Pillar to the Sky
Authors: William R. Forstchen
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There are so many I wish I could dedicate this work to and the choosing has been hard. The first is to my mentors, such an interesting concept, that of a mentor, thinking of that ancient bit of wisdom that when a teacher is needed one will be found. And thus this dedication to Betty Keller, librarian at Hightstown High School, and Russ Beaulieu, history teacher who shaped my life at such a crucial and sensitive time. And, of course, Gunther Rothenberg of Purdue University, what a blessing it was on the day you came into my life.
A dedication must go out as well to all those who inspired the dreams of my youth, the team at NASA who shaped a belief in my young heart that the greatest adventures were still ahead of us.
CONTENTS
Books by William R. Forstchen from Tom Doherty Associates
It is difficult to say what is impossible, for the dream of yesterday is the hope of today and the reality of tomorrow.
—Dr. Robert H. Goddard
The progressive development of man is vitally dependent on invention.
—Nikola Tesla
I believe that we are children picking up pebbles on the shore of the boundless sea.
—John Stevens, engineer, Panama Canal
PROLOGUE
“Dr. Morgan, and Dr. Petrenko, with all due respect to your academic credentials, your proposal for this space tower—or Pillar, as some call it—is absurd.”
Senator Proxley, head of the Senate committee that had oversight of NASA’s budget, looked to his left and right for support from the other senators present. Nearly half the chairs were empty, and of those present most just looked off as if bored and waiting for the meeting to come to its inevitable end so that they could rush off to what they felt were far more important affairs, either of state or personal.
“In these times of economic stress, of towering deficits and public demand for budget cutbacks”—he paused for effect—“pipe-dream schemes that are a waste of taxpayers’ money are utterly absurd and, frankly, a waste of
my
time as a senator who believes in fiscal responsibility.”
He cast a sidelong glance at one of his staffers who was recording his comments for later distribution, since even C-SPAN had decided not to cover this hearing. He cleared his throat and continued.
“I find it disturbing that such a proposal even reached this level and was not terminated by the proper administrators in your program, and believe me, I shall question them about that after this hearing. We are facing the worse deficit crisis in our nation’s history. If I approved continued research funding for this sci-fi fantasy, let alone the insanity to actually go ahead and build it, I can only imagine the howls of protest from my constituents and every other taxpayer. I agree NASA should continue as a government entity, but let it set realistic goals and not allow this type of idea to worm its way up through the budget proposal. I know it has been popular with some to praise the recent mission to Mars, but even with that I ask: Why do we spend more than a billion to go explore a lifeless rock when that same billion could be better spent here on earth, solving a multitude of problems rather than being wasted out there?”
Dr. Gary Morgan threw a quick look at his wife, Evgeniya Petrenko Morgan. It was an attempt to warn her not to lose her temper now. She could be tough as nails when angered and at such moments would often slip into her native Ukrainian, which—given the current cold feelings between America and Russia—would only make matters worse, since few knew the difference between the two languages.
They both knew beforehand what they would be facing here at this hearing, which was not even a remote chance of success. They were the “sacrificial goat of the day” receiving a dressing-down at the hands of one of the country’s fiercest opponents of any expansion of space exploration beyond the bare minimum to keep the program alive. There had been some hope of increased research budgets after the stunning success of the Mars
Curiosity
touchdown and its continuing mission, which he had just pointedly denigrated. But that enthusiasm, which so many supporters had hoped would renew support for the space program, had proven to be short-lived with yet another oil crisis pushing the price of the precious black gold up over $150 a barrel, the threat of yet another war in the Middle East, and all the other issues that had plagued and continued to plague humanity.
It was an inside joke that if only NASA could figure out how to use corn and milk to fuel its spacecraft, they’d have Proxley’s vote, as he was from a midwestern state that did not have a single NASA facility and thus could target it with impunity.
Gary’s wife caught his gaze, took a deep breath, and nodded for him to go ahead.
“Senator Proxley…” Gary looked down at his notepad and fumbled for a moment. He had never been much of a public speaker, except when debating with the “inner circle” of teammates at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center. In that environment he could hold forth for hours on this “special project” that he and his wife had worked on for over two decades, scraping by each year on a minimal budget buried inside another budget for “advanced research and development.” Their dream was a space tower, or “elevator,” that would reach from the equator to geosynchronous orbit, 23,000 miles above the earth. At first glance it did indeed seem like a mad scheme, but the science was there to prove it had long ago migrated from the realm of science fiction to that of scientific possibility in the same way that other dreams—to reach the moon, to cross the Atlantic by plane, even to just fly or move a ship without oars or sails—had long ago started out as dreams.
However, this year Proxley had singled out their particular dream for this one-hour grilling, bestowing on it his infamous “Golden Fleece Award,” which he announced each month as some example of absurd government extravagance (usually money spent on building projects like “bridges to nowhere” or museums for teapots, or why some people are left-handed), and at least a couple times a year he aimed his sarcasm at NASA.
Thus the absolute shock of several weeks earlier when one of the top administrators at Goddard called them into her office and, with genuine sympathy, informed them that their budget would be “zeroed” at the end of the fiscal year—which is to say, at the end of the month—and then handed them notice that they were to appear before a Senate hearing on the subject of NASA’s budget. The subtext: for the “good of the service” they could defend their program, but there was no chance it would be defended by anyone higher up the “food chain.”
It was heartbreaking, but both Gary and Evgeniya understood. They were loyal to NASA, which had quietly nursed along their dream—had even helped to arrange some grants nearly a decade ago to test possible propulsion systems for “tower climbers”—but in the larger struggle to stay alive, they would have to be “let go.” There were even some tears as Evgeniya and the administrator—old friends with daughters the same age and attending the same high school—chatted over tea after the hard news had been delivered.
Gary paused, looking at Proxley. He was the classic example of the bureaucrat, forever the opponent of the inventor. One was an idealist, a believer, a “doer” of dreams, transforming them into realities that could change a world … the other was a naysayer, holder of the public purse strings, forever drawing them tighter unless the loosening of them would directly benefit him. NASA, of course, had no professional lobbyist whispering into Proxley’s ear, with fat campaign contributions promised for the right kind of vote. The great industrial powerhouses that first made America the aviation innovator of the world, then the preeminent explorer of space—those once enterprising firms were barely hanging on in these economic times and in turn had to devote their efforts to more immediately profitable and less ambitious projects; for them, the prospect of a space tower was not on the table.
Gary knew they should just fold their cards, yield the rest of the time allotted to their reply, and leave. But he could not let it go. After twenty years of effort, he felt they had the right to make a final statement.
Gary shuffled his papers, nervously brushed back the strands of slightly graying hair from his forehead, then looked straight at Senator Proxley. As he gazed at this man, he felt his frustration and anger rising.
“Senator,” he began. “Ten years after its completion, this project has the potential of transforming the global economy and in so doing give our country a preeminent economic position for the rest of this century in much the same way as Apollo, by putting Americans on the moon, also triggered a technological revolution right here on earth, fueled our economic growth for the next thirty years. That cell phone in your pocket has more computing power in it than the computer that guided Armstrong and Aldrin to the moon. Sir, where do you think much of the initial research and development came from for that in the first place? It started in the 1960s when NASA said it needed compact computers to get us to the moon. No one then was thinking of cell phones, the GPS in your car, the myriad of medical tools that we take for granted today, but they had a start, and that start was with NASA. Just the research for a space tower can open fields of endeavor that will revolutionize our technology base yet again with innovations not yet dreamed of.
“This project…” He paused, faltering, but his wife gently nudged him under the table to press on. “This project is not some ill-conceived flight of fantasy like those we see in far too many government proposals, which either deservedly get filed away and forgotten or become public embarrassments after they are attempted, when they fall flat, with cost overruns in the tens of billions of dollars.”
He was tempted to cite a few examples of programs that Proxley had supported in the past but knew better than to do so. To try to embarrass his opponent would serve no purpose now.
“The project to build what some call a space elevator and our team calls a ‘Pillar to the Sky’ has undergone rigorous review, not just within NASA, but outside our community as well. Try to imagine an America in 1880 without a transcontinental railroad, an America of the 1920s without Henry Ford or Charles Lindbergh, an America of today without the Internet linking the world via communications satellites put up there by who else but NASA in the first place. This will have the same impact.”
He felt he had gained his stride after being knocked off-balance by Proxley’s scathing comments, and there was a touch of anger in his voice now. He held up the economic impact report supporting the building of a space tower, then looked around the room and saw that of all those facing him, only one had a copy on her desk: Mary Dennison of Maine, who subtly pointed to her copy of the report and, with a sad smile, just nodded an acknowledgment. Taking the gesture to be encouragement, he pressed on.
