ZAU WATCH DESK - 1:46 A.M./0746Z

After taking a walk around the DSR control room to make sure that everything was running smoothly, Brian Benson sat down in his chair at the Watch Desk. Twisting the top of his pop bottle open, Brian took a long drink, then set the bottle down. As he put the top back on, Brian glanced at one of the DSR radar scopes positioned in the Traffic Management Unit adjacent to the Watch Desk. The DSR radar scope was configured  so all sectors  in Chicago Center could be watched. The screen displayed all of the radar targets in the Center's area, but without data blocks. Brian looked at the outline of one of the sectors, the Bradford High Altitude sector southwest of Chicago. Brian sat back in his chair as his mind wandered back to when he did his walk through the M-1 to see how Bob and Cathy were doing a short while ago. He remembered stopping at the Bradford High sector before continuing on. Brian took a long look at the soda bottle. He recalled that night in the early 1980's when he was a newly checked out controller in the Bradford High altitude sector.

It was one of those nights that a controller never forgets. One of those nights where you could still hear the pilots voices, the shouts of controllers yelling coordination to each other across the room. One of those nights where you remember the feeling of your heart skipping a beat. Brian recalled how the feeling of tightness in his chest was such that he wasn't sure if the words would come out. A line of heavy thunderstorms had shut down operations at O'Hare. The wind shear and micro-bursts were so great that all aircraft that attempted to make the approach at O'Hare wanted to divert to their alternates. The low altitude sectors were almost out of control as aircraft were flying everywhere as controllers scrambled to input flight plans and identify aircraft. Brian recalled how he had a holding stack over the Bradford V-O-R navigational station waiting for the weather at O'Hare to clear. There were ten aircraft in the holding pattern, many low on fuel and constantly asking for updates on the situation at O'Hare. There were additional aircraft flying through the sector, and there were aircraft wanting to divert and deviate around storms. The frequency was congested and many radio calls were blocked...

"Chicago, Universal seven oh six heavy. Any updates on O'Hare? We're getting close to having to divert to our alternate."

“Ah…ah Universal seven oh six heavy, Chicago," Brian radioed. "O'Hare is not taking...there are no arrivals or departures at O'Hare now. Thunderstorms are affecting operations...Eastair one nineteen, add two zero minutes to your expect further clearance time ...Universal three heavy, revision to your clearance..."

There were so many aircraft in the sector and in the holding pattern that Brian did not even attempt to find and mark the flight progress strips. The controller working the "D" side was too busy to find or mark the strips also. He was trying to input revisions, into the computer and handle coordination calls. Brian had asked for another controller, a third controller known as a "tracker" to plug in and help keep an eye on things, but there wasn't anyone available. There were barely enough controllers to work the sector's as it was that summer evening. The area supervisor was walking around telling controllers to reduce the number of inputs into the computer, not to use the trackball, and to take off the weather display.

The ten year old 90-20 computer was in danger of crashing at any moment.

Brian took a long look at three aircraft. Two westbound airliners, twenty miles apart, were headed for Denver on Jet airway 146, just north of the Bradford V- O-R.

A Rockwell Saberliner business jet, was crossing from south to north.

All three were at thirty five thousand feet. (Flight Level 3-5-0)

He also had a B737 in the holding pattern at thirty five thousand feet.

"Saberliner One Eight Nine, turn right fifteen degrees for traffic," Brain said as he shifted in his chair.

He turned the business jet in the hopes that it would pass between the two airliners.

"Ahh...Chicago,  Saber One Eight Nine.  That'll head us right the weather."

Before Brian could answer, he spotted a hand to his left, pushing several display buttons on his radar scope.

"What are you doing!" Brian said to the area supervisor.

"I'm turning off your weather display. The computer is hanging on by a thread."

"Chicago, Saber One Eight Nine. We can't take that turn. It's going to put us right in the weather. We'll take another altitude if necessary."

"We've got thunderstorms and you want to turn off the weather?!"

"Chicago, Eastair two thirteen. Any updates on O'Hare? We're getting close to having to divert to our alternate."

"Chicago Center, Universal three eighteen. We are going to have to divert to our alternate, Indianapolis."

Brian reached up and pressed the weather display button.

"I've got to vector a guy through...around the weather and two aircraft..."

"Chicago, Saber One Eight Nine, over?"

Brian looked back at the radar scope. A chill went through him as the Saberliner and one of the airliners were flashing "CONFLICT ALERT."

"Saber One Eight Nine," Brain said loudly through the tightness in his chest. "Turn thirty degrees right for traffic!”

“Center! We cannot take any turns to the right!  There is a…that will put us right into a thunderstorm!”

It was at that moment, the computer failed.

The radar display froze.

The words: “NOT UPDATING DISPLAY” flashed across the radar scope.