In 1976, NASA Administrator James Fletcher noted that "The question, 'What is feasible?' can be finally answered only by future historians." He was talking about the elaborate plans for space habitats the agency had spent a summer noodling over, but the same remark could have been made to the incredulous before the first moon landing, for example -- or before the birth of transoceanic voyages in the 14th and 15th Centuries.
So begins of one of my favorite pieces of utopist NASA detritus, a document called Space Settlements: A Design Study, made over the course of a 10-week workshop at the Ames research center in 1976. Among those involved: Gerard K. O'Neill, physicist and author of High Frontier, a very groovy (and seminal) book about space colonization. The study, under O'Neill's leadership, proposes all kinds of wild and wooly space environments, from Bernal spheres to giant spinning cylinders, with acres of plants and false clouds hanging halfway in the sky, massive windows and mirrors to catch the sun, green capsules in the black depths of space.
What's particularly interesting about the 1976 study is not the fantastically romantic schematic drawings (although those are a plus), but the rare attention the team paid to what they called "psychological and cultural considerations." The engineering constraints of a functional space colony are overwhelming, but technically achievable -- while delicate psychological imbalances can destroy an extra-terrestrial community from the inside out. Look at what happened with the Biosphere 2, for example. And that was on Earth!
According to the NASA study, one of the fundamental problems posed to survival in an outer-space colony environment is the general feeling of un-reality of the whole operation. As a species, we are far from being flexible enough to normalize the feeling of floating in space; a space colony is the kind of environment which could trigger our brains to feel that everything is a dream and nothing outside of our own mind is real. Psychologists call this dissociative mental state "solipsism syndrome," and it occurs in people who live in strenuous psychological environments, like the Arctic winter. Waking up every morning to dazzling vistas of interstellar space might produce the same effect, with day-to-day life becoming an unending dream with no tether to waking reality. Quoth the study: "this state of mind can be easily produced in an environment where everything is artificial, where everything is like a theater stage, where every wish can be fulfilled by a push-button, and where there is nothing beyond the theater stage and beyond an individual's control."
A fantastic problem.
Is it possible to trick our brains into getting over it?
The NASA study suggests a variety of options, from factoring controlled unpredictability into everyday life to ensuring that everyone feels able to contribute to something which grows (namely children and vegetables). Most importantly, however, the illusion that life is taking place inside of a kind of self-contained "theater stage" must be shattered: "it is important to have 'something beyond the horizon' which gives the feeling that the world is larger than what is seen." In fact, again and again, the study emphasizes the need for a long line of sight, for a sense of massive space and openness, to counter the claustrophobia and bring the erratic (and hence reassuring) processes of nature into clear view.
These three factors -- unpredictability, growth, and mystery -- could define the psychological needs of the human Id in a nutshell, right?
Check out Space Settlements: A Design Study here.
Universe has a firm "No Skepticism" policy.
Don't get me wrong, I dig empirical knowledge. And I like the ancient, Pyrrhonian school of Skepticism founded by Pyrrho of Elis (365-275 B.C.); Pyrrhonian skeptics believed that nothing could be known, not even "this" (i.e the very statement that nothing could be known) and strived for a constant state of inquiry as a source of pleasure. Since absolute knowledge is unattainable, the Pyrrhonian Skeptics felt that their end was: "In opinionatives, indisturbance; in impulsives, moderation; and in disquietives, suspension," which is essentially agnosticism, as I understand it. From Manly P. Hall's The Secret Teachings of all Ages
It's contemporary "scientific" or "activist" skepticism that I have a problem with.
Although the foundational epistemology of science is skeptical (prove everything), contemporary "scientific skepticism" has become shorthand for "debunking," namely those claims and theories beyond mainstream science. Unlike scientists, who are primarily concerned with verifying and falsifying hypotheses within their own fields, self-named scientific skeptics focus their criticism on claims they believe to be a priori implausible, which is to say all the great acronyms: UFOs, ESP, etc. While I respect some debunkers (even hard-assed James Randi has saved countless fools from the trappings of psychic surgery), the general conceit bothers me, as it essentially pits the unqualified against the unqualified in a kind of endless boring flame war. Certainly skeptics uncover the "truth" of some matters -- i.e. that there was no ghost, no alien, no demon -- but it brings nothing new to the table. In our heart of hearts, even the most starry-eyed among us know that there are probably no ghosts nor demons, and that we are alone on our giant rock, bitching amongst ourselves. Is pragmatically destroying the imaginative convictions of conspiracy buffs and New-Agers a worthy practice of one's time on this lonely Earth?
Yes, UFOs are probably not real. Yes, a man who claims he was abducted by aliens (or slipped through another dimension, or saw a ghost) probably has other shit going on, lucidity-wise. And yet, does he pose a threat to buttoned-up society? Does he throw the fabric of the everyman's cosmology into whirling disarray? The answer is, of course, a resounding n-o, no. In fact, the everyman has no idea of the astounding breadth, fervor and variety of the UFO-man's idiosyncratic belief system, nor does he have an inkling of the profound multitude of others like the UFO-man. Nor does he care, because he is entirely concerned with his own psycho-social-religious worldview, which might arguably be as bonkers as the rest. And yet, here come the debunkers anyway, to firmly tell everyone that it was all just a glimmer of light, reflected on some swamp gas.
I have a firm "no skepticism" policy not because I don't believe in good science -- which is rooted in a firm tradition of questioning -- but because I love the unloved margins of pseudoscientific thought. This blog has played host to myriad bogus theories, from the inter-dimensional Bigfoot to Unarius and the Omega Point. I've never intended to showcase these things out of fey exoticism, or to belittle them. Rather, I believe we can only truly understand where the wobbly lines between science and the rest of the world lie if we don't intellectually humor all the extremes. The rational mind doesn't exist without the irrational mind, and I believe in learning through difference.
Most of all, however, I consider myself a Skeptic in the old school, which is essentially a hopeful position. We don't know anything, but we can dream.
In middle school, my friends and I secretly referred to athletic jocks as "creationists." The joke was, of course, that they -- with their neanderthal postures, fixation on brute strength and obsession with the less decorous emissions of the human body -- were "less evolved." Of course, this is before teaching evolution in schools was made illegal (or whatever).
It is in this spirit of snickering precociousness that I offer my birthday greeting to Charles Darwin, who would have been 200 years old today. Thanks, old chap! Many accolades are due; in your honor, and at the behest of SEED Magazine, I've put together a little video detailing the Evolution of Life in 60 Seconds. You can check it out in context here, as part of SEED's radically multimedia Darwin Day online celebration.
Big thanks to the very supportive and enlightened folks at SEED for the vote of confidence, and happy Darwin Day, everyone!
Edit: Good gracious, the video got picked up by Pharyngula! Thanks for the kudos, PZ!
A few months ago, I wrote a piece for GOOD Magazine highlighting some of the lesser-known successes of everyone's favorite bloated space agency. Although I intended to write about basic research, good science, and interesting pipeline projects, I ended up stuck in a vortex of awesome open-source software development and interactive art programs.
Doing my research, I came into contact with some incredibly forward-thinking people at NASA who gave me great hope for a post-Bush space administration. One of these people was Nicholas Skytland, founder of openNASA.com, an incredibly earnest, collaborative blog written by employees across the agency. At NASA, Skytland is Project Manager of the EVA Physiology, Systems and Performance Project, a program that seeks to understand human performance during Extra-Vehicular Activity (you know, spacewalks) with the aim of developing safer systems for future missions. At openNASA, he's a blogger and a great proponent of having two-way conversations about the future of our space program.
openNASA.com is representative of a relatively new trend towards transparency within the agency, one spearheaded by plugged-in employees hell-bent on using networked technologies to interact more directly with the public. I know it's relatively dorky at this point to talk about "web 2.0" or "social networking" as radical tools of change, but this is NASA we're talking about -- a hugely beleaguered, bureaucratic government agency with a great deal of power. Late in the game or not, this is massive.
"We have insight into what is and could be happening inside the U.S. space program -- but so do you."
Universe: So why did you start openNASA?
Skytland: openNASA really started as a result of a number of other efforts that were already going on at the time. A number of younger people from around the agency were very interested in blogging -- and some had already started blogging on their own. Many of us converged at a conference at NASA Ames Research Center on February 12-15, 2008 called the "Next Generation Exploration Conference." As is probably typical with most conferences, the discussion didn't really end after the formal program was over. One evening after the conference was officially over, many of the original authors of openNASA were co-working and somehow we got on the discussion of blogging. It was clear that there were a number of blogs that had been started, but there was no silver lining that held them all together. We decided that we would start a "team blog" that anyone from the agency (civil servant or contractor) could participate in. We'd do all the work involved with setting up the site so as to make it as easy as possible for anyone to be an author -- and share their perspective.
We wasted no time. Fortunately, in the room were a number of web developers, coders, designers, and creative spirits (most of whom have normal day jobs as NASA engineers). Within a couple of hours we had the site designed, coded, hosted, and launched.
Ideally, we would have blogged on the nasa.gov website -- but it wasn't ready for us. Not wanting to wait, we launched openNASA as an interim solution. It truly is an experiment in what open and transparent government could look like and it's been a learning experience ever since.
Shortly after the launch of openNASA.com, a number of our community members were invited by the NASA administrator to talk to the Senior Management Council. Our presentation has really resulted in a number of efforts around the agency [Ed: Many similar websites launched after the SMC conversation].
You may also have heard the term "Participatory Exploration." This is something that many of the authors of openNASA feel strongly about. We recognize that we are really fortunate to have the opportunity to work at a place like NASA and we wanted to share that perspective. Maybe more importantly, we wanted to provide an opportunity for all those who do not work for NASA or one of its contractors directly, a chance to participate in the NASA mission. I recently gave a presentation on the subject.
Universe: Tell me more about the authors of openNASA.
Skytland: There are many voices of NASA. NASA leadership, noted scientists, public affairs writers, nobel laureates, Congressional Representatives, Union leaders, your neighbor. To the average person, including our friends and relatives, the image and message gets cloudy and distorted.
This is a collaborative blog written by NASA employees across the agency, and occasional invited guests. We come from a perspective within NASA of transparency, accessibility, risk, honesty, merit, and participation. We have insight into what is and could be happening inside the U.S. space program -- but so do you, and it is something to be shared and discussed. Let's create a space program which stimulates non-governmental activity, excitement and inspiration, and which guides humanity onto a sustainable path into the future. This is the voice of promise and opportunity. This is our voice.
Universe: What has the reaction been among more traditionally-minded people within the agency?
Skytland: When we launched openNASA, we thought we might have some major resistance from within the agency. Turns out, it was just the opposite - we had a lot of support! Although NASA often gets a bad rap outside its walls, in the press, and on blogs, what we experienced was strong support for sharing our voice, our perspective and most importantly the story about the NASA mission. Yes, of course, there are many both inside and outside the community who don't necessarily share a certain perspective of one or more of the authors on openNASA, but in general, even the most "traditionally-minded" person at NASA really wants to talk about what they do. They are passionate about what they do. They'd LOVE to tell you what they are up to. Most are so busy that they just don't have the time to set up their own website or develop a presentation to do so. We developed OpenNASA to be an easy to use conduit for their insights. It's a place to give NASA a voice.
When it comes to actually blogging and putting down in words what we do at NASA, that's where I think we have the most trouble. openNASA is an experiment in communication. As Garret Fitzpatrick eloquently wrote in a post on openNASA, many are worried simply about their words coming back to haunt them. I think this is a fear that many "traditional" people have about blogging in general. We try to eliminate that barrier any way we can -- by helping encourage each other, by writing policies that protect our authors from attacks, and by simply being an example of what this might look like for others.
We have also had a lot of interest from people who work on NASA communications. These people are some of the most brilliant and creative people at NASA. They have an extremely difficult job, if you consider the constraints of government communications, and have been very interested in our ideas and thoughts on how to share the NASA story.
Universe: What are your hopes for the future of NASA ?
Skytland: We see NASA as a leader in true exploration, and subsequently, science and technology. We recognize that a big issue for the United States right now is that we have fallen behind in Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics (STEM) education, and other countries have excelled in both education and industry of STEM disciplines. NASA has the ability to lead our nation in continue to innovate, to inspire, and lead the world in exploration -- which is extremely important if our country hopes to remain competitive in today's environment. Our hope for the future of NASA is that we truly embrace a culture around "participatory exploration" in order to leverage technologies, knowledge and information from the public, private sector, nongovernmental organizations and international partners to accomplish our mission.
From the openNASA perspective, blogging is only the first step and we really hope to expand the government into more interactive ways to promote transparency via web technology.
*Images courtesy of NASA's rad new images archive!
Let's try a thought experiment.
This one comes via Buckminster Fuller: imagine you have a length of nylon rope, which you splice into a length of cotton rope, then into another length of hemp rope. If you tie an overhand knot in the rope, and push it down, through all three kinds of ropes, the knot remains a knot. The material is irrelevant, because the knot is just a pattern that has a specific set of guidelines for itself. Fuller wrote that "a pattern has an integrity independent of the medium by virtue of which you have received the information that it exists." That is to say, if you push the knot all the way to the end of the rope, until it falls off the end, there's no more knot, but the pattern integrity of "knot" remains the same.
People, Fuller argued, are the same way: our cells constantly regenerate, leaving us rarely made up of the same stuff from one moment to the next. Our pattern integrity -- our identity, if you will, or our personhood -- never changes, even if the material substrate does: "every human is a unique pattern integrity temporarily given shape by flesh." I suppose this could be construed as a kind of "soul" for those who swing that way, but it's more fun to extrapolate it to technologies that even Bucky couldn't anticipate.
Computer graphics, for example. A cursor, as it circulates the operating environment, has no clearly definable boundaries: it is not a self-contained object. Rather, like the knot in Buckminster Fuller's rope, it's a pattern moving through an conducting material -- pixels, in this case. Every pixel has the potential to become part of the current embodiment of "cursor," but no specific set of pixels can be delineated as being solely "cursor." All pixels are potential, and every graphic element on a computer screen -- from text to YouTube videos -- has a patten integrity all its own.
We are habitually fooled by our computer screens into believing that the things we see on them are discrete objects. However, it's a necessary illusion: if we thought of our cursors as simply a set of pixels temporarily embodying the form of "cursor," and our screens as a flood of potential units, we wouldn't be able to see the forest for the trees -- just like when you pressed your nose up against the TV screen as a kid and saw it all as lines of red, green, and blue.
Thinking about this has led me to wonder if there is a future beyond pixels. Pixels, surprisingly, have an interesting past (did you know we were one smart neologist away from forever calling them "Bildpunkt"?), and they were a somewhat logical entrée into the world of computer graphics: "Little pieces making up a big picture? What, like the real world? OK, we can wrap our heads around that."
Richard F. Lyon, Pixels and Me, Lecture at the Computer History Museum
As our standards for realism demand more and more pixels, smaller and smaller subtleties, will we ever break through completely? Of course, we have vector graphics, which store image information as a set of scalable mathematical relationships rather than a simple assemblage of resolution-dependent pixels. Vector graphics, in style and substance, come closer to the Bucky Fuller approximation of "pattern integrity:" they literally store images as a set of patterns completely independent of their display, and amenable to any display. The image remains the same -- the pattern integrity remains the same, if you will -- regardless of the size, position, or resolution of the display.
Traditional (Raster) graphics, with their DNA of fixed pixels, can be zoomed into and seen, understood, in the same way we can zoom into objects in the real world and understand that they are made of atoms. This seems logical to us, correct. But it's the pattern-respecting Vectors that are truer to the nature of the "real" world, for they seem to have caught onto something more ephemeral and hidden about reality.
Still, these are just pixels used differently. What if screens moved beyond the pixel entirely, presenting images in a kind of infinitely subtle gradient of tones? At this point, the pattern integrity of "knot" (or "cursor") would remain the same, but what will have happened to the rope?
In a grand new tradition of using Universe as lodging for really interesting "supplemental material," I present to you the history (and mystery) of g-speak, an incredible new spatial operating environment, as told to me by John Underkoffler, chief scientist at Oblong Industries. Underkoffler designed the fantasy computer systems in Minority Report, then made g-speak, an almost frighteningly futuristic interface that will throw the proverbial brick through the computer screen. Check out the video above to get a sense of it in its full, dizzying glory.
My full article about g-speak is over at GOOD Magazine.
"We've built g-speak from the ground up to be a completely general computing environment -- the idea is that anything you might want to do with a computer can be done as a dialog between you and g-speak. The really interesting thing is that what it looks like on screen, what it feels like to your hands and your mind, is radically different from the GUI [Graphical User Interface] that you're used to.""Every bit of the on-screen experience that we've all come to regard as basic or elemental over the last twenty-five years is predicated on one thing: the mouse. The whole semi-overlapping-windows scheme, and all the little gewgaws that come along with it (pulldown menus, little nubs you click on to close or bloat windows, sliders, scrollbars, etc.) were designed to accommodate the mouse. Once you replace the mouse with something vastly more capable -- i.e. unfettered human hands -- the stuff that's usually on screen is immediately inappropriate. One of the exciting breakthroughs for us has been to show that many of those artifacts are necessary because you can't see enough at one time: consider what a scrollbar does and why that's necessary. But if you can imbue the operating environment with a more fundamental way of navigating around, a way that's implicit in how you already interact with the world, then it's not like you replace the scrollbar with a gestural equivalent. You fundamentally don't need the scrollbar any longer."
"I'm afraid that I'm the Minority Report culprit. I'd been building human-machine interface stuff like this for years as part of my work at MIT (in the Media Laboratory), and when a kind of advance team (principally Alex McDowell, the brilliant production designer) showed up at the lab to "scout" technology ideas for the movie, the HMI [Human Machine Interface] work seemed to resonate. So I became the science advisor for the film and slightly adapted what I'd been building at MIT -- and that's what you see in the various scenes in which the characters are doing police forensics work on giant screens. The screens were blank for shooting (we didn't have time to actually build the system), but the actors really knew the gestural language, so when we shot the gestural scenes they weren't making anything up. In a way, they were genuinely operating a g-speak system. There's no question for me that that shows vividly when you watch the movie."
"Once the movie came out, we'd built g-speak twice: once in an academic lab, which has certain constraints and lacks others, and once in an extremely visible piece of popular media, which works a completely different way. Audiences really responded to those scenes -- you could tell, talking to people about it, that they felt like they'd seen something that either was real or should be. And since we're most of us engineers and couldn't stop building things if we wanted to, it was inevitable that we'd return to the lab and the workbench and build this stuff a third time. This time, though, it was clear it had to be in the context of a company making a commercial product. That's the only way to get the stuff out there into the world as broadly as we intend. We sincerely believe that the entire world will use their computers this way at some point down the line. Could be six years; could be ten; but it has to come. The interface we've been using for a quarter of a century just isn't keeping up, mainly because of the giant gap that's opened between what the computer (with its incredible processors, giant memory, profound graphics, and networked view of the world) can express and what the mouse and windows GUI allows us humans to express."
"For some information problems, there's no real alternative to g-speak. To comprehend and then be able (in real time) to act on such volumes of data takes more than visualization alone; eyes aren't enough. You have to enlist another giant chunk of the human brain, the part that deals with muscles and muscle memory and proprioception and all that. That chunk of brain knows as much about space as the human visual system does, and they're actually evolved to work together. That's why were all such experts at getting around and manipulating the real world. So it seems clear to us that computers should work the same way -- and that's what g-speak is. It engages both parts of your brain to let you get at digital information the same way you get at the real world. That means reaching into data; stretching it; pointing at it and poking it; spinning it around."
Science, as a discipline, is driven by the desire to understand everything. The immensity of such a project necessitates that science be undertaken not by one group of men and women in one time, but all men and women for all time. However, the final goal always eludes us: to understand this, we must first understand this, but to understand that, we must understand this, ad infinitum. In fact, the very notion of there being a final point in science has become so abstract as to be almost irrelevant; the more we know, the more we know that we do not know, and the end of the game is nowhere to be seen. And, perhaps, there is no end to the game.
Still, we seek out answers to questions. What is the Universe made of, and how did it come to exist? What is the difference between life and death? Where and how did life emerge? The bottom line: how can something come from nothing?
I think, ultimately, that "something from nothing" is the driving force behind most, if not all, human pursuits: art, reproduction, creation mythology, even the American Dream. It's also the question behind the famous Miller-Urey experiments at the University of Chicago in 1953.
The Miller-Urey experiment is Frankenstein to the max: Stanley Miller and Harold Urey filled glass vials with materials present in primordial soup days -- water, methane, ammonia, hydrogen, and carbon monoxide -- and then they shot sparks at the whole set-up continuously for a week. By the end of the week, the vials were full of a brown sludge rich in amino acids, which are, of course, the building blocks of life. Check out the video above (an excerpt from the phenomenal Cosmos series) to see the experiment in action. It has become something of a classic, albeit dated, experiment simulating one possibility of the origins of life on Earth -- the possibility that life, as Charles Darwin wrote, originated from a "warm little pond."
A recent re-evaluation of the work after Stanley Miller's death has found handfuls of new amino acids in the now-dried, vialed, boxed-up remnants of the experiments; 22 amino acids, 10 of which had never before been identified. The experiment, which had lost relevance after the discovery of amino acids in meteorites suggested, exotically, that life might have come from elsewhere, has suddenly become relevant again.
There's something wonderfully alchemical about it; from nothing, something. From metal, gold. From slime, life. And still, after over 50 years, new ingredients for the potion.
For over six months, Veronica McGregor has been Twittering from Mars.
Of course, she's not living among the wind storms and dirt of the red planet herself, but she is the voice of MarsPhoenix, the strangely compelling, first-person, lonely robot Twitter feed that somehow became the official mouthpiece of NASA's Phoenix mission and has catalyzed an entirely new kind of public involvement in science.
MarsPhoenix is followed by over 37,000 people online, and provides daily updates on Martian weather conditions, scientific discoveries, as well as pithy observations about our role in the Universe. It's a rare feat of conviviality for an agency more known for its bureaucracy than its cunning P.R. moves, but such is the power of new media. Today, as the Mars Phoenix mission winds down, NASA's experiment in social networking is not going unrecognized: with recent accolades from Wired and Gizmodo, and a handful of "Twitty" awards under its, err, metal belt, MarsPhoenix is setting the standard for how government agencies like NASA can engage the public.
In conjunction with my most recent article for GOOD Magazine on the subject, I spoke to Veronica McGregor, the "real" MarsPhoenix, about the Internet, WALL-E, and the cinema of micro-blogging.
Universe: How long have you been writing Twitters for JPL missions, and how did they come about?
McGregor: We started the Twitter account in early May, about three weeks before we [the Mars Phoenix mission] landed. My office [the JPL News Office] was trying to do more and more with new media. We've been on iTunes for a while, and we have a channel on YouTube, and we're always trying to push out our material to all these venues. We started doing mission blogs on our own website, and they took up a lot of time -- for those writing it, and then there were the editors, and the web posters. It took three or four people to post one entry on a blog. Not very efficient. But it was very well received, and we got a lot of comments back on our blog.
So, when we got ready for the Phoenix landing, we started thinking about what venues we should use, and someone mentioned Twitter. That was one of my newer employees on staff, actually. She had started her own account, and she wasn't quite sure how to use it, but she mentioned it, and we looked into it. The thing that appealed to us the most about Twitter was that people could actually receive the updates on their mobile devices, and our landing on Mars was going to take place over the three-day holiday weekend, over Memorial Day. I knew from being a former journalist that during a three-day weekend, readership and viewership of news just plummets. People are on vacation, they're not paying attention. So one of the appeals of Twitter was the fact that we could actually post updates for the landing and people could get those anywhere they were, even if they were at a picnic.
Barack Obama's achievement of the American presidency is significant for an endless litany of reasons, but here's a few more.
The lives that will be saved due to his support of stem cell research. All those ideological, anti-science Bush cronies that are going to be booted off scientific advisory boards. The as-yet-unknown discoveries that will come from his promised investments in basic science research. The school kids that are going to get a huge boost in STEM education. No more wildly upsetting dismissals of science in policy speeches. No more censorship of climate change research. A new, demure space policy that encourages international cooperation. The restoration of the Presidential Science Advisor. The appointment of a Chief Technology Officer. Someone in the White House who knows what net neutrality means. The end of the war on science.
Learn more about President-Elect Barack Obama's plan for science here.
And welcome to the future.
Maybe it's the upcoming election and the potential change that it portends. Or perhaps it's the Large Hadron Collider, bogged down with electric failures, that has ceded the science-news space to other subjects. In any case, the last week has seen a slew of exciting, weird, and prescient science news too exciting to ignore, and too varied to all discuss in depth.
For one, the impersonal blackness of space welcomed a new nation as the Chinese launched their much-anticipated Shenzhou VII spacecraft, manned with three "taikonauts" trained for the country's first spacewalk. Technologically speaking, it's not a huge deal -- Russia and the United States conducted their first spacewalks in 1965 -- but for a country that has never dabbled in space exploration before, it's kind of like going from zero to hero. It's a beautifully symbolic, albeit dated, gesture; during the Cold War, space exploration was a status venture, and planting a flag on the moon (which the Chinese plan to do) an iteration of national strength. It's apt that a post-Olympics China is now rediscovering these cachet-earning gestures. I genuinely hope that the Chinese discover the same side effects of national space exploration as we did back in the sixties: awe, fear, hope, and the humility of seeing our tiny pea of a planet from space. We need a good dose of that these days.
On Earth, however, Japan is cobbling together an entirely more ambitious plan, and perhaps one which will eventually eclipse rockets and flag-planting altogether: they are seriously considering building the world's first space elevator. I've written about space elevators before (hey, Brian!), but it seemed like such a theoretical, dreamy concept then ("the space elevator is concrete, as though humankind were reaching its own tentative arm into the great beyond"); now the Japanese are looking at the idea with characteristic pragmatism, talking carbon nanotubes and shuttle payloads, throwing around ideas like "bullet train to space." This is something to watch, scouts.
Meanwhile, NASA is just bungling everything, as usual.
In other exciting news, longtime readers of this website will know that Universe has had several manifestations, both in print and online, as a mutable science column. I'm especially proud to announce that a new such version has arisen (this may explain the recent silence at this URL) over at GOOD magazine's website, where I've been doing a syndicated mini-Universe for the better part of a month, on subjects like commercial space travel, aquanauts, and the Large Hadron Collider. I'm really excited about this collaboration, and I encourage everyone to visit their well-designed website and travel through all the consistently awesome content (and toss a few "GOODmarks" my way).
