First (Actual) Post

I have no idea how to run a blog so let's start this thing slow and talk about space ships. A giant hunk of metal blasting controlled explosions out one end to push its cargo to the other has become synonymous with science fiction. They could come in abstract shapes full of spikes or aesthetically pleasing triangles. Their bellies ferry commerce, or pioneers—reenacting some ancient age of mankind where mountains were picturesque and oceans unfathomable, or men in armor on their way to purge aliens who have been carefully dissociated from mankind.

They have taken over the role of the cruisers of old, the ones made of sailor-speak witchtongue jargon such 'mizzenmast' and 'cruh-jik' and 'jib'—they are giant metal vehicles of soft power, designed to wow the audience and invite speculation into what the future will take for granted. So where did the science go?

Generation ships are a niche topic in science fiction. Rendezvous With Rama, Hull 03, Mayflower II, stories featuring a more realistic (and scientifically feasible) form of space ship that makes the slow crawl between the stars. Stories that you've probably never heard of. Of course you've heard of Ender's Game, you've got me there. But after Children of the Mind...

The point is, scientifically relatable ships aren't the most popular kind in science fiction stories. And as far as the indelible speculation element implicit to all science fiction goes, even stories featuring generation ships rarely mention just how sophisticated such a feat would be. I don't just mean the technology involved. I mean everything. How long can we hold a dynasty together? How long can a society last without forgetting its initial traditions while 'progressing' forward? A generation ship needs to be crewed by a group of humans mentally mature enough to hold their complement together for hundreds, thousands of years without forgetting how to man their ship. What if it's automated? That's a whole other can of worms. More on that later.

A society on a such a ship needs to maintain procedure without stagnating. Its people must be masters of communication, and understand the value in tradition without being bound by it. A secular people, without neglecting spirituality, because if you're going to be stuck in a tin can all your life with one million years of evolution telling you, "This is not our normal habitat", you need to be able to re-frame your perspective. And if this vehicle is to be steered by immortals then this ability to reorient oneself in the long centuries is all the more paramount. Pilates perhaps, or meditation.

There's a lot of what-ifs here. What if the crew is frozen while the ship steers itself? What if people are only awoken if a system requires a human touch? (Read Freeze Frame Revolution) The possibilities are endless. The solutions are uncountable. There's plenty of room there for storytelling, for speculation and engineering. But as an audience we are largely preoccupied with hyperspace, subspace, warp speed, brane space even. The greatest, most difficult, most preeminent hurdle in space travel—the distance—which enables the imagination to seek out new methods and paradigms to overcome, delegated away to a singular machine somewhere in the back of the ship. A solutionizer. A black box. If an author is particularly daring they might even deign to add some intrigue to the way their spacefaring civilization travels. Perhaps through the use of Interwayers who stare into the Nothingspace in order to navigate the ship through the places where they stare back. How original.

An author couldn't be blamed for avoiding hard science. Think a small township, a thousand people. What would it take to move that many people to a nearby star? Think all the resources needed to sustain such a population. Medical care, life support, school, recreation. The ship needs a factory to maintain itself, a place to store the needed materials. The ship needs engines (big ones) and the stomach for it. A mass at the spear tip in order to shield its occupants from the sleeting radiation of interstellar space and high speed dust motes. To extend, this ship needs additional entrails to be as redundant as Klingon physiology. Most of its functions would be automated, but that tiny fraction of work that requires human intervention would still demand a highly procedural attention. (At the end of the day, humans should be the ones entrusted with human needs). In no way is this an exhaustive list of all the functions such a ship would have, each one painstakingly designed by very intelligent wrights on their own and in conjunction with one another.

Let's say this ship masses as much as our largest freighter. 200,000 tonnes. And you would like this ship to get to Proxima Centauri somewhat soon. If this vehicle was pushed to 1 (one) percent the speed of light, it would possess nine times ten to the power of twenty joules of kinetic energy. According to theworldcounts dot com, annual global power consumption is about 580 million trillion joules. If the combined industries of our entire planet and all sources of consumption from toy cars to nuclear reactors rallied together for the sole purpose of pushing our spacecraft, it would take 1.55 years to supply that energy. We are assuming that the conversion is 1:1, which it never is. There is always loss and inefficiency, so our spacecraft's engines would need to be rated to generate far more total energy. Mind you these extreme pieces of engineering need the right facilities onboard to maintain them, which add weight. Once it picks up speed, it would take four centuries to reach Proxima Centauri, where it would need to commit a similar amount of energy the other way around.

Let's hope our crew didn't wreck the place in the meantime.