Tag: Arts

In a golden shimmer, the bland government man materialized on the pad, coming alive in his cheap suit, carrying a faux leather case. Right on time, of course. My nose wrinkled as a wave of ozone rushed outwards from the pad. As usual, he said, “Hello, Mr Mayor.”

“Welcome back to the reservation,” I replied, completing my part of the ritual. We walked to the office building, his wingtip shoes giving him problems in the sand.

“Why is the telepad so far away from everything?” he asked. I took his question as rhetorical, but it wasn’t an accident. It was one of the main goals when the founders drew up the plans for this place, years before I was born. The walk didn’t bother me. The res is the only home I’ve known in my 65 years, and I still enjoy walking in the sands I played in as a child.

Getting no reply, he tried to engage again. “That breeze feels like opening an oven door.”

My only response was mopping my crinkled brow with a handkerchief. I managed a small smile despite my nerves. I’d deceived him before, and I could do it again. Everything depended on it.

The admin building was no shabbier than it was on his last visit. But the car museum in the lobby was dustier. When I was a child, the museum got a few visitors — the reservation’s primary source of income — but now it was the rare researcher or eccentric enthusiast that toured the old vehicles.

I suppressed a grimace at the baby doll just outside the door. Everything was supposed to be put away, but I didn’t want to call attention to it by kicking it aside. His attention was either elsewhere or nowhere, and the doll faded behind us as we headed upstairs to my modest office. Later, I would find out who had left it and give them a stern lecture.

Read more science fiction from Nature Futures

In the office, my thumb on his pad certified my reports. They were lies, but I was well-practised, and the government man wasn’t one to ask real questions. It was a necessary deception to keep our community alive. Next, I used my thumb again to acknowledge the transfer of money — the handout — to the reservation’s bank account.

Every time, I dreaded the question, and it arrived as expected. “Are there any residents who wish to leave?”

There’s a thin line between overselling and appearing too indifferent. “Why ask? The old people are all staying, and there are no more young people. You know that.” My cheeks were burning with indignation. “You took them.” If he was ashamed of that, he didn’t show it.

The man was oblivious to my anger. “I’m required to ask,” he said in a flat tone of disinterest. “Besides, why not leave? Why wait here to die off? You and your friends could go anywhere. The world is full of beauty and culture. Have breakfast in New Orleans and lunch in Paris. Fish the Yangtze. You can still be home for dinner.”

“The minute I leave here on that pad, I’ll be dead. You will be, too.” The thought of his molecules being torn to pieces didn’t make me feel that bad.

His attention was mostly on reorganizing the contents of his case. “So I wasn’t here last time?”

My temple throbbed with my rising blood pressure. That happens when I’m being patronized like a child talking about an imaginary monster. “You aren’t even the man who woke up in your home this morning. He died teleporting to work. Then again, when you came here. You’ll die again when you leave.”

“I … see,” he said, looking at me with eyes that called me a crackpot. It had been several years since he’d tried to convince me that teleportation didn’t kill you and replace you with a duplicate.

My contempt for this fake spilled out. “My people are the only real humans left in the world. You are all copies. Fakes!” The lid of his case closed with a snick. “Even the babies teleport home from the hospital, I hear.” Thinking of those poor babies made my eyes sting with nascent tears.

After I fell silent, he glanced up with a smart-alec grin and said, “They should walk home? My daughter was born in Asia, and I live in old South Africa. How else would you get her home?”

“Have you ever heard of the Ship of Theseus?” I asked.

With a slight sneer, he shook his head, “I’ve never been interested in any of your old vehicles. From the look of the museum, I’m not alone.” He glanced up at nothing — I imagined it was a message from some unseen implanted display. “I’m afraid I have to go, Mr Mayor. A pleasure as always,” he said unconvincingly.

We shook hands, and I wordlessly escorted him through the deserted museum, across the sand, and back to the telepad. With another upward glance, he murmured a command to an unseen person.

With a second whiff of ozone, he died in the usual golden shimmer, and I turned to go home. It is against my nature to lie, but we have far fewer of us old-timers than the government thinks. We must keep our handouts to support the children they will never know exist. The real children.

Accidental

Tim James Robinson (2024)

Science often progresses through step-by-step discoveries. But major breakthroughs still happen. Science writer Tim James smartly retells stories of such “spasms of serendipity” that happened through moments of accidental “clumsiness”, “misfortunes and failures”, “surprises” and “eurekas”. For example, in 1903, chemist Edouard Benedictus dropped a dirty glass flask and noticed it did not shatter because of its cellulose nitrate coating. In 1909, after reading of dangerous shattered glass during car crashes, he invented laminated glass.

Facing the Unseen

Damon Tweedy St. Martin’s (2024)

Over the past two decades, the US suicide rate has increased by 30%. The US National Institute of Medical Health estimates that mental illness affects about 20% of US adults, yet many physicians are averse to psychiatrists. This leads critics to question psychiatry’s “status as a legitimate medical discipline”, writes US professor of psychiatry and staff physician Damon Tweedy, who formerly shared their aversion. His compelling analysis of this desperate situation draws on vivid encounters in outpatient clinics, emergency rooms and hospitals.

The Importance of Being Educable

Leslie Valiant Princeton Univ. Press (2024)

Intelligence lacks a clear and agreed definition in science, leading to confusion about IQ and the potential of artificial intelligence. Leslie Valiant, a pioneer of machine learning, prefers to define human intellectual uniqueness as educability instead of intelligence. “Educability is the capability to learn and acquire belief systems from one’s own experience and from others, and to apply these to new situations”. Perhaps inevitably, Valiant links educability to computation, exploring this connection in his complex but jargon-free book.

Alien Earths

Lisa Kaltenegger St. Martin’s (2024)

The Milky Way contains about 200 billion stars. The number of potential extrasolar planets is mind-boggling. Surely other Earth-like planets must exist? Astronomer Lisa Kaltenegger agrees, noting: “So far, despite wild claims to the contrary, we have not found any definitive proof of life on other planets.” She launched the Carl Sagan Institute at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, to search for life in the cosmos, alongside experts in fields ranging from astronomy to the performing arts. Her book is an authoritative and enjoyable read.

The Afterlife of Data

Carl Öhman Univ. Chicago Press (2024)

Printed books can immortalize the dead. But what should happen to posthumous online presence, asks political scientist Carl Öhman in his stimulating, sometimes spooky book. Imagine if we could access French general Napoleon Bonaparte’s Facebook messages or the data patterns of people in 1930s Germany, he remarks. “The lessons learned would be endless.” But if we simply leave it to businesses to manage “our collective digital past”, he argues that it will surely be used to make money.

Competing Interests

The author declares no competing interests.

1. Be patient with each other

Ms Anaria is not a United Earth government official. She was not informed of the tri-system parliament meeting to address United Earth trade overreach. She does not know why your docking instructions mysteriously sent you to the public education ship (the one farthest from the government’s parliament ship), nor is she completely fluent in both Hechian and Theloss. Confusion over what is happening, frustration with the lack of information, even outrage that your government is attempting to bully the tri-system via a clandestine meeting against voter approval — all are natural responses to the situation, but we must still be patient and calm with each other.

2. Keep your appendages to yourself

Ms Anaria’s classroom was designed to hold 25 human children with only four limbs each, not 16 adult Hechians with 7 tentacles apiece and 17 fully assembled Thels of 220-centimetre average height. To respect each other’s space and boundaries, everyone must remain on their assigned colour square of the Rainbow Story Rug. If you cannot perceive the colours on this light spectrum, please raise your prominent tentacle and/or robotic interactive piece and Ms Anaria will help you locate it. As surely everyone here has learnt during their own childhood, or from what has apparently been several months of their cease-and-desist orders being ignored, moving outside your borders and into someone else’s without permission is very rude and should not be tolerated.

Read more science fiction from Nature Futures

3. Only one being speaks at a time

Unlike the government ships, Ms Anaria’s classroom has only one inter-ship communicator, and poor Ms Anaria quite suddenly cannot remember how to use the video call feature that would alert the United Earth government to the fact that we are all here in the same room at the same time. Therefore, each group will have to select ONE representative to speak ONE AT A TIME to the government liaison on the communicator. When one being has the communicator, the others must be quiet, respecting the speaker’s time on the communicator by not letting their own voice, or any other auditory evidence, indicate their presence in this room. Once each representative has had a chance to speak individually to the liaison and the communicator is turned off, they are then free — and encouraged — to speak, using inside voices/voice boxes dialled down to 50 decibels. If anyone finds they need to express some sentiment or emotion or primal scream of frustration in the face of government bureaucracy that exceeds the limit of inside voices/50 dB, they can make use of the pillows in the screened-off Quiet Corner.

4. Share the classroom resources

As we wait the four hours for the transfer ship, some of us might grow bored and want a distraction. There is a limited amount of carbon-based-lifeform-friendly snacks, a single-occupant bathroom, two high-powered charging stations, and various markers and colouring pages available. Together, we will work out a system to share these resources, dividing them up fairly, negotiating access and working out disputes calmly and respectfully, with Ms Anaria as the tiebreaker should an agreement be unable to be reached. To make it fair, whatever Ms Anaria has to make a decision on will be unavailable for her use, either in totality or for a specific duration of time, depending on the resource in question, because, as the self-declared leader of this room, she has had unrestricted access to it for a very long time and really doesn’t need this many resources. If anyone sees how this practice might be particularly relevant and potentially applicable to future discussions with other friends and/or tri-system leaders, they can have a gold star sticker.

(Ms Anaria is aware that stars do not actually look like these stickers.)

5. Respect each other’s feelings

Because she is not a government official, Ms Anaria does not have the clearance to listen to discussions on the topics of the parliament meeting today, and hearing them might make her sad or anxious or filled with righteous fury. She therefore does not want to talk about how the tri-system charter clearly outlines border lines and protocol for crossing, or how the resource-rich planet Bargio is technically in Theloss space and subject to full tri-system approval for mining, or anything about how the United Earth’s spurious overpopulation of Bargio’s orbit with its own mining ships can be legally interpreted as an intimidation tactic in violation of the tri-system charter. All such topics would greatly upset Ms Anaria and are off limits. However, Ms Anaria is more than happy to discuss the soundproofing qualities of the adjacent music room.

6. Clean up after yourself

The transfer ship has arrived! We had a lot of enlightening discussions here in the classroom and generated many notes and recordings we now need to clean up. Before anyone leaves, everyone is to form an orderly line at the data station to upload today’s information to your personal, preferably encrypted, device. Once uploaded, please return to your assigned colour square to await the Earth liaison. Ms Anaria will then delete the files off the ship system, for privacy, of course.

7. Be kind to each other

Remember: the tri-system area of space is a community, and communities are kind and helpful to each other. We need each other so we can all thrive. Selfish behaviour should be gently, but firmly, discouraged and corrected, perhaps by a two-thirds majority.

Thank you for following Ms Anaria’s Classroom Rules!

When she heard the boom, Millie set aside her knitting. Through rain cascading down the dark living room window, she could see flames reaching up above the trees. The fire had to be extraordinarily hot to burn in this storm. These crashes were becoming more common and usually there were no survivors.

She flicked light switches and poked buttons on her phone, more to rule out any possibility of outside help than because she thought the power or connectivity would work. The washed-out bridge at the end of her driveway meant she couldn’t drive for help. For a moment she considered picking up her knitting and waiting until the morning to visit the crash site. With her husband gone for two years, she was alone in her forest. Her old dog lifted his great brown head from the worn rug in front of the wood stove. He whined at her, but didn’t lumber to his feet; his old joints were arthritic. She used to rely on him to jump up barking to warn her of strangers coming down her long driveway into the forest, but he was past that.

“I guess it’ll have to be me then,” she told herself sternly. “I can’t decently leave anyone out in this storm.”

She moved stiffly to the cold mud room and pulled on her boots and raincoat. She filled her pockets with candy and grabbed her big flashlight.

The storm pushed needles of rain into her face and her feet slipped across dark flows of mud. The trees moaned and reached in the wind and she couldn’t hear anything above them. The tree-topping flames had died down, but she could see a glow above the field by the river. She didn’t hurry; she wouldn’t be able to help anyone if she fell and broke her own leg.

She came out of the forest and saw a dozen large and small figures silhouetted by the flickering orange glow.

She waved and called, “Hello! Do you need help?”

Read more science fiction from Nature Futures

The figures turned towards her, and she pulled down her rain hood and angled her flashlight upwards to cast a glow onto her own face to show that she was just an old woman. She sensed, rather than saw, the figures tense and move closer together.

She couldn’t tell if they understood, but she kept up a low stream of comforting nonsense as she moved towards them, as if to calm a nervous animal. “It’s OK. I live up the hill. You can come in out of the rain. Here, I have some candy.”

She held out jellybeans on her palm. A tall figure stepped forward and took the sticky, wet candy. He (or she, Millie couldn’t tell) sniffed it, and handed it to the small figures who stuffed it into their mouths.

Close up, Millie could see that some of them were shivering, and they had scrapes and cuts showing glistening blood through rips in ragged clothing. The rain poured down on them. Millie gestured back towards her house, not sure if they would understand. But when she turned to walk back up the hill, the group stumbled after her, some carrying others.

Inside the house, the huge dog rose with a growl. “Settle down, Angus,” Millie said and the beast came over and sniffed the strangers. He waved his stump of a tail and lay down at their feet.

Millie gestured to the couch and pushed more logs into the burnt-down fire. She gathered mounds of blankets from the hallway closet. She stretched out a faded blue blanket decorated with bright cartoon trucks and wrapped it around one of the smaller figures huddled into himself in the corner of the couch. She thought he smiled at her with his eyes and she remembered wrapping the same blanket around her small son decades ago.

She bustled into the kitchen and grabbed crackers and cereal and nuts; anything that didn’t need to be cooked. She couldn’t imagine what the strangers ate. She remembered a pan of left-over soup; it would be all right; the fridge had only been dead a few hours. She put it on top of the wood stove to warm. The strangers were still huddled together so she moved over her knitting and spread the food out across the coffee table. They came closer and talked among themselves, and their language sounded to Millie like the twittering of birds.

She sat on an armchair and watched as they consumed all the food she had put out; they must be starving. She went back to her pantry and opened cans of pineapple and tuna; they ate everything, except the Spam, which they wouldn’t touch.

When nearly all the food was gone, the small figure wrapped in the truck blanket came over and leant against Millie’s legs. His huge dark eyes looked into hers. She picked him up and sat him on her lap and she had an image of her own son, now over six feet tall. The small stranger snuggled against her chest and put one of his seven fingers in his mouth under his beak. Millie smiled and stroked his grey cheek, his skin slightly sand-papery, like a cat’s tongue. Two sets of eyelids fluttered down over his huge round eyes. “Aren’t you a sweet little one?” she said.

His stranded and lost alien family spread out their arms and bowed their heads at Millie in a simultaneous gesture. They twittered in their own language. Millie had no hope of understanding the words, but she felt their gratitude and warm approval. The child put his small head on her shoulder, sighed and went to sleep.

This is the talk page for discussing improvements to the End of Plastic (2029) article, about the Tremella purgare fungus, released into the Gulf of Mexico after the TransAm War Oil Spill, and the knock-on impact of the attempted bioremediation.

This page has been listed as a level-3 vital article in Earth. If you can improve it, please do.

Deadly fungi?

Can an expert in this field please expand on or link to the meaning of ‘deadly fungus’ in the opening sentence. Deadly fungi is a disambiguation page and as a non-expert I am uncertain whether it applies here. — 8ditor

Update details

There’s some updated research explaining the spreading mechanism the fungi used to move from sea to land. The spores eject hard, and once airborne, can latch on to any oil-based synthetic material, and then they grow and digest it. Here’s the ref: (Spread of mycelium oil to plastics) — jamirazzz

Dumping an untested fungus into the environment like they’ve learnt nothing from biological pest control. — 8ditor

I think it was tested (Lab_Results_FUNGUS.PDF). Just not well enough, I guess. — SamePanicDifferentDisco

Article name

Doomsday doesn’t seem like a good fit for this article. It’s supposed to focus on the introduction of the oil-digesting fungus dumped into the Gulf of Mexico. — Kinoko

It does that in section one tho, look: Development and introduction into the ecosystem. It’s causing major chaos. — DoraTheExSpora

Chaos isn’t the same as doomsday. Suggest renaming to ‘Unintended consequences of fungal petrochemical control’. — Kinoko

Remove image

The picture of mushrooms sliced up on pizza can be confusing and might be dangerous. — thatplantguy

All suggestions that T. purgare fungus might be edible in the future should be removed to prevent potentially fatal mistakes. This includes any links to edible fungi in the initial description. — jamirazzz

Level-3 change to Level-2

Can an expert please confirm whether we can upgrade this page from Level-3 to Level-2 to reflect the current shitstorm now that plastic everywhere is basically disappearing? — Kinoko

I second this, the damage it’s causing to health equipment is crazy!

[This guy’s pacemaker disintegrated].

And there was that airplane that got holes in it while it was flying. Look: [Watch this airplane turn into swiss cheese!] — DoraTheExSpora

That footage needs to come with a trigger warning. I’ve unlinked them from the article. — thatplantguy

Misleading statement: Jelly seas???

Section four talks about the fungus (fungi?) eating all the microplastics in the ocean. But it talks about the seas turning to jelly, which is a misnomer. Sure, they’re more solid than previously, but when the plastics are all consumed, the fungi will die and it’ll become water again. — 47.71.232.208

Yeah, but that’s going to take a while. And look, [U gotta see this dude walking on water] and his shoes melt because of the doomfungus. Plus, all the fish and things are gonna die before the seas are free of microplastics.

Img.png

Img2.png — DoraTheExSpora

Is there a way to revoke edit access if DoraTheExSpora doesn’t stop posting triggering things? — thatplantguy

This stuff is really happening, though. You can’t deny it. — DoraTheExSpora

Death toll

Updated figures rolling in from accidents and medical issues in section four. Suggest this be moved up to the intro section to keep it easier to locate/update. Also have made a list of things that contain plastic that people might not expect to suddenly break down. Like clothes and orthopaedic implants. — SamePanicDifferentDisco

These figures are changing daily. Will add a link to the UN mortality stats page. — 8ditor

Sealing off computing equipment/bunkers

Has anyone else moved into their prepper bunker? Just checking if they’ve managed to sterilize everything before sealing in. — jamirazzz

Read more science fiction from Nature Futures

I just switched everything in the house over to metal. Like, the keyboard is an old metal typewriter that I rigged. — DoraTheExSpora

Remember that this is not a chat room. But, yes, everything in the bunker looks ok so far, everyone settling in. Nice to be away from the city, too. — SamePanicDifferentDisco

Temporary lag

Had to move to a new bunker, didn’t realize the sealant around the windows was sus. Plus, internet went down because a bunch of equipment got eaten. The UN mortality page has been moving too fast to keep this page updated. Suggest just putting a link in the page intro. — jamirazzz

I think we should big up the numbers, so more people take it seriously. Not like this dude [Watch this fool explode after drinking water with doomshroom in it!] — DoraTheExSpora

Petition to ban DoraTheExSpora for recidivism. — thatplantguy

Any updates?

I noticed there’s not been any updates for a few days. Family bunker life is keeping me busy, and so is managing the water situation. The filters were not designed for this. — SamePanicDifferentDisco

Checking in

Internet has also been very patchy the past few days. But if anyone has any updates, please feel free to post here. It would be good to know how regular contributors from different parts of the world are doing. I heard on the news that the seas haven’t actually turned back to liquid yet, and that’s really impacting things like weather. It would be good to hear from you folks. — SamePanicDifferentDisco

Still not heard anything

It’s been a few weeks since the last post and there’s been no updates. I don’t know if that means your internet is just down, or worse. Some internet services must still be running, because the UN is still updating their death toll, and there’s still news coming in through the radio. Anyway, I hope you’re all doing ok. — SamePanicDifferentDisco

Steampunk saved me

Glad I went with metal! Even bunkers aren’t safe, look [Doomfungus ate thru insulation and got this family!] — DoraTheExSpora

The Earth and I

James Lovelock et al. Taschen (2024)

Environmentalist James Lovelock, who died in 2022, is known for having proposed the Gaia hypothesis — that Earth is a self-regulating, complex system. With his last book, first published in German in 2017, he wished to prevent people from repeating humanity’s mistakes. It offers 12 essays on this theme by notable scientists, science writers, a philosopher and an economist, book-ended with shorter essays by Lovelock himself. “Our intelligence will enable life, in whatever form, to continue, into a deep and distant future,” he concludes.

The Knowledge Economy and Socialism

Agustín Lage Dávila Monthly Review (2024)

Unlike communist-ruled China and Russia, Cuba lacks both natural resources and a large internal market. So, to develop its economy, Cuba has focused since its 1959 revolution on science and technology. This has created “the developing world’s most established biotechnology industry”, as Nature noted in 2009. Cuban immunologist and communist Agustín Dávila analyses this history, which he says is reminiscent of Soviet scientific success pre-1970s, while openly admitting that he writes “to defend socialism”.

Otherworldly Antarctica

Edmund Stump Univ. Chicago Press (2024)

Over 40 years, geologist Edmund Stump has climbed, photographed and studied much of the 3,500-kilometre length of Antarctica’s Transantarctic Mountains — “my stomping ground” — including its highest summit. His book of photographs is his “homage to Antarctica, the continent of ice”, captioned by himself with playful illustrations by Marlene Hill Donnelly. Mountains, ice, snow and sea dominate, with remarkably few signs of life apart from distant fellow explorers, and steam belching from Mount Erebus’s noxious crater.

Cull of the Wild

Hugh Warwick Bloomsbury Wildlife (2024)

In 1958, China’s then leader Mao Zedong declared war on its sparrows, to conserve the grain harvest for its hungry population. But the massacre liberated insects — normally sparrow food — to eat the grain. No doubt ecologists could have warned him, but they cannot resolve the conflict between head and heart in all instances in which wild animals are culled for conservation. Whatever the animal, “any cull of the wild is very complicated”, writes ecologist and hedgehog expert Hugh Warwick in his fascinating, readable book.

Guardrails

Urs Gasser & Viktor Mayer-Schönberger Princeton Univ. Press (2024)

Throughout history, human decisions have been influenced by social customs, regulations and laws: guardrails. But artificial intelligence is complicating this relationship. “We challenge the mantra that more technology is the best answer to problems of human decision-making,” write governance researchers Urs Gasser and Viktor Mayer-Schönberger. They cite a devastating collision between two aircraft in 2002, caused by conflicting advice from an automated warning system and a human air-traffic controller. Andrew Robinson

Competing Interests

The author declares no competing interests.

Region: Noctis Labyrinthus (Phoenicis Lacus quadrangle).

Highlights: Steep-walled canyon in Tharsis Plateau. Listed on Mars Historical Register.

Difficulty: Strenuous; technical at end.

Overview

This newly opened canyon trail retraces the journey of the infamous Peterson expedition of 2058. Hardcore trekkers (bring extra oxygen!) can follow the expedition’s original path; families and less-experienced hikers should loop back at either of the Jackson Alternatives.

Getting there

At Valles Marineris Station 20, rent a half-track. Follow Route 914 westward 1,152 km to the Habitat Jerry Historical Site Visitor Centre (vacuum toilets; recycled water and oxygen).

At the Visitor Centre

The centre features a life-size reproduction of Habitat Jerry’s original living quarters, control centre and communications hub. Adults and children will enjoy exploring these 2050s-era modules with an interactive autodocent simulating Mission Deputy Shonda Jackson.

The exhibits on the Peterson expedition are, for obvious reasons, less vivid.

Starting the trek

From the Visitor Centre, follow the interpretive trail alongside Habitat Jerry’s remnants. Trail signs interpret the remains of the greenhouse, hygiene facilities and (unsuccessful) emergency shelter.

At 0.8 km, a large titanium statue honours Mission Deputy Shonda Jackson, Mission Specialist Mike Kazami and Mission Specialist Lenise Kontrovitz. A smaller historical marker contextualizes Commander Nick Peterson.

Signpost 1

The trek begins in earnest at 1.3 km. Savour the views — the Tharsis Upland, with volcanic peaks Pavonis Mons and Arsia Mons, to the west; the steep-walled Noctis Labyrinthus canyon to the east — and imagine deciding the critical question after Habitat Jerry’s destruction by a still-raging dust storm: remain on-site and await rescue, or take cover in the canyon?

Signpost 2

The trail, now just bare regolith with occasional cairns, leads straight towards the canyon’s edge. Historians believe that Commander Peterson hoped to find shelter in a cliffside lava tube. Areology buffs: the steep-sided depressions in Noctis Labyrinthus are called ‘chasmata’.

Signpost 3: Jackson’s First Alternative

Families and less-experienced hikers should turn right at this junction. Jackson’s First Alternative leads to a wind-eroded mound near a small impact crater. The lee side offers a great place to rest; returning to the Visitor Centre makes an easy 4.8 km round trip. (In the unlikely event of a sudden dust storm during your visit, the mound’s lee side offers excellent protection.)

Read more science fiction from Nature Futures

The Peterson expedition, of course, continued onward, as will experienced trekkers. The trail descends into the canyon along a narrow ledge on the basalt-walled cliffside. At 6.3 km, notice the inscription “HJ CREW SOS — MK” cut into the rock. This carving (scratched by Specialist Mike Kazami’s utility knife) is protected; don’t add your own initials.

Continue 1.6 km down into the canyon. Notice that the view overhead is cramped; even on a bright day, little light penetrates. Unfortunately, Commander Peterson was wrong about the canyon’s safety; there are no convenient lava tubes, and owing to the Venturi effect, the canyon’s steep walls force wind to accelerate. However, the hiking is safe until Signpost 5.

Signpost 4: Jackson’s Second Alternative

This branch trail leads along a canyon-wall traverse for 2.8 km, then returns to the surface. Historians believe that Jackson argued for this path, but Peterson overruled her. The cliff wall offers a fine example of the brittle ‘smectite clay’ characteristic of the Noctis Labyrinthus system’s southern basin.

Most trekkers should take Jackson’s Second Alternative. Once back at the surface, it loops back, connects with Jackson’s First Alternative, and returns to the Visitor Centre for a 12.2 km loop. Returning now via Jackson’s Second Alternative offers the best of all worlds: a short descent into Noctis Labyrinthus, a genuine historical inscription, and a vigorous but manageable day hike. Only the strongest hikers should continue downward; the next segments remain treacherous even with recent trail work.

Those continuing should check oxygen levels (minimum: 0.7 kg). Remember: you brought extra oxygen, but the Peterson expedition couldn’t.

Signpost 5: Kazami Family Memorial

Climbing ropes mandatory beyond this point. The Kazami family donated the funds to install anchor points along the trail’s next segment. Because Peterson expedition narratives often focus on the conflict between Peterson and Jackson, a small, privately installed plaque honours the life and career of Specialist Mike Kazami.

The anchor points are spaced 2.5 metres apart owing to the technical terrain and unstable rock. Be smart: check your carabiners twice.

Signpost 6: Kontrovitz Resting Place

At this turn, Specialist Lenise Kontrovitz lost her footing — perhaps blown by the storm — and tumbled into the chasm. Her body has not been recovered, although some eagle-eyed (or imaginative) explorers claim they’ve seen it on the canyon floor 5 kilometres below, when wind blows away the fine sand.

Be respectful and thank the Kazami family for the anchor points.

Signpost 7

Another cliff-wall message, also apparently Kazami’s, is faded but legible: “HJ CREW — LOST — O2 LOW — LK DEAD — SOS.” Some historians believe that Jackson again attempted to persuade Peterson to abandon the descent. (The classic Habitat Jerry: Collapse and Catastrophe, available in the gift shop, imagines Jackson exasperated.) But there is no junction here, so the only other options were turning around, or waiting out the storm on this exposed gravelly ledge.

Signpost 8: Jackson’s Redoubt

A narrow ridge studded with green pyroxene crystals. Forensic experts believe that with the dust storm unabated, Kontrovitz dead and Peterson (probably hypoxic and cognitively impaired) insisting on descending farther into the chasm, Jackson confronted him here. She may have demanded that he relieve himself of command, or just decided to push past him and reverse course. History buffs can speculate; in any event, Commander Peterson’s knife is displayed at the Xanthe Terra Police Museum.

A metal chain marks the end of the Peterson Historic Trail. Return to the Visitor Centre for fresh oxygen and a hot chocolate.

“I’ve brought your tea, professor.” Albert shouldered open the door to the old man’s study and set the tray on a few sheets of paper, the only corner of the old man’s desk not buried beneath books.

“Not there, Albert. I need those papers.”

“Sorry, sir.” Albert didn’t move the tray, but instead placed a tea strainer above a cup embellished with rosebuds, surreptitiously dropped a little white pill into it, and poured the tea. The pill dissolved instantly.

“Not now.” The professor waved him away.

“I must insist, sir. You’ve taken neither food nor drink since noon.”

“What time is it?”

“After seven, sir.”

“Light the lamps if you will.”

The steady light from the gas lamps on the wall behind the professor’s desk already lit the room with barely a flicker. It was the old man’s sight growing dim. He was close to the end. Albert fervently hoped the old man wouldn’t try to demonstrate his work before death took him naturally. If he did then Albert’s mission was clear. He must protect the timeline.

Read more science fiction from Nature Futures

“Take your tea, sir, it will make you feel better.” The pill would ensure it did — a painkiller better than anything available in this benighted century.

“My life’s work is complete, Albert.”

“Then it will wait while you take refreshment.”

“The Royal Society can’t deny the mathematical proof.” The professor sat back, grunted, and put one hand to his belly.

Albert removed the strainer and offered the cup. “Just the way you like it, sir.”

The professor sighed and ran one hand across his sparse grey hair. “You know me too well.”

“I should think so, sir, after 43 years.”

“Do you think they will be able to cure cancer in the future?” The professor’s hand twitched towards his belly again.

“Man was never meant to be immortal, sir.”

“True enough.”

The professor reached for his teacup, breathed in the steam, and took a sip.

He stared at nothing for a full minute, then looked up and said, “It’s time.”

“Time, sir, for what?”

“Time, man, time. It’s not real. Time is a construct of our imagination. We think of time as linear. It ticks past, second by second, flowing like a river, but what of that river when it gets to the sea?”

“Sir?”

The professor swirled his cup and stared at the liquid within. “Time is not a river, Albert, it’s a vast ocean. Its currents churn and eddy.” He sighed and drained his cup. “And, finally, when time is running out for me, I have the answer. We can pitch ourselves from 1892 into the vast sea of time and emerge where we will. Past or future.”

“You’re sure, sir?”

“I am, and now I’m ready to prove it. My calculations —”

“These calculations, sir?” Albert lifted the tray to reveal papers covered in neat equations.

“Yes, those, just so. I’ve arranged a meeting with Hopkins tomorrow, to reveal everything. I thought time was going to beat me, Albert, but I’ve beaten it.”

Albert slid the tray to one side, sending two books crashing to the floor. He scooped up the papers and glanced at them briefly. “Close enough, sir, close enough.” Then he ripped them in half, stalked to the fireplace and flung them into the flames.

“Albert! What are you doing?”

The old man stood, shaking, but it was too late. His life’s work was already curling up the chimney to be dispersed as smoke on the wind.

Speechless, he flopped back down into his chair, his eyes wide, staring at the man who’d looked after him for more than four decades, his gentleman’s gentleman, trusted servant, companion and, even, friend.

“As you say, sir, it’s time. And now I can go home.”

“Home?” It was the only word the old man caught on to.

“Home, sir, back to 2246.”

“Twenty-two —”

“Your work is impeccable, sir, but it’s too soon. The world isn’t ready.”

“But —”

“Imagine someone using it to travel back and strangle Bonaparte in his cradle.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“It depends on who rises to power in his stead.”

“So —”

“So, you will never meet with Hopkins. The Royal Society must remain in ignorance, but you, sir, will never be forgotten. You will be known as the father of time travel, though not in this century, or the next, or even the one after that.”

“I don’t understand. Forty-three years, Albert, and now I feel as though I’ve never known you.”

“I was sent to watch over you and your work, but under no circumstances was I to allow you to reveal your findings to this century.”

“Then you needs must kill me, for I will not be silenced.”

“Those were indeed my orders, but I am relieved that nature is doing it for me.”

“I’m not finished yet. I have my notes.”

“No, sir, I have your notes.”

The professor tried to stand again, but his knees would not support him.

Albert crossed to the wall lights, turned off the gas, let the flames die and the gas mantles cool, then he opened up the gas taps again to a soft hiss. The gas smelled sulfurous as it seeped into the room. In the flickering firelight, he placed one hand on the professor’s shoulder.

“You have a choice, sir. History says you died in a gas explosion, but will you come with me instead? I owe you at least that.”

“To where?”

“To the future.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Trust your own mathematics.”

Albert reached into his pocket and activated the device. As the first tendrils of gas seeped towards the fire’s flames, Albert and the professor faded out.

Purified

Peter Annin Island (2024)

The cover of this revolutionary book shows a recycling symbol, with arrows of clear blue water. Yet the subject is sewage. Environmental and water journalist Peter Annin is satisfied that recycled sewage can be drunk, after studying water recycling for two decades. “In the climate change era, water cannot be taken for granted anymore — and that includes sewage,” he says. Recycling technology could, he argues, relieve the US water crisis, especially in the west, where water diversions have desolated the Colorado River Delta.

Audubon as Artist

Roberta J. M. Olson Reaktion (2024)

As a museum curator in New York City, art historian Roberta Olson looked after 474 watercolours painted by John James Audubon for his classic book The Birds of America (1827–38). Gazing at his birds, she writes, “one wonders whether they might momentarily fly off the page”. Glorious reproductions fill this intriguing book. She regards Audubon as an “American Leonardo da Vinci”, fusing art and science, but focuses more on his art than his naturalism. A gripping self-portrait painted before he found success hints at Audubon’s difficult life.

The Heart and the Chip

Daniela Rus & Gregory Mone Norton (2024)

Computer scientist Daniela Rus has dreamt about robots since she was a child, and has developed them for years at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge. She is convinced they will not steal our jobs, as is often feared, but will make humans “more capable, productive, precise”. Her engaging book, co-written with science writer Gregory Mone, focuses on combining human and robotic strengths to pair “the heart and the chip” in three interlinked fields: robotics, artificial intelligence and machine learning.

The Struggle for Public Health

Fred C. Pampel John Hopkins Univ. Press (2024)

Rates of death from communicable diseases fell hugely in the late nineteenth century; by 49% for respiratory tuberculosis (TB), for example. But much of the fall had less to do with medical advances — the TB vaccine was not in widespread use until 1954 — than with “rising standards of living, better nutrition, and a strengthening public health movement”, writes sociologist Fred Pampel. His book explores this complexity clearly in seven chapters, each devoted to a public-health pioneer, from epidemiologist John Snow to nurse Lillian Wald.

Deep Water

James Bradley Scribe UK (2024)

“How inappropriate to call this planet ‘Earth’, when clearly it is ‘Ocean’,” said science-fiction author Arthur C. Clarke. His comment opens this meditation by science writer James Bradley. He stands on the Australian coast in 2020, witnessing record bush fires that accompanied record oceanic heating. The ocean, where life began, “is the memory of the world”, he writes, given its pivotal role in evolution, migration, capitalism and climate change. Unless we protect it better, we are heading for catastrophe.

Competing Interests

The author declares no competing interests.