On 27/06/2012 03:33, Brenda Clough wrote:
>> I wonder if NASA has noticed.
> Since space travel is so expensive, the only way to really get it
> going is to have it supply either profit or prestige. Either
> space industry/business has to become possible, or we begin
> competing in another space race. The third major motivator for
> nations is war, and we really don't want to be invaded by Martians.
In my short story /Hittile/ I throw away a phrase about the ROUGH
MAGIC chain being built to kickstart the economy after the crash.
Mencken is quoted as saying: The whole aim of practical politics
is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to
safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all
of them imaginary.
I am surprised in that case that the political staffs of all
major parties do not contain at least one SF writer each: who
better than us to set the bogeymen loose? Then the spin merchants
could set off with their 'think of the children', 'we owe it to
our grandchildren', 'the precautionary principle says' chants
and, bingo!, before you know it you're in deep space with the
ability to knock threatening asteroids out of the sky. The fact
you can now colonise the asteroid belt is purely coincidental. Or
grow enough vaccine to beat a natural pandemic even if some
addled terrorist doesn't grow one to order. Or... insert
hobgoblin here.
JF
[[
Confidence bravo was fifty thou out. Confidence alfa...
"Well now. Just look at that," said Scott's voice. "It's a
bullseye." The red dot was dead centre on the Earth.
The chief controller slapped her hand on a palm-sized button
beside her chair. Sirens sounded and a robot voice blared.
"Alert, alert. Standby to launch." Airlocks slammed shut all
over the spinning wheel.
"Launching, launching. Non-essential personnel take cover.
Non-essential..."
ROUGH MAGIC lurched as the Hoplite blasted free.
"Hoplite to Guardian, take cover. Hoplite slewing now. Firing
in thirty seconds. Take cover." The speakers took up the refrain.
A controller grabbed Carradine. They fell together down some
steps into a dingy hole below the seats. The woman's face was wet
with sweat.
"If she blows up we'll get zapped. Three metres of lead here."
They held their breath.
Much later Carradine saw the holo of the launch, shot from
Longstop. The Hoplite broke free of the wheel in an explosion of
sparks and debris. She swung smoothly into position, then ignited
her main engine. Bombs fired one after another, three a second, a
searing glare that cut out all other vision, exploding just
behind the huge buffer plate, enormous shock absorbers bouncing
under the titanic strain of each impact. Hoplite stood on a
pillar of flame and streaked away. Big as a supertanker, fifty
years old, the hittile was up and running.
]]