Somewhere beneath this hill is a band of limestone two to three feet thick, packed with sea creatures that died about 300 million years ago, when this was a shallow tropical ocean. It's called the Ames. Nobody has ever drilled here to check.
So it had to be worked out.
The Ames is 79 feet above the roof.
It was there once. The hill has since worn down past it. To stand on the Ames you'd walk uphill, roughly a quarter-mile to the northeast.
Three more fossil layers are still underneath.
Woods Run, Pine Creek and Brush Creek — all marine limestones, all full of shells and crinoids. The nearest is roughly 55 feet below the ground, and the slope below the house cuts straight through them.
Before anything could be worked out, the raw material had to be found, downloaded, catalogued and pinned to real coordinates — so the computer knows not just what a map says, but exactly where on Earth it says it.
A model is only as good as the observations under it. These are the numbers that actually constrain where the rock is.
Three geological folds run through this area, and one of them passes directly beneath the study site. A flat sheet cannot bend, and a tilted sheet cannot bend twice. That single fact killed the first three attempts.
Anyone can build a model that agrees with itself. These are tests against things the model had never seen.
11,461 real measurements were withheld from the model and then predicted from scratch. Average miss: about 19 feet, on a rock column over 500 feet tall.
The model was asked where the three geological folds should cross the area. It found every one, within a few hundred metres of where the state maps them — and it was never told they existed.
A US Geological Survey sheet drawn in 1911 shows where the Ames comes out of the ground. Compared at 14,918 separate points, the 115-year-old map and the new model differ by about a foot. Within 500 metres of the house: eleven inches.
A coal seam 520 feet higher up is mapped on a nearby hilltop. Measured against the laser survey it sits at 1,222 feet. The model, working from the seam far below it, predicted 1,220.
Every one of these was found, written down permanently with its reason, and fixed. That record is the reason the fourth model can be trusted at all.
Six known problems are still on the books today — sized, dated, and pointed at the work that would close them. None of them are hidden.
Hand-lettered field notes from before the First World War, and laser altimetry from an aircraft — reconciled to the same few feet.
Tomorrow, someone walks outside and checks.
The model says: go down the slope about 55 feet and there should be a thin limestone full of snails and shellfish. Go a quarter-mile uphill and the Ames should be there. There's even a field test printed in the 1911 report — look for a thick band of ox-blood red clay whose top sits ten to twenty feet below the limestone. No red bed underneath, and it's an impostor.
A prediction you can check by walking to it is the only kind worth making.
Ambridge, Pennsylvania · elevations in feet above sea level (NAVD88) · all figures drawn from the project's own database