← Spaceship Earth: Table of Contents

Chapter 1: The Earth Is Dying

LOG: 2125, May 25 “I’ve done all I can on Earth. I’m wealthy, smart, and ambitious. When I started this project twenty years ago—jesus, I was eighteen years old. I never thought it would materialize. And so,” I chuckle, “getting one thousand people and their families to agree to a dream that would change their lives forever was no easy task, given this was all unseen. No pressure at all. Oh, boy.”

I pause, my mind still marveling at what is about to happen. I can’t believe I have managed to pull it off. I may not be the first person in history to commit to space, but I will be the most successful.

“Well, go time is in T-minus sixteen days and counting… This is nuts.”

I continue. It is as if my mind cannot register this. Years of hard work, struggle, and mockery are finally paying off. Now, there are no doubts about how it will happen. It’s right in front of me.

Eighteen Years Ago It is the year 2107. I am at the United Space Exploration Committee (U.S.E.C.), waiting to be introduced to the Board of Elders. My heart is pounding. I am both excited and nervous about this prospect, and I just hope they understand what I am trying to do.

Only time will tell.

“We now invite Simon…” The aged, wrinkly commissioner pauses at the ridiculous last name. No doubt, he is wondering who would have such an absurd name. “…Gunslinger, to speak on behalf of…”

This is my cue. I jump up, surveying the elders on the committee that are sitting before me.

“Myself. Hey, Simon Gunslinger, how are ya?” I was adopted as a toddler and wasn’t too big of a fan of the family that adopted me. I had two older siblings, and I think I was just in the way. At least, that’s how they made me feel. One of the things that helped get me through all those years of misery were westerns, the classics: Tombstone, Unforgiven, The Wild Bunch, Young Guns—I loved Billy the Kid—and even the comedy Blazing Saddles. Those films meant so much to me—gunslingers of the Old West were awesome—so, when I was old enough, I had my surname legally changed to Gunslinger. Yup, I’m that guy.

I take a moment to compose myself.“I am what some of you may call eccentric. But I’m not, not really. I’m a realist. I have made billions on endocurrency—the perks of being left to my own devices as a kid. When other children were exploring and playing outside, or what was left of it, I was busy putting my mind to good use. You can accomplish a lot in AR if you don’t use it for extracurricular activities.” It’s a subtle nod to some of the past trouble the heads of the U.S.E.C. have gotten into.

The board erupts at this. They are used to being addressed a certain way, and I’m used to addressing people my way. It’s what makes me, me…….. A gavel knocks loudly to restore order.

“How dare you!” says the speaker. “You will show respect when addressing this committee!”

I respect my elders; I just wished they respected humanity and not just themselves. You see, the U.S.E.C. has been around since the middle of the twenty-first century. It is made up of Earth’s oldest and most brilliant minds, and right now, we have more pressing matters to deal with other than how they are spoken to. I think the fact that we are living on a soon-to-be-dead planet is a bit more important.

Earth’s resources have begun to dwindle away faster than expected. Its beginnings can be traced to the 100-day oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico in 2010. The popular theory was if the human race were to survive, they would have to venture beyond our world to find a place where we could begin anew. Hence, the United Space Exploration Committee came into existence.

“Sorry, my man,” I say with a smirk.

The committee erupts again.

“This will only take a moment.”

I open a briefcase, and a bright light shines in the space between myself and the committee. A holographic PowerPoint presentation is about to begin. I hope I can get the point across to these people.

“As some of you may know, I’m building a starship and inviting one thousand of Earth’s most intelligent, creative, and skilled people to join me on a journey.”

The blueprint of a massive ship that can only be built in space appears before everyone. An enormous shell, with legs of titanium and aluminum, spiders out from its center, roughly six kilometers in diameter. When complete, it should be approximately 1,180 kilometers in diameter. To me, it looks more like a giant monster or sea creature than a starship. I hope it doesn’t seem that way to the others. I click a button and the ship shrinks, and we now see our galaxy. The stars, planets, and asteroids align the path.

“Our galaxy. For as long as we have been sending things into space, we have never come across a Goldilocks Planet. Why is that?”

I click the button again. Our galaxy now expands to the known reaches of the universe.

“Beyond our galaxy is an infinite amount of possibilities, but what’s beyond that? How far does space go? Where does it end? I would like to find a sustainable planet for humanity where we can build a civilization that does not worry about basic resources, such as food and water, or whatever the equivalent is over there.”

Another withered committee member chimes in, “Space is infinite, young man, you are wasting our time.”

I close my briefcase and smile.

“I’m offering my first seven invitations to you and the rest of the U.S.E.C.”

They all just shake their heads in disapproval, except one—not the oldest member of the seven, but close. Milton Timesmith, with an I.Q. off the charts, looks attentively at me.

“It’s not that I’m abandoning Earth. This is my home, but I need to know. I need to know where all this goes. The thought of infinity is a thorn in my brain.” I see I am losing them and quickly pivot. “If I find a suitable planet, I will send a message with coordinates. This mission can save humanity.”

Timesmith says, “So, a lottery. Who gets to go on Gunslinger’s Ark?”

“One day, one thousand people will just disappear. Nondisclosure agreements will be signed by all who are invited. I carefully handpick each one, and once they imprint their Hancock, if they so much as utter a word about what they are doing or where they are going, they will be deemed insane and locked away for life in Maxico,” I reply. “So, choose wisely. There’s no turning back.”

Maxico is what happens when you have a president, who once ran the United States of America into the ground, buy the country of Mexico and turn it into a maximum security prison. He did grant citizenship to Mexican citizens who chose to live in the old U.S. of A., but our country was such a mess, a majority of the Mexican population chose to live in other countries around the world. It was truly a dark time, and the real end of America.

“What if your ‘chosen’ have families?” Timesmith inquires.

“Surely you cannot expect people to disappear without their families. No one will do that.”

“Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and pets are all part of the one thousand people,” I reply.

An elder speaks, “This is our home. We’ve spent countless resources and have determined there is nothing beyond us. Running away from Earth isn’t going to save humanity.”

I get very serious. “ Make no mistake, elder.” I draw myself to my full height. “I am not running away from Earth. I’m simply doing something that we should have done over a century ago. Man has been so comfortable with the known that he never truly wanted to explore the unknown. Well, now it’s too little, too late. The U.S.E.C. is a false sense of hope for something you couldn’t care less about. The truth is, you will all be long gone before you even have to worry about your immediate needs. But you continue to live in denial, and you think the threat will never come to fruition. For your sake, I hope I am wrong, but I know for certain I am not.”

I turn my back and start to walk away. I stop short and turn back.

“By the way, I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is no. There is no money involved. This journey into the infinite will take part with the travelers’ free will and the free wills of their families. No one is going to be forced or coerced into this, rest assured. I am offering salvation of sorts to a select few only. I came to you because you all would be an invaluable part of this quest, and frankly, I thought you’d all jump at the opportunity, but apparently, I was wrong. As for your imprints, I’m well aware that what is said before the committee is kept in strict confidence should you choose not to be a part of my team. I won’t waste any more of your time. Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”

With that, I turn on my heels and exit the building. The brightest minds…? I don’t think so.

2110 – Low Earth Orbit – S.G.S.S. Simon Gunslinger Space Station The year is 2110. I am on the Simon Gunslinger Space Station. Wow! It feels surreal. A space station with my name—maybe I have a small ego. I am sitting at a beautiful titanium desk. The light emanating from its desktop is of the touchscreen computer built into the desk. The gentle glow it produces shines on my face like that of a pleasant campfire. It warms me completely, much like the mission I am on. Through the window behind me, a massive skeleton of the starship is floating ominously in space. Its size is almost unimaginable.

I am speaking to someone who is not there, “Please send him up, and make sure he is well taken care of, crewman, and send Master Chief Engineer Dawson in as soon as possible, thank you.” I tap the thumb and four fingers of my left hand together, disconnecting the neural call. Moments later, Milton Timesmith, with a cane in hand, slowly makes his way through the sliding metal doors.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Mr. Timesmith. I trust the trip was smooth.”

“Well, Mr. Gunslinger, if you would have told me twenty years ago that I’d be traveling into space at the ripe old age of eighty-two, I probably would have sent you to Maxico just for giving an old man false hope. Glad you’ve proven me wrong.”

I smile and shake Milton’s hand.

“Please have a seat.”

Pointing to a rather cushy sofa facing the epic starship, I say, “We’re still working out the kinks of the Gyro-Shock systems, but, as you obviously can tell, it is more or less a bumpless, G-less ride.”

“Very impressive, Mr.—” He is interrupted.

“Call me Simon.”

“Well, I see you are a man of your word, Simon.” Milton slowly gets up and walks to the window. I can sense his awe. “How big are you building it?”

I smile. “When it is ready to launch, it’ll be roughly 201 kilometers in diameter, but only 60% of the ship will be functional. We will complete the other 2,212 kilometers with time.”

Milton looks around, out of the window.

I know what he is thinking. “2,414 kilometers? Why that’s…”

“Roughly the size of Earth’s core, yes!” I jump in.

Milton’s jaw drops open. His eyes are huge, like round saucers.

I continue, “I figure by the time the ship is complete, our population should be well into the tens of thousands, maybe greater.”

I ask him to have a seat again.

“That’s why I asked you up here. I invited the remaining six, but they didn’t even respond to my invite.”

Master Chief Engineer Douglas Dawson, a physically fit young man, enters the office.

“You wanted to see me, S.G.?”

He walks up to the desk next to Milton.

“Doug, this is Milton Timesmith, the smartest man in space. Mr. Timesmith, this is Master Chief Engineer Douglas Dawson.”

Milton slowly gets up and extends his hand.

“No need to get up, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

Milton shakes his hand and sits back down.

I, not wanting to waste Milton’s time, start, “We have a problem, Mr. Timesmith. A problem I believe you can solve.”

“I’m listening.”

Doug takes the floor, pushes a few buttons on a tablet he is carrying, and a hologram of the starship appears.

“The amount of power we needed to make any sort of progress at a reasonable rate is more than we had at our disposal,” states Doug.

I chime in, “More specifically, it didn’t exist.”

“I see, and what does this have to do with me?” asks Milton.

“Your studies into alternate power sources, specifically Zero Point Energy, has fascinated Mr. Dawson here and myself since this project started,” I reply. “We are hoping to get your invaluable input.”

Milton is staring at us. His face is slowly changing colors, then he stands up.

“I’d like to leave now.”

Doug and I are confused as Milton stands and makes his way toward the door.

“Did I say something to upset you? If so, I deeply apologize,” I say.

“Is this some sort of joke? It’s not possible. I’ve proven countless times that no one can harness it. It’s too unstable. Z.P.E. has ruined my life, Mr. Gunslinger. Don’t let it ruin yours.”

Milton leaves the office in a huff. Doug and I just roll our eyes. I tap my thumb and middle finger together, establishing a neural connection.

“Marine Quarelle,” I wait a brief moment. “Could you please escort Mr. Timesmith to the science lab?”

“Yes, Mr. Gunslinger, right away,” the young female voice responds.

Milton seems lost in this maze-like space station, when a young assistant, Marine Quarelle, comes running after him. She is tall, athletic in stature, and beautiful, with a literal glow about her.

“Mr. Timesmith, Mr. Timesmith!” She catches up to him, a little out of breath. “You look a little lost. Let me help you.”

“Thank you, young lady. This place is like a maze.”

She leads him down a series of twists and turns.

“You can call me Marine.”

They finally stop at the door that reads Z.P.E. LAB: Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point.

Milton looks at Marine. “This isn’t the way out, is it?”

Marine smiles sheepishly. “I just follow orders, Mr. Timesmith.”

She places her left hand on a palm pad. A red LED light scans it, and a robotic voice announces, “Marine Quarelle, Sub-DNA recog- nition accepted.” The two doors slowly swish open. She presents the room to Milton. He hesitates as he walks in and takes one last glance at her when the light from the room adjusts to his frail old eyes. He looks like he has seen a ghost.

“We couldn’t believe it either,” I say as I walk out from behind an aluminum-coated machine.

It stands about six feet tall. The light reflecting off it makes it gleam under the fluorescent lights. There is a beam attached to the front of the machine, from which the energy is released. On the left side of the machine, a screen shows different options. A release energy option is there. Upon touching this on the pad, the Z.P.E. energy would be dispersed, but there would be no way to channel it.

“We solved your Z.P.E. equation, and now we can use it for our own. It will speed things up for us. We needed you to help with one little issue,” I fill in Milton.

I then gesture to Irving Marvin, who steps forward. He is the one who managed to break down the Z.P.E. equation. It is Irving who was able to look into the Z.P.E. and solve what Milton was unable to do.

Milton had not fared badly at all.

All he really needed was a fresh pair of eyes—someone who could take an objective look at it. You see, Milton had been working so long on this that he had completely forgotten how to view the whole project with a new perspective. Irving had been able to rectify that in just a couple of months.

A tall man makes his way inside the room we are standing in. He is around six feet tall and has a pale complexion, no doubt from the lack of sunlight.

“Hi, Milton, my name is Irving,” he says, extending his hand.

Milton does not extend his hand, and there is a look of pure annoyance on his face. Irving retracts his hand and continues.

“I am the one who solved your Z.P.E. equation. You were so close, but I think all you really needed was a fresh pair of eyes on it.”

The hard look on Milton’s face starts to crumble. I can see he is becoming a bit more receptive. At least, Irving has managed to make him listen. I was barely able to do even that much.

“However, I still need your help. You see, I have managed to harness the energy, and it is safe and stable to use. But without a distribution system, we have unlimited energy with no way to physically use it.» Irvin gestures toward the machine and looks at Milton nervously. The hard look on his face has completely dissolved by now, and he seems to be lost in thought. I see the opportunity and decide to jump in.

“Since you are the only person on this team who has managed to work so thoroughly with Z.P.E. in the past, we are hoping you can help us figure out the distribution problem,” I say, meekly.

There is silence in the room as everyone is looking at Milton. I swear, at the moment, you could hear an ant crawling across the hull. The tension in the room is palpable. I am sweaty. It is as if the project’s fate depends entirely on the answer Milton is about to give us.

“I’d be honored,” he says, a small smile breaking across his face.

I have to convince myself not to hug him or do anything inappropriate. I am his boss, after all. He extends his hand, and I shake it in turn. It is impossible to tell which one of us is more excited. If there was the happiest person in the universe award, I am sure it would have gone to me.

* * *

My new team—Irving, Douglas, Milton, and the bio-holographic AI Marine—and I sit together for a meal. There are a number of packages in the pantry. These are very thin packages, maybe one inch in width, and covered with white plastic.

We put it in the food rehydrator, and a full meal comes out. I eat an unburger and fries, while the others have rice, macaroni, or soup. There is an assortment of food, even in space. We never have to worry about food, at least. Marine is eating her own holographic version of food, which really does not look appealing, in case you are wondering.

“So, Milton, we are going to leave markers,” I say, biting into my unburger.

It is so good. The cheese is hot and bubbly and just melts in my mouth; how is this not real meat and cheese? I plan on enjoying every single bite. It’s important to enjoy these small moments.

“Markers?” inquires Milton. He seems a bit surprised.

“Once we leave, we won’t be coming back for the rest of them. They need to find their own path. We’re leaving markers for the others to follow us, should they eventually choose. With the Z.P.E. functioning at 100%, communication with Earth will eventually become impossible. Therefore, we are leaving bread crumbs.”

Milton nods, looking slightly impressed, “So, how will you accomplish that?”

“We plan on emitting flames from our spaceship. These flames are packed with hydrogen, carbon, and helium, like micro suns, and so can sustain in space for a long, long time,” I say.

“Those who want to follow us can easily do that,” says Douglas.

“So you do care,” replies Milton. “What else do you have in mind?”

“We are also going to gather supplies,” Irving says.

“Supplies? From where may I ask?”

“From space. We will mine the rocks and the asteroids and whatever we can get our hands on. Ice becomes water, and raw materials become metal for our ship, etcetera. Things that were once rare Earth minerals and elements are abundant in space, like kids in a candy store.”

I take over. “You see, Milton, our main mission is to explore space. We want to see what lies beyond infinity; if there is even an infinity. For so long, we have been led to believe that the universe is expanding, that it has no end, but no one knows that for sure. Itis just an assumption, a scientific theory. Maybe there is a finite endto this infinity.”

Milton now seems to be completely on board with the whole idea, but asks, “What about the people of Earth? They deserve a chance.”

“Of course they do, but as I said before, I’m a realist, and the only way to save humanity happens to coincide with my curiosity, so they get to benefit from my thirst for knowledge. The Earth that we know is dying, and it is certain the end is here. Before complete chaos breaks out and we are unable to contain it, before human beings wipe each other out completely because of the scarcity of resources, I will find them hope, for as long as someone is there to listen. You see, Milton, not to toot my own horn, but I am a smart man, and I get the job done. So this time should not be any different.”

Milton looks at me. I sense the admiration in his eyes.

“Simon Gunslinger, the man with the ridiculous name, I’m glad to be on board!”

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