IWSG: Setting Elon Musk-Style Goals

Today’s post is part of the Insecure Writer’s Support Group, a blog hop where insecure writers like myself can share our worries and offer advice and encouragement. Click here to find out more about IWSG and to see a list of participating blogs.

This is going to be another of those IWSG posts where I talk about space exploration, but really I’m talking about writing. Just bare with me. I think you’ll see why this is relevant, especially right now in the beginning of November.

If you’re a space enthusiast like me, you’ve had your heart broken many times over the years about Mars. NASA has made big promises about a Mars mission, but everything keeps getting postponed, and it sometimes seems unlikely NASA will ever follow through. A few years ago, a private group called Mars One made some really big promises, but it sounds like they really, really won’t be able to follow through.

And then there’s Elon Musk and his company, SpaceX. Musk has made a lot of promises about SpaceX, the Red Dragon spacecraft, and a Mars colony populated by hundreds of thousands of people. All of this is supposed to start happening in the next decade, maybe sooner. Or so Musk keeps telling us.

Musk does this with all of his grand endeavors, like Tesla, Open AI, and Solar City. Big promises are made. Ambitious deadlines are set. And then those deadlines are missed, and those promises are broken. It would seem that Musk is nothing more than a pipedreamer. A very wealthy pipedreamer, but still… just a pipedreamer.

Except while Musk’s publically stated goals rarely if ever seem to come to fruition, his companies still make tremendous progress; so much so that they continue to be attract investors even as they appear to be failing spectacularly at everything they set out to do.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this until a year or two ago when I read a short article about Musk. It may have been this article, or possibly this one (unfortunately I didn’t save the original link).

Apparently Elon Musk believes that it’s better to set your goals a little too high and just barely miss than to set your goals low so you can achieve them easily. One way pushes you to try harder, and even if you don’t succeed at the goal you set for yourself you still make progress—more progress than you would have made otherwise, perhaps more progress than you honestly thought was possible. The other way—the low, easy goals way—gives you permission to become stagnant and allows you to call that success.

I’m not much of a businessman. I don’t know if this is a good way to run a company, though it does seem to be working for Musk. But as I chase my own ambitious writing goals this month, and as some of you pursue the ambitious goals set by NaNoWriMo, maybe it’s worth keeping the Elon Musk philosophy of goal setting in mind.

Molecular Monday: Making Rocket Fuel on Mars

Today’s post is part of a bi-weekly series here on Planet Pailly called Molecular Mondays, where we take a closer look at the atoms and molecules that make up our physical universe.

As most of you now know, I am on a totally-for-real, not-making-this-up mission to visit the planet Mars. Now if you’re planning a mission to Mars, one of the first things you need to figure out is how to get back to Earth. Unless you’re not planning to come back, which is apparently an option.

But if you do want to come home, you’ll probably need to refill the fuel tanks of your spaceship using only the natural resources Mars provides. Believe it or not, this is surprisingly easy to do using a process called the Sabatier reaction (discovered in the early 20th Century by French chemist Paul Sabatier).

In the Sabatier reaction, hydrogen and carbon dioxide mix together to produce methane, with water being produced as a byproduct. The chemical equation looks like this:

CO2 + 4H2 –> CH4 + 2H2O

Liquid methane makes a decent rocket fuel, but you still need an oxidizer. To get that, all you have to do is zap that byproduct water with electricity, creating oxygen and hydrogen.

2H2O –> 2H2 +O2

Liquid oxygen is pretty much the best oxidizer you can get, and the “waste” hydrogen can be put back to work keeping the Sabatier reaction going.

I first learned about the Sabatier reaction in Robert Zubrin’s book The Case for Mars, coming soon to my recommended reading series. The only problem, according to Zubrin, who was writing in 1996, is hydrogen. Mars’s atmosphere is almost completely CO2, but Mars is severely depleted of hydrogen. Zubrin’s solution in his book is to import hydrogen from Earth (still cheaper than trying to ship rocket fuel to Mars).

But since 1996, we’ve learned that Mars has more water than previously thought, most of it frozen just beneath the planet’s surface. So when I read about the Sabatier reaction again, this time in Elon Musk’s paper “Making Humans a Multi-Planet Species,” published in 2017, the hydrogen problem was no longer a problem. We can get it through the electrolysis of Martian water.

Of course for my own Mars mission, I don’t have to worry much about rocket fuel. My spaceship is fueled by pure imagination! But still, if something were to go wrong with my ship, it’s good to have a backup plan.

Sciency Words: Delta-v

Today’s post is part of a special series here on Planet Pailly called Sciency Words. Each week, we take a closer look at an interesting science or science-related term to help us expand our scientific vocabularies together. Today’s term is:

DELTA-V

Okay, it might be a bit foolhardy of me to try to tackle this term. This is actual rocket science, and I’m nowhere close to being an actual rocket scientist. But this is still far too important of a concept for me to ignore, so I’ll do my best.

The simplest definition of delta-v (often represented mathematically as ∆v) is that it equals your total change in velocity. So if you’re driving along at 25 miles per hour and then accelerate to 65 mph, your delta-v equals 40 mph. And if you decelerate from 65 to 25 mph, your delta-v once again equals 40 mph.

Things start getting interesting when you consider delta-v to be cumulative. So if you start off at 25 mph, accelerate to 65 and then drop back down to 25, your total delta-v equals 80 mph (40 mph + 40 mph).

In rocket ship design, the term delta-v is used as a sort of proxy for how much thrust your engines are capable of and how much fuel you’re carrying. You might also consider the kinds of gravity assists or aerobraking maneuvers you can use to augment your delta-v without expending additional fuel.

This is where the math starts to get complicated, but if you can calculate how much delta-v your spacecraft is capable of, then you’ll know where you can go in space. And if you know where you want to go in space, you can figure out how much delta-v it’ll take to get there and build your spaceship accordingly.

I first learned about delta-v from a video game called Kerbal Space Program. It’s a fun and sometimes frustrating spaceflight simulator that does a reasonably good job approximating how real life space exploration works. Unfortunately I was never very good at it. The scenario in the comic strip above… I made that mistake a lot.

But hopefully I’ve learned my lesson well. I’d hate to run short of fuel during my upcoming totally-for-real, I’m-not-making-this-up trip to Mars (stay tuned!).

Links

The Tyranny of the Rocket Equation from NASA.

Can Kerbal Space Program Really Teach Rocket Science? from Scott Manley (well known for his YouTube tutorials on K.S.P.)

How to Use Kerbal Space Program to Teach Rocket Science from Digital Media Academy.

Six Words You Never Say at NASA from xkcd.

I’m Going to Mars!

I’ve done stunts like this before here on Planet Pailly. My favorite example is that time I spent a few weeks on the surface of Titan, Saturn’s largest moon. I was totally there. For real. I walked around in Titan’s icky tholin mud and I figured out how to fly in that thick, soupy, tholin-rich atmosphere. I even befriended a methane-lake monster.

But that was only a short, two-week adventure. What I’m planning now will be much longer (and if I’m going to make this in any way believable, much more research intensive). Some of you may have guessed a while ago where I’m going based on this cleverly cryptic post. But now I can make the announcement officially:

I will be spending the next two months (maybe longer) living on the planet Mars.

To be honest, I’ve always felt a little embarrassed by the fact that I do not know much about Mars, or at least not as much as a space enthusiast/Sci-Fi writer like me should know. The problem is that there’s just so much more information out there about Mars compared to any other planet in the Solar System (besides Earth). And thanks to all the robotic exploration taking place right now on the Martian surface or in Mars orbit, new discoveries seem to come out every week or sometimes even every day.

That’s a lot of knowledge to sift through. It can get pretty intimidating. So my goal for this mission is to really immerse myself in everything Martian so that I can get to know the Red Planet better.

P.S.: There is one possible problem. Even though I’ll be living on Mars, I still have to work my day job back on Earth. That’s going to be quite a long commute!

Sciency Words: Aldrin Cycler

Today’s post is part of a special series here on Planet Pailly called Sciency Words. Each week, we take a closer look at an interesting science or science-related term to help us expand our scientific vocabularies together. Today’s term is:

ALDRIN CYCLER

The term cycler can refer to two different but related things in orbital mechanics: an orbital trajectory that continuously and perpetually cycles between two planets, or a spaceship that’s been set on such a continuously, perpetually cycling trajectory.

The mastermind behind this idea is none other than the famous Buzz Aldrin, astronaut extraordinaire. Turns out Dr. Aldrin is more than just a pretty face. In 1985, Aldrin proposed using cyclers to transport equipment and personnel to and from the planet Mars. After crunching the numbers, physicists at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory confirmed that Aldrin’s idea would work.

The cycler trajectory Aldrin proposed is now known at the Aldrin Cycler. Aldrin’s plan would actually use two spaceships, one for outbound journeys to Mars and another for inbound trips returning to Earth.

According to Aldrin’s book, Mission to Mars: My Vision for Space Exploration, the outbound cycler ship would take roughly six months to reach Mars from Earth; the inbound ship would take about the same amount of time to reach Earth from Mars. Both ships would then spend the next twenty months looping around the Sun to catch up with their home planets and start the cycle again.

Presumably the ships would only carry human passengers during the shorter six-month legs of their respective journeys. The rest of the time, they could just fly on autopilot or remote control.

If the Aldrin Cycler proposal or something similar were implemented, traveling to and from Mars would be sort of like catching a train, with boarding taking place regularly every twenty-six months. I’ve even found a video showing what these cyclers might look like.

Okay, that’s actually an anime that I liked when I was a kid. We don’t have to make cycler ships look like trains (though we totally should).

The major drawback with the cyclers is that the upfront cost of building them will be enormous; however, if we’re serious about establishing and maintaining a permanent human presence on Mars, these cyclers would easily pay for themselves in the long run. The laws of orbital mechanics keep them going, so they’d require little to no fuel.

And since a cycler could keep cycling for decades or centuries or even millennia (in theory, they could go on forever, or at least until the day the Sun explodes), we Earthlings would always have guaranteed access to Mars, and our Mars colonists would always have a guaranteed means of getting home if they needed it.

Molecular Monday: Boron Isn’t Boring

Welcome back to another edition of Molecular Mondays, a special biweekly series here on Planet Pailly combining two of my least favorite things: chemistry and Mondays.

At some point long, long ago, I read a book about the periodic table of the elements. Chapter five was about boron, and what I remember learning was that boron is kind of useless. Certain boron-containing compounds are used in cleaning detergents, and while boron is not particularly toxic to humans, it’s deadly to insects, so it makes a good insecticide.

And that was basically it. Nothing more to know. Time to move on to chapter six: carbon.

So when the news came out that the Curiosity rover had detected boron on the surface of Mars, my initial reaction was “who cares?” But then I read more, and I soon realized that I’d been grossly under-informed about the fifth element from the periodic table.

First off, finding boron on Mars posed a real challenge. The Curiosity rover used an instrument called ChemCam, which basically zaps rock samples with a laser and performs a spectroscopic analysis on the resulting rock vapor.

According to this paper published in Geophysical Research Letters, scientists were looking for two spectral lines, both in the ultraviolet part of the spectrum, which are characteristic of boron: 249.75 nm and 249.84 nm. Annoyingly, iron also produces a spectral line at 249.96 nm, so ChemCam can only confirm boron’s presence in samples that have low iron content, which are hard to come by on Mars. Iron oxide is basically everywhere.

But despite this difficulty, boron was detected. Why should I or anyone else care? Because it was detected in veins of sedimentary rock, meaning that at some point long ago when Mars still had lakes and rivers and oceans of liquid water, boron must have been mixed into that water (likely in the form of borate, a compound of boron and oxygen).

Again, why should anyone care? Because some of the fragile molecules necessary for life decompose in open water, but borate can help stabilize those molecules, allowing them to combine to form RNA. Boron itself is not incorporated into our modern DNA, but its presence here on Earth may have helped life get started—and if boron was present on Mars, mixed into ancient Martian waters, it could have helped life get started there too.

Could have. We still don’t know for sure, but as I’ve hinted previously I am planning a little trip to Mars aboard my imaginary spaceship. Stay tuned. I’ll be sure to let you know if I find anything.

What Am I Researching?

I have a fun special project in the works for this blog. I don’t want to say too much yet, but some of my research materials arrived last week and I’m getting pretty excited about it.

As you can see, I have some reading to do. Add to that a few other books which were already in my possession…

Also, I picked up something special at the grocery store.

So can you guess where I’m planning to take my imaginary spaceship next?

NASA’s Next Flagship Mission

Let’s imagine you’re NASA. You have two big flagship-class missions coming up: one to search for life on Mars (launcing in 2020) and another to search for life on Europa (launching in 2022). These flagship missions are big, expensive projects, so Congress only lets you do one or two per decade.

After 2022, the next flagship mission probably won’t launch until the late 2020’s or early 2030’s, but still… now is the time for you to start thinking about it. So after Mars and Europa, where do you want to go next? Here are a few ideas currently floating around:

  • Orbiting Enceladus: If you want to keep looking for life in the Solar System, Enceladus (a moon of Saturn) is a good pick. It’s got an ocean of liquid water beneath it surface, and thanks to the geysers in the southern hemisphere, Enceladus is rather conveniently spraying samples into space for your orbiter to collect.
  • Splash Down on Titan: If there’s life on Titan (another moon of Saturn), it’ll be very different from life we’re familiar with here on Earth. But the organic chemicals are there in abundance, and it would be interesting to splash down in one of Titan’s lakes of liquid methane. If we built a submersible probe, we could even go see if anything’s swimming around in the methane-y depths.
  • Another Mars Rover: Yes, we have multiple orbiters and rovers exploring Mars already, but some of that equipment is getting pretty old and will need to be replaced soon. If we’re serious about sending humans to Mars, it’s important to keep the current Mars program going so we know what we’re getting ourselves into.
  • Landing on Venus: Given the high temperature and pressure on Venus, this is a mission that won’t last long—a few days tops—but Venus is surprisingly similar to Earth in many ways. Comparing and contrasting the two planets taught us how important Earth’s ozone layer is and just what can happen if a global greenhouse effect get’s out of control. Who knows what else Venus might teach us about our home?
  • Orbiting Uranus: This was high on NASA’s list of priorities at the beginning of the 2010’s, and it’s expected to rank highly again in the 2020’s. We know next to nothing about Uranus or Neptune, the ice giants of our Solar System. Given how many ice giants we’ve discovered orbiting other stars, it would be nice if we could learn more about the ones in our backyard.
  • Orbiting Neptune: Uranus is significantly closer to Earth than Neptune, but there’s an upcoming planetary alignment in the 2030’s that could make Neptune a less expensive, more fuel-efficient choice. As an added bonus, we’d also get to visit Triton, a Pluto-like object that Neptune sort of kidnapped and made into a moon.

If it were up to me, I know which one of these missions I’d pick. But today we’re imagining that you are NASA. Realistically Congress will only agree to pay for one or two of these planetary science missions in the coming decade. So what would be your first and second choices?

The Insecure Mars Rover’s Support Group

Today’s post is part of the Insecure Writer’s Support Group, a blog hop where insecure writers like myself can share our worries and offer advice and encouragement. Click here to find out more about IWSG and to see a list of participating blogs.

* * *

Okay, today’s post is about writing. I promise. Just bear with me.

Late last month, the Opportunity rover straightened its wheels and resumed driving. You may be thinking, “Who cares? That doesn’t sound like a big deal.” But for regular Mars rover fans, this made headlines.

Mars rovers have their moments of glory: discovering new kinds of salt, observing evidence of liquid water, or detecting the faint whiffs of organic chemicals. One day a Mars rover may even uncover signs of past or present Martian life.

But between those moments of discovery comes the day to day (or rather sol to sol) drudgery of Mars roving. Moving a few inches forward. Turning your wheels. Communicating your status back to Earth then waiting 8 to 48 minutes for the go ahead from mission control to move a few inches more. Every small rock or patch of gravel can become a serious obstacle, and climbing a small hill can take months or even years.

The payoff comes eventually in the form of amazing discoveries, but only after long, tedious months of maneuvering cautiously and methodically across the craggy Martian wasteland.

Now I promised this post would in fact be about writing, and it is. A few weeks ago, I somehow got myself stuck in some gravel, so to speak. The kind of small, annoying problem that could bring my entire mission to a grinding halt. It’s only in the last few days that I’ve managed to straighten my wheels, and now I’m ready to resume driving… eh, I mean writing.

Life on Mars: The Hunt for Martian Dinosaurs

Can Mars support life? Is there anything living on Mars right now? It sometimes seems like Mars is desperately trying to convince us that the answer to both questions is yes.

dc28-life-on-mars

If you’re hunting for alien life in the Solar System, there are four places you should pay attention to: Mars, Europa, Enceladus, and Titan. Now a thought recently occurred to me—a thought that I’m sure has occurred to other people before: in an astrobiological sense, these four worlds sort of represent the past, present, and future.

  • Mars: a place where alien life might have existed and thrived in the past.
  • Europa and Enceladus: places where life may exist and thrive in the present.
  • Titan: a place where life might start to evolve and thrive sometime in the future (assuming it hasn’t started already).

Regarding Mars, there was clearly a time when rivers, lakes, and oceans of liquid water covered the Martian surface. There’s growing evidence that at least some of the organic chemicals necessary for life were also present. Therefore it’s easy to imagine a time millions or perhaps billions of years ago when Mars had a biosphere as rich and robust as prehistoric Earth’s.

Obviously that robust biosphere is gone now. Even when we hear about the possibility that life still exists on present-day Mars, it’s generally assumed that this life would be only a remnant of what came before. The microbial survivors of whatever wiped out the Martian dinosaurs, so to speak.

Someday (hopefully soon), humans will travel to Mars. When we get there, we may find that all the Martians are long dead. That might seem a bit depressing, but actually I’m kind of excited by the idea that the fossilized remains of Martian dinosaurs might be there, waiting for us to come dig them up.