GROUND / CH. 30:EDUCATION
BUBBLE SHIP HANGER
After getting the students seated, Maggie started her lecture. “Right, film one. This shows a 2-D representation of a cross section of space-time resulting from modelling the response of space time to a simple bubble field. First you'll see a stable bubble being modelled with a probe inside. You'll see some oscillation, which gets bigger, and bigger. That's why we invented the blackhole-avoidance device, which adjusts the field strength in a negative feedback loop. Next you'll see what the results predict if a bubble-forming pulse were triggered with no mass, which of course we almost have in the Boris drive. Thirdly you'll see what happens when the bubble is formed with mass inside. The red line is the Schwarzschild radius, the green is the average of the steady state bubble that you saw in the first section. Model run one was a one hundred kilo probe. Run film George.”
The first set showed the probe in a bubble, and there being some oscillation, which eventually grew, reducing the interface below the Schwarzschild radius. The Second set showed the bubble being formed, and the third set showed the bubble forming, the mass plunging into the bubble, and then the plunging mass pulled far beyond past where it should have been. The interface closed and it vanished. “It... where did it go?” someone asked.
“Nominally, it detached from the known universe, but that's non-physical. Model run two, with the possibility of Hawking Radiation, George.”
As before the bubble formed, but this time the bubble and the Schwarzschild radius shrank leaving no ship, there “Why did the radius shrink like that? Where did the probe go?”
“Good question. Model run two starting at femto-second steps, and shrinking down as appropriate with mass against time on the green line, and the blue line indicating the emission of Hawking radiation, relative to the total solar output.”
“Eek.” Rachel exclaimed.
“The result is not actually realistic, of course, because a probe being evaporated by Hawking radiation cannot maintain the bubble field. There were lots of other model runs, but the result was the same: Yes, everything showed it was possible to maintain a bubble of space-time that contained mass. Yes, it was possible to fold space to form a bubble of space time. But putting a probe inside the bubble, unless you had a bubble a kilometer across with a one gramme probe, was predicted to result in disaster.”
“But it was just modelling, right, there wasn't any experimental proof?” one of the students asked.
“We performed an experimental run with an externally imposed bubble field, and then with ten atoms of urm, Rubidium, I think it was. Something easy to hold in an optical trap. Both of course heading into intergalactic space. The empty field was mostly stable, all measurements were in line with what the modelling predicted. The radiation pattern from the rubidium was entirely consistent with the formation of a microscopic black hole. Since we didn't want to be able to make any more of those, we then used that as an opportunity to test the remote self-destruct mechanism, and burned all copies of the design. /Didn't/ we George?”
“Nice little bonfire you and Heather made of all my backup crystals, yes, Maggie.”
“And the moral of that story?” Maggie asked.
“Don't try to hide things from a seer?”
“Or a well-trained truthsayer.”
“Yeah, OK.” George said.
“Sorry for that digression. But we then sat down for about six months of working on the bubble stability problem, which we hoped we'd need, and brain storming about how to get to the point we'd need it. Eventually the idea surfaced of the blackhole avoiding pulse or BAP. The idea was fed to the modellers, who agreed that yes, it would work. The principle is that once the first fold-pulse has been triggered, the ship triggers a second weaker unfold-pulse just after the bubble gets about three-quarters formed. Not strong enough to pull the ship out of warp, just sufficiently to stop the plunge away from the universe. The modelling proved that the strength of that pulse depends, at first order, on the total bubble density. Which reminds me, George, please get your friends upstairs to consider whether TBD is going to be enough if a Celestia mark-V's cargo space was full of comet, or if it gets too complicated at that mass.”
“Someone ran a study with the Space lab mostly full of gold once. That certainly needed some tweaking,” George said.
“Right, so first order approximation says TBD is enough, as long as you're not silly and TBD stays below... what, about half, George?”
“Half is fine, yes. One might be OK, too, I'll need to look up the numbers.”
“What about the mass distribution?” a student asked, “Is there a reason we're told not to overload the cargo pods?”
“Mass distribution is almost entirely irrelevant,” Maggie said.
“But not for something which only has tail pods, like the second gen ships,” the aerodynamics teacher said. “It'll ruin the flight characteristics something terrible, if you go moving the centre of gravity too far.”
“Very good point. Always make sure your space-plane won't end up in a tailspin or worse, whether you plan on using wings or not. Plans can change.” Maggie agreed. “You now all ought to be able to answer the question about what happens if the pulse is too weak, yes?”
“Black hole. And if it's too strong, you bounce out?”
“George, run the film of probe two please.” The film ran. This one had commentary from a much younger Maggie. She heard other voices too, old friends who'd gone home to Glory. She missed them. She looked around at the rapt faces, catching a glimpse of the excitement she'd seen so many times before, some of the faces she remembered had also gone to their eternal home, too, she reminisced and felt a tear rolling down her cheek as she listened to her younger self explaining that although the bubble generators were pre-charged, there was a massive energy flow needed to actually establish the bubble as a stable folded entity, and no way had been found for it to be delivered except by bypassing all the normal current-limiting circuitry during bubble initiation, directly connecting the bubble generators to the main discharge rails from the battery. In contrast, the BAD problem detector had been designed to expect the power surge produced from dropping out of warp, and disconnected the antimatter battery from the circuits before allowing the power surge to be wasted, vaporising large chunks of metal along with itself. That solution of course wasn't possible at the moment of bubble formation, with the limiting circuitry removed from the circuits. Plus of course there was no way to connect the charging rails at the same time as the discharge rails.
“George?” Maggie asked, “Is that hand-waving about it being impossible not to blow up still accurate?”
“Young Sathzakara Shipbuilder might have found a solution, but we weren't allowed to test it.”
“Why not?” Maggie asked.
“There is no budget for needless and dangerous experiments,” the director said.
“Urm. Mr Director, I think you really need to study the charter, and imagine that unmanned probe being manned and piloted by a close relative.”
“A simple adjustment of the pulse strength...” started the director.
“Is impossible on second generation probes,” George said, “and it's too easy to transpose digits, which is why the second generation probes were designed with fixed pulse strength, against Maggie's vote.”
“Stupid decision which has led to increased ignorance and almost led to dead pilots,” Maggie grumbled. “And while we're on the subject, can someone tell me why the flight data that's getting sent in doesn't seem to have generated a single warning to flight operations about unsafe over-loading?”
“Because they don't think there's anything useful in it.” George said, “and instead they go tweaking their models to ever better 'predict' stuff we have fully documented.
“Hmm. I see. Mr Director, in my role as Training and Bubble Safety officer, I'd like to be assured that all submitted flight data will be at least scanned and reacted to. The BRF have the knowledge to do that, it is part of their remit, and it used to be such a no-brainer that it went without saying. I'd also like to be able to tell a certain pilot and copilot approximately how many grammes or miligrams they were away from forming a black hole, given that they exited bubble with a spin of approximately one point three revolutions per second. Exact data will be on their flight logs of course.”
George gave a low whistle. “80 RPM? Probe two only span at 20, Maggie!”
“I know. They've been attaining that quite regularly, I understand.”
“They're mad!”
“They were ignorant and it seems it was too boring to bother to check up on their flight data. Rachel, you seem to be trying not to explode, would you be able to talk about documentation?”
“On a data collecting trip, I know that at the BRF's request from ancient history, whenever we're in a gravity well sufficient to allow it, masses are recorded for every separate storage locker, down to about ten grammes, including personal effects. Plus pilot weights, which is embarrassing, but I guess it tells them how much mass there is in the waste disposal system.”
“That seems pretty comprehensive to me, George,” Maggie said “Please explain to me how they're supposed to do better?”
“They're not, that sounds like excellent data.. I just wonder where those masses go. All I've ever seen is data on the total mass.”
“I think now is not the time or place to discuss such details.” The school director said, “But it is plain to me that there are a lot of false assumptions and that a lot more talking needs to happen between the three organisations.”
George looked at Maggie, and said “Go on, Maggie, say it!”
“Hey, who's the mind reader around here?” Maggie asked. At that point, the Mer ambassador entered, complete with full honour guard.
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“Greetings William Mars-speaker,” Maggie said in Mer. “Some of the problems are on their way to being resolved. There was unexpected death and a change of directors, and a joke was not understood and was taken as laxly enforced policy.”
“But only some of the problems?”
“There has come to be an almost total divorce between the three branches of the Research Group.”
“You use an ugly word, academician.”
“I see an ugly situation, your excellency. George Shipkeeper Problem-speaker expects me to say the charters should be revoked, and the Research Group reunited.”
“I do,” George agreed, “I thought it was a good idea at the time, but information isn't flowing. The modellers think that the pilots don't record data that they do. The pilots assume the modellers check their flight data, and would tell them if there was a problem, but because of that misconception about the recorded data, they don't bother. Pilot training in bubble safety is given by people who can teach but not by people with any experience in bubble technology, with a syllabus aimed at the opposite situation.”
“And past policy decisions are being questioned in front of students,” the ambassador said.
“The trainee pilots have sworn to protect secrets of the deep, your excellency,” Maggie said. “I expect they can keep a little gossip under wraps if we ask them to. I also believe that their becoming aware of the problem is part of the solution. George, please tell me you have a ship ready for me?”
“You want to take everyone up?”
“That's why I asked about 1R3.”
“1R3's Boris emitters are too mucky. 1T4 has had its drink and is processing. 1D7 is OK.”
“1D7 is hardly bigger than a second gen, George.”
“Then there's Jack Flash or Arnie.”
“Arnie?” Maggie queried. “You're not telling me that T1's flight-ready?”
“I am. Good solid engineering there. Plus an enormous fusion reservoir, it's been doing self-cleaning for a decade and only used up five percent of its stock.”
“Hmm. Lots of gold too.”
“A proper space sub.”
“Yes. OK. Trainee Pilots, please weigh yourselves, then calculate the TBD for all of you in the only Bubble probe ship to have ever explored the bottom of the Marianas Trench, T1, also known as Arnold Schwarzeneger.”
“As in the terminator?” a student pilot asked.
“Someone else likes ancient films, I see. It was named Arnie that after it accidentally smashed its way through a small asteroid and just kept going. As far as I know, no one really understands how.”
“And it's really been to the Marianas Trench?”
“Among other places. That hunk of submarine-metal used to be the property of Jacob Tunaspeed, Karella Farspeaker's brother, and was the original flying fish. A function the builder managed to keep, actually, so if travel by folding space is too boring, thrill-seeking Mer among you could also probably get permission to fly at near-supersonic speeds just above wave-height.”
“Wow!”
“How did it end up here?”
“The normal way,” Maggie said. “The pilot-owner decided that bubble travel didn't really fit with having a family, and the features of the first generation probe ships make it a bit too... flexible for deep-space research. You guys don't really need to have a ship that you could program to abandon you. You certainly don't need everything Jumping Jack Flash can do.”
“Maam?” asked the young man who had answered Maggie's test far better than most, “Is there any hope that the Bubble Technology Doctorate programme might get restarted?”
“What's your name, lad?”
“Jacob, Maam. After my great-grandfather, Jacob Tunaspeed. I'll add about the ship that centuries before great-grandfather's time it took James Change-Bringer and Rose Medicine-Bringer to New Zealand, and was possibly the boat of Sathzakara Evangelia's aborted honeymoon.”
“So, maybe the Lord let it survive because of the weight of history it carries with it. I would have no objections, Jacob.” Maggie said. “You will need to petition her Imperial Majesty Rhianna Karella Jake to change a decision her father made soon after he became king. At least part of that decision was his response to her sister speaking about proving some theories about the sun's atmosphere. Perhaps she and her sister have their own insights on what else went on in that family discussion.”
“Row, you mean,” said the would be-pilot.
“I wasn't there, I don't know. All I know is that young Natasha was a bit older than you, and keen on pushing forward the frontiers of human knowledge, and probably a little too enthusiastic about things her father felt were scary. You are a relative, perhaps you are better placed to reopen the issue than I.”
“Or perhaps not,” the ambassador said. “Academician, I suggest that you present the case to her majesty, perhaps along with the class?”
Maggie thought about it, and shook her head. “I think the ignorance of students is something easily taken for granted. If I might ask at least some of the staff to come with me, however? I believe that would be a more useful discussion. Along with someone who can pilot a flying fish?”
“Could it wait until tomorrow?” one of the teachers asked. “I'd love to visit Atlantis but I've a school thing on this evening.”
Maggie nodded, “Yes, OK. Staff, please discuss among yourselves who can come. I want to expose the students to bubble-space anyway, it makes things a lot ore real than sitting in a class-room. Now, students, who has a bright idea about how to get several tonnes of submarine metal onto the surface?”
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ATLANTIS. 10AM
“Maggie Farspeaker Blackhole-avoider Sarah John! It's been a long time, far too long!” Natasha Planet-finder Karella Jake greeted her.
“Natasha, have you heard why I'm here?”
“You want some Doctors of Bubble Technology in this generation.”
“Exactly,” Maggie agreed.
“What is possible and what is wise are not the same, I seem to remember you saying.”
“What has been learned should not be forgotten. And it is being forgotten. Has been forgotten. As a deliberate policy.”
“You're talking about more than how to externally trigger a bubble, aren't you?”
“Yes. But even that technology might have a purpose, properly applied.”
“I listen, academician.”
“There are possible failure modes... if there is not enough antimatter to invert the bubble, for instance. At the moment the only 'solution' we have to escape from that situation is not get into it. That will be small comfort to parents and loved ones if it ever happens.”
“And you think it would be possible to locate a bubble-interface accurately enough to invert the bubble externally?”
“I know it was possible to locate a bubble interface very accurately. We had the equipment. We no longer do, and we teach... protective half-truths.”
“And externally applied bubble inversion?”
“Ought to be possible. Could have been developed. But the break-in had us scared.”
“And now, you're less scared?”
“Now, I'm more scared of other things. There are not many who add Shipbuilder to their name now. None who are not retired who can test a bubble ship. Russia believe that having the capability of delivering a few million tons of comet to Ground could be useful, faster and safer if it involved a small fleet of bubble-capable Celestias. Plus it would mean an evacuation was possible — maybe even of the whole shape-shifter populace, if they can hibernate for a few weeks, and don't mind cramped conditions. But the group has no one now who has experience in testing that the field magnitude is correct. Yesterday, I learned that the so-called refining that the modellers have been doing for the past fifteen years has made the models so restricted that they won't work for anything even as heavy as T1-Arnie. Only Grumpy George thought that might be a problem, for everyone else, that's the 'reliable dataset' they want to fully understand, and never mind they're applying polynomials which explode outside their data range. I'm not sure I'd want to trust designing anything to the recent generation of Bubble Theorists.”
“I've done some field strength measuring, Maggie. Call me when you've got someone to train.” Natasha said.
“You have? That is wonderful news!”
“Horribly tricky job. Make sure you find me someone with steady hands and infinite patience, and I'll try to dig up memories.”
“I remember people moaning, and being glad I wasn't doing it. But the theoreticians don't know that. They'd probably think you can just get the sensor into place with a steel ruler or something. Sorry. I'm exaggerating.”
“But you're not very wrong, either,” Natasha said. “Someone who shall remain nameless offered to use a laser tape-measure to help, once. I pointed out that we were measuring the warping of space-time, and he still didn't get the point. I had thought that my father's objection was right, but I am convinced. At the very least there must be continued practical knowledge, and that will not be preserved unless there are people experimenting. Enjoy your visit to Atlantis, Maggie. The academy is waiting to hear from you, and afterwards, my sister will not take too much convincing, I think.”
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ATLANTIS, 6PM
“You told me, Natasha told me,” Empress Rhianna said, “and now you have shown us all. And finally I understand the problem. The lecturers try to teach shark-killing but have never even got wet, and the ship-designers have spent their lives forgetting that ship-metal submarines can fly. You will need a fabricator, and Sathzakara will not want to come back from Ground.”
“I do not expect so, majesty.”
“What do you think of the Tsar's suggestion?” Empress Rhianna asked.
“Of Celestia-class ships to evacuate our people from Ground and deliver comets if needed?” Maggie asked, “I like the idea of being able to evacuate. I like the idea of parents and grandparents being able to visit, of children being able to commute to study.”
“And of a Russian university having the right to teach secrets of the deep?”
“I would have no objections to Russia doing that.” Maggie replied, “But I would have very strong objections to doing it where China might easily infiltrate an agent. Still they try it on Mars, every cycle one or two are sent to Olympus.”
“So, we are of one accord. Russia may not teach the secrets, because China are too close.”
“Almost... I suggest an alternative. Russia be permitted to teach, but /on Ground/, or somewhere else inaccessible to conventional travel.”
“Students from Earth going to Ground for study?” Natasha asked, surprised.
“'Forcefield design and alien languages', 'Bubble-ship technology and astronomy'. I can see things like that working. They are suggesting that the Russian versions of the forcefields be taught to people from Ground anyway, let them teach some human students too.”
“What will the University of Mars think of that?”
“According to Rachel, their administrative staff are wondering how they're going to cope with the extra students.”
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ST PETERSBURG, RUSSIA
“Tulag,” his mother asked, “What are your plans?”
“My idea is that I not be around Ludmilla for a bit. Half a year, maybe? I could finish my apprenticeship as a fabricator if I went to Atlantis.”
“And what does she think of that?”
“Her thinking is confused, mother. She agrees that there'll be the temptation to concentrate on me not on God if we see too much of each other, but she doesn't want me to leave. I think it is better if I do. I would like to know that her new faith is stable, her professed feelings for me stand the test of time, and so on. It'll make it easier, if we are apart physically, surely?”
“You think it will be easier for her to be faithful to God while feeling lonely while surrounded by all the old temptations?”
“No, mama. I wasn't thinking was I?”
“I understand that she does not need to be present in her domain most of the time, is that correct?”
“It is.”
“Then I have a suggestion for you both then: Empress Rhianna has decided that the Bubble Ship technology programme be allowed to restart. They will need a fabricator, also, Natasha Planet-finder Karella Jake wishes to train someone patient in testing bubble-fields. You probably qualify in that too, and you have been interested in adding shipbuilder to your name, have you not?”
“I have, mama,”
“Also your father is just about to talk to his Majesty the Tsar about whether he'd like to assign another envoy or two to Atlantis. The Tsar has asked to teach the secrets of the deep, and Rhianna is considering the request seriously, but it will not be in Russia. It will have to be somewhere harder to get to. One possibility is on Ground, another is a Russian language university on Mars, or perhaps cleaning out the cess-pit of Luna-Corp once and for all. But, in any case, a new treaty would be in order, and that takes time and effort. I expect that the Tsar will be asking his son to be involved, but perhaps if Ludmilla were to go to Atlantis in some kind of supporting role? You'd be busy on different things but could still talk. And Atlantis isn't as full of temptations as lots of other places, or rather, it's full of reasons not to give in to them. But you are right in one respect, you must let her become certain in her own mind that her faith is her own, and that God has cleansed her from her sins before you consider romance.”
“Mama, I've been feeling romantic thoughts for a decade.”
“Have you been thinking about the curves of her body or the intricacies of her soul?”
“For the past year, I've been thinking about what tortures she's putting herself through, and not understanding why she was doing what she was to herself. Some of what the papers said was right, but they exaggerated.”
“So it wasn't a new bedfellow every night?”
“No, it wasn't, nor every weekend either. But she needs to feel like a new creation I think.”
“My recommendation, Tulag, is that when she starts to feel clean, teach her to swim. And between your formally walking together and the time you swim away with her, you giving her Mermaid's Kiss rather than first-time potion will be kinder, and I expect you'll enjoy it too.”
“Mama!” Tulag protested, face flaming.
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