It’s great to be back! And by that, I mean back in Tucson (in time for the lovely fall weather) and back writing for The Voice of Tucson. I’ve been absent from The Logical Lizard, not through lack of affection, but because I have been working every single day since May of this year on Season Two of my television series Meteorite Men. And I thought the first season was hard work.

Last year we were given a tall order by Science Channel: produce six one-hour episodes in seven months. We weren’t quite sure how we’d manage but we did—barely. The final episode was delivered to the network just five days before its air date. Five of those episodes were filmed in the US, and one in Canada. It was exciting, challenging, occasionally dangerous, sometimes hysterically funny, and often exhausting.

Steve and Geoff on location filming "Meteorite Men," June 2010. Photo by Suzanne Morrison.

For Season Two we were given just five months to produce eight one-hour episodes, and five of those were to be filmed overseas. So, since late June, I have traveled more than 60,000 miles; walked on four continents; visited eight countries; seen ten states in the Union plus the District of Columbia; completed over twenty interviews for radio, print and social media; encountered extraordinary wildlife including camels, llamas, eagles, thousands of wild parrots, a lizard the size of a dog, kangaroos, emus, and a three-legged cat. Oh, and we got to guest star on American Chopper.

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As Douglas Adams noted in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: “How ever fast the body travels, the soul travels at the speed of an Arcturan Mega-Camel.” In other words, while I was filming in the Arctic Circle, my overstimulated brain had not finished processing my adventures in the high Atacama Desert of Chile. While dozing in a tent in the Australian Outback, I had dreams that I was still exploring salt flats in the American West at 103 F, during a previous shoot. A couple of nights ago, I woke up in utter darkness at about 4:30 am (our call time on shoot days was typically 6 or 6:30 am) grabbed my alarm clock and thought to myself: “Which hotel am I in? What time is my flight!” before realizing that I was, in fact, at home in my own bed and there were no more flights. At least for this season.

The Meteorite Men on their Orange County Chopper. Season Two location shoot, June 2010. Photo by Suzanne Morrison.

Only one of our field team from Season One joined us for our 2010 “world tour,” and she—Senior Producer Sonya Gay Bourn—has always been the most indispensable member of the road crew. So, if we could keep just one of the original team, we wanted it to be her. During our first night on location for Season Two, we had a meet and greet with our new director, co-executive producer, director of photography, second camera, sound men, and camera tech. I raised my glass to Sonya and said: “If I found myself in the middle of the screaming wilderness during, say, the 19th Century, with thousands of ferocious warriors descending upon my position—weapons raised for attack—and could only have one person standing next to me, that person would be Sonya.” No disrespect to my stalwart co-host Steve Arnold, and I promise you, he feels the same way.

I have never met anyone like Sonya, and I am quite sure there is nobody in the world remotely like her. Brilliant, sassy, unconventional, striking, fearless, and resourceful, she is also an accomplished director, writer, and former stand-up comic. She also seems to know almost everyone on the planet, well, almost everyone worth knowing. Steve likes to joke that if we got into a serious jam—in the most desolate corner of the world—Sonya would know somebody at the local helicopter outfit and, with the aid of the sat phone and Blackberry from which she is never separated, would arrange an airlift for us in less than thirty minutes.

The Meteorite Men on the hunt. Atacama Desert location shoot, August 2010.

One of my favorite shows on television these days is Animal Planet’s Whale Wars—a gripping documentary series that chronicles the ecological group Sea Shepherd’s hair-raising attempts to curtail illegal Japanese commercial whaling. It’s one of the few programs that holds my attention from the first frame to the last. Those guys have nerves of steel and big eco hearts. Imagine my delight, therefore, when I discovered that two of the brightest lights in our 2010 crew were the cameramen from Whale Wars. We camped together for four nights in one of the most inaccessible parts of the Australian wilderness and they enthralled me—as we sat around the campfire—with harrowing tales of their adventures on board the Sea Shepherd vessels. Now that is a fireside chat.

Photo by Suzanne Morrison

Once I finally returned to my desert home one of my friends asked: “So was it fun? What did you see?”

I paused for a moment—jet lag trying to convince the parts of me traveling at the speed of an Arcturan Mega-Camel that I was still at least partly on the other side of the Earth—then replied: “Everything. I’ve seen everything.”

Meteorite Men Season Two premieres this coming Tuesday, November 2, on Science Channel and Science Channel HD. Air times here in Tucson are 6 pm with a repeat at 9 pm (Cox Digital); and 7 pm with a repeat at 10 pm (Comcast Digital).

A while back, when I asked my personal tech guru what new software and networking developments I should be aware of, he recommended that I take a look at Ning. I was impressed. Combining a widget-based structure reminiscent of WordPress, with social networking (a bit like a grown-up version of Facebook), an easy-to-use blogging platform, photo and video sharing, and many other options, it’s a great choice for the savvy person looking to create an online community.

Whether it began as a kid's name, a peace off, or something else entirely, Ning is cool.

Being a devoted and near lifelong fan of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the first thing I thought of, obviously, was a ningy, which Douglas Adams described as “a triangular rubber coin 6,800 miles along each side.” The ningy was used, briefly, in one of his original radio episodes to make fun of money and galactic currencies. No, unfortunately, the Ning social networking service doesn’t have anything to with HHG, at least not that I’m aware of, but it did remind me of Neuromancer author William Gibson—another visionary science fiction writer.

Kathryn Bigelow’s Wild Palms (1993), a puzzling, intriguing, and very thinly-veiled poke at scientology and the extremely weird L. Ron Hubbard, includes a short but delightful cameo by Gibson, playing himself. At a chic party, Kim Cattrall introduces Gibson as “the man who coined the word ‘cyberspace,’” to which he sardonically replies: “And they won’t let me forget it.” And they haven’t.

In addition to his almost prescient science fiction novels, set in a future that seems to be literally around the corner, Gibson made a remarkable prediction during the early days of the Internet. He realized that when information becomes freely and readily available to anyone, at any time, the value of that information is determined by how reliable it is. In other words, can you believe what you read in Wikipedia?

I once had the pleasure of socializing with Mr. Gibson at a party in New York. Packed with beautiful and overly accomplished people, it was actually quite a bit like the party in Wild Palms. He is a very charming man, tall and perhaps slightly awkward physically, but friendly, sincere, and encouraging. I insisted on ordering a drink for him, as a “thank you” for giving the world such a great read with Neuromancer—still easily my favorite Gibson work.

I suppose once you’ve made spot-on predictions about what could be, or will be—with no mirrors attached—everyone then relentlessly asks for more and better predictions. It must get very tiresome. I hate to be predictable, so instead of asking him to reveal a glimpse of possible futures I bent Mr. Gibson’s ear with tales of my own writing and science work. He seemed relieved not to have to produce another virtual rabbit out of the hat. Or maybe I was just a little giddy on vodka and the company of a favorite science fiction writer. It matters not; it was a fine evening.

The extremely brilliant and very nice Mr. William Gibson. Photo by Fred Armitage/Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons. I guess the wicked Wiki is good for something after all.

So, I was reminded of the fascinating William Gibson today because I became interested in the meaning of the word Ning. Wikipedia claims it is Chinese for “peace,” but that comes to you from an “informational site” compiled by anyone who has an opinion and spare time on their hands. I do not consider it the most reliable of resources. WikiAnswers states with great authority that Ning means “peaceful” in Chinese. Gili’s blog at avirtualexit.com delved considerably deeper and came up with a link to, of all things, a website that helps people name babies. Do parents really need help with such tasks? I thought we all had a few favorite names tucked away in case somebody accidentally gets knocked up (mine are Rachel, Dawn, Sam, Zack, and Evelyn if anyone cares). Anyway, I digress. The baby name site—with the rather silly title of yeahbaby.com—and doubtless a repository of the most authoritative information available anywhere, has the following wisdom to dispense:

Baby names – the name Ning.
Baby names info for Ning:
• Gender: a boy or girl name
• Pronounciation: not available
We know of no common nicknames for the name Ning

What about Ningy?

Further research suggested that Ning is actually a Chinese surname. At that point I became bored and thought I might rather be re-reading Neuromancer or learning more about the real Ning and its alluring CEO, Ms. Gina Bianchini.

William Gibson was right. Our worlds are rife with cheap information. We can ferret out the most obscure and arcane details with just a few seconds of typing. But when almost anyone can put up a website on any subject, with no checks or balances, how do we acquire reliable information? I’ll take the Encyclopedia Britannica over Wikipedia any day. You get what you pay for.