Life on Mars
The conditions overall do not sound favorable. Mars is at the edge of our Solar System’s habitable zone, which is defined by the tolerance limits of known lifeforms. In principle, certain extremophile species could survive under the conditions on Mars. Greening the planet with lichen, for example, doesn’t have a very utopian appeal.
Another question is whether any native Martian lifeforms survived the billions of years of dry conditions. There are scarcely the necessary prerequisites for survival on the surface: big temperature swings, intense ultraviolet radiation, and the thin atmosphere without liquid water are all points against it. And if Mars is geologically dead, that is, has no more volcanic activity, the possibilities of survival decrease even more—without a source of heat from the interior of Mars, life under the surface is unlikely. Researchers, however, believed they had detected active sources of the hydrocarbon methane, which could have been of either volcanic or bacterial origin. Either one would be good news, because in either case it would mean that there are locations in which primitive life is possible.
Recent measurements by NASA’s Curiosity rover, however, are making this hope sound more and more unlikely. In the scientific journal, Science, researchers have reported that the rover’s laser spectrometer could find absolutely no traces of methane. The earlier measurements from Earth and from Mars orbit appear to have been faulty, because Curiosity’s instrumentation is significantly more accurate, and tuned specifically for methane. The overall values are so low that it would make the existence of life as we know it unlikely, both right now and also in Mars’s past. In their paper, the researchers also discuss what makes the earlier methane detections so unbelievable. It appears that the previous scientists let their desire to discover life somewhere out beyond Earth influence their interpretations of the results.
The Mars moons
Mars has only two sad, little moons, Phobos and Deimos, which have irregular shapes and were probably originally from the Asteroid Belt. Phobos, which has dimensions of roughly 26.8 x 22.4 x 18.4 kilometers, is the larger of the two, and its orbit takes it to a distance of only 6000 kilometers above the Martian surface. Due to tidal forces, it is moving closer to the planet on a spiral path—in 50 million years it might finally collide with Mars, or the tidal forces might tear it into smaller chunks that will then form a ring around Mars.
The smaller Deimos, at 15.0 x 12.2 x 10.4 kilometers, in contrast, is well on its way to escaping Mars—sometime in the distant future it will rejoin the Asteroid Belt.
Off to Mars?
The large-scale Mars program that President George W. Bush announced in 2004, and that was to be capped by a human-crewed mission to Mars, has for a long time fallen victim to more and more budget cuts. NASA is now targeting flights in the 2030s, just like the European Aurora program. Such a journey might happen first with a one-way ticket and no return flight.
There seem to be plenty of volunteers. A Dutch non-profit organization, Mars One, published a call for volunteers in the spring of 2013 and received responses from more than 10,000 interested persons. Mars One would like to use private funds to finance the expedition planned for 2022, and estimates that six billion dollars would be needed. For comparison, NASA’s Spirit Mission cost around 2.5 billion dollars.
Travelers to Mars, however, would have to be okay with increasing their risk of cancer because of their exposure to cosmic radiation during their flight. During the Curiosity mission, NASA measured a daily dose of 1.8 millisieverts from cosmic radiation. On a trip to Mars, which would take more than 500 days, a traveler would be exposed to approximately 1 sievert—and thus an increased risk of 5 percent of developing some form of cancer.
There’s also at least one moral problem that humankind would need to solve before setting foot on Mars—it would be almost impossible for the first astronauts to not contaminate the planet. And as a result, bacteria from Earth would almost certainly eradicate any remaining survivors of Martian life... who would have had to survive 3.5 billion years of very harsh conditions, just to be wiped out by us.
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Glossary of Acronyms
ALFD – Alternate FLight path Data
AI – Artificial Intelligence
BCI – Brain-Computer Interface
BFR – (SpaceX’s) Big Falcon Rocket
CPR – CardioPulmonary Resuscitation
ERV – Earth Return Vehicle
EVA – ExtraVehicular Activity
FC – Flight Control
FM – Flight Manager
FTL – Faster-Than-Light (travel)
GN&C – Guidance, Navigation, and Control system
GPR – Ground-Penetrating Radar
HP3 – Heat flow and Physical Properties Package
HUT – Hard Upper Torso
IDA – Instrument Deployment Arm
IDC – Instrument Deployment Camera
IV - IntraVenous
JAXA – Japan Aerospace eXploration Agency
KRUSTY – Kilopower Reactor Using Stirling TechnologY
LCVG – Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment
LD – Launch Data
LED – Light-Emitting Diode
LG – Landing Gear
LM – Launch Motor
LO – Launch Operations
MfE – Mars for Everyone
MRO – Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter
NASA – National Aeronautics and Space Administration
NLM – NASA Launch Manager
OD – Operations Director
Prop - Propulsion
RC – Radio Communications
SEIS – SEISmometer
Metric to English Conversions
It is assumed that by the time the events of this novel take place, the United States will have joined the rest of the world and will be using the International System of Units, the modern form of the metric system.
Length:
centimeter = 0.39 inches
meter = 1.09 yards, or 3.28 feet
kilometer = 1093.61 yards, or 0.62 miles
Area:
square centimeter = 0.16 square inches
square meter = 1.20 square yards
square kilometer = 0.39 square miles
Weight:
gram = 0.04 ounces
kilogram = 35.27 ounces, or 2.20 pounds
Volume:
liter = 1.06 quarts, or 0.26 gallons
cubic meter = 35.31 cubic feet, or 1.31 cubic yards
Temperature:
To convert Celsius to Fahrenheit, multiply by 1.8 and then add 32
To convert Kelvin to Celsius, subtract 273.15
Excerpt: The Death of the Universe
Cycle YA7.3, K2-288Bb
“Breakfast, John!”
Kepler lifted his head. This butler annoyed him.
“Johannes! How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Excuse me, Jo... hannes.”
The butler pronounced the name with an English ‘J’. Incorrectly. Kepler sighed.
“Think of it as a ‘Y’. Yohannes.”
“Wy-o-hannes.”
“Never mind. Just call me Kepler.”
He got up from the seat in which he had spent the night in sleep mode. He could smell fresh coffee and croissants.
“Very well,” said the butler, “I’ll call you Kepler.”
The butler bowed perfectly, as far as Kepler could tell, and led him into the neighboring room. Where did Zhenyi even get this antiquated model? He estimated its age to be at least two kilocycles. Old-world butlers had come into fashion again then for a short time. He had externalized his memories of that year on Terra, so he couldn’t remember any other details. But this butler could be several mega-years old. Who knew, these days? Kepler wondered whether he should ask him, but that seemed somehow impr
oper. The butler was a machine, but he played his role so believably that Kepler felt a certain respect for him.
“Please excuse me, venerable Kepler,” said the butler, “for not meeting your language requirements. My vocalization memory is no longer as flexible since the last mega-flare from K2-288B.”
“Why haven’t you repaired it?”
“It wasn’t a priority.”
Of course. How long had Zhenyi been underway? The butler hadn’t had anything to do for a few cycles, until Kepler’s arrival on K2-288Bb.
“Your breakfast,” said the butler, pointing at the table.
The table looked like it was made of wood. It was an exceptional imitation. You could almost smell the scent of the hardwood. The room was bathed in an atmospheric light. The walls glowed a warm yellow. On the far side a fire blazed in a fireplace. Kepler went around the table. The fire radiated heat. Flames licked around the logs. Such excellent work! Zhenyi had always had a penchant for luxury. These weren’t algorithms at work, the hologram must have been designed by hand. There were only two holographic masters capable of something like this.
Kepler kneeled in front of the fireplace. The master must have left his signature behind somewhere. Maybe he’d recognize it. He stretched out his hand to lift up the uppermost log.
“Ouch!” Kepler cried out in shock, pulling back his hand. Either the hologram had no safety circuit or...
“Butler, what’s wrong with this hologram?”
Kepler looked at the hand he had held in the flames. Two large blisters were forming on the skin, white in the middle and pink around the edges. He activated the pain sensors that had automatically switched themselves off, savoring the pain. The wounds burned like hell. He concentrated his perception on them. This was life. It wasn’t so easy to be in touch with it anymore.
“The fireplace is not a hologram,” said the butler. “The wood comes from Terra.”
Was that something resembling pride in his voice? If he hadn’t misheard, then this butler couldn’t be a level 1 AI, as prescribed for ordinary servants. That would fit with Zhenyi. She liked pushing boundaries. But what had the butler just said? Kepler swung around to face the flames again.
Real wood was burning in this fireplace! Kepler couldn’t believe it. Doubtless Zhenyi knew what she was doing. She was burning biomass, organically grown! There had been no forests on Terra for a long time now. The last tree had been incinerated when the Sun had expanded into a red giant mega-cycles ago. Or was the butler lying to him? Level 1 AIs couldn’t lie, and nor could a level 2, if Zhenyi had upgraded him illegally.
Kepler stood up. He breathed deeply, then he turned back to the table. Was the food also biologically generated? Nothing here would surprise him now.
“Please have a seat,” said the butler, and pulled out the only chair.
Kepler walked around the table and accepted the invitation. The butler pushed the chair in. The wood creaked as he sat down.
In front of him stood a large plate and a glass. It was a simple drinking glass, transparent and colorless, a narrow cylindrical shape. He picked it up and took a sip. It contained cool, clear water with almost no taste. On the plate were vegetables and half a roasted fowl, probably a chicken, but Kepler wasn’t certain. In the last few kilocycles he had nourished himself bio-optimally. The chicken could also be a pigeon – or a duck. He could no longer remember the actual size of these terrestrial animals. This knowledge was most likely among the memories he had externalized. It was the only way to stop the memory load of so many megacycles from gradually poisoning his brain.
He reached for the cutlery. A knife and fork lay to the right of his plate. He carefully sliced off a piece of the animal, pushed it into his mouth and closed his eyes. It was chicken, there was no mistaking it. He hadn’t forgotten that flavor. He chewed thoroughly and swallowed, then opened his eyes again.
“This is chicken,” he said.
“Very good, Johannes,” answered the butler. “You’re the first guest in a long time who’s recognized it.”
Johannes. Oh well, he couldn’t help it. Kepler was amused in spite of himself at the way the butler praised him like a small child.
“Is it... from Terra?” he asked.
The butler smiled.
“No. You know yourself that’s not possible.”
Kepler nodded. Terra had been dead for megacycles. The organic material of the chicken would long since have decomposed. Nano-fabricators must have manufactured it here on K2-288Bb.
“But the wood?”
“That was a happy coincidence.”
“Coincidence?”
“A ninety-niner had a cargo of wood. The ship had made a complete circuit of the Milky Way, but the wood had hardly aged. Zhenyi bought it.”
That was a more or less believable explanation. At 99 percent of the speed of light, time passes very slowly. But this wood must have enormous value – and his friend was simply burning it?
“Why doesn’t Zhenyi build something out of it?” he asked.
“I can’t speak for my owner. But this table is built from the wood. I have instructions to ensure the utmost comfort of the guests.”
“Thank you, I’m honored,” said Kepler.
He wouldn’t get any more than that out of the butler. Butler AIs are optimized to evade uncomfortable questions. Instead he concentrated on the food. The chicken was truly delicious. The fibers of the meat almost melted on his tongue. The skin was browned and had a wonderful aroma. And the vegetables perfectly enhanced the flavor with herbs and sweet notes.
Kepler pushed back the chair. His plate was empty.
“It was a real pleasure,” he said.
The butler bowed, then passed him a moist napkin. Kepler wiped his mouth and hands with it.
“I didn’t want to bother you while you were eating, but the ninety-niner that you’ve been expecting has announced it will be arriving tomorrow.”
Finally an end to all the waiting. Kepler took a deep breath in and then out. This body was perfect, but he had been getting tired of it, especially in the last few days. He didn’t feel at home in it.
“Thank you very much for the meal,” he said with a faint bow. “I’ll go to my room now.”
“Of course. I’ll wake you in plenty of time before the ship arrives.”
Cycle YA7.4, K2-288Bb
Kepler opened the airlock hatch with a powerful shove. The moisture in the air froze immediately and rose as white vapor. He climbed up the short ladder. By the second step the skin on his hands was already discolored. First it turned white, then gray. Then the skin froze; no wonder, at an exterior temperature of minus 180 degrees. Kepler switched off the pain sensors. He didn’t have time now for ancient biological sensitivities.
The surface was in perpetual twilight. The planet orbited in a captured rotation around its star, K2-288B, which hung like a dim lamp above him. The disk of the sun was large in the sky, but no longer gave off much heat. Many gigacycles ago, this planet must have been in the habitable zone, but now it was dead – and so cold that even the atmosphere had frozen, now spread across the surface in a blanket of snow and ice.
His lungs were stinging. He should be more careful! Kepler stopped breathing. It would be stupid if this body failed before he had reached the ship. He would wake up in another replacement body, but he would have wasted precious time. He had failed to really appreciate it for so long – time. If you’re immortal, it doesn’t hold much meaning. But that had changed since he found out that the end was coming.
Kepler walked across the dry snow, which crunched under each step. His body conducted the sound, which he otherwise wouldn’t be able to sense with no atmosphere. The soles of his sports shoes were thin. He put his right hand into his pants pocket. That wasn’t a good idea, because the skin on the back of his hand came away, revealing the gleaming blue metal underneath. It always disgusted him to see his surrogate body in this state.
The ship came into view. It looked like a huge
tin can. It had left its interstellar propulsion system in orbit. For safety reasons it had landed at a distance from Zhenyi’s home. Humans were infallible, but they hadn’t managed to transfer this quality to the things they built. That was the dilemma of the times – and of past gigacycles. Kepler was frequently preoccupied with these kinds of thoughts. It was a problem that humans shared with the God from the Bible. There can be no perfect creation if you don’t acknowledge that you’re too stupid to recognize perfection. This led to only two possible conclusions: either there was no God, or God was one of them. For some reason he preferred the second possibility.
“Hello Kepler,” called the ship’s AI in a female voice. “Nice of you to greet us personally.”
Us? Had the AI split? That happened sometimes when ships were underway too long, but more commonly on ninety-fivers, where onboard time went much slower. Interstellar transporters were usually equipped with at least a level 3 AI. They were much more adaptable, but also more sensitive.
“Well, say something, Kepler,” the AI admonished him. “It’s impolite not to reply.”
“I was just thinking about the ‘us’.”
“Come on, Kepler, don’t you recognize us?”
He was confounded. He had never taken an interest in which AIs controlled which ships. He was only concerned with the cargo. What was up with this AI?
“Kepler, don’t you remember the Convention at Sagittarius A* at all?”
A ship’s AI asking him about the Convention, where it had been decided to end the universe? Then it occurred to him. Of course! There were two people who had set themselves up onboard a ninety-niner, the Curies. But were they also using it as a transporter?
Mars Nation: The Complete Trilogy Page 85