is here, besides me.

All the other, more qualified journalists are away digging for increasingly ludicrous ways to hype the Gonzaga basketball team. Suckers.

As it turns out, however, Stevens does have some newsworthy information to impart.

He will spend 10 weeks this summer at a NASA lab where he will be “working on a laser-testing system to improve the reliability and longevity of electric thrusters” and some other stuff I don’t understand.

This may come as a surprise to all of you, but rockets in the vacuum of deep space do not rely on snack products for fuel. Where you gonna find a 7 Eleven on Neptune?

These spacecraft run on sophisticated propulsion systems that continuously eject electrically charged particles at frighteningly fast speeds.

Stevens will help develop a system for measuring the rate by which these electronic propulsion systems break down.

I’m betting he succeeds. This guy handles a Gummi-Bear the way Capt. Kirk handles a phaser.

Beam me up, Scotty. My work here is finished.