Showing posts with label space. Show all posts
Showing posts with label space. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Retro Review - "The Death's Head Meteor" (1930) by Neil R. Jones

Introduction

Neil R. Jones (1909-1988) was a pioneering science-fiction writer who, among other things, was among the first to write stories about cyborgs and robots as characters, and to set his stories in coherent future histories (anticipating the concept of John W. Campbell and the later efforts of Robert A. Heinlein and Cordwainer Smith).  His first story, "The Death's Head Meteor," was published in Air Wonder Stories in 1930, and has just been reprinted here in Fantastic Worlds.  As is common for first efforts, it's a little rough.

Synopsis

Sometime in the 26th century, around six hundred years in the future from a 1930 POV, Mankind has developed an interplanetary civilization which has colonized other worlds of the Solar System and which mines meteors.  A swarm of meteors is detected near Mars, and a young man, Jan Trenton, is dispatched from Earth in a one-man atomic-powered "space car" to intercept and assay the swarm.

When he makes the intercept, he is shaken to see that one of the meteors happens to resemble a gigantic human skull.  Mastering his fears, he closes in to begin examining the meteor, but he accidentally closes too fast and crashes against the meteor.  His array of waldoes becomes wedged in a crevasse.

What is worse, the impact has altered the meteor's trajectory so that it will now crash into Mars, with Trenton helplessly stuck to its surface.  Trenton frantically fires his jets and works his drills, but cannot break free.  The meteor hits the atmosphere, the heat rises within the space car, and Trenton blacks out.

He comes to in deep space, hurtling away from Mars.  By luck his car broke free at the last moment and he happened to be shoved onto a survivable course.  Trenton lands on Mars, shaken but unhurt.

The Good

Jones imagined a multi-planet, atomic-powered civilization with routine interplanetary travel in the 26th century, and did so at a time when in reality nobody had yet split the atom or successfully launched a rocket beyond our atmosphere.  In 1930, unlike in the later Golden Age, it was far from obvious to most lay people, or even to many scientists and engineers, that we would develop atomic energy and spaceflight.  He had the idea of meteor mining, though Garrett P. Serviss anticipated him here by over 30 years in Edison's Conquest of Mars (1898):  still, it was not yet a staple of science-fiction.  Jones also here invented the word "astronaut" to refer to a spaceman:  this one would stick.

Jan Trenton's space-car is one of the first examples of what is by implication a fusion torchship in science fiction.  It is explicitly atomic-powered and (given that it can take off from Earth's gravity well and reach Mars in under a day) capable of several gravities maximum and around a gravity's continuous thrust.  Jones doesn't go into the details, but then in 1930 even nuclear physicists didn't understand that much about nuclear physics, so he gets a pass on this.

Some modern readers may consider it a flaw that Jan Trenton just jumps into his car and takes off, without any elaborate ground-crew or check-list.  I actually consider this a virtue:  aside from the fact that there implicitly is some sort of space traffic control authority (note the huge radio in the beginning) and we do not know that Jan does not have a takeoff check-list, what Jones here implies is that spacecraft are by this point a fairly mature technology.  Mature technologies tend to be simpler to operate than their earlier forms, because inherent complexities become automated or desgined around with improvements:  the fact that we need to go through a lot of rigamarole to launch a spaceship today shows that we're still in an early stage of the art.

It's true that the space-car is in some ways -- particularly its life-support system -- poorly designed from a modern POV.  This just goes to show how difficult it is for one creative mind to anticipate the technological progress developed by many creative minds over centuries, or even decades.  This is a fundamental obstacle not merely to science-fiction but also to serious futurological prediction.

The space-car's waldoes (not called such because the "waldo" wouldn't be named until Robert A. Heinlein's eponymous tale of 1942 are a neat idea, the more so because real machines of this sort did not yet exist (and indeed the invention of such would be inspired partially by Heinlein's story).  I do not know if Heinlein ever read "The Death's Head Meteor" and was similiarly inspired by Jones.  This is the same sort of thing that the Zoromes would attach to their robot bodies in  Jones' Professor Jameson series, so Jones was obviously fascinated by the possibilities of mechanical manipulators.

The Bad

I said that first stories are generally rough, and "The Death's Head Meteor" is no exception. 

There is only one real character, Jan Trenton, and he is almost totally flat.  We see him playing "a game" with his friends (we never find out what they're playing, who's winning or how they feel about it).  He's young, brave and competent -- well, who else would you want to send out on a mission like that?  He doesn't want to die -- who does?  And that's pretty much it for Jan Trenton.  Jones had not yet realized that you need to give a character a personality to make the reader care what happens to him:  in this story, we only care about Trenton because we're putting ourselves in his (rather sticky) situation.

This flatness of character, while common to a lot of pre-Golden Age pulp science-fiction, seems to also be a specific weakness of Jones' style.  If you read the stories of, say, Edmond Hamilton or Jack Williamson from this era, you'll find stereotyped but reasonably strong characterization, enough that the reader is aware of the personalities of all major chracters.  In Jones' stories, characters tended to merely fill their roles without much variation -- very noticable in the case of his later Zoromes -- and this is very much the case in this first of his efforts.

When Jan Trenton goes unconscious, the first thing he does upon waking is turn on his air recycling system, because it's getting "hot and stuffy" in the cockpit.  An air recycling system is not something you want to have on manual control, as anoxia could easily rob a pilot of judgement or consciousness, causing him to die because he would be unable to turn on the oxygen.  What's more, the mechanism required to render its operation automatic wouldn't be too difficult even for 1920's technology, and this story is set 600 years in the future of the 1920's.

Part of the plot hinges on the impossiblity of Trenton either getting out of his space-car or freeing his waldoes.  This means that he is not wearing a space-suit, nor is his waldo array ejectable by means of explosive bolts or some equivalent mechanism.  While both are possible, the first strikes me as more than a little dangerous for all space operations, especially since by the 2500's one would imagine that space-suits would be advanced and reasonably comfortable garments, and real-world exploratory craft often have emergency releases for protruding arrays for just this reason.  This is a good example of how the primitive aeronautical technology of the early 20th century, projected into a spacefaring era, would have made the astronautical arts far more dangerous than they are in reality today.

Conclusion

"The Death's Head Meteor" is a solid but somewhat wooden story, which imaginatively explores the possibilities of a spacefaring civilization, with some technical flaws which may be traced to the primitive state of actual aerospace engineering c. 1930.  As a first effort, and for its time, it was nothing of which Jones should have been ashamed, and it is still readable today, especially as an example of its era.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The Promise of Boundlessness

(this started as a comment to a post of [info]akilika at http://akilika.livejournal.com/1072154.html)

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All existing human cultures are deeply founded on a pre-Newtonian and pre-Copernican world view, in which the Earth is "special" as the stage for life and human activity, amd the rest of the Universe is merely a background. This prejudice is reinforced by our ignorance: the Earth is, in fact, the only part of the Universe about which we possess much detailed knowledege, so it is easy for us to imagine that it is the only place of any importance.

If we bother to seriously think about it, this attitude is obviously absurd, but it is an easy opinion to return to, and we return to it at every chance, finding new excuses in each case. The implicit excuse of the Mundane SF movement is that we have serious ecological problems on the Earth and that thinking about colonizing other places "distracts" us from solving them.

The first fallacy, of course, is a variant of that of the Excluded Middle. "We" (Mankind) are not a unitary entity which can only think about colonizing other worlds or problems on Earth, one or the other. Indeed even "we" in the sense of each separate nation are not so bound: it is quite reasonable to envision some people in each country working on Earth-based ecological problems while others work on colonizing other worlds.

A deeper error lies in the assumption that activities "in space" and activities "on Earth" must compete in the long run for resources: that effort we put "into space" is somehow lost to "the Earth." The reason why this is an error is that progress is synergistic and often serendipitous: advances made in one field often are prerequisites or triggers to advances made in another field, as explored in the classic series Connections http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Connections_(TV_series) .

We've already seen this, more than once, in regards to this very issue. When we were first able to see the whole Earth from space, we realized that she was a planet and a unitary thing as we never had before, which gave impetus to the environmental movement. And the development of Landsats made it possible for us to monitor global processes on a global scale, without restrictions created by the accident of accessibility to ground and air expeditions.

We can expect further advances in the future. As the cost of Earth-to-orbit and orbit-to-Earth travel drops, Earth will become economically connected to extraterrestrial resources -- first to terrestrially rare ones such as tri-helium and certain uncommon metals, eventually to others as the cost drops even further. Mining and industry will increasingly move off-Earth, enabling Earth to become a garden planet.

But the truth is starker than this, because I've just described it from Earth's perspective. Though there will long be a practical, and still longer be a sentimental human tie to the motherworld, in the truly long run, Earth is only one planet among literally trillions in our Galaxy, and quintillions to sextillions in the Universe as a whole.

If Man is successful as a sapient species, we will expand out into the Solar System, the Galaxy, and the Universe beyond, and one day Earth will be at best only a distant memory, an echo of long ago and far away. And if Man is not successful as a sapient species, then we will perish, and one or more of the unknown number of other sapient species in the Universe will succeed in our place, and to then Earth will be at best an archaeological dig site, possibly not even that, if they don't discover the planet before the Sun expands into her red giant phase and whiffs her into vapor.

This is the true root of the Mundane SF movement: not just Fear of Boundlessness, as I argued before (http://fantasticworlds-jordan179.blogspot.com/2011/01/fear-of-boundlessness-explanation-for.html) but the Fear of Insignificance. We recoil at the chasms of deep space and deep time in our future; we fear that everything we hold dear may mean less to the Cosmos than the little worlds of the Two Rivers or the Nile -- in which our fundamental moral system evolved -- meant to the Earth as a whole.

To this fear I can offer two counters and a hope. The counters are that it doesn't matter -- reality is whether we choose to pay attention to it or not, and more trivially that places beyond the Earth exist and will be expanded into by other human cultures and subcultures, even if any particular human culture (yes, even America!) chooses to squeeze her eyes firmly shut and chant "you're not there, you're not there!"

The hope is simple.

The Universe is out there. We may be worthy of it. And if we are sufficiently worthy, then Man -- rather than being insignificant, as the insignificance of our birthworld might make us imagine -- might be one of the most significant productions of the Cosmos, as the entity destined to become at least part of the great stream of sapient life which will organize the Cosmos and bring it consciousness. Earth in this view would merely be like a single fertilized human egg, a tiny insignificant thing which can produce the most momentous consequences in the form of a new human being, if it succeeds.

A baby can't succeed if it spends its whole life in the womb. And Man can't succeed if we spend our whole life as a species on Just One Earth.

There's a whole big Universe out there. Let's grow into it.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

The Richness of Our Solar System

"The Richness of Our Solar System"

(c) 2011 by Jordan S. Bassior

Most people, including most people who are in favor of human expansion beyond the Earth, don't realize just how rich is the Solar System.  They tend to look only at the major terrestrial planets and assume that the only place into which we can expand without interstellar travel is Mars, because there are only three such planets in our Solar System aside from our own Terra, and Mars is the only one of these major terrestrial planet not to be  far too hot (Mercury and Venus) for convenient colonization.

But even if we only limit ourselves to non gas-giant worlds large enough to be forced into globular objects under their own gravity, and have some internal differentiation (for ease of access to ores), there are many others just in our Solar System:  not only Mercury, Venus and Mars, but also Luna, Ceres, Vesta, Callisto, Ganymede, Europa, Io, Titan, Triton, Pluto, Charon and Eris.  That's fifteen other terrestrial worlds in our Solar System, and I'm deliberately setting a high standard for "terrestrial world" -- I could set the bar a bit lower and add several other asteroids, moons and Kuiper Belt Objects.

The habitability of these objects of course varies (from Mars all the way down to Venus) and certain of these worlds have significant environmental challenges (radiation on the three inmost Galilean moons of Jupiter, cold on the three outmost Galilean moons of Jupiter and all the worlds farther out from the Sun, heat on Mercury and Venus).  But none are beyond the capabilities of our current physical science to colonize, and all are large enough worlds that there are certain to be valuable lodes of various minerals to attract our greed, and many mysteries to excite our minds.

The future is bright, for those who care to open their eyes and look beyond the current mess on Earth.

END.