We find that if the distance of the passengers from the center of the plate is 246 meters, the plate produces gravitational acceleration on passengers of 1 gee, so if the drive is off there is a net force of 1 gee on them; at zero meters (on the plate itself) the plate produces a gravitational acceleration on passengers of 50 gees, so if the drive accelerates them at 50 gees, they feel as though they are in free fall. The tidal force is a maximum, at one gee per meter, when the passengers are closest to the disk.
This device will actually work as described, with no science fiction involved at all, if you can provide the plate of condensed matter and the necessary drive. Unfortunately, this turns out to be nontrivial. All the distances are reasonable, and so are the tidal forces. What is much less reasonable is the mass of the disk that we have used. It is a little more than 9 trillion tons; such a disk 100 meters across and one meter thick would have an average density of 1,170 tons per cubic centimeter.
This density is modest compared with that found in a neutron star, and tiny compared with what we find in a black hole. Thus we know that such densities do exist in the Universe. However, no materials available to us on Earth today even come close to such high values — they have densities that fall short by a factor of more than a million. And the massplate would not work as described, without the dense matter. We have a real problem.
It’s science fiction time again: let us assume that in a couple of hundred years we will be able to compress matter to very high densities, and hold it there using powerful electromagnetic fields. If that is the case, the massplate needed for McAndrew’s drive can be built. It’s certainly massive, but that shouldn’t be a limitation — the Solar System has plenty of spare matter available for construction materials. And although a 9 trillion ton mass may sound a lot, it’s tiny by celestial standards, less than the mass of a modest asteroid.
With that one extrapolation of today’s science it sounds as though we can have the McAndrew balanced drive. We can even suggest how that extrapolation might be performed, with plausible use of present physics.
Unfortunately, things are not as nice as they seem. There is a much bigger piece of science fiction that must be introduced before the McAndrew drive can exist as a useful device. We look at that next, and note that it is a central concern of the third chronicle.
Suppose that the drive mechanism is the most efficient one consistent with today’s physics. This would be a photon drive, in which any fuel is completely converted to radiation and used to propel the ship. There is certainly nothing in present science that suggests such a drive is theoretically impossible, and some analysis of matter-antimatter reactions indicates that the photon drive could one day be built. Let us assume that we know how to construct it. Then, even with this “ultimate” drive, McAndrew’s ship would have problems. It’s not difficult to calculate that with a fifty gee drive, the conversion of matter to radiation needed to keep the drive going will quickly consume the ship’s own mass. More than half the mass will be gone in a few days, and McAndrew’s ship will disappear from under him.
Solution of this problem calls for a lot more fictional science than the simple task of producing stable condensed matter. We have to go back to present physics and look for loopholes. We need to find inconsistencies in the overall picture of the Universe provided by present day physics, and exploit these as necessary.
The best place to seek inconsistencies is where we already know we will find them — in the meeting of general relativity and quantum theory. If we calculate the energy associated with an absence of matter in quantum theory, the “vacuum state,” we do not, as common sense would suggest, get zero.
Instead we get a large, positive value per unit volume. In classical thinking, one could argue that the zero point of energy is arbitrary, so that one can simply start measuring energies from the vacuum state value. But if we accept general relativity, this option is denied to us. Energy, of any form, produces space-time curvature. We are therefore not allowed to change the definition of the origin of the energy scale. Once this is accepted, the energy of the vacuum state cannot be talked out of existence. It is real, if elusive, and its presence provides the loophole that we need.
Again, we are at the point where the science fiction enters. If the vacuum state has an energy associated with it, I assume that this energy is capable of being tapped. Doesn’t this then, according to relativity (E =mc2), suggest that there is also mass associated with the vacuum, contrary to what we think of as vacuum? Yes, it does, and I’m sorry about that, but the paradox is not of my creation. It is implicit in the contradictions that arise as soon as you try to put general relativity and quantum theory together.
Richard Feynman, one of the founders of quantum electrodynamics, addressed the question of the vacuum energy, and computed an estimate for the equivalent mass per unit volume. The estimate came out to two billion tons per cubic centimeter. The energy in two billion tons of matter is more than enough to boil all Earth’s oceans (powerful stuff, vacuum). Feynman, commenting on his vacuum energy estimate, remarks:
“Such a mass density would, at first sight at least, be expected to produce very large gravitational effects which are not observed. It is possible that we are calculating in a naive manner, and, if all of the consequences of the general theory of relativity (such as the gravitational effects produced by the large stresses implied here) were included, the effects might cancel out; but nobody has worked all this out yet. It is possible that some cutoff procedure that not only yields a finite energy for the vacuum state but also provides relativistic invariance may be found. The implications of such a result are at present completely unknown.”
With that degree of uncertainty at the highest levels of present-day physics, I feel not at all uncomfortable in exploiting the troublesome vacuum energy to service McAndrew’s drive.
The third chronicle introduces two other ideas that are definitely science fiction today, even if they become science fact a few years from now. If there are ways to isolate the human central nervous system and keep it alive independently of the body, we certainly don’t know much about them. On the other hand, I see nothing that suggests this idea is impossible in principle — heart transplants were not feasible forty years ago, and until this century blood transfusions were rare and highly dangerous. A century hence, today’s medical impossibilities should be routine.
The Sturm Invocation for vacuum survival is also invented, but I believe that it, like the Izaak Walton introduced in the seventh chronicle, is a logical component of any space-oriented future. Neither calls for technology beyond what we have today. The hypnotic control implied in the Invocation, though advanced for most practitioners, could already be achieved. And any competent engineering shop could build a Walton for you in a few weeks — I am tempted to patent the idea, but fear that it would be rejected as too obvious or inevitable a development.
Life in space and the Oort cloud.
Most chronicles take place at least partly in the Halo, or the Outer Solar System, which I define to extend from the distance of Pluto from the Sun, out to a little over a light-year. Within this radius, the Sun is still the primary gravitational influence, and controls the orbits of objects moving out there.