The Future of Humanity

by Michio Kaku

  ELEVATORS INTO SPACE

  Space elevators would be a game-changing application of nanotechnology. A space elevator is a long shaft that stretches from the Earth into outer space. You would enter the elevator, press the up button, and then be rapidly lifted into orbit. You wouldn’t suffer the crushing g-forces experienced when a booster rocket blasts off its launchpad. Instead, your ride into space would be as mild as taking the elevator to the top of a department store. Like Jack’s beanstalk, the space elevator would seemingly defy gravity and provide an effortless way to ascend into the skies.

  The possibility of a space elevator was first explored by the Russian physicist Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, who was intrigued by the building of the Eiffel Tower in the 1880s. If engineers could build such a magnificent structure, he asked himself, why not keep going and extend one into outer space? Using simple physics, he was able to show that, in principle, if the tower was long enough, then centrifugal force would be sufficient to keep it upright, without any external force. Just as a ball on a string does not fall to the floor because of its spin, a space elevator would be kept from collapsing by the centrifugal force of the spinning Earth.

  The notion that perhaps rockets were not the only way to enter space was radical and exciting. But there was an immediate roadblock. The stress on space elevator cables might reach one hundred gigapascals of tension, which exceeds the breaking point of steel, which is two gigapascals. Steel cables would snap, and the space elevator would come tumbling down.

  The concept of space elevators was shelved for almost a hundred years. They were mentioned occasionally by authors like Arthur C. Clarke, who featured them in a novel called The Fountains of Paradise. However, asked when a space elevator might be possible, he replied, “Probably about fifty years after everyone stops laughing.”

  But no one is laughing anymore. Suddenly, space elevators don’t seem so far-fetched after all. In 1999, a preliminary NASA study assessed that an elevator with a cable three feet wide and thirty thousand miles long could transport fifteen tons of payload. In 2013, the International Academy of Astronautics issued a 350-page report projecting that with enough funding and research, a space elevator capable of carrying multiple twenty-ton payloads might be possible by 2035. Price estimates usually range from $10 billion to $50 billion—a fraction of the $150 billion that went into the International Space Station. Meanwhile, space elevators could reduce the cost of putting payloads into space by a factor of twenty.

  The problem is no longer one of basic physics but of engineering. Serious calculations are now being made to determine whether space elevator cables could be made of pure carbon nanotubes, which are so strong that they would not break. But can we make enough of these nanotubes to stretch thousands of miles into space? At present, the answer is no. Pure carbon nanotubes are extremely difficult to manufacture beyond a centimeter or so. You might hear announcements that nanotubes many feet long have been constructed, but those materials are actually composites. They consist of tiny threads of pure carbon nanotubes compressed into a fiber and lose the wondrous properties of pure nanotubes.

  To stimulate interest in projects like the space elevator, NASA sponsors the Centennial Challenges program, which awards prizes to amateurs who can invent advanced technologies for the space program. It once held a contest calling for entrants to submit components for a mini-elevator prototype. I participated in it for a TV special I hosted, following a group of young engineers who were convinced that space elevators would open up the heavens to the average person. I watched as they used laser beams to send a small capsule up a long cable. Our TV special tried to capture the enthusiasm of this new class of entrepreneurial engineers, keen to build the future.

  Space elevators would revolutionize our access to outer space, which, instead of remaining the exclusive territory of astronauts and military pilots, could become a playground for children and families. They would offer an efficient new approach to space travel and industry and make possible the extraterrestrial assembly of complex machinery, including starships that can travel almost as fast as light.

  But realistically, given the enormous engineering problems facing us, a space elevator might not be possible until late in this century.

  Of course, considering our restless curiosity and ambition as a species, we will eventually move on beyond fusion and antimatter rockets and face the greatest challenge of all. There is the possibility that one day we might break the ultimate speed limit in the universe: the speed of light.

  WARP DRIVE

  One day, a boy read a children’s book and changed world history. It was 1895, and cities were beginning to be wired up for electricity. To understand this strange new phenomenon, the boy picked up Popular Books on Natural Science by Aaron Bernstein. In it, the author asked readers to imagine riding alongside an electric current inside a telegraph wire. The boy then wondered what it would be like if you replaced the electric current with a beam of light. Can you outrace light? He reasoned that since light was a wave, the light beam would look stationary, frozen in time. But even at the age of sixteen, he grasped that no one had ever seen a stationary wave of light. He spent the next ten years puzzling over this question.

  Finally, in 1905, he found the answer. His name was Albert Einstein, and his theory was called special relativity. He discovered that you cannot outrace a light beam, because the speed of light is the ultimate velocity in the universe. If you approach it, strange things happen. Your rocket becomes heavier, and time slows down inside it. If you were to somehow reach light speed, you would be infinitely heavy and time would stop. Both conditions are impossible, which means you cannot break the light barrier. Einstein became the cop on the block, setting the ultimate speed limit in the universe. This barrier has bedeviled generations of rocket scientists ever since.

  But Einstein was not satisfied. Relativity could explain many of the mysteries of light, but he wanted to apply his theory to gravity as well. In 1915, he came up with an astonishing explanation. He postulated that space and time, which were once thought to be inert and static, were actually dynamic, like smooth bedsheets that can be bent, stretched, or curved. According to his hypothesis, the Earth does not revolve around the sun because it is pulled by the sun’s gravity, but because the sun warps the space around it. The fabric of space-time pushes on the Earth so that it moves in a curved path around the sun. Simply put, gravity does not pull. Instead, space pushes.

  Shakespeare once said that all the world is a stage and we are actors making our entrances and exits. Picture space-time as an arena. It was once thought to be static, flat, and absolute, with clocks ticking at the same rate across the surface. But in the Einsteinian universe, the stage can be warped. Clocks run at different rates. Actors cannot walk across the stage without falling over. They might claim that an invisible “force” is pulling them in various directions, when actually the warped stage is pushing them.

  Einstein also realized that there was a loophole in his general theory of relativity. The larger a star is, the greater the warping of space-time surrounding it. If a star is heavy enough, it becomes a black hole. The fabric of space-time may actually tear, potentially creating a wormhole, which is a gateway or shortcut through space. This concept, first introduced by Einstein and his student Nathan Rosen in 1935, is today called the Einstein-Rosen bridge.

  WORMHOLES

  The simplest example of an Einstein-Rosen bridge is the looking glass from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. On one side of the looking glass is the countryside of Oxford, England. On the other side is the fantasy world of Wonderland, to which Alice is instantly transported when she puts her finger through the glass.

  Wormholes are a favorite plot device in the movies. Han Solo sends the Millennium Falcon through hyperspace by propelling it through a wormhole. The refrigerator that Sigourney Weaver’s character opens in Ghostbusters is a wormhole through which she peers at an entire universe. In C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the
wardrobe is the wormhole connecting the English countryside to Narnia.

  Wormholes were discovered by analyzing the mathematics of black holes, which are collapsed giant stars whose gravity is so intense that even light cannot escape. Their escape velocity is the speed of light. In the past, black holes were thought to be stationary and to have infinite gravity, called a singularity. But all the black holes that have been recorded in space are spinning quite rapidly. In 1963, physicist Roy Kerr discovered that a spinning black hole, if it was moving fast enough, would not necessarily collapse to a pinpoint but to a spinning ring. The ring is stable because centrifugal force prevents it from collapsing. So where does everything that falls into a black hole go? Physicists do not yet know. But one possibility is that matter can emerge from the other side through what is called a white hole. Scientists have looked for white holes, which would release matter rather than swallow it up, but have not found any so far.

  If you approached the spinning ring of a black hole, you would witness incredible distortions of space and time. You might see light beams captured billions of years ago by the wormhole’s gravity. You might even meet copies of yourself. Your atoms might be stretched by tidal forces in a disturbing and lethal process called spaghettification.

  If you entered the ring itself, you might be expelled through a white hole in a parallel universe on the other side. Imagine taking two sheets of paper, held parallel to each other, then drilling a hole through them with a pencil to connect them. If you traveled along the pencil, you would pass between two parallel universes. However, if you passed through the ring a second time, you would arrive at another parallel universe. Each time you went into the ring, you would reach a different universe, in the same way that entering an elevator allows you to move between different floors of an apartment building, except in this case you could never return to the same floor.

  Gravity would be finite as you entered the ring, so you would not necessarily be crushed to death. However, if the ring was not spinning fast enough, it could still collapse on you and kill you. But it may be possible to stabilize the ring artificially by adding something called negative matter or negative energy. A stable wormhole is therefore a balancing act, and the key is to maintain the right mixture of positive and negative energy. You need lots of positive energy to naturally create the gateway between universes, as with a black hole. But you also need to create negative matter or energy artificially to keep the gateway open and prevent a collapse.

  A wormhole is a shortcut that connects two distant points in space and time.  Credit 6

  Negative matter is quite different from antimatter and has never been detected in nature. Negative matter has bizarre antigravitational properties, meaning that it would fall up, rather than down. (By contrast, antimatter is theorized to fall down, not up.) If it existed on the Earth billions of years ago, it would have been repelled by the matter of the planet and would have floated into outer space. Perhaps that’s why we haven’t found any.

  Although physicists have seen no evidence of negative matter, negative energy has actually been created in the laboratory. This keeps alive the hope of science fiction fans who dream of one day traveling through wormholes to distant stars. However, the amount of negative energy that has been created in the laboratory is minuscule, far too small to drive a starship. To create enough negative energy to stabilize a wormhole would require an extremely advanced technology, which we will discuss in more detail in chapter 13. So for the foreseeable future, hyperdrive wormhole starships are beyond our capability.

  But recently there has been some excitement generated by another means to warp space-time.

  ALCUBIERRE DRIVE

  In addition to wormholes, the Alcubierre engine might offer a second way to break the light barrier. I once interviewed the Mexican theoretical physicist Miguel Alcubierre. He was struck with a groundbreaking idea in relativistic physics while watching TV, perhaps the first time this has ever happened. During an episode of Star Trek, he marveled that the Starship Enterprise could travel faster than light. It could somehow compress the space in front of it so that the stars did not seem as distant. The Enterprise did not journey to the stars—the stars came to the Enterprise.

  Think of moving across a carpet to reach a table. The commonsense way is to walk along the carpet from one point to another. But there is another way. One could rope the table and drag it toward you, so that you are compressing the carpet. So instead of walking across the carpet to reach the table, the carpet folds up and the table comes to you.

  An interesting realization dawned on him. Usually, you start with a star or planet and then use Einstein’s equations to calculate the bending of space around it. But you can also go backward. You can identify a particular warping and use the same equations to determine the type of star or planet that would cause it. A rough analogy might be made to the way an auto mechanic builds a car. You could begin with the parts that are available—the engine, the tires, and whatnot—and assemble a car from them. Or you could select the design of your dreams and then figure out the parts necessary to create it.

  Alcubierre turned Einstein’s math on its head, reversing the usual logic of theoretical physicists. He attempted to gauge what kind of star might compress space in the forward direction and expand it in the backward direction. Much to his shock, he reached a very simple answer. It turned out that the space warp used in Star Trek was an allowed solution of Einstein’s equations! Perhaps warp drive was not so improbable after all.

  A starship equipped with Alcubierre drive would have to be surrounded by a warp bubble, a hollow bubble of matter and energy. Space-time inside and outside the bubble would be disconnected. As the starship accelerated, people inside it would feel nothing. They might not think that the ship was moving at all, even though they would be traveling faster than light.

  Alcubierre’s result shocked the physics community, because it was so novel and radical. But after his paper was published, critics began to point to its weak spots. Although its vision for faster-than-light travel was elegant, it did not address all the complications. If the region inside the starship is separated from the outside world by the bubble, information would not be able to get through, and the pilot would not be able to control the direction of the ship. Steering would be impossible. And then there’s the issue of actually creating a warp bubble. In order to compress the space in front of it, it would have to have a certain kind of fuel—that is, negative matter or energy.

  We are right back to where we started. Negative matter or negative energy would be the missing ingredient needed to keep our warp bubbles, as well as our wormholes, intact. Stephen Hawking has proven a general theorem stating that all solutions of Einstein’s equations that allow faster-than-light travel must involve negative matter or energy. (In other words, positive matter and energy that we see in stars can warp space-time so that it perfectly describes the motion of heavenly bodies. But negative matter and energy warp space-time in bizarre ways, creating an antigravitational force that can stabilize wormholes and prevent them from collapsing and propel warp bubbles to faster-than-light velocities by compressing space-time in front of them.)

  The Alcubierre drive goes faster than light, using Einstein’s equations. But it is still controversial whether such a starship can be built.  Credit 7

  Physicists then tried to calculate the amount of negative matter or energy necessary to propel a starship. The latest results indicate that the amount required is equivalent to the mass of the planet Jupiter. This means that only a very advanced civilization will be able to use negative matter or energy to propel their starships, if it is possible at all. (However, it is possible that the amount of negative matter or energy necessary to go faster than light could drop, because the calculations depend on the geometry and size of the warp bubble or wormhole.)

  Star Trek gets around this inconvenient hurdle by postulating that a rare mineral called the dilithium crystal is the essential component of a warp driv
e engine. Now we know that “dilithium crystals” may be a fancy way of saying “negative matter or energy.”

  CASIMIR EFFECT AND NEGATIVE ENERGY

  Dilithium crystals do not exist, but, tantalizingly, negative energy does, leaving open the possibility of wormholes, compressed space, and even time machines. Although Newton’s laws do not allow negative energy, quantum theory does through the Casimir effect, which was proposed in 1948 and measured in the laboratory in 1997.

  Say that we have two parallel metal plates that are uncharged. When they are separated by a large distance, we say that there is zero electrical force between them. But as they get closer, they mysteriously begin to attract each other. We can then extract energy from them. Since we start with zero energy but obtain positive energy when the plates are brought together, it follows that the plates themselves originally had negative energy. The reason is rather esoteric. Common sense tells us that a vacuum is a state of emptiness, with zero energy. But actually, it is teeming with matter and antimatter particles that materialize briefly out of the vacuum and then annihilate back into it. These “virtual” particles appear and disappear so rapidly that they do not violate the conservation of matter and energy—that is, the principle that the total amount of matter and energy in the universe always remains the same. This constant churning in the vacuum creates pressure. Since there is more matter and antimatter activity outside the plates than between them, this pressure pushes the plates together, creating negative energy. This is the Casimir effect, which, in quantum theory, demonstrates that negative energy can exist.

  Originally, because the Casimir is such a tiny force, it could only be measured with the most sensitive equipment available. But nanotechnology has advanced to the point at which we can tinker with individual atoms. For a TV special I once hosted, I visited a laboratory at Harvard that had a small tabletop device that could manipulate atoms. In the experiment I observed, it was difficult to prevent two atoms that have been brought close to each other from flying apart or coming together due to the Casimir force, which can be either repulsive or attractive. Negative energy may seem like the holy grail to a physicist building a starship, but for a nanotechnologist, the Casimir force is so strong at the atomic level that it becomes a nuisance.