A Brief Repose

Nov 16th, 2010 | By | Category: Gemini Colony, Ramblings, Site News
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The blog has been silent for a couple of days, but that’s just because I’ve been busy with other creative projects.  The forums, however, have some new–and insightful–posts.  And there’s big things happening behind the scenes.

An interesting story broke today–one which ties in very closely with one of the Trilobyte projects:  Gemini Colony.   A couple of American scientists have released an article in the Journal of Cosmology that suggests the best way to start  a colony on Mars is to treat it as a one-way mission.  There are on-going discussions on SlashDot and io9–as well as elsewhere, I’m sure.   While Schulze-Makuch and Davies are focusing on a real-world situation with regards to planetary colonization, both the concept and the public responses reflect the ideas and ideals we’re working on for the Gemini Colony project.

When I started the Gemini Colony project, I brought on another writer.  He has an uncanny insight into human nature, a great writing style, and a twisted sense of humor that I absolutely adore.

He left the project.

Why?  Because he simply couldn’t comprehend the concept that intelligent, sane people would step into a box and be flung into gods-know-what with no realistic hope of ever returning.   While I don’t agree with it, I can understand where he’s coming from.  The responses I’ve seen to the Cosmology article show that there are plenty of people who see things differently.   At a wild guess, I’d say that roughly 10% of the responses that I’ve seen have supported the idea of a one-way mission to another planet, and 5% have said they’d join one–and this is to Mars, a planet where we know there’s not a viable biosphere.

Given the chance, I would sign up for the Gemini Colony without hesitation.

The following is from a personal blog I wrote on the 29th of June, 2005:

“He’s a bitter and cynical old man.” Words such as these have been used to describe me on more than one ocassion. And there is certainly a grain of truth them. I tend to be cynical, though I deny being bitter. There are days–most days–when I feel far older than the born-on date stamped on my can would suggest.

There is very little that breaks through my armor. I have been exposed to death, abuse, rape, and self-destruction both slow and fast. I am able to look past the emotions and deal with them in a cool and rational manner. Pain and death are parts of life.

I have been disabused of the idealism of my youth. I don’t believe anyone can be trusted completely. There is no such thing as love at first sight. The human animal is a beast at home in destruction and violence.

Yet every armor has it’s chinks. Every defense has a weakness.

Mine is space.

35 years ago we stood on the moon. We, through the proxy of two heroic men, place our feet upon the surface of another world.

And then, we looked away and forgot.

Mankind has a destiny, and that destiny is not bound to this ball of rock and sand. We belong out there. And it drives painfully to the core of my soul to know that we aren’t. “If God had wanted Man to fly, he’d have given him wings.” But don’t you see? God did just that! He gave us a power of intellect and a capacity to create, and a drive to explore. He didn’t put feathers on our backs, He put rockets in our minds. God gave us science. He gave us desire. He gave us eyes to see the stars, and minds to question what’s out there. He gave us the power to lift ourselves off this world and explore the very heavens.

And we sit here, our feet sunk in the mud, our eyes looking to our neighbor’s land, and our minds locked in the pettiness of jealousy and envy and hatred.

And those who do dare to step beyond the rock? They’ve become cautious. They’ve become afraid. Barely a score of persons in the last 4 decades have given their lives in this greatest of explorations. Nearly 38,000 children will die today from poverty and starvation. 5,000 times that died in one flood in Vietnam. Almost 8 times more police officers were killed in the line of duty in 1 year.

20 lives over 40 years. Is this too high a price to pay for the infinity of space? We toss away that many lives in a moment just to capture a piece of dessert sand.

We have forgotten the stars, because we’re too busy digging through the mud.

Someone mentioned the Moon…..

The author looks up at the mention of that mystic sphere, his eyes darker and deeper than is his apt.
I am but soon to see the 30th anniversary of my birth, and yet I remember–if that be the right word–somewhere within my soul, the dream and meaning of reaching out to the moon, the stars, and the intangible veil that is space beyond.

There are few thoughts which can bring a tear to my jaded eyes, or a fired grasp to my oft-times hardened heart. The thought that I may–indeed shall–never set foot off this land that is Earth and onto a soil which is truly foreign, is fore among them. I would leave behind all that I have, and all whom I love, even to die upon arrival, if only to touch that space which is space, and set forward the pace of Humanity to tame the endless wild as is our eternal call.

What happened, you ask? Where went the Dream?

It fell before a bullet in the streets of Dallas. It burned thrice brighter than Hell’s fires before the eyes of the brickhouse and the world. It died a weeks dead one boy at a time in the jungles of a ravaged Asia. It died in promises to bury us, and threats to protect us. It is difficult to turn your eyes to the sky when your hands are running with blood.

Where went the Dream?

It died with the innocence of America. It slipped quietly from the heart as our perfection slowly shattered under the cruel weight of reality. It suffocated in the apathy of self-realization, and the illusions of escape fed hour by hour to the masses.

Where went the Dream?

It lay struggling, it’s flesh picked piece by piece from it’s body by fear, greed, youth, and revolution. It leapt to the sky only to die seven deaths, and fall again to the earth, it’s pale white blossom burned forever into the eyes of the dreamers and the world.

Where went the Dream?

It reached out to embrace the world, only to find that the world no longer Dreamed.

And so it lays: in fine dress, cold and still in a box of white satin, calmly waiting for those too young to remember the dreams to find the Dream again.

–Aug. 5, 1998

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