Destination Mars - Part 1

by Jack Webber

  "Blue Sky! That feels good." said John, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  "It sure does." said Melissa. "I'm glad we got in when we did. Ok kids, you know the drill. Run through the shower, and be sure to use soap. That water smelled a little funny."

  "You can take your time, there's plenty of cool water today." said John. He wouldn't be able to say that in a couple of months, when the local water supply reached 160 degrees or more. Last summer Tania took an extra long shower, probably drawing pictures on the glass door again, and by the time John went in the cool water was almost gone. He was completely in lather when the water reached 110 degrees and the safety valve closed. You couldn't negotiate with the safety valve! John had to sit and wait until the water cooler brought the temperature in the tank back down to 105. Finally the water began to flow again and he rinsed off. This was followed by a stern lecture about long showers in the summer, aimed at the family in general.

  Well, no need to worry about that today. The water was just right as it entered the house. In fact the dishwasher had to heat the water to work properly. Yes, winter was a strange time, but that was over, and summer was just around the corner.

  Mark jumped out of the shower and Tania went in while John gazed out the triple pane window towards the sun. He felt no heat, thanks to the tinted glass. It was truly amazing.

  The morning sky looked like an abstract painting with dazzling reds, oranges and yellows. The sun seemed even larger when just above the horizon. It looked like a giant blazing beach ball four stories tall, hovering just above the lake, its red fire spilling out onto the water.

  John held his hand out at arm's length and tried to block the sun, but its orange rims peeked out from either side. "Same size as always." he decided. Everyone knew that the sun was expanding into a runaway red giant as it ran out of fuel, and people sometimes convinced themselves that they could actually see it growing right in front of their eyes, even though the process took millions of years. John always chuckled at these uneducated folks, who often appeared on talk shows, but you know, sometimes it sure looked that way!

  Melissa finished her Shower and John stepped in. He continued his mental conversation. "Soon the sun will float above the horizon 24 hours a day, then it will climb the sky, reaching its zenith in late December. Temperatures will climb too, past 150 degrees. Summer's coming, and you can't negotiate with that either, unless you go to Mars." He looked around for the soap. "What would that be like? You could swim in the Ocean year round, and listen to the frogs, and watch the ducks. And if you're hungry, cast your net and catch a fish. It's been so long since I've eaten fish. Maybe someday ..."

  Melissa was glad to have some time to herself. Make no mistake, she loved her children dearly, but after an entire winter of having them underfoot, she was anxious for school to start again. Of course school mornings were always a bit hectic.

  FOUR

  "Hurry up Mark, the bus is almost here. Do you kids need shades today, or a driveway pickup?"

  "Oh shucks!" John cursed under his breath, running to the fridge. "I almost forgot. I gotta pack a lunch." He opened the door and peered inside, looking for leftovers.

  "I think we can run today." answered Tania. "It's not too hot." She picked up her school bag and headed for the door, then turned back. "Oh Mom! I almost forgot. You need to sign my permission slip for the field trip next Thursday. It's got to be in today." She ran up to her mother clutching a small form in her hand.

  "You couldn't give this to me last night? I don't have time to read it now - and the bus will be here any second."

  John was still rummaging about in the fridge. "Honey, don't we have any more of that chicken from last night?"

  "You know Mom, the trip to the zoo. I told you about it. Dogs and cats and pigs and birds, you know, animals that can really fly and everything! And you can even pet the dogs."

  "Whatever." said Melissa as she took the permission slip and signed it in blind faith. "Now hurry up. I hear the bus pulling up."

  The bus gave one quick beep as it rolled to a stop outside the Larse house. Melissa placed her hand against the panel and opened the front door. The bus door opened at the same time and the two kids ran out into the yard, under the relentless rays of the sun, and into the air conditioned bus. The door closed and the kids were on their way.

  Melissa went back to the kitchen to check on John. "If I can just get him out of my hair," she thought, "I can start the laundry and take a nap." She watched him make lunch in a hurry, spilling crumbs and mayonnaise all over the counter. "He sure is preoccupied today." She wondered if there was trouble at work, but there was no point in asking. They had a fairy-tale marriage, going on 14 years, but there were some things they rarely talked about, and work was one of them.

  John pushed the call button, asking for a one person car. He checked his pockets several times, then picked up his lunch. "See you tonight." he said as he headed for the door. Then he turned back and added, "I love you. More than you know."

  His car was already coming up the street. It wasn't raining, so the car didn't bother to pull into the drive. John could dash across the yard just like the kids.

  If you had a lot of stuff to carry, or you were disabled, you could ask for a driveway pickup, but that wasn't necessary today.

  John opened the door and sat in the waiting car. The car door closed and the Larse menu appeared on the touchscreen. He tapped the second preset, work, and the car started down the street. He called up his music menu and touched the B. "So many thousand years of music," he mumbled to himself, "and Bach is still the best." He selected the harpsichord concertos and leaned back in his seat, trying to relax.

  The car followed the magnetic guides in the road like a train in its tracks. It turned up one street and down another, and headed for the express way. "Manual driving deactivated." announced a synthesized voice as the car turned onto the entrance ramp.

  John was accustomed to the two G's as the car accelerated to 200mph.

  "Please let me in." requested the car by radio, to the traffic on its left. A space opened up immediately, and the car drifted into the lane with only a few feet to spare front and back.

  The cars raced along the maglev highway in one coordinated chain. Whenever a car left the highway the chain closed in, filling the empty space, and the chain pulled apart when a new car joined the procession. These motions were imperceptible to the passengers, who were usually engaged in other thoughts. Sometimes John fell asleep during his commute, but there was too much to think about today.

  ‘Did Squanto suspect anything?’ He didn't think so, but he wasn't sure. People who underestimated Squanto often found themselves chained to a rock outside under the harsh sun. It wasn't a pleasant way to die.

  After the second concerto the cab spun around on its chassis and it eased on to the exit ramp. John felt the familiar 2 G's as the car decelerated back down to 40mph. The cab turned back around so that John was facing forward again, and the synthesized voice announced, "Manual driving available." Not that John would want to do such a thing. He leaned back and listened to the third concerto and left the driving to the computer.

  The car stopped in front of the main entrance to the power plant and John jumped out into the sun. He walked quickly, covering 50 feet in just a few seconds. He pushed on the entrance bar and opened the door as his abandoned car sped away. He stepped into the cool corridor and took a deep breath.

  FIVE

  The room was only 12 square feet, with no furniture. The walls were cream white, and a thin brown carpet covered the floor. This entryway provided shelter from the elements, and little more. He walked up to the inner door, placed his hand on the panel, and said "enter." The door slid open and a synthesized voice confirmed his identity. "John C. Larse. Welcome."

  John stepped into a long hallway with cream coloured walls, a light blue ceiling, and a deep blue carpeting on the floor. He let the door close behind him, forcing the two women, who had just entered the corridor, t
o check in. This was proper procedure.

  John walked past three small offices and turned into his own, which looked pretty much like the hallway, except for the silver-white desk and the yellow chair. You rarely saw red or orange inside an office, or a home for that matter. People saw enough of those colours outside. In fact, John had had enough of the sun for today, so he flipped a switch and turned his transparent window into a mirror.

  John liked having his own office - no need to negotiate with anybody over lighting, temperature, decoration, etc. It was convenient and quite the status symbol too. Lord knows he'd earned it. Nobody in Antarctica knew more about controlled fusion reactions than John Larse.

  He placed his lunch in the small fridge in the corner, sat down, and checked his email. Nothing pressing, so he went back out in the hallway and walked past three other offices, barely acknowledging his coworkers and stepped into an office that was even larger and nicer than his own.

  Hank Bruder was a short man, about 5 foot 4, and he seemed even shorter when standing next to John, who was over 6 feet tall. But height means nothing in the workplace, and Hank was clearly in charge.

  "John, have a seat." offered Hank, directing John to a comfortable light-green recliner. "I'm glad you came in today - we're having a little trouble with reactor number 4."

  "Number 4?" asked John, stopping in the middle of the room. "Again? Is it..."

  "Oh sit down. It's not serious, just underperforming a little. Running about 10 to 15 percent below peak efficiency. I mean, it would be right on the mark for a typical reactor, but since it's muon enhanced, it should be generating 4.6 Giga-watts. Instead it's floating around 4.1. You'd better take a look. You have time today, don't you?" It was actually a command, phrased as a question out of courtesy.

  "Yes of course." replied John as he sat down in the recliner. He looked across the room at his boss, and his friend. The two men liked and respected each other, almost to the point of admiration. Each had skills that the other lacked, skills that the other envied.

  Hank was the perfect manager. His employees liked him, but they also knew there was work to be done, and Hank could be a taskmaster at times. Fourteen million people depend on this power plant for their very lives, every hour, every day, and Hank never let you forget that.

  "Care for a coke?" asked Hank.

  "Yes please."

  Both men drank plenty of caffeine, in the form of coke or coffee. Hank walked over to the fridge and pulled out a can for John and a can for himself. John watched him approach, always a little surprised by the neatly trimmed beard. John never saw facial hair on anybody; it was just too hot. But that was Hank's way, his mark of distinction.

  John took the can and popped the top. He took a long drink and changed the subject.

  "I'm seeing Squanto again today."

  Hank stopped smiling. "How's that going?"

  "Ok I guess. Three more payments, counting today, and I'm done."

  "You know I don't trust her." warned Hank. "I don't trust any of those companies. She'll take all that money and you'll get nothing, or worse. I don't want to see anything happen to you. You're my ... I mean I ... well ... we need you around here!" Hank took a long drink and put his coke back on the desk with a loud clunk. "I hope you know what you're doing. If there's anything I can do to help."

  "Just keep paying me." John quipped.

  "Oh by the way," Said Hank, anxious to change the subject, "there's an international conference in Siberia next month. I'd like you to go - you and Jane. They want you to present your paper on muon catalyzed fusion reactions. And not just the theoretical physics, but the technical specs - how we're using it in our plant. Believe me, the folks in the northern hemisphere would love to increase efficiency by 15. And Borikov will be there, presenting his latest results on magnetic confinement. You'll want to take notes on that one. Oh and one other thing." Hank got up and closed the door. "There's a speaker from Scandinavia, uh, what's his name? Paul Khristian. He thinks he can save the Earth, and he's serious!"

  John looked up in surprise. Khristian was not well-known, but John had seen his name once or twice. He worked behind the scenes on NASA's asteroid reorbit program. An expert in orbital mechanics, he coordinated thousands of asteroids, each one grazing the Earth and raising its orbit. The good news: not a single asteroid ever slammed into the planet, snuffing out the mammalian life that remained. The bad news: his efforts were in vein. The sun grew faster than expected, and Earth just couldn't pull away in time. To add insult to injury, Paul had no credible plan for getting Earth past Jupiter. No wonder he kept a low profile. But if anyone could develop a plan to save the Earth, it was him.

  "I don't know anything about orbital mechanics." stammered John in surprise.

  "Believe me," reassured Hank, after another long drink, "he knows who you are and what you can do. He wants you there - I don't know why. He probably wants to improve the efficiency of the mini power reactors on the asteroids, or their reliability, or both. I know we've done just about all we can in this area, but hey, he's got something up his sleeve, and his lips are sealed until the conference. No paper, no abstract, nothing."

  "I can't put a particle accelerator on each asteroid!" said John sarcastically. He was referring to muon catalyzed fusion, where an on-site particle accelerator generated muons, which were then injected into the hydrogen helium mix. The muons brought the ions closer together and allowed fusion to occur at lower temperatures and pressures. A clever idea, but the particle accelerator was as large as some of the smaller asteroids.

  "I know, I know. I don't think he's interested in muons. I don't even think he's talking about directed asteroids. I'm not sure what it's about." Hank glanced at the plant status monitor, a display screen in the wall that was over 4 feet square, then turned back to John. "Well you're going to be there anyways, so just hear him out. He's scheduled for 3:00, you can go home after that, or stick around if you like; it's on a Friday; December 7th to be precise, so you get a couple days of winter in the middle of summer. You lucky dog!!" Hank grinned at his friend. "Wish I could come too."

  "How about my family?" asked John.

  Hank chuckled in response. "Come on John, you know we don't have that kind of money. Now if you want to take them yourself, you're more than welcome. I'm sure they'd enjoy the Gorbachev Center, and there's a great zoo nearby, ..."

  "You know I can't afford that. Not with Squanto breathing down my neck."

  "Of course." said Hank with a tone of resignation. "Well go have a look at reactor 4. Jane's already down there."

  SIX

  John got up, tossed his empty can into the metal waste basket, and left. He walked through a labyrinth of hallways, passing several security checkpoints along the way. "John C. Larse, now entering engineering level 1, reactors 1 through 10." announced the ubiquitous synthesized voice. "No unauthorized personnel beyond this point."

  John hopped onto the moving walkway like a seasoned pro. It clipped along at 10miles an hour, and new employees were always stumbling as they got on and off; but John could step aboard with a cup of coffee in one hand and a laptop in the other.

  He was alone on the walkway, with only the synthesized voice for company. "Next exit, reactor 1, 15 seconds."

  Each reactor was about 200 yards long, and at this rate he'd reach his destination in just a couple minutes. John sailed past the exit for reactor 1 and looked out the windows at reactor 2. Half a dozen cylindrical tanks with rounded tops stood 10 feet tall, interconnected by a network of pipes and control valves. Each contained a different isotope of liquid hydrogen and helium. A nearby refrigeration unit, the size of a large house, kept the tanks at cryogenic temperatures, just a couple degrees above absolute zero. People on Earth could hardly imagine such cold.

  If air accidentally seeped into one of these tanks it would freeze solid and shut down the reactor. More pipes connected the tanks to the reactor itself, a large sphere 15 feet across. John averted his eyes as the white hot surface of the r
eactor, some 5,000 degrees, came into view. It looked like the sun had come to Earth. At its core, a small sphere of hydrogen/helium plasma, about the size of a marble, burned via nuclear fusion, just like the sun. Giant magnets and RF generators held the plasma in position.

  The heat generated by this micro-star pulled protons and electrons apart as it passed to the outside walls of the reactor. Several hundred thousand volts separated the positive and negative plates, and massive superconducting cables connected these plates to the power conditioning unit, which turned DC into AC for long distance transmission. The shell of the reactor was white hot because most of the energy was being wasted.

  In mid-summer, when air conditioners were running full tilt, the nearby cities and towns sucked power out of the plates like water through a straw. The shell glowed a dark red, and you might think it was merely lit by the sun, until you got close enough to feel the heat.

  "Futsak!" muttered John. "They ought to turn that reactor down. Why waste the helium? Besides, it's hard on the equipment to run that hot. Come on guys, get a grip!"

  "Next exit, reactor 2, 15 seconds." John sailed past the control room for reactor number 2 and looked at reactor number 3. The tanks and plumbing were the same, but the reactor was glowing red. "That's better." John thought as the cherry red sphere came into view. "Looks like about 2,000 degrees; right on the mark."

  Reactor 4 came into view and presented a bright orange color, in the neighborhood of 2,800 degrees. "Hmm, running just a little hot today."

  "Next exit, reactor 4, 15 seconds." John hopped off the walkway and stepped into the control room for reactor 4. Jane sat at the monitor, a keyboard in her lap. Her long red hair was tied back in a braid, looking like a splash of sun that had invaded the blue and green office.