More important, however, was the conclusion that human engineering should be naturally and organically evolved rather than imposed externally. Thus, rather than imposing these changes on a group of interstellar explorers and colonists, humanity as a whole needs to practice these changes via a vibrant, self-sustaining space culture with a multigenerational presence at least out to the orbit of Jupiter before serious interstellar missions designs can be contemplated. This space culture should be both for purposes of inevitable technological advancement, and to allow for social structures intrinsic to off-Earth permanent habitation to evolve on their own.
In other words: One means of ensuring that humans adapt to space is to go and live there!
LOCAL PROVING GROUND
One of the assumptions of the Synergy Group was that physiological issues of long-duration space missions would already be solved prior to launching an interstellar mission. However, that assumption also implies that psychological and sociological adaptations to long-duration existence in space have also evolved naturally along with many of the technological precursors for the mission. Unfortunately, this is by no means guaranteed; therefore, the human race must be prepared for failures—of habitat, of health, and of isolated social groups—along the way.
On the other hand, multigenerational isolated community missions (i.e. colonization) represent a social engineering challenge that cannot be adequately duplicated by a strictly solar system–based civilization. The Homo Stellaris group was charged with projecting the factors necessary for anticipated missions one hundred years from now. However, the Synergy Group felt that even one hundred years (assuming that we could launch a space-based society today) was not sufficient time to prove that any reasonable social framework based on current political models would be viable for a colony totally isolated from Earth. In other words, even with a vibrant solar system society, experimenting with different colony proofs of concept (e.g. asteroid habitats, space stations, or nomadic fleets of ships) can only be partially examined.
Consequently, the social structure of an interstellar colony constitutes a major mission risk even assuming the challenges of propulsion and life extension have already been solved. To offset this risk, small-crew exploratory missions would be more desirable to reduce cost and consumables and allow multiple simultaneous missions, even to the extent of allowing the crew to procreate once the initial mission objectives are completed. The added benefit would be that a small colony “seed” would have a positive effect on the crew as well as the home (Earth) population of potential colonists.
WORLDSHIPS AND GENERATION SHIPS
Readers will note that the above discussion omits multigenerational ships (i.e. slow interstellar craft in which the crew is renewed via procreation during the transit) and “worldships” (hollowed-out asteroids turned into sealed colonies, with a space drive attached). There were two reasons for this omission. The first is that there was a separate working track at TVIW 2016 specifically charged with developing ideas for worldships. The second, and in this context more relevant, reason is that the participants of the Homo Stellaris working track felt that the very concept of worldships was antithetical to interstellar colonization. It may likely be the case that a natural component of solar system colonization will be to build structures (or hollowed-out asteroids) which contain complete biospheres. Such a closed-loop life system will be self-sustaining and can support humans as a compromise between wholly planet-based lifestyles versus ship or station-based lifestyles. A worldship may serve as a larger, more robust “space station” or may constitute a stand-alone colony in its own right.
Worldships are an end in and of themselves. Moving such a large biosphere to another star system would likely take centuries. If a worldship would be viable for the projected duration of the mission, then it would most likely be viable well in excess of that timeline. Thus, a worldship is a colony; once established, attaching engines or even an interstellar drive to a worldship may provide mobility, but to what end? Furthermore, if it is used merely as a vessel to transport colony and crew, then what is the guarantee that they will want to leave the habitat once the destination is reached? Certainly a worldship can be designed to last only for the duration of transit, but that requires several dangerous assumptions; mainly, that the design life is accurate and critical systems will not fail prior to reaching the destination. Modern engineering is not so perfect that humanity can guarantee zero defects prior to the planned date of obsolescence.
However, worldships are not just transport vessels. They are important colony practice environments. The more experience we gain from engineering biospheres and ecosystems (not to mention self-contained communities), the better prepared we will be for dealing with new planetary environments.
ADAPTING HUMANS
Having rejected worldships as colony transport, the Synergy Group also felt that relying on multigenerational transport was also less desirable than ensuring that humans could make an interstellar journey in a single lifetime. Thus, emphasis should be placed on gene selection that would extend lifespan, provide greater intrinsic biological space-radiation resistance, and optimize the human body for a lower gravity regimen. A robust space-based society will likely already seek these genetic modifications through their multiple-generation communities off Earth. This also points back to the advantage of allowing space communities within the solar system to be fundamental breeding and proving grounds for the crew composition and colony population.
In addition to intrinsic physical life extension and robustness in deep space, interstellar exploration will most likely require some form of metabolic suspension. While such medical technology is still science fiction, it has its roots in present-day advances in surgical techniques, in the as-yet-unexplored functions resident in what has been called junk DNA, and in lessons learned from vertebrate animals which can successfully survive freezing temperatures without damage to cells caused by the formation of ice crystals. An optimal scenario might be one in which a crew splits into shifts such that some would be in metabolic suspension at any given time. Cycling crew in and out of hibernation would allow for sufficient crew on-watch to deal with both routine and emergency situations at any point in the mission. The number and composition of these shifts will rely heavily on lessons learned from submarine crews, space habitat simulations (such as Antarctic bases and MARS500), and practice in the form of future solar system–based habitats.
Between increased lifespan, and deferred per-person mission activity equal to only twenty-five to fifty percent of the total transit time, mission durations greater than fifty years would reduce the subjective passage of time to scenarios with comparatively low social-engineering requirements compared to generation ships or worldships. As an added advantage, the percentage of the spacecraft and colonization materials devoted to life support might be reduced accordingly. To further extend those resources, the Synergy Group suggested that smaller-scale automated cargo probes could be launched in advance, enabling rendezvous and resupply at key navigational waypoints for the crewed mission. These probes would constitute additional proof of concept for mission engineering as well as progressively more advanced survey and reconnaissance of target systems.
MISSION TARGETS
Finally, the working track was tasked with describing an interstellar mission based on their discussions. Mission parameters were to assume conventional space drives based on known physics, the necessary precursors for a space-based society, and the societal will to undertake such a goal. The working track recommended selection of initial target systems at the shortest possible range, that is, not beyond eighteen to twenty light-years. Assuming about a hundred years to develop the technology for continuous thrust (allowing final velocities approaching single-digit percentages—one to nine percent—of light-speed), the newly discovered rocky planet at Proxima Centauri b is only about forty to fifty years away. More likely candidate worlds for exploration such as Wolf 1061, Gliese 876, Gliese 682, and Gliese 832 wo
uld be around one hundred fifty years away. Superior drive performance and improvements in life-extension would allow more-distant destinations, coupled to a reduction of mission times, and simplification in mission logistics.
The primary conclusion of the Homo Stellaris working track was that many of the problems may not be completely solved, but would be greatly aided by establishing a presence off Earth and throughout the solar system. While many Earth-bound issues would remain, the individuals who would voluntarily go to space in the near future would be the same type—and possibly even the same individuals—who would undertake interstellar missions in the far future. Thus, simply having a presence throughout the solar system would serve as the developmental basis for the adaptations required for one or more interstellar missions. Such a mission may very well be within our reach in the next century as we transition from Homo terranus, to Homo solaris, and finally, into Homo stellaris!
Acknowledgement: The editors thank
Dr. Charles E. Gannon, Sarah and Dan Hoyt,
Connie Trieber, Chris Oakley, Carol Tevepaugh
and Doug Loss for their contributions to the
Homo Stellaris Synergy Group report from TVIW2016.
Philip Wohlrab, Cathe Smith and Sandra Medlock
assisted with moderating and facilitating the
discussions of the Homo Stellaris working track.
Time Flies
Kevin J. Anderson
Kevin J. Anderson is the author of over 145 books, fifty-six of which have appeared on national or international bestseller lists. He has won or been nominated for the Bram Stoker, Shamus, Hugo, Nebula, Scribe, and Colorado Book Awards. He is a noted Futurist who has lectured before many world-class venues and is the director of the Certificate in Publishing for Western State Colorado University. He and his wife have been married for twenty-five years; they live in a castle (yes, a castle!) in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. For more information, go to: Wordfire.com
A life is measured in seconds, days, years—even centuries, now that we have genetic modifications. When all is said and done, each life has a set number of minutes, but no one knows that number, which is set only by God and by destiny. Those minutes wind down to zero, tick tock, over the course of a life, and ultimately, we can’t change the number that has been ordained for us. But if we can speed up or slow down our frame of reference, we can make the outside objective time last for as long as we like.
That’s why starship flyers seem to be immortal from an outsider’s point of view. We have the same number of minutes as anyone else, but thanks to our special metabolic modifications, we knew how to shut down our internal clocks for the centuries, or millennia, that we drift between the stars. From our point of view, it’s just a regular lifespan, but stretched out like a thin membrane across infinity. We can control our own perception of time, and the ship is like its own separate continuum moving endlessly throughout the galaxy.
As engineer, I was the first member of the crew to speed back up to realtime as the Time’s Arrow approached the new star system. It’s my job to run a check on all systems, though the old starship had been so modified and reinforced that nothing sort of a cosmic disaster would have caused so much as a hiccup. But I don’t like to think I’m obsolete.
According to the flight plan, we had just spent two hundred years en route to this average star system with its one cataloged colony planet, called Irrac if the old records were still accurate. Captain Dorothea had chosen it as the next stop on our ever-wandering trade route. No one among the small crew had disagreed with her, not that we ever did. We didn’t have any place else to go. Time’s Arrow was our own little traveling universe, and everything else was just a side trip.
Moving through the silent ship with the other nine crewmembers still in slowtime, I checked the engine systems, the fuel, and the water levels, which were supplemented by interstellar gases we had scooped up over the past couple of centuries. Planetfall was still a month away, but we had preparations to make. I saw the others like statues lounging about wherever they had decided to crank down their metabolism to near-zero entropy, like the cozy heater in our rec room turned down to the tiniest pilot light.
I warmed up the rec room, getting it ready for our crew meeting as soon as the others returned to the normal flow of time. Next, I went to the command module, the bridge portion of the ship, which was nearly always empty except for when we reached a planet and the interesting activity started.
In the cold of the command module, I wore a warm sweater. Since I would only be there for a few moments, I saw no need to waste the time and energy to warm up this section of the ship…not yet. While everyone else still blissfully and invisibly passed the time without wasting minutes of their lifespan, I transmitted our prerecorded welcome message to the system ahead, announcing to Irrac that the Time’s Arrow was a private commercial vessel filled with exotic cargo that we wished to trade. Our last stop, two centuries ago in subjective time, was the inhabited moon Jherilla, circling a gas giant. The people on the planet ahead probably knew little of their neighbors anyway, and we didn’t want to scare the locals by telling them just how long we’d really been on our voyage.
After sending my introductions, I asked Irrac to send a transmission burst with samplers of their language and dialect, information on their culture and customs, so the Time’s Arrow could more easily interact when we arrived. Since all planets were so isolated and scattered, no one could guess what sort of welcome we might receive, and it was good to be prepared. We had defensive weapons, but rarely needed to use them. No one on Irrac was expecting us, and we hoped for a nice, profitable landing.
I decided to allow a week before checking again to see their response.
Still moving at normal speed, I rejoined the crew where they all sat motionless in the galley. Everyone wore comfortable uniforms; no need to be formal after all this time. Captain Dorothea rested in her favorite chair, beautiful, in her mid-forties, with smooth features, a pointed chin, a sharp gaze when she was displeased and a sparkle when she was happy. Right now, her eyes just looked like glass. With her near-zero metabolism, Dorothea couldn’t see anything moving at my speed. I gave her a quick peck on the cheek, which was much less interesting than when she actually participated in a kiss. I chose an empty chair next to her at the small dining table and dropped back down into slowtime.
Long ago when the Time’s Arrow first set off on its endless voyage, the crew would all go to quarters or settle in special travel beds for the long journey ahead, knowing we wouldn’t move an inch for centuries at a time. Eventually we realized that we noticed nothing in slowtime anyway, so we no longer bothered with the formalities.
Time’s Arrow was a privately owned, self-sufficient commercial ship, and we had all joined aboard for the adventure, a life of trading among the colonies scattered across the galaxy, and that’s exactly what we had done. When we departed from Earth ten thousand years ago, objective time, none of us really grasped the timescales involved…
After waiting a week, which passed faster than the blink of an eye from my point of view, I sped up to realtime again and returned to the command module to check for a response from Irrac. Now that the ship was closer, scans showed a viable planet ahead. I was glad to see that the colonists had responded with friendly surprise, transmitting complete files about their environment, culture, history, as well as their eagerness to welcome us. If the signs didn’t look right, we could have opted to bypass the system and head off to the next destination, but Irrac seemed fine, so I allowed the ship to continue its three-week journey to the planet.
Dorothea sped up first, then our eight other crewmembers who served as scouts, botanists, manual labor, and “other duties as assigned.” Other than Doctor Max, their roles were ambiguous, not that it mattered. Everyone did his or her own chores aboard ship, and the ship did most everything else.
Delman accepted the duty as chef and prepared our wakeup meal, a stew of preserved meats and vegetables we h
ad picked up at one of our other stops, I couldn’t remember which. Most of us weren’t even hungry, because in our timeframe it hadn’t been very long since we’d eaten our traditional bon voyage meal after leaving Jherilla. Delman was a good cook, though, and he made excellent use of the various flavorings and spices available. I filled my plate and sat next to Captain Dorothea, presenting my report as we all ate. No need to waste minutes on a boring formal meeting when we could take care of the details at dinner conversation.
“The people on Irrac seem friendly, thrilled to receive out-of-town visitors.” I played some of the recordings from the colony leader. The evolution of dialect and language over the centuries made him difficult to understand, but thanks to the records transmitted by the colonists, we were easily able to update our language chips. I displayed images of Irrac’s grassy hills, sweeping green fields, exotic animals, thick forests, pleasant looking cities and villages.
“Beautiful place,” said Amos, one of our scouts. “A lot better than most of the hardscrabble outposts we see.”
“Looks like they hit the jackpot in the colony roulette,” Dorothea said. “Are they covering anything up, Garrett?”
“Nothing major,” I said. I had only scanned through the records once, but the signs would be obvious. We’d encountered nightmare settlements before.
After humanity spread across thousands of colony worlds, societies changed and evolved in unpredictable ways over centuries of isolation. We’d gotten good at detecting the signs of horrific dictatorships or repressive religious societies. Here, though, the bright colors and casual nature of the Irrac garments, the openness of their architecture, how freely the people moved about their streets, their free conversation and interactions all implied a normal healthy society.
Stellaris: People of the Stars Page 18