“Of course! I’m crap at it on Earth, but it’s something to do, isn’t it? This trip’s going to be too long otherwise.”
“I hear you.”
“Well, I’ve got some people to annoy, so I’ll catch you later.”
“Later.”
Christopher floated back off down the main tunnel, leaving Martin wondering why it was that the most intelligent people had the weirdest sense of humor.
23
T-plus 16 days
* * *
@KR_IME: TO THE WOMAN WHO KEEPS MESSAGING ME – YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE – I WILL NOT MARRY YOU. STOP ASKING. BESIDES, YOU WON’T WANT THESE IRRADIATED LOINS AFTER I GET BACK.
* * *
Breakfast was in progress aboard the International Mars Explorer.
“I’m staying away from those long-life Danish pastries,” Nikita said. “They give me the runs. It’s probably the preservatives.”
“I know, right? I thought it was just me,” Tung-chi replied. “I say we stuff them in the back of the pantry. Save them for the end of the mission, and with a bit of luck we won’t have to eat them at all.”
Some of the others nodded and chuckled.
“Good. That’s that decided, then. Anyone been following the news?”
“Yes,” said Emile. “The rioting around Paris is growing to terrible proportions. There are armed camps now – even the police and army can’t dismantle them. There’s already a curfew in the city, and they’re talking about imposing martial law.”
Some of the others shook their heads as they thought about it.
“It’s a lack of opportunities for people, plain and simple,” Martin said. “The same thing’s happening in America and lots of other countries too. Robotization.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Aleksandr said.
“Yeah,” Christopher replied. “Robots are so cheap and powerful now that all the corporations are replacing people with them. Our unemployment rate’s over eleven percent, approaching twelve percent. The corporations make more money, and the people go hungry for lack of work. Wealth gets concentrated upwards. I’m tellin’ you, it’s a return to feudalism.”
“What happens when nobody has money to spend at the corporations?” asked Emile.
“Ah, that’s the great unknown,” Martin replied. “People have been predicting this for decades, but nobody could figure out what to do about it. Ban the robots? If so, where do you draw the line? There were plenty of robots working on things like car assembly lines before they succumbed to Moore’s Law, and became so cheap, plentiful, and intelligent that they could replace most low-paying jobs. But, nobody knew whether they would liberate humanity from drudgery, or doom us all to unemployment. Once the unemployment sets in, at least with the system we have now, you’re on the biggest downward spiral in history.”
“Yes,” Nikita replied. “At least the Soviet system promised employment for all. Maybe capitalism will eat itself.”
“Who knows where all this is gonna lead. Something’s going to give. The entire economy’s going to have to be restructured from its very foundations. Government, too. The whole system of people working, spending, and working some more is going to have to be rethought. I fear for our eventual kids and nieces and nephews and whatnot that have to somehow compete in the labor markets of tomorrow. Even the usual manufacturing countries like China and Taiwan are seeing their jobs go.”
Tung-chi nodded knowingly. “I’ve seen it happening.”
“We will come up with a new system. Humanity always adapts,” Emile said.
“We will have to. No other choice,” Aleksandr replied. Nods all around. “Though it will be painful in the short term. May take decades.”
“At least we’ll be set, with books and speaking engagements for life. Not to mention our enormous civil service pensions,” Martin said, to general amusement. “Well, better wrap up breakfast. Not long till the morning meeting.”
“Yeah,” the others replied. Breakfast waste was crumpled up and disposed of. Tables and chairs were folded and stowed. They had now taken to sitting on the floor for meetings – it was just easier that way.
Eight o’clock came and went.
“We’re really moving now,” said Nikita, looking up at the new odometer display at the top of the left wall. “We’re going 19.2 kilometers a second and are 15.7 million kilometers from Earth. That’s about fifty light-seconds.”
“Yeah,” Kinuko replied. “That’s why they’re late. You’d think they’d move the meeting time forward on their end to compensate for it.”
A few seconds later, the computer announced: “Incoming conference from Mission Control.”
“Accept,” Aleksandr replied.
“Good morning, IME astronauts. This is Sergey. I am your CAPCOM for today. How are you all? I realize the round-trip light time is going to make real-time conversation impossible, so I will assume you are fine, unless I hear otherwise roughly two minutes from now.
“Let’s go over engineering status first. Christopher, please update us with the reactor cooling panel and reaction gas status.”
“Well, number four panel is still about forty degrees hotter than the others,” Christopher replied. “We’ve rolled a quarter-turn so it’s not in direct sunlight. So, that concerns me a bit. Possible coolant flow problem. What’s worrying me more at the moment, though, is that we’ve used a half-percent more xenon gas than we expected to at this point. The cause is unknown, but it will eat into our reserves.”
A long pause followed. A very long pause.
“Copy that, IME. The Flight Engineer recommends you reverse the flow of the coolant for about a minute, then change it back again, in case there’s a blockage. That might dislodge it. On the xenon front, there’s not much we can do except monitor it.”
“Roger that. I’ll try reversing the flow today, and see if that helps. I’d say we could shut down an engine or two to reduce fuel usage, but that’ll increase our transit time. We could compensate for that by just setting off for home a little earlier than before. That might compromise the science goals though, and put us on a less than optimal transfer orbit, which would use more fuel… you get the picture. We might just have to live with it for now.”
Another very long pause.
“Okay, IME. We will remain with the original mission plan. On that note, we do need a slight course correction. We will send the commands up to you to review them. Go ahead and execute them if you concur. Also, I’m guessing your waste tanks are getting full by now. Let us know the status on that, and if you plan on doing the first waste ejection soon. Plus, we’d like status on the plant growth experiments, whenever is convenient for you. If there’s nothing further from your end, it’s a wrap.”
“OK on the course correction,” Nikita said.
“I’ll check on the waste situation, and let you know,” Christopher said.
“Will send a full update on the plants – pictures, measurements, and chemistry,” Emile said.
Aleksandr concluded the meeting: “Otherwise OK, mission control. Rest of the systems are nominal. We’ll get you that data as soon as we can. IME out. Computer, end conference.”
They dispersed to their various tasks. Christopher checked the levels of the waste tanks, and began the freezing process on the one for side A. “Side A galley and kitchen are closed for now, everyone,” he said through the intercom. It was thought that the safest way to dispose of non-recyclable waste was to freeze the entire contents of the cylindrical tanks, and then eject it directly into space as a solid block like a torpedo. So, that was the way the system had been designed. He thought the design ridiculously over-complicated, and hoped it didn’t break down. Nikita reviewed and applied the course correction commands when they were received.
24
T-plus 18 days
It was late night, shipboard time. Everybody else had gone to bed. Kinuko stayed up, ostensibly to watch TV. When everyone else had cleared out of the hub, however, she close
d the hatch from the hub into the central tunnel to stop the always-on lights from shining in. She said: “Computer, display off.” The hub went dark.
She wasn’t sure why she felt like she had to hide this activity. Every astronaut before her had marveled at the cosmos. Still, she felt at peace now that everyone had left the room. She floated over to the starboard side dome window. She held onto the handholds to stop herself drifting slowly towards the floor, and maneuvered as far into the dome as she could. She was on the side of the ship facing away from the sun on purpose, so that its blinding rays wouldn’t stop her eyes adjusting to the dark.
Looking back, she could see a very faint blue-white glow a hundred meters behind her from the engines. Looking straight out, she could see the stars with clarity and detail that Earth-bound observers could only dream of. She waited for a few minutes while her eyes adjusted. There were simply no words to describe the awe she was feeling. She felt her eyes tear up. All her childhood skywatching dreams had brought her here. All the familiar constellations were there. Looking down, she could see the Milky Way, now a crystal-clear luminous band across the sky. She even saw the Large Magellanic Cloud, a gas cloud of unimaginable size, unimaginably far away.
“You have to pinch yourself. Do you even know where you are in reality and in existence? You’re looking at something called space that has no end, and time that has no meaning.” The words of the Apollo astronaut came to her mind. If he had this experience, looking out of the tiny window of a tiny spacecraft many years before, how much more was her experience?
Space that has no end, and time that has no meaning.
The astronaut went on to say that light travels through space, and strikes on an object; an object called Earth. Earth was pretty close in proximity to him, but to her it was now reduced to a mere dot the size of any of the other planets. She couldn’t see it out of this window, but she would definitely look out of the other window before she retired for the night, while shielding her eyes from the unabated fury of the Sun’s rays. But, for now, she just floated, staring into the face of God. She just was.
25
T-plus 19 days
* * *
Interactions with the Cosmos – The Blog of the International Mars Explorer
“What’s on top of the sky?”
I remember asking that question when I was four years old. The lunch ladies didn’t know the answer. Even the teachers stumbled with it.
I used to think the answer is nothing. Now I know differently – the answer is… everything. The Earth is just a pinprick in the great vastness of space. There is a billion, billion, billion times more matter out there than there is on Earth. All kinds of fascinating objects that we know about, all so different. The gods did not have a cookie cutter labeled “planet” and another labeled “star” when they made it all. One is 800 degrees on the surface, another is just above absolute zero. Some have amazing ring systems and moons that spew volcanic matter continuously; others are baked lumps of charcoal right next to the furnace that is the Sun. And that’s just in our solar system! Outside are more infinite varieties of planets, stars and galaxies.
I wonder if they made it so that we couldn’t even detect where the universe ends, so that we would stay humble. Maybe if we knew where it ends we would think we knew all there was to know, and so be like them?
I was brought up in the Shinto faith. But, I don’t know any more. Who is right? All of us? Any of us? The reality out there is more than any of us can even know, much less understand.
Peace to all on Earth this Christmas Eve, whoever you are, and however you celebrate.
-Kinuko Sasake
26
T-plus 20 days
* * *
@KR_IME: MERRY CHRISTMAS! CHARLES DICKENS IS THE REASON FOR THE SEASON!
* * *
“Oh, God,” thought Lesley Jones to herself, as she read the latest missive from the errant astronaut. All the TV networks immediately picked up the ball and ran with it, wondering who seemed to be poking fun at all the world’s major religions. This only increased the mystery surrounding who was sending the tweets, and boosted KR_IME’s followers even more.
The crew got to sleep in, and had breakfast after the briefing that day. The mood on board was joyous. Many Christmas wishes were exchanged with loved ones on Earth. Christmas carols played in the background over breakfast, which consisted of reconstituted bacon and eggs followed by Christmas pudding. It was Martin’s idea to have Christmas pudding for breakfast. Some of the crew loved it, and some hated it. Most just wondered what on earth he was thinking.
Decorations were strung around the hub, although they were virtual ones. The only real one was a sprig of fake holly attached to the entrance to the central tunnel in the hub. The mass budget hadn’t stretched to real Christmas lights, even though two Christmases would pass before they were home. A virtual fireplace blazed on one wall.
“We even have a real Christmas log,” said Christopher. “It’s about six feet long and two feet wide”.
“Oh, good Lord, no,” Martin said.
“Yep! Check this out: computer, display port side view.”
A view from the port side of the ship appeared in a large window on that side of the hub. He pushed a button on ship systems interface on the other side. A cylindrical block of frozen waste ejected from the side A waste system, and floated quickly off into space.
“Gross,” the others said, almost as one.
“Almost enough to put me off my breakfast.”
“You know, you could have just brought an actual Yule log,” Alessia said. “It’s bad enough we’re having Christmas pudding for breakfast.”
“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had in my spaceflight career,” Christopher said. “But watch this space. The cosmic pranks aren’t over yet.”
“I’ll bet they aren’t,” said Aleksandr. “Oh well, keeps things interesting.”
After breakfast was done and cleared away, they drifted off to separate activities. Martin and Christopher played Call of Duty 25 in Martin’s cabin. Alessia read, and Kinuko journaled. Emile sketched. Sitting cross-legged in the hub, he drew amazing, detailed, pencil sketches of birds, plants, and animals. His childhood in northern France had been close to nature, and he always kept a sketchbook close by.
After a couple of hours, he missed the greenery of Earth so deeply that he went to the one place on the ship where natural things existed: the laboratory. This was one place they all loved on the ship. It was a spacious room – the second biggest on the ship besides the hub. The front and back walls were lined with experiment racks. On the right wall were small chemistry labs for analyzing the samples they would be bringing back from Mars’ moons. On the left wall, however, were glass incubators containing growpods of different types of vegetables.
There were cabbages, broccoli, peas, carrots, and lettuce. Twelve different pods of each vegetable grew, in different types of hydroponic mineral nutrient solutions. This work took advantage of the unique conditions of a deep space flight – the radiation environment and microgravity – to possibly solve one of the biggest challenges for exploring the solar system: the possibility of recycling at least some of the solid human waste back into nutritious food.
The mineral solutions were extracted from the waste from the toilets – some of it, anyway. The complex extraction process removed any traces of odor, and produced clear liquids as the food for the plants, which was fed to them via lines into each growpod. Bright lights over each rack of plants gave them the light they needed. Perhaps most importantly for the crew, however, the light mimicked the color spectrum of daylight on Earth. As they grew increasingly homesick, the crew would enter the laboratory, where they could bathe in the closest thing to daylight that was available, and smell the fresh, earthy smell of growing plants. Emile did this, imagining the vegetables were in the ground in his family’s small organic farm, instead of a laboratory hurtling through space.
Aleksandr floa
ted in, interrupting his reverie. “You miss the Earth too, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Isolation is the curse of the explorer, no?”
“Well, yes, it is. We signed up for it, but it’s not getting easier. I can run all the simulations I want, but it’s not the same.”
“You can always go and talk to Alessia. She is there to oversee our psychological well-being, as well as physical. It is not always easy, as astronauts, to admit that we might need help in any way.”
Emile looked misty-eyed. “I will think about it.”
“Try to enjoy Christmas. We will be playing some trivia games in the hub later if you want to join.”
“I will probably do that.”
“Okay. Be well, my friend.” Aleksandr patted him on the back, and left the laboratory. Emile smiled, and felt more content. This was his family, and this was his little patch of land now.
27
T-plus 22 days
It was late evening. The ladies and one of the men, Tung-chi, had gone to bed. Small silver flying robots traversed the length of the ship, exploring their surroundings. Martin and Christopher, of course, knew what they were. The Russians had to be enlightened, and persuaded that NASA and Oregon State University really were conducting legitimate space experiments.
“Nothing you do seems strange to me anymore,” Emile said.
A poker game was in progress. If there had been brandy and cigars aboard, they would have been in use now.
“What’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?” Christopher asked. There was silence for a while, as they simultaneously pondered their hands and thought about the question.
Martin went first. “Well, when I was school in Ann Arbor, we used to just cruise around at night. One of the guys had this ancient land-boat Pontiac. They haven’t made Pontiacs since the 2010s. This was a classic from the 1970s, when cars really were cars. Huge car, huge engine, no seatbelts, no airbags. An environmental disaster zone on wheels. But man, we dug this thing. Red body, white vinyl top.
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