China aside, the future of manned spaceflight lies with privately funded adventurers that are prepared to participate in a competitive program far riskier than Western nations could impose on publicly supported civilians. In the future, SpaceX and Blue Origin will offer orbital flights to paying customers. There are plans for week-long trips around the far side of the Moon—voyaging farther (and longer) from Earth than anyone has before. Such ventures—bringing a Silicon Valley culture into a domain long dominated by NASA and a few aerospace conglomerates—have innovated and improved rocketry faster than NASA or the ESA—the latest Falcon rocket can carry a fifty-ton payload into orbit. Thus, the future role of national agencies will be attenuated and more akin to an airport rather than an airline.
If I were an American, I would not support NASA’s manned program; I would argue that inspirationally led private companies should lead all manned missions as competitive, high-risk ventures. There would still be many volunteers—some, perhaps, accepting one-way tickets—driven by similar motives as early explorers, mountaineers, and the like. Therefore, the phrase “space tourism” should be avoided. It convinces people to believe that such ventures are routine and low-risk. If that is the perception, then the inevitable accidents will be as traumatic as those of the space shuttle. These exploits must be advertised as dangerous sports or intrepid exploration.
The most crucial impediment to spaceflight, in Earth’s orbit and those venturing further, stems from the intrinsic inefficiency of chemical fuel as well as the requirement to carry a fuel weight that far exceeds that of the payload. If we are dependent on chemical fuels, interplanetary travel will remain a challenge. Nuclear power could be transformative; therefore, by allowing much higher in-course speeds, it would drastically cut the transit times in the solar system. This would not only reduce the astronauts’ boredom, but their exposure to damaging radiation as well.
Also, if the fuel supply could remain on the ground, that would prove more efficient than if it were carried into space. For example, a spacecraft could be propelled into orbit by a device acting as a “space elevator,” then a Starshot-type laser would deploy from Earth; hence, applying force to a light-reflective sail attached to the spacecraft.
Incidentally, more efficient on-board fuel could transform manned spaceflight from high-precision to an almost unskilled operation. Driving a car would be a difficult enterprise if one had to program the entire journey in close detail beforehand, with minimal opportunities for steering along the way. If there were an abundance of fuel for mid-course corrections (and to brake and accelerate at will), then interplanetary navigation would be a low-skill task—simpler, even, than steering a car, or ship, as the destination is always clear.
By 2100, thrill-seekers in the mold of Felix Baumgartner (the Austrian skydiver who, in 2012, broke the sound barrier in free fall from a high-altitude balloon) may have established bases independent from Earth, Mars, or maybe on asteroids. Elon Musk has expressed his desire to die on Mars—but not on impact. This is a realistic goal that may be alluring to some.
However, do not expect mass emigration from Earth. This is where I strongly disagree with Musk, who advocates rapid buildup of large-scale Martian communities. It is a dangerous delusion to think that space offers an escape from Earth’s problems. We must solve these issues here. Coping with climate change may seem daunting, but it is a small plight compared to terraforming Mars. Nowhere else in the solar system offers an environment even as clement as the Arctic, or the top of Mount Everest. There is no “Planet B” for ordinary risk-averse people. Nevertheless, we should support those brave enough to venture into space, because they will have a pivotal role in leading the post-human future and determining what happens in the twenty-second century and beyond.
The pioneering explorers will be unsuited to their new habitat, sustaining a more compelling incentive to adjust themselves compared to those of us still on Earth. They will harness the powerful genetic and cybernetic technologies that will be developed in future decades. These techniques will be heavily regulated on Earth as well as on prudential and ethical grounds; however, settlers on Mars will exceed the clutches of regulators. Therefore, we should wish them luck in modifying their progeny to adapt to alien environments, as this might be the first step toward divergence into a new species. Ultimately, it will be these brave space voyagers who lead the post-human era.
Organic creatures need a planetary surface environment; yet, if post-humans make the transition to fully inorganic intelligences, they will not need an atmosphere. Rather, they may prefer zero-gravity, especially for constructing massive artifacts. So, it is in deep space—neither on Earth, nor Mars—that nonbiological “brains” may develop powers that humans cannot begin to fathom.
In fact, there are chemical and metabolic limits to the size and processing power of organic brains. We may be close to these boundaries already, but no such limits constrain electronic computers, much less quantum computers. So, by any definition of thinking, the amount and intensity that is done by organic, human-type brains will be utterly swamped by the cerebrations of AI. So, although we may be near the end of Darwinian evolution, the technological evolution of intelligent beings is just beginning. It will happen fastest away from Earth—I would not expect such rapid changes in humanity here; our survival, though, will depend on ensuring that AI on Earth remains benevolent.
Few doubt that machines will gradually enhance or surpass our distinctively human capabilities. There are disagreements about the timescale. For example, Ray Kurzweil and those who hold similar opinions claim it will be a few decades; in contrast, others envision centuries. At any rate, the timescales for technological advances are instantly compared to the timescales of Darwinian selection that led to humanity’s emergence. Therefore, the outcomes of future technological evolution could surpass humans by as much as we (intellectually) surpass slime mold.
What about consciousness? Philosophers debate whether consciousness is special to the wet, organic brains of humans, apes, and dogs. Perhaps electronic intelligences, while their intellect may seem superhuman, will lack self-awareness or inner life. Or is consciousness emergent in any sufficiently complex network? This question crucially affects how we react to the far-future scenario that has been sketched. For instance, if machines are zombies, then we would not equate their experiences with ours, as the post-human future would seem bleak. However, if they are conscious, then we should welcome the prospect of their future hegemony.
Additionally, what will be their motivation if they become fully autonomous entities? There is no way of knowing. Recall the variety of bizarre motives—ideological, financial, and religious—that have driven human endeavors in the past. Recall the aliens in popular science fiction novels. They could be contemplative, realizing that it is easier to think at low temperatures—far away from any star, or hibernating for billions of years, until the microwave background cools below three degrees kelvin. However, they could be expansionist. This seems to be the expectation of most who have contemplated the future trajectory of civilizations.
Assuming that life originated on Earth alone, it need not remain a trivial feature of the cosmos; hypothetically, humans could prompt a diaspora, whereby increasingly complex intelligence spreads throughout the galaxy, transcending our limitations. Also, the “sphere of influence,” or “frontier of conquest” could encompass the whole galaxy; thus, spreading via self-reproducing machines, transmitting DNA and instructions for 3-D printers, etc. The leap to neighboring stars is an early step in this process; interstellar voyages, or intergalactic voyages, would hold no terrors for near-immortals.
Moreover, even if the only propellants utilized were the ones we currently know, galactic colonization would take less time—measured from today—than elapsed time since the Precambrian explosion as well as the emergence of primates, if it proceeds.
Consequently, the expansionist scenario could potentially make our descendants more conspicuous, allowing alien life
forms to become increasingly aware of our existence. However, there is a question we often find ourselves asking: Is extraterrestrial life already out there? Are there other “expansionists” whose domain may affect our own?
There is not an answer to these questions. The emergence of intelligent life may require a rare chain of events, suggesting that this event has not occurred anywhere else. Such revelations would undoubtedly disappoint SETI researchers; however, suppose we are not alone. What evidence would we expect to find?
Assume that life began on multiple planets, and that on some of them, Darwinian evolution followed a similar track to what has happened on Earth. Still, it is highly unlikely that the key stages would be synchronized. If the emergence of intelligence and technology on another planet lags significantly behind Earth, then that planet would reveal no evidence of extraterrestrial life. Yet, on a star that predates the Sun, life could have had a head start of a billion years or more.
The history of human technological civilization is measured in millennia. So, it may be at least two more centuries before humans are overtaken or transcended by inorganic intelligence, which will then persist, continuing to evolve on a faster-than-Darwinian timescale, for billions of years. Organic human-level intelligence will be a brief interlude before machines take over. So, if alien intelligence had evolved similarly, then it would be unlikely to discover it while embodied in that form. If extraterrestrial life were detected, acquiring electronic signals would be more likely than discovering creatures that are neither flesh and blood, nor on other planets.
Moving forward, the Drake equation must be reinterpreted. The lifetime of an organic civilization may be a millennium at most; however, its electronic diaspora could continue for billions of years. Moreover, if SETI does succeed, then it is doubtful that the signal received would be a decodable message. Such an event would likely reveal a byproduct, or malfunction, of a complex machine that is far beyond our comprehension.
Incidentally, referring to them as alien civilizations may be too restrictive. A civilization connotes a society of individuals; in contrast, extraterrestrial life could potentially be a single integrated intelligence. So, even if messages were being transmitted, we may not recognize them as artificial because it would be difficult to decode them. A veteran radio engineer familiar only with amplitude-modulation might have a hard time decoding modern, wireless communications. Indeed, compression techniques aim to make the signal as close to noise as possible; insofar as a signal is predictable, then there is scope for more compression.
Moreover, SETI’s focus has been on the radio aspect of the spectrum. Naturally, in our state of ignorance, we should thoroughly explore all wavebands: the optical and X-ray band. We should also remain aware of further evidence indicating nonnatural phenomena or activity. One might seek evidence of artificially created molecules, such as chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs), in an exoplanet atmosphere, or massive artifacts, such as a Dyson sphere. It may even be worth seeking artifacts within our solar system. Perhaps we can avert visits from aliens; however, if their civilization mastered nanotechnology and transferred its intelligence to machines, the invasion might consist of a swarm of microscopic probes that could have evaded notice. In this regard, it would be beneficial to surveil the sky for especially shiny, or oddly shaped objects lurking among the asteroids. Ultimately, it would be easier to send a radio or laser signal, rather than traversing the spectacular distances of interstellar space.
Finally, a few speculations regarding the far-distant future—beyond the evolutionary stage any alien could have reached in the present universe, even with maximal advantage. Fast forward to an astronomical timescale, millions of years into the future. The ecology of stellar births and deaths in our galaxy will proceed more and more slowly, until eventually jolted by the environmental shock of an impact with Andromeda—four billion years hence. The debris of our galaxy, Andromeda, and their smaller companions within the local group will thereafter aggregate into one amorphous galaxy. Distant galaxies will move farther away, receding rapidly until they disappear. However, the remnants of our Local Group could continue for far longer—time enough, perhaps, for the Kardashev Type III phenomenon to emerge as the culmination of the long-term trend for living systems to gain complexity and negative entropy (Freeman Dyson, Seth Lloyd, and Lawrence Krauss have written on this topic).
Yet, there are limitations set by fundamental physics: the number of accessible protons (which can transform into any element) and the amount of available energy, which can also be transformed into various forms. Atoms that were once trapped in stars and gas could be transformed into structures as intricate as a living organism or a silicon chip, but on a cosmic scale. This process, though, would require a node and lattice architecture to minimize the time lags caused by the speed of light. Some science fiction authors anticipate extensive engineering to create black holes and wormholes. In other words, there are concepts far beyond any technological capability that we can conceive, but not in violation of the aforementioned physical laws. Furthermore, the limit exceeds the mass energy in the Local Group. So, it is consistent with physical laws to marshal receding galaxies before they accelerate over the horizon, drawing them in—thus, creating a segment of an Einstein static universe with a mean density in which cosmic repulsion (lambda) balances gravity.
The preceding points are consistent with the laws of physics as well as the cosmological models as we understand them, assuming that the force causing cosmic acceleration persists (e.g. dark energy or Einstein’s lambda). Nevertheless, we should accept that there is much we do not understand. Human brains have changed little since our ancestors roamed the African savannah and coped with the challenges that life then presented. It is remarkable that brains have allowed us to make sense of the quantum as well as the cosmos, distant from the world in which we evolved. Scientific frontiers are advancing fast and, although we may come to a stalemate at times, one day the answer to life’s many questions will come into focus. For instance, there may be phenomena, crucial to our long-term destiny, of which we are not yet aware. Physical reality could encompass complexities that neither our intellect, nor our senses can grasp. Some electronic brains may have a different perception of reality; therefore, we cannot predict or understand their motives. Hence, our inability to assess whether their silence signifies their absence or their preference.
Conjectures about advanced or intelligent life are more unpredictable than those regarding simple life. This suggests three things about the entities that SETI searches could reveal: They will not be “organic” or biological, they will not remain on the planet where their biological precursors lived, and we lack the ability to fathom their intentions.
Even these speculations fail to take us to the utter limits. I have assumed that the universe itself will expand at a rate that no future entities have power to alter. And that everything is, in principle, understandable as a manifestation of the basic laws, governing particles, space, and time that have been disclosed by contemporary science. So, are there new laws awaiting discovery? Will the present laws be immutable, even to a Type III intelligence that can draw from galactic-scale resources?
Post-human intelligences (autonomously evolving artifacts) will achieve the processing power to simulate living things—even entire worlds. These super- or hyper-computers would have the capacity to simulate not just a simple part of reality, but a large fraction of an entire universe.
Then, the question arises: If these simulations exist in far larger numbers than the universe themselves, could we be in one of them? Could we ourselves not be part of what we think of as bedrock physical reality? Could we be ideas in the mind of some supreme being who is running a simulation? Indeed, if the simulations outnumber the universes, as they would if one universe contained many computers making many simulations, then the likelihood is that we are the artificial life, in this sense. This concept opens up the possibility of a new kind of “virtual time travel,” because the advanced beings
creating the simulation can, in effect, rerun the past. It is not a time-loop in a traditional sense; it is a reconstruction of the past allowing advanced beings to explore their history.
The possibility that we are creations of some supreme (or super) being blurs the boundary between physics and idealist philosophy, between the natural and the supernatural. We may be in the matrix rather than directly manifesting the basic physical laws.
What, then, does this mean for us as we approach the middle of the twenty-first century? Many of the questions I’ve posed are simply unanswerable from our vantage point. But it is clear that advancements in biotech, artificial intelligence (and the human/machine interface), and space technology will shape the future of both humanity and sentient life in our corner of the universe. The future is truly ours.
Stella Infantes
Kacey Ezell and Philip Wohlrab
When she was little, Kacey Ezell dreamed of being an astronaut or a dragonrider. She became a helicopter pilot instead—which is pretty close. Kacey writes SF, mil-SF, fantasy, alternate history, and horror fiction for Baen and Chris Kennedy Publishing. She is married with two daughters and spends her time flying, writing, or being a cheer mom.
Philip Wohlrab is a military medic with more than a decade of experience practicing in combat medicine, advanced lifesaving, and basic lifesaving skills, both on and off the battlefield. He is a senior instructor in the combat medic sustainment program for the Virginia Army National Guard and is a senior field sanitation instructor. He earned a masters of public health with a focus on disease prevention. When not working for the Army he, of course, writes science fiction.
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