7.
Proposals
Will’s stomach growled again. It was March 2d and the first sol of the Bahá'í fast. He had been up before dawn to eat a big breakfast with Ethel, Enrique, and Ananda and it was beginning to wear off. But a videomail from the United States Secretary of the Interior, Barbara Lindsley, was anticipated, and if the rumors were right, it would be intriguing. He activated it.
“Good day, Commander Elliott. Or perhaps I should say ‘Good Sol’; I gather that’s the Martian equivalent. I apologize if I come off as ignorant of your customs up there. Perhaps you’ve already heard rumors about the proposed project I’m calling you about, the so-called ‘Bio-Archive’ project. This is a proposal to ship ten biomes to Mars over the next ten years—two every other year, for some reason, though I suppose we could send one per year if that were better—each containing at least five hundred different species of macroscopic organisms adapted to a particular climate. The ten biomes would represent the full range of biomes found in the United States, from Alaska’s North Slope to the rainforests of Kauai. Each would be accompanied by a team of at least two trained ecologists. The cost is estimated to be a max of $1.5 billion over the entire decade and a steady $150 million in annual maintenance after that.
“The proposal was made originally by Senator Forest, one of your biggest supporters in Congress, and he thinks we can raise some of the money from agricultural research companies. I understand the concept is controversial; a few critics have suggested it would be cheaper to set up a Kauai rainforest inside a bubble in Antarctica. I’m told it really wouldn’t be cheaper there, though. We forwarded the proposal to Commissioner Morgan this sol and he requested that I copy you directly as well, and that you forward it to your Ecology Department. We in the Department of the Interior are excited by the prospect of archiving an entire American biome or environment on Mars, not only for your benefit, but to ensure the environment’s survival and to promote research on it. We hope this project proves to be possible at your end. Please let me know you’ve received this message—preferably by noon—since I am really not sure how to send a videomail to Mars. Bye.”
Will smiled as he watched Barbara Lindsley’s face fade. She was the wife of the Vice President and had a Ph.D. in the chemistry of water pollution. She was known to be daffy, eccentric at times, brilliant in some areas and utterly ignorant in others. He could see that her reputation matched his experience. He glanced at his computer’s chronometer, then when the message was sent: 11:50 a.m. Washington time. She had expected an acknowledgement in ten minutes, which would have required communication at four times the speed of light. Since he just arrived in his office, it was already mid afternoon in Washington. He hit reply.
“Dr. Lindsley, I’ve just arrived in my office here in Aurorae Vallis—it’s almost 9 in the morning here—and immediately listened to your message. We’ll review the proposal immediately and provide comments on it. We are delighted that so much interest is being shown in our facilities and their expansion and welcome ideas such as this one. I look forward to further communications with you. For your information, this sol Aurorae’s clocks are 5 hours and 25 minutes behind yours; in other words, our clocks roughly agree with Hawaii’s. Tomorrow, our clocks will be about 6 hours and 5 minutes behind yours. Because of the slowness of the speed of light, communications take about twenty minutes to reach Mars from Earth right now, and a reply takes twenty minutes to return to Earth. I’m afraid those are limitations on our communication that we cannot overcome. Bye.”
He sent the message, then forwarded it to Lisa Kok for her comments. Then he opened the email with the written proposal and read it. It wasn’t quite as weird as he thought. Each biome would be set up as a park, but human foot traffic would be allowed in small parts of it and buildings could be built inside it as long as ramps connected the roofs to the lower level to allow the movement of animals up what, to them, would be hills. Up to twenty percent of the interior could be devoted to agriculture and other human uses appropriate to the biome. The proposed ecology was not all “mosses and bugs,” as someone had complained; caribou, elk, fox, antelope, key deer, wild turkeys, quail, prairie chickens, mallard ducks, Canadian geese, humming birds, and various other larger species were proposed, even though it was hard to imagine how the larger species would be transported to Mars or would survive in the small space. Guaranteeing the species’s survival in spaces that required high population densities was a research priority, as it had implications for preserving endangered species in small national parks. Even burrowers like prairie dogs and mice were under consideration, in spite of the possibility that their sharp teeth could cut a hole in the biome’s air-tight enclosure. The ecological research that could result was a major consideration; eleven years of ecological research on Mars had bountifully yielded insights into the nature of complex ecological interactions. Numerous sensors and cameras would allow terrestrial researchers to supplement the two Mars personnel assigned to each biome. A permanent increase in the construction crew by three would allow the biomes to be set up and maintained, though it was not enough to allow any interior construction.
Will skimmed the proposal and thought about its implications. Then Lisa Kok called. “Will, this is a bit better than I thought,” she said. “Obviously, it’s something we want to support. They’re proposing biomes even bigger than the Bio-50 slated for Columbus 7; probably at least 75 meters across, which would enclose almost half a hectare. It would give us lots of interior space and a wide variety of climates and ecologies to experience. It would bring us considerable ecological expertise that could be used in many other ways. It would result in mass produced biomes that would reduce our costs.”
Will frowned. “We don’t have the capacity to haul domes of that size and mass here, yet. And Lisa, do you really think the science in this plan is rigorous and useful enough?”
“That’s a good question. We do a lot of highly respected, peer-reviewed ecological research up here while figuring out how to raise watermelons on less space and increasing the yield without decreasing the quality of the fruit. I suspect our reputation is one reason the Bio-archive project has a chance. You could set up enclosures on Earth more cheaply, but maintaining the long-term financial commitment to them may be problematic; consider the difficulties faced by Biosphere 2 in Arizona. Everyone knows we’ll maintain them; we have a stake in doing so, the biodiversity enhances our quality of life while improving our chances of survival. You could say the same about the moon, except for several problems; they can and do import a lot of their food from Earth; micrometeorites that the Martian atmosphere stops are a serious problem for enclosures on the moon, and micrometeoroid protection adds a lot of expense; and the month-long rotation causes lots of ecological problems or requires a lot of artificial light. We have none of those difficulties. Finally, everyone has to be looking outward at Jupiter and Saturn and wondering how human settlements there will be provisioned, and our biomes are the obvious precursor. So ecological research on Mars should have a bright future.”
“Even without the issue of terraforming,” agreed Will. “You’re right about the long term. I still think it’ll be hard to justify this kind of expense in the next decade, though.”
“Well, let’s support the idea and see,” she replied. “With transportation costs coming down and the basic technological infrastructure developed, this is the sort of project we can hope for.”
“That’s true. I’ll see what I can do. Thanks, Lisa. Bye.”
“Bye.” Will closed the circuit. Over forty minutes had passed and Lindsley had replied during his conversation with Lisa. He hit the play icon.
“Thank you for your acknowledgement, Commander. I had no idea Mars was so far away; I thought light was pretty fast to reach planets near the sun. I guess you aren’t as close to the sun as I thought. I’d very much appreciate the considered opinion of your ecologists, especially on matters like ground water remediation inside the biome; the high animal densities will general a lot of fecal material. These will be very complex, sophisticated ecologies. They will give us insights how to support the mammalian diversity of, say, the early nineteenth-century Great Plains, on the five percent of the land still available as national park and grassland. If we can convince the environmental lobby to allow an experiment in a few parks here, intense ecological management could become an important alternative philosophy. The research has profound implications, especially as genetic engineering is expanded in more and more species. I just bought a GEN-401 Cornucopia tree the other sol for my back yard; have you seen them? One branch yields peaches and pecans, while another has apples, the third gives pears and the fourth nectarines. The four major branches grafted onto the trunk all have slightly different leaf colors and the flowers are all different, so the tree is extraordinary to look at! Yet genetically, the tree is an apple, more or less. I’d like to see a cornucopia biome up there eventually, with species using photosynthesis five times more efficiently than wild plants to produce ten or twenty times as much usable biomass. An extraordinary possibility. Bye.”
Will stared at the screen, then chuckled. He hit forward to send the message to Kok. “Lisa, this is F.Y.I. in case you want to know where the opposition to the Bio-Archive will come from! Lindsley is not as green as she sounds, at least not to ecological purists, especially if they find out what’s growing in her back yard. So be careful. Bye.”
-----------------------
The next sol the Pavonis blasted off from Cassini and flew ballistically to Aurorae, landing on a tail of flame a half hour later. It brought Alexandra Lescov and part of her construction and engineering team back home, as well as some geologists exploring the northern hemisphere and a few company people taking some vacation time. The dinner on the patio that night was big, as it usually was when a shuttle or an exploration team returned safely. As the meal was winding down, Alexandra stopped by Will’s table and offered her hand to him. “So, did I do good, or what?”
“You did great, Alexandra; it deserves more than a handshake.” Will rose from his chair and gave her a hug. “Cassini building one is completely finished, Cassini Biome is filled with soil and plants are growing, the microwave power link is up and working, and some of the worst design flaws in the mining machinery are patched.”
“Of course, it took all of nine weeks, and I had hoped to be back in four or five. But once I was there, we all had a pretty interesting time.”
“You seemed to be enjoying the challenges, according to Emily at least.”
“Oh, we were. The biome work was routine; we had just finished Catalina, so that work was easy. The mining equipment was the most difficult problem, but we have a lot of experience with breakdowns in excavation equipment, and that was the key problem for both companies. The new, heavier parts should reduce the maintenance quite a bit, though an entire redesign and new parts manufactured on Earth to the revised specifications would be best. And the power transmission system was plain fun! We knew it would work and the locations of the transmitting and receiving towers had already been finalized. It was a matter of setting everything up and calibrating.”
“You’re using pretty high power densities too, aren’t you?” asked Ethel, who was listening.
Alexandra nodded. “Three kilowatts per square meter; almost three times the power density of sunlight on Earth. A 500 kilowatt transmission array needs to be a bit over twelve meters across. No one would dare use power densities that high on Earth because of the danger to living things, but we have plenty of land to declare off limits here.”
“And the efficiency is about seventy percent?”
“Yes, that’s how much power comes out at the other end, with one relay in between. We set up a relay tower on top of one of the highest peaks on Cassini’s eastern rim, where the horizon is about 100 kilometers away. Just about all the major gold fields are within range.”
“Now we have to set up a relay on Phobos,” exclaimed Rosa Stroger, who was sitting at the next table over, breast feeding her two-month old daughter and listening to the conversation. “The pointing technology has to be a lot more precise and is more expensive, but it’s cheaper than wiring the planet.”
“Right on,” agreed Alexandra. “Say, how did that repair to the reactor go?”
Rosa nodded. “Pretty well.” Just two sols earlier she had taken one of their six reactors apart using remote manipulator arms and welded a patch in place over some cracks in the vessel.
“Do you think we can build our own natural uranium reactor, Rosa?” asked Alexandra. “Because we are now entering an era of potential energy shortage. Six reactors were enough to power everything during a dust storm in Columbus 5, but they weren’t enough this time and will be even less adequate when Columbus 7 arrives with another 40 people. We were lucky Cassini was spared by the storms; if it had been souped in as well, the folks there would have been huddling in their Mobilhabs with the lights turned down low, conserving power and doing no gold recovery.”
“We need to build a lot more methane storage tanks,” replied Will. “We can store the power to ride out a major storm.”
“We can, Will, but we need more nukes,” replied Alexandra. “This trip has made me realize it more than ever. And as Ruhullah can tell you, some pretty good uranium deposits were discovered north of Cassini.”
“How could we possibly build a reactor?” asked Will, skeptically.
Alexandra looked at Rosa, who was in charge of their reactors. “Well, we’ve been accumulating heavy water for export, and we now have about a tonne. And we can make graphite moderators from the accumulating plant matter in the biomes.”
“I’d go with the heavy water, like the CANDU design,” said Rosa. “It’s tried and proven. We’ll need a lot more deuterium, though. It’d be best if we imported the vessel, steam generator, and turbine from Earth; the efficiency and safety would be better.”
“Flying them here would be controversial,” noted Ethel.
“Yes, but much less so than flying a fully fueled nuke,” replied Rosa. “The equipment is not dangerous to Earth because it would not include anything radioactive.”
“You know, this would have been a crazy idea two years ago,” said Will. “First, we wouldn’t have needed such a reactor; second, there was no money to build it. But now we’re bigger, and the gold potentially changes everything. We might be able to persuade the Mars Commission to support the project. How big would this nuke be?”
“Ten to fifty megawatts,” replied Rosa.
“Now, what about the argument that we can import a solar cell manufacturing facility for a similar mass and probably for less cost?” asked Will.
Alexandra hesitated. “My concern would still be dust storms, and I don’t know whether we could get a facility that can make solar panels fast enough for that mass.”
“Not to mention the personnel we’d have to devote to the manufacturing process,” added Rosa.
Will considered a moment. “Okay, put together a proposal that I can take to the Commission.”
“I’ll work with Rosa,” said Alexandra. “The other implication of this idea is that we could build a breeder reactor using heavy water and convert uranium 238 into plutonium 239. A plutonium-uranium mix could be manufactured into fuel rods for reactors on the moon, nuclear engines, etc. The current American administration is opposed to lifting radioactives to Earth orbit. Maybe we could become the chief supplier instead.”
Yevgeny Lescov, their Director of Exports, smiled. “That’s a big potential income.”
“But oooh, controversial,” replied Will. “Because it would raise the specter of people orbiting the Earth with the capacity to manufacture nuclear weapons. I don’t think the international community is ready to deal with that issue.”
“You’re probably right,” said Alexandra. “But it’d be pretty easy to monitor us; the fuel reprocessing facility could be filled with cameras.”
“Yes, but the fear would be that if we turned off the cameras, we could build a bomb before anyone could stop us, because of the distance,” replied Will. “It would be a big act of trust to permit fuel reprocessing here. It isn’t impossible, but I can’t see it happening any time soon.”
Alexandra nodded. “I suppose we should focus on our own technological milestones, like beamed power.” She looked at the setting sun, which was crossing the entire length of the yard to them. “It’s nice to see the sun here again. I assume, after a short vacation, my people can resume work on Riviera?”
Will nodded. “A lot of the materials are ready, too. We did a lot of fabrication while you were away. The textile weaving machines were set up, too.”
“Oh, good. By the way, how’s the prisoner holding up?” asked Alexandra.
“You can ask Greg; he talks to Chester every morning. You can also ask Chester himself, if you want. He’s permitted to come to the patio every morning between 9:30 and 10 a.m. and can visit the store at the time. It’s the only trip outside his flat that’s allowed except a trip to Martha’s office if she can’t get to his flat. Apparently his morale is improving and Greg says he’s beginning to accept why he is being punished. Silvio’s beginning to ask whether ten years of this sort of arrangement isn’t sufficient punishment, if his behavior improves as a result of counseling.”
“Mars might not need prisons after all,” noted Alexandra.
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It was the next afternoon when Will tried on the first pair of pants manufactured on Mars. He walked across the textile manufacturing area in them, then stopped to admire the pants in the mirror; then walked back across the room. “They feel a little stiff,” he commented. “Or even thick, like wearing cardboard.”
“Oh, don’t say that!” exclaimed Susan Jung, their fabrics specialist, who had supervised the manufacture of the pants. She scribbled some notes on her attaché. “I think the thread is a bit too thick. Next time, we can weave it with a thinner thread. The cloth does have a bulky feel to it.”
“Yes; maybe that’s better phrased. How much cotton’s in it?”
“Forty percent, and sixty percent polyester. We’d use more cotton, but we don’t have enough right now.”
“Wash and wear?”
“Yes, it’s treated to hold a crease, but as you can see, I may not have done the process correctly.”
“They do seem a little wrinkled.” Will looked again. “It’s exciting to wear clothes we made here.”
“And we’ll save a lot of imports,” added Susan. “We’ll have about 150 people here by the end of Columbus 7; more if we have more children. If each one imports 10 kilograms of clothes per columbiad, that’s a tonne and a half.”
“And how many did you make?”
“Oh, just these! We made enough cloth for one pair of jeans, and cut them according to your specifications. You should see the automated, computer-controlled equipment at work.” She pointed to a unit about the size of two refrigerators side by side, nearby. “That thing can take loose cotton and/or raw polyester fiber, spin them together to make a very strong thread, spool the thread, then feed it into a power loom for weaving. It can make everything from sheets and handkerchiefs to rugs and canvas.” She pointed to a device about the size of a piano. “And the tailoring flatbed can take a length of cloth, spread it out, pin it in place, fold it and pin the fold, cut either the top or bottom piece or both, remove the scrap pieces, sew seams automatically, and a lot more! It can embroider fancy patterns in a matter of hours. And it has several thousand different designs.”
“So we can make everything from blue jeans to wedding gowns?”
“Oh, yes! It’s quite versatile. Of course, we don’t have the right fabric for wedding gowns!”
“Not yet.” He looked at his pants again. “They feel a bit tight.”
“Commander, the computer doesn’t lie! You must have put on some weight since the measurements were taken.”
“Come to think of it, I have. The increase in the availability of sugar here lately has caused all of us to eat more sweets, and I’ve gained a kilo or two.”
“There, you see! Why don’t you wear them a while; maybe to dinner, and show them off.”
He smiled. “You’re trying to drum up business with Diponte! But sure, I can do that. Why don’t you make another pair with thinner thread; let’s see what that feels like. I’d make a dozen sets of pants for different people and give them a chance to try them on and test them for a while. We need to see how the seams hold up—”
“Oh, they’ll hold up fine, they’re double sewn!”
“Good. But we still need to test for shrinkage and other possible factors. Let’s make sure the design is right before ordering new uniforms for everyone. That’d be a big order and would take a lot of work to fulfill, so let’s not take the chance that it’ll be wasted because of some error. Meanwhile, you can make towels, sheets, window curtains, etc., for a month or two. Have you planned what you can make for sale at the store?”
“We may not sell clothes on the rack through the store. It makes more sense, with our small population, to let people order what they want and make it for them. The patterns we have are standard ones from reputable manufacturers, and the manufacturers will get a royalty plus they will be able to advertise that their clothes are made on Mars. So they will post a catalog to the Aurorae website containing the designs we can make. People can select the color, weave, etc., and we’ll make in a week or two, depending on demand.”
“What will be the price?”
“About five times the price on Earth, but that’d still be about half the import price.”
Will nodded. “Good, that sort of ratio should work if the quality is adequate.”
“That’s what Silvio said, too. He thinks we’ll capture a major part of the gift market up here. People want to give each other birthday presents, but unless they plan far ahead, the pickings are slim.”
“He’s right.” Will glanced at his watch. “Well, I have to pick up the kids, then walk to supper. Let me know when you have more to show me.”
“Okay. Next time, let’s show Ethel, too.”
Will nodded and headed toward the rampwell. He hurried down to the ground level and through the tunnel to Yalta. He crossed the patio, already filling with people eating supper, looking for his kids. Marshall, now seven, was throwing a baseball to his friend Sam Anderson in the clover patch in the middle of the yard.
“Why are you carrying pants?’ asked Marshall, when he saw his dad approaching. Then he made a face. “What are you wearing?”
“Pants!” replied Will, a bit defensively. “What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re ugly!”
“No they aren’t. They’re just a style you’re not used to.”
“You see them in the movies and on t.v.,” said Sammie.
“Correct,” said Will. “They’re called blue jeans.”
“But they aren’t blue!”
“These are a dark blue, but in this reddish light they look more black. Never mind. How was school?”
“Ms. Hijazi took us on a field trip to Catalina Biome to catch butterflies!” exclaimed Marshall. “And we actually caught one! A swallowtail!”
“What kind of swallowtail?”
“Oh, I don’t remember. And she told us that pretty soon there would be a lot more biomes, each representative of a different climate in the United States; maybe ten of them!”
“She’s right.”
“But then she laughed at you,” added Sammie.
Marshall looked hurt that his friend brought it up. “She explained to us that the purpose of the biomes was to bring all the plants and animals of a certain place here, so the entire group of living things could continue to live in harmony with each other. She explained that Mars would be kind of like Noah’s ark. But then I asked whether they were bringing elephants and giraffes and lions here, and she laughed.”
Will laughed. “She laughed, Marshall, because you were so smart! You see, the plan is supposed to be what you said; a complete sample of all plants and animals. But no one is willing to haul the really big animals here.”
“Why not?”
“It would be very difficult. It would be hard to handle an elephant during a launch, in weightlessness, and in landing. How would you feed it for six months? What if it pooped in zero-g? And when it’s here, pretty soon it would eat more food than the biome could make for it; what then?”
Marshall frowned. “But then, what sort of plan is this, to make a Noah’s ark here?”
Will laughed. “A silly plan, that’s what. Sometimes adults are silly. But it might happen anyway. Come on, let’s get some supper.”
Will led the boys over to Lizzie, who was so busy playing with Corazon she didn’t want to eat supper, especially since she knew it meant she’d have to go to bed afterward. They all went through the food line; Will focused on supervising the children because the sun wouldn’t set for another two hours, and during the Bahá'í Fast he couldn’t eat until the sun was gone. By the time they were finished Madhu and Érico had showed up, so Sammie and Corazon went to eat with their parents. As Will, Marshall, and Lizzie sat, Ethel arrived at the patio. She soon joined them at the table as well with a full plate; even though it was the Fast she was eating, thanks to the exemption for menstruation. The family always ate supper together at the same table; at lunch, however, the kids could eat with their friends and teachers if they preferred. It was a uniform rule among all families, with few exceptions.
They talked about their adventures of the sol. Will’s was his new pants, which Ethel liked. Marshall told everyone about the butterflies. Lizzie had had dancing lessons that she had enjoyed. Ethel had finished programming a lathe to cut a complex metal shape needed to strengthen one of the mining machines and she had tested it on a sheet of plastic. She looked forward to making the part the next sol.
As the kids were finishing, Ruhullah Islami walked over, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Good evening,” he said to Will and Ethel nodding. “And happy Fast to you.”
“Thank you, Ruhullah,” replied Will. He was pleased that the Muslim had acknowledged the Bahá'í Fast; Ruhullah had been extremely uncomfortable with Will and Ethel when he had arrived, because there was a long history of Islamic persecution of Bahá'í in Iran. “It’s a beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Thank God the dust storm season is now over; the weather is now pleasant in here.”
“I really hope we can get more nukes; it would prevent the disruptions in our schedule.”
“We’ll see; the matter is under consideration in Houston. We sent the preliminary proposal to them a few hours ago. There are other solutions to our energy crisis that work as well or even better. We’re already building more methane and oxygen storage tanks so that we can store energy for the storm season. We can make wind turbines pretty easily, and they’re effective most of the time the solar power units aren’t; we got a lot of power from them here. And the Commission could manufacture and send to us a plant to make solar panels for less money than a nuclear reactor and a similar mass.”
“How many people will it tie up, though?”
“Several, but it’s a safer renewable energy supply than a nuke.”
“But it’s less exciting.”
“And less controversial.”
“That’s true.” Ruhullah smiled. “As you know, we found some pretty big uranium deposits down in Deuteronilus. In a few decades we might be supplying a major portion of Earth’s uranium. I’d love to lead an expedition down to excavate yellow cake and truck it back here. Keep that in mind.”
“Sure, I will. I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t send down an expedition before Columbus 7 arrives. But it may be after Columbus 6 leaves.”
“That’s alright, Commander, because I’ve been thinking about my commitment to stay two columbiads. I’m doing very rewarding work and having a good time doing it, and I’m helping build a new kind of community. So, perhaps, I’ll settle here.”
Will smiled a very big grim. “Excellent! That’s what I like to hear. You’ve made my sol!”
Ruhullah was embarrassed. “Thank you. I hope I can do more here, also. Maybe we could talk some time about other tasks I could try. I’d like to develop some new talents.”
“I’m glad to hear it; we need everyone to be able to do at least two jobs well, preferably three or four! What would you like to try?”
“I don’t know. If you had any need for administrative help, I’d try my hand there.”
Will shook his head. “I wish administration didn’t take so much time already. It’s all my time, half of Daniel’s, and a quarter to a half of all the heads of staff. We’re hiring a few more high-powered administrative assistants on Earth to simplify the work we have to do.”
“With all the coordination problems that result.”
“Exactly; the time delay requires novel communications strategies. If there’s an opening, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Ruhullah smiled and walked away. Will thought about Ruhullah’s request for a while; it was intriguing.
Will and Ethel walked home with a plate of food Will would eat in another hour when the sun set, while Marshall and Lizzie played for another hour in the yard. It gave the parents an hour of relative peace and quiet. After sunset and the descent of darkness on the yard, the kids came in and the Will ate supper, then the kids went to bed. About 9 p.m. Will turned back to his attaché to see what communications had arrived. His sister had videomailed from her new house in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, where the family had settled. He sent her a quick message in return and copied his mom; he tried to be in touch with them twice a week, which allowed some level of family life to continue in spite of the distance. Then he spotted a message from Doug Morgan, which he immediately played.
“Will, thanks for the proposal for a reactor fueled with indigenous uranium. Your people did very thorough research in very little time; the capacities you are developing up there are to be commended. The proposal, of course, will be controversial, not only because of the opposition to nuclear power down here, but because solar power will get much cheaper up there once you can make your own panels. I still think that’s the better way to go, especially with a pilot plant operating on the moon that could be copied, but I’m willing to entertain alternatives.
“Now, let me tell you about my conversation with Daffy Duck earlier this morning; er, I mean with the Secretary of the Interior, Dr. Barbara Lindsley. Sorry, I can’t resist; it’s not just that she’s a Democrat, but that she’s so goofy sounding. Please apologize for my partisanship, I know it offends you. Here I go, sounding like her! Anyway, she and Senator Forest plan to push the legislation forward for the next fiscal year. I argued that Bio-Archive is not only a biological backup for Earth, but a biological self sufficiency for Mars, and should be coupled with an effort to develop Mars’s self sufficiency in other areas as well, such as dome manufacture and power generation. Those two areas would greatly reduce the overall cost of Bio-Archive because the domes being proposed are really massive—very expensive to transport—and they require power. An 80-meter dome that encloses a half hectare of land, four times the area of your 40-meter domes currently in use, would mass eight times as much, or sixty tonnes. That’s far more than we can launch into low earth orbit, aerobrake into Mars orbit, or land on Mars. She seemed to appreciate the idea that sixty tonnes of equipment to manufacture tefzel, teflon, PCTFE, and kevlar, would be a better investment, and she was keen on the idea that the plastics manufacturing companies might want a grant to develop such an automated manufacturing facility, because they could use the technology to make their own plants more efficient as well. Finally, I argued that the only way to do a project like this was to put as much of the approved costs up front as possible, because there’s no guarantee Congress will be in as generous a mood ten years from now. Bio-archive could get funded for its first few years and then abolished otherwise. With the economy booming right now, this is the time to make a request for big bucks. She agreed, so I’m hiring a few consultants to develop the project and we’ll award some contracts. We’ll pursue Bio-Archive vigorously, and related projects like plastics and solar cell manufacturing. There’s still time to get something on Columbus 7; the Hohmann cargo launch is scheduled for a bit more than a year from now. The reactor project is for Columbus 8 or even Columbus 9, so we still have some time to develop it. Bye.”
© 2004 Robert H. Stockman