Eighty-four miles east of Mount Rushmore, the town of Quinn, South Dakota, blends unobtrusively into the outskirts of arid Badlands National Park. With a population of just 44, it would be easy for passing tourists to completely miss the town’s existence—if it weren’t for the incongruous, futuristic white dome peeking through the trees along Highway 14.
Standing inside the 20-foot-high squared-off base beneath the dome, Ron Dyvig prepares for his nightly observation session by pressing a large green button on the wall. Gears hum and the dome’s lid retracts, exposing the 26-inch telescope inside to the cool night sky. Dyvig then escapes to the heated downstairs control room, pulls his chair up to the computer, and starts typing instructions to the telescope. An overhead assemblage of motors, which he obtained from a defunct vending-machine company, whirs to life in response to his commands. He gives a satisfied grin as the dome’s opening begins to pivot, moving in line with the mirror of the telescope as it scans the darkness.
