 What Matters is a guest opinion column
written by a different MIT alumnus or alumna each month. The views
expressed in What Matters are entirely those of the author and do
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Beyond 2001:
The Future of Space Travel
by Geoffrey Landis '80
We're going to the stars.
This is something I've always believed (too much exposure to science
fiction at a young age) and I guess I still do.
Science fiction leads us to believe that we will do it in one giant
breakthrough. Some lone inventor in a basement laboratory, an eccentric
Archimedes--probably they call him a crackpot--will come up with
a theory, test it, and build a faster-than-light space drive in
an afternoon.
Unfortunately, in the years since I left MIT, I've lost my belief
in the eccentric inventor in a basement laboratory, and I've learned
that if we're going to go to the stars, we will have to go the slow
way: one step at a time. I get exasperated sometimes at just how
slow the steps can be. And yet, each step further out into the solar
system is interesting.
And, without a doubt, there are fascinating things on the horizon.
The Cassini probe is now on its way to Saturn, carrying the Huygens
probe. Does Titan really have oceans of liquid ethane, continents
of polyethylene? The Messenger mission to Mercury--does Mercury,
the planet closest to the sun, indeed have ice caps at the poles,
as the radar images suggest? A main-belt asteroid orbiter, to take
a look at Vesta and Ceres: these are asteroids bigger than some
moons. How are they different from the planets? And how are they
the same? What can they tell us about the origin of the solar system?
The Mars Hopper
Artist's conception by Terence K. Condrich, courtesy NASA Glenn
Research Center.
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We need to keep on pressing the boundaries. Some of the projects
I've been proposing include a rocket-powered Mars hopper. This would
be a little vehicle that lands on Mars, and then compresses the
Martian atmosphere to convert it into rocket fuel to fly again.
The hopper could fly over rough terrain, hopping easily over chasms
and boulders, and take aerial photographs as it goes. (As a long-time
member of the MIT Rocket Society, I like to think of it as the first
model rocket on another planet!)
Another project to push our boundaries will be a Venus airplane.
The planet Venus is deadly hot and hostile at the surface, but at
the cloud-top level, it is a fine place to fly. A solar powered
airplane for Venus would be easy to build--lots of solar power--and
could tell us a lot about the greenhouse effect (Venus is the greenhouse
planet ne plus ultra!) and about planetary climates. It's
a lot harder to fly on Mars--the atmosphere is ten thousand times
thinner than Venus's, and a hundred times thinner than Earth's--but
flight on Mars might be the next step. Model airplanes on Venus
and Mars! From there we can go on to an airplane for Saturn's moon
Titan. With a low gravity and a thick nitrogen atmosphere, it's
the easiest place in the solar system to fly--and one of the more
interesting.
The Venus Airplane
Artist's conception by Les Bossinas, courtesy NASA Glenn Research
Center.
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Of course, we can't ignore Jupiter, and right now the most fascinating
places around Jupiter are the Gallilean moons. Or, I should modify
this to say, the fascinating places are what's under the Gallilean
moons, because the indications are that Ganymede, Callisto, and
Europa all may have secret oceans hidden under kilometers of ice.
A radar mission to probe below the ice and learn more about the
possible oceans--a single moon-spanning ocean? Many small, disconnected
pools?--will be good for a start, but from there we will want to
send submarines, miniature mechanical dolphins to swim the hidden
seas and find out if these oceans, like ours, are home to life.
After Jupiter, there are a thousand places to go. Perhaps some
of the most interesting are the small bodies of the Kuiper belt
and the Oort cloud, which seem to be rich in organic materials.
Did life on Earth really originate in cold, dark ices far from the
sun?
There's a lot to do in the solar system. We need to take risks,
and to dare to fail. Every failure is a stupid failure in hindsight,
because whenever you try anything new, there is always somebody
who said "it won't work." But without risks, we will never advance.
For now, the solar system (except for the Earth, of course) is
the realm of robots. Some day, though, we will follow ourselves.
For now, we need to work on getting us there, one step at a time.
Would you like to forward a comment about this column to the
author? Send e-mail to whatmatters@mit.edu.
About the Author
Geoffrey
A. Landis (class of '77) actually graduated from MIT in 1980, due
to a minor bit of procrastination about finishing his undergrad
thesis. While his stated degrees were in course 6 and 8, he actually
majored in model rockets, model airplanes, and science fiction.
After working in the Boston area for five years, he went to Brown
for graduate school, and after finishing his PhD in physics, starting
hanging around NASA Lewis Research Center (now NASA Glenn), as a
postdoc, a support-service contractor, and now as a civil-service
scientist. His work on the Mars Pathfinder project involved understanding
the effect of Martian dust on the solar energy reaching the surface
of Mars. He has published over two hundred scientific papers in
the fields of photovoltaics, space power and propulsion systems,
and astronautics, and holds four patents. As a science-fiction writer,
Geoffrey Landis is the author of over fifty published short stories
and novelettes, and twenty poems. He has won both the Nebula and
Hugo awards for science fiction short stories. His first novel,
Mars
Crossing, was published by Tor in December. A short story
collection, Impact Parameter, will appear from Golden Gryphon
this November. His work has been translated into nineteen languages.
More information is available at his web
site. He lives in Berea, Ohio, with his wife, science-fiction
writer Mary Turzillo, and two cats, Lurker and Lepton. |