David S.F. Portree

I have three books to write. The new edition of my 2001 NASA publication Humans to Mars is due in a week and a half and I have two and a half chapters left to write. I spoke with the editor yesterday, and he says I can still make the fall 2008 publication date if I turn in the manuscript by June 1, which should be do-able.

But wait, I just downloaded this fascinating article on habitable planets around red dwarf stars. Red dwarfs are the most numerous stars - they make up more than half the stars in the Milky Way - so the possibility that they might support habitable planets is very exciting.

But just a minute, here’s a pile of news reports on different chemicals that can play the same role in photosynthesis as chlorophyll. Apparently purple and red plants are an option, based on the kinds of chemicals Earth life uses.

Which reminds me of two things; in 1997, I covered an advanced life support test at NASA Johnson Space Center, where I used to work. Life support engineers there had developed a “salad machine” the size of a refrigerator for growing lettuce on board space ships. They had “tuned” the light so the lettuce could absorb every last photon; hence, the lettuce leaves looked black. (I wonder if I should write about advanced life support in the new edition of Humans to Mars?)

The other thing it reminds me of is the alien creature my four-year-old daughter Sam invented last night. We had watched several episodes of the TV series The Future is Wild together. The Future is Wild employs informed speculation to trace the evolution of life on Earth over the next 200 million years. Sam’s creature is a “cheetah woodpecker” that chases down prey animals, uses its sharp beak to poke them, then sucks their blood. Which sort of makes sense; blood is high-energy food, so might make good fuel for a speedy hunter.

What would this creature’s prey be like? Prey and predator interact in a kind of arms race, each forcing the evolution of the other. I suggested to her that, instead of animals, the cheetah woodpecker chases mobile trees. My daughter was unimpressed.

Speaking of youngsters, I teach astronomy to kids on the Navajo and Hopi Reservations. It’s part of a program at Lowell Observatory. This year I worked with classes in Window Rock, Pinon, and Jeddito. Our spring project was to get the students to name some asteroids. Lowell Observatory is home to an asteroid search, and the guy in charge, Dr. Ted Bowell, donated naming rights to five asteroids. With a bit of luck, in a year or two at least one of those asteroids will bear a Navajo name proposed by our students.

I have a love-hate relationship with asteroids; after all, a rock from space probably snuffed the dinos, and I love dinos. But asteroids could be our stepping stones to the stars. By the way, did you read the news story about gene sequencing a T Rex? I need to find the original paper on this.

But first, I need to get back to work on Humans to Mars. . . and clean my office ahead of an interview with a young filmmaker. He’s doing a short film on light pollution, and he wants to set up camera and sound and lights in my little office and interview me Friday evening. If I say something intelligent (and have a clean office), I’ll be on the big screen at the Orpheum Theater in downtown Flagstaff next month.

Flagstaff, where I live, is world’s first (so far only) International Dark Sky City. For 50 years, the forces of darkness (astronomers and concerned citizens) have fought to save the night.

Which reminds me - the lights of Phoenix are visible now on Flagstaff’s southern horizon. Phoenix grows at a rate of about an acre an hour, gobbling up the desert, sucking water from every available source for green lawns and golf courses. Talk about unsustainable! I wonder, is anyone in Phoenix paying attention to the IPCC study, which says that the U.S. Southwest will get drier than it already is over the next few decades? Where do they expect to get water to sustain this level of growth?

Which reminds me - when I flew into Moscow a few years ago to visit Russian space facilities, I was impressed at how dark the city looked. I mentioned to my seatmate, a British businessman, that it looked like a great place for astronomy. He said, “the fact is, they can’t afford to turn on the lights.” Lighting the night sky costs money and burns fuel that contributes to the warming of the world. Ultimately, dark skies may return because we didn’t decide to turn off the lights voluntarily. Not a happy thought, but human history is marked by tumult caused by environmental change, often at least partly human-caused. One can hope that we’re smart enough to take steps to modify our self-destructive behaviors this time around. We’ve been smart enough to warm the world, after all.

Oh, but look at the time. I need to read this fascinating paper on interplanetary cyclers. It’s part of my research for Humans to Mars. Such spacecraft would permanently orbit the Sun, continually flying past Earth and another planet, such as Mars. They’re probably too ambitious for Apollo-type flags-and-footprints Mars expeditions, but if ever we decide to build a base on Mars, a permanent cycling transportation system would probably make sense. And, I have two reports on Mars surface activities and bases to read, too. Can’t wait.

And never mind my other two books. One is on the history of planning for Mars Sample Return missions using robots, the other is on the history of planning for piloted moon missions. I’ve made space exploration planning history my niche (I have a Master’s in history), you see. But, as I said, never mind.

Who was it who said that they were like a kid on the beach, running from one fascinating bright pebble to the next? Sounds like Carl Sagan to me. Must look that up. . .