It was a February afternoon in Flagstaff; snow was falling beyond the big window of the Administration Building.  Clyde Tombaugh had been blinking plates for ten months — hour after hour of painstaking examination of giant, high-resolution photographic negatives.   The comparator was giving off its relentless clack-clack-clack, swapping one plate for its twin, over and over, and Clyde, with the determination only a farmboy could bring, was staring through the brass eyepiece.

And then he saw it – a minute flickering.  One tiny black speck danced before his eyes. 

 He was very well suited to search for Planet X.  But now he had found something.

He turned off the comparator — reaching around beneath, as though feeling under its skirts — then went across the hall, where Carl Lampland, one of Lowell Observatory’s astronomers, was working.

“I’ve found your Planet X,” Clyde said.

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