My father nodded, and Tim led us up a flight of metal stairs to a massive, cylindrical machine that stood there ominously-- fastened in place to the floor. Tim shuffled over to an array of buttons and switches nearby.
"Watch the roof, kid," he told me, as he flicked one of the switches on.
I could hear the sounds of a machine starting up-- gears and rotors, and almost immediately, a section of the roof had begun to slide aside, revealing the starry night beyond.
"Now, what were those coordinates again?" I could hear Tim ponder. He sorted through some papers on a desk then slammed his hand down in frustration. "Damn it, what did I-- Aha-- found it!” He let out a soft sigh. “Man... the luck I’m having lately!"
I heard my father ask him what was wrong.
"Ever since Mary left, things have gone downhill," Tim moaned as he read the coordinates from a page in the middle of a green notepad he held.
"That bitch took my daughter, Kevin! Then the observatory lost our funding when the research didn't pan out. And now the city wants to repurpose the observatory! What they really mean is, ‘tear the place down and build fucking condos... condos!" he sighed again, exasperatedly.
"But a couple days ago, Kevin--" Tim suddenly was beside me, then before me; his back to us as he messed with the controls on the telescope.
The platform on which we stood and the roof spun in synchronization towards the west, and I clung to my father, whose footing was firm, stoic. "Come. Come take a look!" Tim called, once the roomed had stopped its rotation.