The Smallest Black Hole

Aziz worked at the observatory on the hill. One night each year, the doors opened to everyone. It was open night, and Aziz was the guide.

He wore a blue jacket with a silver star on the back. He carried a clipboard and a small torch. He loved his job.

The big telescope sat under a round roof. Tonight it pointed at the Moon. The Moon looked huge and bright and close.

By eight o'clock, the queue was very long. It went up the stairs and along the hall. It reached the front door. Families waited with coffee and cake. Children jumped and asked questions.

"Welcome," Aziz said to the first family. "Please look for one minute. Then the next person can look."

One minute was not enough for anybody. A man looked for ten minutes. He said the Moon looked like cheese. A woman took twenty photos with her phone. A boy asked if he could touch it.

Aziz checked his watch again and again. The queue grew longer. He wanted every visitor to be happy. But he also wanted to go home before morning.

Koji walked past with a bucket. Koji was the caretaker. He fixed the lights, the doors and the heating. He fixed almost everything in the building.

He did not fix his own bucket. It had a round hole in the bottom. The hole was the size of a coin. For a year, it sat under a dripping pipe. Now the pipe was fixed, and the bucket was empty.

"You look worried," Koji said.

"The line is too long," Aziz said. "Nobody wants to leave the telescope."

"People love the Moon," Koji said. "That is a good problem."

"It is still a problem," Aziz said.

Then a small girl pulled his jacket. She held her mother's hand. Her hat had two round bear ears.

"Excuse me," she said. "My brother says there is a black hole here. I want to see it."

Aziz bent down. "I am sorry," he said. "Nobody can see a black hole. It is black. It gives no light."

"Not even with this big telescope?" the girl asked.

"Not even with this one," Aziz said.

The girl looked at her shoes. "I wish I could see one," she said. "Just one. Then I could tell my class."

Her mother smiled at Aziz and shrugged. Aziz felt terrible. He had a Moon, a map of the stars and a clipboard. He did not have a black hole.

Koji put a hand on his bucket. "Wishes are my job," he said. "I fix things."

"Koji, please," Aziz said. "We cannot fool a child."

"I will not fool her," Koji said. "I will show her something true. Come with me, small friend."

Koji led the girl and her mother to the cloakroom. It was small and quiet and full of coats. He closed the door and switched off the light. Then he turned on a tiny lamp.

He took off his big black coat. He wrapped it around the open end of the bucket. He tied the sleeves tight. Now the bucket was dark inside. Only the hole in the bottom was open.

"Put your eye here," Koji said. "Look through the hole."

The girl bent down and looked. She looked for a while.

"I see nothing," she said.

"Exactly," Koji said. "Nothing comes out. Not even light. That is how a black hole works. It is not a real black hole, but it shows the idea."

"So it is a bucket," the girl said.

"It is a very small black hole," Koji said. "I made it with my own hands."

The girl pushed one finger into the hole. "It ate my finger!" she shouted. She pulled it out and counted her fingers. All five were still there. She laughed so hard that the bear ears on her hat shook.

Outside the door, some children heard the noise. They came into the cloakroom. Soon there were ten of them, then twenty. Koji held up the bucket like a prize.

"One at a time," he said. "Do not feed it big things."

Meanwhile, Aziz went back to the telescope. The room was almost empty. Only one man stood at the eyepiece. He was asleep, standing up. Aziz looked around, surprised. Where did everyone go?

He followed the noise down the hall. The cloakroom now had its own queue. Children looked into the bucket and screamed with joy. Then they pulled back their fingers. Parents took photos of the hole. Koji sat on a chair like a king.

"What is all this noise?" a voice asked.

It was the director of the observatory. She wore a long grey coat and a serious face. She was in charge of everything.

Aziz swallowed. "Koji shows the visitors a black hole," he said.

"A black hole," the director said. "In my cloakroom."

"A small one," Koji said. He held out the bucket.

The director bent down and looked through the hole. She stayed there for a minute. Then she stood up, and her serious face broke into a smile.

"Nothing," she said. "I see absolutely nothing."

"Thank you," Koji said.

"That is the best explanation I ever saw," the director said. "Our telescope cost a lot of money. It cannot show nothing this well."

Aziz laughed. He could not stop. He laughed until the sleepy man came to see why.

At ten o'clock, the visitors went home. The girl with the bear ears left last. She waved at Koji from the door.

"I will tell my class," she said. "I saw a black hole, and I fed it my finger."

"Good," Koji said.

"I know it is a bucket," she whispered. "But the hole is real."

Koji smiled. "That is the best part," he said.

When the hall was empty, Aziz sat down on a chair. His feet hurt. His voice was almost gone. He looked at the bucket on the floor.

"We need a sign," he said. "Moon this way. Black hole that way."

"The telescope cost a lot," Koji said. "The bucket cost nothing. And which one had the longest queue?"

Aziz looked at the bucket for a moment.

"Next year," he said, "we need two queues."