Stellarium (Origins): A Space-Time Adventure to the Ends of our Universe (5 page)

Image 04
- SLS on the platform awaiting the launch. This system consists of
two rockets (boosters) as the first stage, and a large central stage containing
four main engines. At the top, the Orion-II spacecraft. The SLS is
approximately as tall as a 30-story building.

(credits and details on the final page)

Image 05
- Orion-II Spaceship (with its rings still stowed) setting out on
the Stellarium-12 mission.

(credits and details on the final page)

They were only hours away from
completing the first five days of the trip, and were getting close to the point
at which they would activate the accelerator and perform the jump. Russell
steered the ship, inverting their position. Then, he activated the engines,
reducing the ship’s speed and leaving it in an almost static trajectory in
relation to Earth.

The control center in Houston
asked the Orion-II to begin the procedure to stabilize the ship and prepare for
the jump.

“Disconnect Communication
Module,” said Russell.

“Confirmed,” responded Frank.

“Moving away... 50 feet... 150
feet... 300 feet... 600 feet... 800 feet... stabilizing... stabilization
confirmed, communicator 1,000 feet away and aligned with the Orion-II.”

The Communication Module could be
considered a “luxury” that the NASA had allowed itself. They were very far away
from Earth, and very little could be seen in real time. NASA wanted to make
sure everything went according to plan, so, they developed a module that would
film the Orion-II from a distance. The module also measured the gravity
generated by the ship. That way, the control center could follow, with live
images, what was going on outside of the spacecraft. However, once the Orion-II
jumped, the module would no longer have a purpose, and would thus be left
floating in space.

“Congratulations, Russell,
everything’s going well,” joked Allison.

“Stowing solar panels and
initiating procedure to position rings,” said Frank.

Inside the ship, they could hear
the engines squeaking as the vibration of those long arms echoed inside the
capsule. Two huge hoops unfolded and positioned themselves around the Orion-II.
The Communication Module, floating 1,000 feet away from the ship, sent pictures
of the action.

“Houston, this is Orion-II, do
you copy?”

“Go ahead, Orion-II.”

“Communication Module
functioning. Spacecraft in position. Accelerator rings open. Solar panels
stowed. All systems up and running. Fuel at 70%. Oxygen supply at 90%. Do you
confirm these numbers?”

“Orion-II, everything matches up.
Mission proceeding as expected. We have a visual of the Orion-II. Communication
Module sending sharp images. Module’s gravitational sensors are calibrated. You
are authorized to go ahead with the dark matter acceleration procedure.”

The crew fell silent for about 30
seconds. Now, for the first time ever, they would start the accelerators that
would transform the ship into a black hole. Despite knowing the jump itself
would only last a few milliseconds—and that it was totally safe—they didn't
like the idea of being in the center of a physical phenomenon that they barely understood.

“Commander?” Allison said,
breaking the silence, “it’s time to activate the accelerator.”

Russell was hesitant. For the
first time since starting out on the trip, he felt afraid—afraid enough to
consider aborting the mission. Everything had gone well up until that point,
and, perhaps because of that, he had a bad feeling about moving forward.

On his previous missions, the
commander had always been in complete control of the ship. This time around, he
was extremely familiar with the route, knew the risks, and was also great at
improvising. But, still, on this mission, he was dealing with something beyond
his comprehension. He would be traveling to another galaxy without activating
any kind of thruster, without having to perform a single maneuver. Maybe that's
why he felt like he was not fully in control; and, consequently, he hesitated.

“Initiate jump,” commanded
Russell, finally.

“Accelerators on, countdown
commenced. Ten minutes to the creation of the wormhole,” announced Frank.

“Houston, jump devices activated.
We’re counting down,” said Russell in communication with the control center.

“Orion-II, good luck and have a
safe trip,” said Houston in their final message to the crew.

The astronauts were fully
attentive. They frantically monitored three screens. The first showed the
countdown itself. The second was the image sent from the camera of the
Communication Module, which showed the Orion-II as seen from a distance. And
the third one was the gravitational reading being captured by the Communication
Module.

The accelerators generated an
intense gravitational field around the spaceship. Inside, absolute tranquility.
It was like being in the center of a hurricane; the interior was completely
calm, while outside, an invisible whirlwind of dark matter was accelerating,
creating a virtual gravity not ever imagined by any human being.

After the first five minutes, the
gravitational sensors began to indicate a disturbance. One minute later, the
gravity more than doubled. And, after another minute, it was 100 times greater
than previously. The rate at which the gravity around them increased was more
than exponential. With two minutes left, Allison asked Frank: “What keeps the
Communication Module from being attracted to us, given the gravity we’re
generating?”

“Actually, it is being pulled
toward us. Its thrusters are already at 80%, keeping it from coming this way,”
replied the engineer.

With one minute left before the
jump, the brightness of the stars seemed distorted. Suddenly, it was as if
those lights were dancing, painting strokes on the horizon. They had already
seen this phenomenon through the probes. It meant they were about to become a
singularity, a black hole. The starlight, which had previously been very clear,
was now completely distorted.

Frank observed the spectacle,
amazed. He was perplexed as he witnessed the creation of something that
physicists, for decades, had only been able to argue in theory. He thought
about how every atom in his body, in a few fractions of a second, would be in
two different points of the universe at the same time. Space-time was being bent
at their exact location. He was fully aware of how small, insignificant, and,
at the same time, precious that moment was.

In Houston, the same phenomenon
was observed by the control center as they received the live transmission by the
Communication Module. The spacecraft, which earlier had been clearly visible,
started to become blurry... until it almost disappeared. That's when, to
everyone’s surprise, the image became sharp again.

Inside the Orion-II, the
countdown had reached zero. A green light on the accelerator panel confirmed
the process had been completed. The crew looked at each other uncertainty all
over their faces.

“Is that it? Did we jump?” asked
Frank.

“I'm going to start capturing
images to see if we are in Draco,” said Allison.

“That won’t be necessary,”
Russell responded. “If we were in Draco, we wouldn’t be able to see ourselves
on the camera, right?”

“Right... we’re still in the same
place. We didn’t jump,” confirmed Frank, spotting the Communication Module
through the window.

“Orion-II, this is Houston.
Status?”

“Houston, this is Orion-II. All
good in here. Spacecraft structure intact. Systems running smoothly. Jump
procedure executed. Confirmed that wormhole was not created,” reported Russell.

“Correction, Orion-II,” said
Houston, “the wormhole was created. However, the probability of failure has
been confirmed. Prepare for second attempt.”

“Yes, Russell,” said Allison,
“that’s one of the first things you learned in training. In fact, that was the
training I gave, remember?” she asked, while Russell nodded his head.

Every time the accelerator is
activated, gravity increases exponentially until the ship literally turns into
a black hole. The wormhole is created, space is bent, and, for fractions of a
second, the ship is connected with another galaxy. However, when the system
turns off and stops concentrating gravity, when the wormholes ceases to exist,
there is a 50% chance of the ship being on one side, but also a 50% chance of
it being on the other side. There is no way of knowing whether the wormhole
will close and leave the ship where it is, or leave it on the other side of the
hole. The quantum physics of this process were completely unknown.

Russell knew all of this.
Allison’s question was unnecessary. He was, however, hopeful that something had
actually gone wrong. The commander was confused. His gut told him not to
continue, despite all of the data and equipment readings on the Orion-II
indicating that everything was going according to plan.

He continued to feel conflicted,
unable to tell whether what he felt was really his gut, or just fear.
Meanwhile, the commander responded:

“Yes, Dr. Scheffer. I remember.
Let's initiate the second attempt,” he commanded, while Frank activated the
accelerator again.

“Countdown commenced,” said
Frank, “10 minutes to the jump.

Once again, the gravity around
them starts to increase. The clock ticks, and the crew remains tense. With less
than a minute left before the jump, the lights outside the ship start to become
distorted again. The counter shows the final seconds before the actuation...
three... two... one... a green light appears on the panel, announcing that the
process has been executed. The light from the stars immediately ceases to look
distorted. Their eyes move to the panel, and they realize that the image
captured by the Communication Module is no longer there. Frank looks out the
window and doesn’t see the module. The gravity sensor doesn’t show any
readings, confirming that it is not receiving data from the neighboring module.

“Houston, this is Orion-II. Do
you copy?”

There is no response on the other
end, leaving Russell surprised to think that they might have actually performed
the jump.

“Houston, this is Commander Scott
Russell, Orion-II. Do you copy?” the astronaut repeats, to no response.

“Initiating reading from cameras
one, three and five. Activating telescope,” informs Allison.

“Okay, it looks like it worked,
it looks like we really jumped,” says Frank. “The Communication Module isn’t
there anymore. Houston isn’t responding... and, before the jump, I could see
the sun out of the corner of that window,” he said, pointing to the left. “The
sun isn’t there anymore. So, the way I see it, there are two possibilities:
either we’re all dead,” he says with an easy-going tone, “or we jumped through
the wormhole and we’re at a different point in the universe.”

“You’re right, but you’re also
wrong,” exclaims Allison, looking at the images. “We are indeed at another
point in the universe, but you’re wrong in saying that the sun isn’t there
anymore. It is there, in the same place as before.”

“But I can only see stars there
now... are you saying that the sun is one of them?” asks Frank.

“Yes, it’s probably one of the
ones in that corner,” says Allison, pointing to what looks like an amalgamation
of stars. “Now, our sun is just another spot in the sky. You can even see what
appears to be one of the spirals of our Milky Way.”

The astronauts look through the
window with an air of admiration, still trying to see the sun or even Earth, as
they had been able to do earlier, but which is now impossible.

“We’re not home, anymore. We’re
in Draco. I’ve just confirmed it. The jump was a success. Now, we must continue
with the mission... the first step is to locate the Valkiria star,” concludes
the astronomer.

“I don’t think that will be
necessary,” says Russell, interrupting Allison as he looks through one of the
windows and points to a red giant star very close to them.

Impressed by the star, they all
observe in silence. A red giant has taken over the landscape. They have never
seen anything like it, not even in photos. Through the windows, even with the
ship’s filters, they can feel its heat and all the magnificence of its
brightness.