POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: Astrobiology, the Pseudoscience – Part 1

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in London this past August, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. The link is provided below…

“Astrobiology - The Hunt for Alien Life encompass[es] research into the origins and limits of life on our own planet, and where life might exist beyond the Earth. But what actually is ‘life’ and how did it emerge on our own world? What are the most extreme conditions terrestrial life can tolerate? And where in the cosmos might we reasonably expect to find ET? Join Dr. Lewis Dartnell on a tour of the other planets and moons in  our solar system which may harbour life, and even further afield to alien worlds we’ve discovered orbiting distant stars, to explore one of the greatest questions ever asked: are we alone...?”

Ah! My favorite subject and one I teach every summer – Alien Worlds!

This is the question I invariably start out with: “Let’s start out simply. How many of you believe that there is ‘life’ somewhere off of Earth – and by life, I mean anything from microorganisms to vast, interstellar alien empires?”

In the class, every hand is raised. When faced with the parameters of “from microorganisms to…”, most young people are willing to go out on that limb. Actually, so are lots of adults. In a 2013 HuffPost survey (PLEASE consider the source here!), half of the people who took it said that they believed that there was SOME sort of life elsewhere.

Confidence dives when I press on: “How many of you believe that there is COMPLEX life somewhere off Earth?” Some hands drop.

More drop when I ask, “How many of you believe that there is INTELLIGENT life somewhere off Earth?”

I then ask them to give their reasons and the ensuing discussion is lively and one of the main reasons I’ve been teaching the class three or four times a year for the past 17 years. But when I ask my final question...you might hear crickets chirping in the room. “Can you give me scientific proof that there is life anywhere else but on Earth?”

Speaking into the silence, “I am a science fiction writer,” I tell them. “I WANT to see or know that there are aliens. I write about it. I dream about it. I teach this class because of it. But the incontrovertible, scientific FACT is that there is absolutely nothing except faith and hope that life exists anywhere else but here.”

And so astrobiology is, by definition, a pseudoscience: “a collection of beliefs or practices mistakenly regarded as being based on scientific method.”

No matter how much we want to believe that it’s a science that is laying the groundwork for future work it is, at this point, a pseudoscience. It’s an imaginary job.

*sigh*

So let’s talk about the basis of this imaginary job.

We have planets and moons and “stuff” in this Solar system that run the gamut from a tumbling rock in hard vacuum (http://www.space.com/28375-nasa-pings-asteroid-and-its-moon-during-flyby-video.html) to comets (http://www.usnews.com/news/articles/2014/11/12/rosetta-comet-landing-is-space-game-changer) to moons like our own (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_landing), moons like Titan (http://www.esa.int/Our_Activities/Space_Science/Cassini-Huygens/Titan_s_swirling_polar_cloud_is_cold_and_toxic), planets like Jupiter (http://www.spaceanswers.com/space-exploration/the-probe-that-survived-for-78-minutes-inside-jupiter/) and Venus (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRGTk0KQhf4), to our homeworld, Earth.

Astrobiology pseudoscientists, in preparation for the day they get real evidence of life off of Earth, have become instead experts on life at its most extreme on Earth. Creatures who live on these edges are called extremophiles.

The one I find most fascinating are the hyperextremophiles and the psychrophiles – bacteria that can survive and reproduce at temperatures as high as 121 C (250 F) down to – 20 C (-4 F). Data returned to Earth from space probes allow us to speculate that if life can exist on Earth at these extremes, then certainly life can exist on other worlds that are constant at these extremes.

With the recent announcement that “we’re going to Europa!” (http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn26902-green-light-for-mission-to-jupiter-moon-europa.html#.VOCdCWd0zIU), astrobiologipsts stand ready to develop experiments that can offer incontrovertible proof that there is life somewhere besides Earth.

That it will give them a real job to do instead of the pseudo job they claim today goes without saying.

More on this same subject next time around!

References: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/06/21/alien-poll_n_3473852.html, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychrophile, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyperthermophile

Program Book: http://www.loncon3.org/documents/ReadMe_LR.pdf

Image: http://www.dailygalaxy.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/08/29/extremophiles_2.jpg

MARTIAN HOLIDAY 65: Paolo Enroute

On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers, Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story.

But why did the satellite – or whatever it was – have the ability to broadcast in the ultrasonic in the first place? “In space,” went the apocryphal aphorism, “no one can hear you scream.”

He set the chamber to 55o nm and 38,412 Hz or 38 kHz, slowing the recording rate of the overhead camera and fired again.

Staggering backwards, Paolo Marcillon crumpled to the floor.

When he woke up again, the clock said he’d been out for nearly an hour. His ears rang as if he’d been standing near an active launch pad on Earth without sound cancelling headgear. The headache this time was worse. He took another dose of analgesic then looked into the airlock.

Nothing had changed. Humans typically used smooth titanium or aluminum shells, either boxy or misshapen but this was pebbled in some way – not abraded by micrometeoroids like cheap sats were after a couple years in orbit. It wasn’t even spherical – though that might be explained by him running over it with the ‘bug. Even so, it didn’t look like it had been crushed, either. It looked to him as if it had been made this way.

There was nothing that made it look like it could have landed, though one end was slightly wider than that other and there were four tapered bumps that had been placed equilaterally around it. It had also had markings under a strong green light – at 550 nanometers. They’d been incomprehensible but clearly intelligently shaped. “Alien” tried to shove itself into his head and he resisted. Everyone on Mars was aware that one of their missions had been to find life, or even evidence of life on the Red Planet. But they’d been here over a hundred years, and despite the best efforts of wild-eyed alienologists, there was nothing verifiable, no unambiguous “dinosaur” fossils – or even “trilobite” fossils. Even hotly debated claims over “algae fossils” ebbed and flowed as if they had a mind of their own.

It had become a matter of ne0-religious belief to alienologists on par with the early 21^st Century belief that Humans alone – even seven billion of them – could destroy the environment of a living world and alter its climate on any significant scale. He shook his head, the hubris was astonishing. Believing in any metaphysical higher being was easier.

He saved the recording of both the markings and the satellite’s response to the ultrasound, then muted the recording and watched it in slow motion. Across the bottom of the screen, the frequency climbed by tenths of a wavelength.

At exactly 38.412 kHz the surface of the satellite spiked. He paused, reversed then magnified ten times. One of the pebble bumps grew into a spike when the key frequency was reached. He froze the image and magnified again, noticing that the spikes were not identical. He reversed the magnification, but the differences disappeared. He was no audio visual expert, so he said to the ship’s computer, “What would this image look like if I was doing a medical ultrasound?”

The image vanished for a few moments and when it reappeared, he couldn’t understand what he saw at first. Scowling, he ordered the image to rotate slowly. Still nothing. Then he asked it to reverse the magnification again until the entire satellite was visible. Even then, he couldn’t identify anything until the image grew to include the entire airlock.

That was when he gasped as the image of a Human-scaled being shaped like a dolphin – in the same way a Human was shaped like a chimpanzee – floated in the air. It turned to face the camera and it was at that point that he’d passed out.

“The hell?” he muttered. He stared for a long time before he finally said, “Looks like the alienologists were right.”

Image: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kB5wP5o5VuzbhQVDthrqJohh8uL52IGDt84n3dGhkCI-t4RMfYH8kx-KjMU4CpHSKfJBCYAuX3Vx2BD_SMD5j06A-Tm_tz_6b29Ohv5Dkl5xtNoaecKLHOMkCWDbP_RrQZrjnatLx0A/s1600/Astronauta+Marcos+C%C3%A9sar+Pontes.bmp

HERE'S THE ISSUE OF ANALOG THAT MY PROBABILITY ZERO IS IN!

QUICK BEFORE IT DISAPPEARS! Here’s the issue of ANALOG that my short-short story is in!

(The issue WITH the Table of Contents!)

http://www.analogsf.com/2015_04/index.shtml

Image: http://magastack.com/img/magazines/thumbs/analog-science-fiction-and-fact/analog-science-fiction-and-fact-april-2015/thumbs/930x1173/_og%20Science%20Fiction%20and%20Fact%20%E2%80%93%20April%202015_000001.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 196

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

H Trope: Blue Collar Warlock ("I have an idea that most of the mystics in comics are generally older people, very austere, very proper, very middle class in a lot of ways. They are not at all functional on the street. It struck me that it might be interesting for once to do an almost blue collar warlock. Somebody who was streetwise, working class, and from a different background than the standard run of comic book mystics. Constantine started to grow out of that.")

Current Event: “Forgive me for getting a bit carried away. I find it an entertaining exercise to look for those parallels. I simply wonder if the manner in which we tackle the challenges we face in real life is reflected in the way we tackle our virtual battles. As a side-note, I'd also be interested to see what kind of people the Destiny sub consists of.” (http://www.reddit.com/r/DestinyTheGame/comments/2n3xfc/whats_your_primary_class_and_what_do_you_do_in/)

Rafael Pai-Teles sighed. “Eu vou estar o trabalhar para a Metrô del Belo Horizonte para o resto de minha vida!”

Eduarda Cisota shook her head and said, “Speak English. Your Portuguese is crappy.”

“I can’t work for the Belo Horizonto Metro  for the rest of my life!”

Eduarda said, “What else are you going to do?”

Rafael said, “I can do something else.”

“You can’t do anything,” she said. “Now get back to work.”

 Rafael scowled. “I’m worth a lot more than you think I am!” he snapped.

“You’re a kid. Just like me. You’re gonna run the train and I’m gonna take tickets from now until forever. It’s what happened. At least we didn’t get turned into stalagmites. We were lucky to be here when the Donkey Wizard took over Up North.”

“It was the Elephant Sorceress and she turned everyone into obsidian shards,” Eduarda said.

He threw his arms into the air and shouted, “Whatever! I can do something about it!”

“About every living thing being turned into some kind of inorganic obelisk – what can you possibly do?” Rafael crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Eduarda rolled her eyes and said, “That didn’t come out how I meant it to come out.”

“How did you mean it, as a compliment?”

“No, but I didn’t mean to sound so...” as she spoke, a train roared into Carlos Prates Estação.

“I have to go now! I’ll tell you what I can do later!” he shouted.

She watched him run after the train where he was a porter. His father had been a physicist in the Aryabhata tradition, dealing with solar energy and, accordingly, solar weapons. He’d died when the Wizard or Sorceress or whoever turned life to stone. There was some Christian writer who’d written of a fictional sorceress who had done then, but she didn’t know who. The train started to pull out and she cursed. Now she’d have to...As she watched, the concrete platform under Rafael’s feet shimmered, then appeared to be a mound of living tissue – like a wart or pimple or something equally disgusting. As it rose though, it allowed Rafael to step easily on to the train. She rubbed her eyes and when she opened them, her long-time friend was waving back at her, grinning ear to ear as he pulled from the station.

Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belo_Horizonte_Metro

Names: ♀ Brazil; ♂ Brazil

Image: http://domtotal.com/img/noticias/2011-12/395198_77901.jpg

WRITING ADVICE: What Went RIGHT With “Marcus and Eggplant Save Patokay” (Stories For Children Magazine Online, February 2009) Guy Stewart #13

In September of 2007, I started this blog with a bit of writing advice. A little over a year later, I discovered how little I knew about writing after hearing children’s writer, Lin Oliver speak at a convention hosted by the Minnesota Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. Since then, I have shared (with their permission) and applied the writing wisdom of Lin Oliver, Jack McDevitt, Nathan Bransford, Mike Duran, Kristine Kathryn Rusch, SL Viehl, Bruce Bethke, and Julie Czerneda. Together they write in genres broad and deep, and have acted as agents, editors, publishers, columnists, and teachers.

While I don’t write full-time, nor do I make enough money with my writing to live off of it...neither do all of the professional writers above...someone pays for and publishes ten percent of what I write. When I started this blog, that was NOT true, so I may have reached a point where my own advice is reasonably good. We shall see! Hemingway’s quote to the left will now remain unchanged as I work to increase my writing output and sales! As always, your comments are welcome!

This story was my first attempt at a kids’ kids story and I absolutely did exactly what every writing book tells me not to do: I took the story from real life!

At the time I wrote it, we had a cockatiel – along with cats, dogs, fish, hamsters,  lizards, and frogs. I liked to tell people we had a pet animal representing each major animal class: mammal, fish, reptile, amphibian, bird, and insect. My son was Angel’s favorite person. I was probably its LEAST favorite person. But at the time, I was very familiar with its behavior.

Angel loved to have his chest stroked and his head scratched.

He also loved to screech when he was lonely and would fly wherever he could get to then avoid capture to be returned to his cage. We sometimes enticed him with fresh citrus fruits when we had them.

I’d also taken care of a massively and old iguana named Moses, back when I was in college. It was one of those “work-study” jobs. I was a biology major and cleaned the animal room. Most of the job was normal – clean the rat and mouse cages, feed them plus the rabbits, and maintain the supplies. There were two NOT-normal jobs I had to do.

On a table in the animal room were ten fish bowls. In each one was a HUGE, UGLY, WHITE FROG...albino African clawed frogs to be exact. Females and males (the females were much larger than the males and had to be kept separately because, if the male was too small, she’d eat him...

The other odd job I did was take care of Moses. He was elderly, and because he was under the care of a bunch of science geeks, he was pretty healthy and had a row of hard spines on his back running from his head to his tail. My job usually involved cleaning his cage and feeding him part of a head of lettuce as well as piece of fruit, leaves of various plants, and some vitamins dusted on to his food. I also had to take him for a walk in the Biology Hall and into the Administrative Building adjacent to it.

He had a Chihuahua harness that I put on him along with a purple leash. Once a week, it was my job to set him up and then let him do a controlled “run”. He’d start scrabbling as soon as I started to lower him to the floor. Then he’d take off and I’d follow, making sure he didn’t go under or into anything I couldn’t get him out of.

I’d tried breaking into this market with a couple of mysteries I desperately wanted to write that were based on science concepts, but those attempts flopped. Using Moses and Angel – and some names plucked from cultures other than the one I was raised in – I set up the story.

It was quite a bit longer initially, but Stories for Children Magazine (online) was a growing market. Unfortunately, it was a non-paying market, but it did give me an online presence in the early days of electronic magazines or e-zines and so I took the opportunity.

The response to my story was strong enough that they asked if I would permit them to put it into an anthology of stories form their first year. For that they offered token payment...

At any rate, the things that went RIGHT with this:

1. I was looking for a children’s market outside of the standard CRICKET, et al.
2. I had experience with animals, and stories like this are popular with kids.
3. I had the KID solve the problem using information he already had. In other words, he showed up the adults in the story.
4. I SENT IT OUT UNTIL I FOUND A MARKET! (I wrote about persistence here: http://faithandsciencefiction.blogspot.com/2014/05/writing-advice-persist-guy-stewart-1.html)

So what are you waiting for? Take what you know and write a story and good luck and persistence!

Resources: You’ll find the story here: https://books.google.com/books?id=aEiCeLhk08wC&pg=PA23&lpg=PA23&dq=iguana+spine,+tangerine+slices&source=bl&ots=QEKQMRcOWA&sig=kM13BdupZOhn2s16z3jl6SA0Ggw&hl=en&sa=X&ei=u1fXVKOsB4WGyASMl4KQBw&ved=0CCAQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q=iguana%20spine%2C%20tangerine%20slices&f=false

Image: http://static4.quoteswave.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/We-are-all-apprentices.jpg

JOURNEY TO THE PORTRAIT’S SECRET #68: July 29, 1946

This series is a little bit biographical and a little bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and fascinated by the tale. So, I added some speculation about things I've always wondered about and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH clips, click on the label to the right, scroll down to and click OLDER ENTRIES seven or eight times. The FIRST entry is on the bottom of the last page.

The Fairlaine Creamery milk truck rolled to a stop again. Charlie Fairlaine, who’d been driving for over an hour yawned and said, “Either one of you know how to drive?”

Tommy Hastings and Freddie Merrill both raised their hands, frantically flapping and elbowing each other.

Charlie threw his head back and laughed. “I’m gonna take that to mean that neither one of you know how to shift a truck?”

“I do, too!” said Freddie.

“You do not,” Tommy said.

Charlie revved the engine then eased the truck back into gear. “I guess neither one of you’s going to drive us home.”

Freddie scowled and leaned back. “Not my home. That’s a million miles away.”

“More like a little over a hundred,” Charlie said. “You’re on your way, at least.” By the time they reached Malmo, the home of the Fairlaine Creamery, they’d been in the truck a little over an hour. Freddie’s head had nodded down to his chest and Tommy was leaning against the door, snoring. Tempted to slam on the brakes, instead, Charlie slowed down a mile from the creamery. Poking the boys gently, they grunted and groaned as they woke slowly.

Tommy turned and looked at him stupidly, saying, “Are we home yet, Earl?”

“I’m home, Tommy. You and Freddie have another hundred miles to walk.” Charlie paused, “I don’t think I should bring you to the creamery. Dad might have you help us out again.”

Freddie woke then as Tommy scrambled from the truck, dragging Freddie behind him. “I don’t want to shoot no more rats!”

Freddie was still dazed as Charlie nodded to Tommy and said, “Good luck, Kid. If I’m ever in Minneapolis, I’ll stop by and see you.”

“All you gotta do is stop in Loring Park and ask where Tommy Hastings lives. Most people will know who I am. If they don’t, ask ‘em where Earl Habig’s girl lives. He’s the best known sailor in our neighborhood!”

“I’ll do that, Tommy. See you guys.” He revved the truck again and started off down the road.

Just then Freddie said, “What’d you say to him to make him kick us outta the truck?”

“I didn’t say nothing!” Tommy exclaimed. “He didn’t want his dad to make us clean the barn.”

Freddie stared at him, shook his head, and said, “I guess we’d better get walkin’ then. A hundred miles is a long way and I’m pretty sure we been gone a long time.” He looked at the creamy truck as it faded into the distance on the flat road. “At least the Socialists, the mobsters, and the Anoka Witch won’t be bothering us anymore.”

Image: http://thumb9.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/1633877/213461842/stock-photo-country-road-running-through-sunflower-fields-and-corn-fields-213461842.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 195

Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.

Fantasy Trope: “wǔxiá (武侠 — literally ‘martial-arts chivalry; or ‘martial arts heroes’, and pronounced roughly woo-seeah in Mandarin) stories are tall tales of honorable warriors (侠 xiá) fighting against evil, whether it be an individual villain, or a corrupt government.”

Current Event: http://achhikhabre.com/mehul-vora-martial-art-instructor-tsi-india/

Rishika Memon said, “Hang on just a second! I’ve never worn a sari before!”

Akshay Vora, her “partner in crime”, said, “Like I’ve ever worn a sherwani? Are there any buttons?”

Rishika sighed and finished wrapping the lime green garment over her shoulder and said, “It’s not the thing itself, it’s the intent.”

“You mean I’m doing all of this...”

“It’s worth it. We’re going to be fighting, not walking a runway,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“Great. I’m not. I don’t even think I can make my moves in this thing.”

Rishika shook her head. “There won’t be any moves to make.”

Akshay stared at her, “What do you mean, we’re here to fight, aren’t we?”

“Sort of,” she said, holding up her hand as he opened his mouth to talk. He scowled fiercely instead. She swallowed hard. “We’re here to fight – but not with our hands. We’re here to fight with our words.”

“Our words,” Akshay said.

"Don’t give me any of your attitude! Swords and karate chops don’t always stop wars!”

He shook his head, “China chops don’t do anything but give me gas.”

She sniffed and stepped forward to the heavy oaken door. “We’re in this together. There’s a corrupt government out there that we have to overthrow!”

“Did you ever stop and think that we’re the corrupt government we’re trying to overthrow, my oldest friend?”

Rishika paused and looked over her should at him. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

“It all depends on how you look at it!”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, turning around.

“Being that we’re royalty, we’re the government.”

“But neither one of us will ever inherit an actual…like…throne. Your oldest brother and my little sister will be the King and Queen. We aren’t actually the government.”

Akshay looked at him then said, “We could be walking into a slaughter, you know. Us included. There’s only one way to stop this whole thing and that’s if we fight them.”

Rishika went to the door and made a motion over the elaborate carvings, standing with his hands flat over the door, not touching it. He said, “There’s a crowd over there and they’re ugly.”

“Must be your side of the family,” Akshay said.

She scowled, “It’s an angry crowd, Akshay. They’re mad at us...”

“They aren’t mad at us personally, they’re mad at the institution. That’s what we’re here to change.”

“We still haven’t answered the question of how.”

Rishika took a deep breath, held it, then said softly, “We change it by becoming heroes of the people.”

Akshay shook his head and said, “Sounds pretty socialist of you,” he stopped her retort with his hand, “But I agree. We become heroes of the people – sort of like the heroes of the Cultural Revolution. Rénmín Yīngxióng.”

“Exactly.” She pushed the doors open on the square as lightning split the sky...

Names: ♀ India; ♂ India 

Image: http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs15/f/2007/091/b/a/Fulgora___

Lightning_Maiden_by_vampyrenyx.jpg

Slice of PIE: Science Influences SF; Why Isn’t SF Allowed To Influence SCIENCE?

Using the panel discussions of the most recent World Science Fiction Convention in London this past August, I will jump off, jump on, rail against, and shamelessly agree with the BRIEF DESCRIPTION given in the pdf copy of the Program Guide. The link is provided below…

“What Scientists Read: Scholars of literature and science studies, from Aldous Huxley to

George Levine, have always maintained that literature influences science as much as science influences literature. In his 1978 survey of the field, G. S. Rousseau proposed that ‘there is no reason to disbelieve on logical or epistemological grounds that literature and science affect each other reciprocally’. But Rousseau describes the literature-to-science direction of influence as ‘an unexplored territory, probably the one in greatest need of cultivation right now’…addressing the continuing myth that this field has paid as much attention to the influence of literature on science as it has to the influence of science on literature. It will attempt to redress the imbalance by offering initial theories extrapolated from the interview data about the relationship between contemporary scientists’ leisure reading and their scientific thought and practice.”

I wish I had been there to hear the discussion.

I used to believe that SF stories could have an impact on science in that someone who was doing experiments on using electricity to reanimate dead Humans would have read Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley in the interest of gaining insight into the possible ways their work might influence society and what kinds of issues they might have.

Using that logic then, I should be able to research the person who invented “heart shocker pads” (technically a defibrillator) to find that Frankenstein was one of their favorite books and inspired them to research both the electrical nature of the heart and the possibility that using a high voltage shock could restart it.

Nothing about Frankenstein inspiring work on the defibrillator, but I did run across this: “Many consider experiments by Andrew Ure…at University of Strathclyde’s…Anderson’s Institution…to be the inspiration behind Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein…October 1818…conducted experiments on Matthew Clydesdale…Galvanisation – the application of electric current to the human body or medical purposes…Ure…applied electricity to different parts of the corpse…Clydesdale’s eyes opened, his body twitched and his face showed expressions of grimace and rage…conclude[ing] that direct stimulation of the phrenic nerve was likely the best method via which to revive the dead.”

Certainly you’d think that attempts to bring “moon rocks” and other debris from space (like the Stardust probe that collected coma material from comet Wild 2, then swung past asteroid 5535 Annefrank, and Temple 1 to study them as well. The probe returned its aerogel sample return capsule in 2006 where it’s been studied ever since at Johnson Space Center in Houston.) would have mentioned the book Andromeda Strain (1969), Michael Crichton’s first published novel (or at least the 1971 movie). But there isn’t any mention of it except when people post in the comment sections.

 

Recently Stephen Hawking created a brouhaha when he railed against SETI researchers for sending messages into space (http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/Space/stephen-hawking-alien-contact-risky/story?id=10478157). Science fiction writer David Brin joined him, typically pointing out that “I've been at this a long time…my Great Silence paper…[is]…the only genuine review article ever published in the SETI field.” (http://davidbrin.blogspot.com/2010/05/perspectives-on-seti-and-aliens-and.html) He, too, urges caution in bringing attention to ourselves. Again though, the scientific community seems to ignore the uncountable First Contact stories published since HG Wells’ seminal War of the Worlds in 1897 in favor of doing whatever it wants.

Clearly science could care LESS about science fiction. Scientists often claim that science fiction was inspiration for their going into science fields, but once there apparently, they ignore it, without interest in the science fictional thoughts on the ramifications of their work.

What if every doctor, engineer, physicist, and other practitioner of science were required by law to take a seminar that specifically examined a novel or series of short stories addressing contemporary developments in their field? Roundtable discussions could follow and each student could write a response to the work...

Harrumph. Never happen. So I guess I need to go write a story like Harry Turtledove did in ANALOG in January of 1991 (“Gladly Wolde He Learne”) to raise the issue. Excuse me while I outline it.

Program Book: http://www.loncon3.org/documents/ReadMe_LR.pdf

References: https://www.strath.ac.uk/media/ps/comms/itallstartedhere/Ure.pdf, http://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2011/09/29/science-fiction-so-crazy-it-might-come-true-14/the-prediction-of-the-possible, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stardust_(spacecraft), http://www.scienceworldreport.com/articles/16631/20140815/stardust-spacecraft-captured-tiny-dust-grains-interstellar-space.htm

Image: http://www.team3489.org/resources/young_frankenstein.jpg