Moonscapes

Went for a nice quick run this morning - I've found that one benefit of urban running is the spikes in adrenaline that come with dodging cars, cyclists, and pedestrians. Keeps things interesting. I also have the tendency to chase pigeons. There's something rather smug about the way the waddle just outside of your path to wait for you to pass, so I think I'm helping them from an evolutionary point of view by sometimes making them use their wings to fly away. Otherwise, the pigeons of tomorrow could well be hunks of feathers that waddle around our ankles. Think about it.

Anyway, the search is on for a landing site for the next moon landing, which is supposed to go down by 2020. Landing site selection is a fascinating process. For one thing, it starts long before most people are aware there's even a mission. You've got to go from an entire planet of possible sites to one location a few square kilometers in size. Along the way, a lot of great science comes out of it, because the process essentially is ranking or prioritizing sites by scientific merit. One location might be promising for a particular type of science while another could be better suited for a different objective. Also, by looking so closely at certain areas, you're likely to see new geologic phenomena that have been missed in the past.

Take the moon for example. This latest batch of images (see below for an example) targets the south pole region where water ice may hide in crater shadows. They are 50 times more detailed than previous images of the same area, and reveal remarkable topography - mountains more than 20,000 feet high and canyons more than twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. Lunar science excites some people more than others, but it's hard to argue that the views would be stunning.

A Different Kind of Alarm Clock

Many people across Britain got a rude awakening this morning around 1AM in the form of an earthquake. Unfortunately, I did not feel said quake, but many of my friends we awoken in the wee hours of the morning wondering why their roommate was doing the laundry or why a massive truck was driving by outside. You don't generally think of Britain as earthquake central, and for pretty good reason - there are about 25 discernable earthquakes a year, rarely causing much of a stir. The slightly unusual thing is that the pattern of earthquakes doesn't seem to correlate with the fault patterns, seen below.



Anyway, the quake was about a 5.3, and thankfully damage was minimal, but apparently it was enough to inspire doomsday headlines to read "Quake Rocks London!"

The Math of Hiking

If you're like me, you've probably wondered at some point during a steep hike why the trail zigs and zags. Wouldn't it just be faster to go straight up the hill? Perhaps you've even tried to prove it, running through the woods, panting, getting scratched and poked by twigs while your hiking companions emerged unscathed and comfortable. Ok, maybe that one's just me.

Anyway, a new study has proven that yes, walking up a sufficiently steep hill via zigzags is more energetically efficient than going straight up. It's a pretty cool paper, but the coverage of the findings and the way they have been presented kind of bother me. So I found the article on sciencedaily.com, a pretty good site that showcases notable science stories each day. In a couple of hundred words, the article basically said the following: on a flat surface, the best route between two points is a straight line, but as you increase the slope, it eventually becomes better to go in a zigzag. Ok, thanks for that - seems pretty intuitive. I wanted to find out what the magical angle was at which the type of path should change. I didn't think this was asking too much - it's probably the most fundamental piece of data the study produced. A google search produced dozens of articles along the same lines, none of which gave any numbers. In fact, they were all pretty much the same: same quotes, same photos, many of the same paragraphs. In perusing some of the comments to the stories, the main sentiment was that this was pointless, that academics are wasting time and money by sitting in their ivory towers and proving common knowledge.

Finally, I found the actual journal article, which was surprisingly difficult. This brings up other questions about the effectiveness of the journal system as the center of academia if it's so difficult to access a widely-publicized paper, but that's a different rant. Anyway, the paper is surprisingly intense and interesting, complete with mathematical equations that were over my head and relatively far-reaching implications. And buried deep within the discussion section were the numbers I was seeking. Going uphill, it's more efficient to zig-zag on slopes above 7.4 degrees; downhill, the magic angle is 16.4 degrees. One potential implication could be for road construction; a properly designed mountain road could save time, gas, pollution, and reduce wear and tear on cars.

I think the point is that it's important to scientists to understand and communicate the implications of their work. Sure, math is fun for its own sake (to some people), but failing to address the purpose of the work just furthers the stereotype of out-of-touch academics. But I think most of the blame in this case falls on the journalists covering the story. I'd be surprised if they even read the paper; it's insulting that any peer-reviewed journal article that incorporates solid research and advanced math could be reduced to a single-sentence common sense platitude: zigzagging up slopes is better than not.

Space Art

One of the reasons people are drawn to space exploration is that it's an opportunity to use their imaginations: there are millions of worlds out there with any number of incredible features. Our own solar system, as a meager example, has worlds of ice, fire, and gas. There are constantly volcanoes exploding and storms raging. This is all very dynamic and exciting, but it doesn't mean quite as much if we can't visualize it. It's one thing to hear that there are geysers on Enceladus (one of Saturn's moons) and quite another to see a picture of an Old Faithful look alike. The problem is that even with the best of our imaging technology, it's very hard to beam back human-scale images - things that excite our imaginations.

And this is where space art comes in. Let's go back to Enceladus and geysers as an example. Here's an actual image from the Cassini spacecraft:


See the geysers? They're those tiny wisps protruding from the bottom left. Those are enormous geysers shooting out huge jets of gas, water and dust particles? Not impressed.

Ok, here's option number two:



Now that's a geyser! You can almost feel the rush of air as the moon expels the debris. Although not particularly useful scientifically, images like this are enormously valuable to the space program by engaging the imagination. Among space artists, Michael Carroll is the man - he's commissioned by NASA on a regular basis and has drawn space-scapes for hundreds of magazines and books. Pretty much every drawing you've seen of a distant world is by Carroll. The cool thing is that he is relatively rigorous in his drawings, talking with scientists and using known geologic examples to inform his work. One of his drawings of a crater on Io was based on a crater in Death Valley. As long as this type of work remains scientifically-based, I think it is doing a great service to the space science community. True, they aren't "real" images, but they do reflect and feed the public imagination, and that is quite possibly the most genuine part of space exploration.

Playing from Ahead

What's harder than going into a contest as an underdog? In some cases, it's going in as the favorite.

Take the history of global exploration, for example. In many cases, it's not the dominant civilizations pushing the envelope, it's the marginal ones - those on the outside looking in. This does make sense on some level: societies that control the wealth and are satisfied with their place in the world have little incentive to change things, to risk money and manpower on expeditions that may or may not produce any benefit. On the other hand, a secondary country desperate to even the playing field will take risks - they don't have as much to lose.

There are several examples supporting this paradigm. Japan was more proficient on the sea than its mighty Chinese neighbors for a time. Hermits based in Ireland explored much of northern Europe in the late Middle Ages while the centers of power on the continent turned inward. But perhaps most importantly for our current world view, Iberia laid the foundations for exploration (and exploitation) of the New World long before more wealthy nations such as England and France even considered such a quest. As a result, the Spanish and Portuguese colonized the majority of the New World.

Does this relate at all to modern geopolitics? Perhaps the new rush of nations such as China and India into space is evidence of the same trend, but I think the effects can be seen even clearer by looking at the US through this lens. It's hard to play from ahead. Almost as soon as we beat the Soviets to the Moon, people stopped caring. Apollo 18, 19, and 20 were scrapped. Our space program has yet to recover simply because we're happy with our perceived dominance and, as a society, we are unable or perhaps unwilling to see potential threats to our superiority. It's hard to show the need for bold new steps when everything appears to be going so well.

And finally, a rare reference to space on the campaign trail. As he celebrated his Wisconsin victory in Houston, Obama proclaimed "Houston, we have liftoff!" or something to that effect. I wonder if the screaming fans were aware that thousands of Houston jobs would be on the line if Obama "postpones" the Constellation program, as he has pledged. Though perhaps there is hope for the coming weeks. Texas, along with Ohio, is now a critical state, and Obama will have to do everything he can to get votes, including, perhaps, talking up a newfound love for the space program. We shall see.

Come to think of it, it hasn't been too easy for the Democratic candidates to play as the front-runner either. And everything comes together...

Goodbye Moon

Great run through Hyde Park this morning, in case you were wondering. A fine mist was rising from the grass, which was crystalline and white thanks to the sub-freezing overnight temperatures. It's also a pretty nice luxury of the scientific lifestyle to be able to run to the lab, slap on some pants, and get to work.

How's your weather forecast looking for tonight? Well, hopefully it will be clear, because tonight there will be a full lunar eclipse to provide a bit of entertainment! Those of you in the States are particularly lucky, since it's scheduled to go down in the early evening / night; I'm going to have to move the alarm clock back a couple of hours tomorrow morning if I want to see it.

So lunar eclipses happen when the moon goes behind the Earth's shadow; it's a "total" lunar eclipse when it is obscured by the most intense part of that shadow. Take a look at the graphic below, thanks to NASA and National Geographic. It's important to note that the sun is not to scale - it would be much much farther away in this view, making it a little clearer that a total lunar eclipse is relatively rare event.

Also, a nice photo from last year's lunar eclipse in London. Happy viewing tonight!

Stunning Mars Photos (SMPs)

Wow, I just spent about an hour flipping through galleries of HiRISE images. This is the highest resolution camera to ever go to Mars; taking pictures from orbit, it could see a dinner plate on the surface. Here are a few of my favorites.



Above, we're seeing a nicely (if artificially) colored field of dunes. A gully, possibly formed by water, is cutting through, meaning that whatever formed that gully happened after the dunes were sculpted by the wind.



Here we've got some layers on the floor of a valley - an offshoot of Vallis Marineris, the largest canyon in the solar system. It's unclear when the layers formed or how - wind, volcanoes, and water all may have had a role.



This one is part of the highest resolution batch - 26 cm pixels. We're looking at a crater - the rocky cliffs of the crater rim is in the upper left, and channels likely formed by flowing water come down off the cliffs toward the bottom right. Most of the gullies are believed to be tens to hundreds of thousands of years old, or older, when liquid water was stable on the planet's surface.

So that's just scratching the surface, so to speak, of an amazing gallery of photos HiRISE has beamed back to Earth. Some have shown the Mars Exploration Rovers and the Viking Landers, providing context for what we're seeing on the ground.

It's becoming apparent that we're getting pretty good at examining the martian landscape with remarkable detail, but a new world awaits beneath the surface - that's where life might still be active and where the history of rock deposition and alteration will tell us about Mars' past. Fortunately, we're about to get there: the Phoenix Lander, slated to arrive in May, will be able to dig about a meter into the surface to look for water ice. ExoMars is equipped with a drill that can penetrate to 2 meters, gathering very intriguing samples for the life-detection instruments on-board.

And finally, here's an interesting article as a follow up to my last post arguing that indeed, the public is getting dumber...

Seen on the Tube...

It's interesting to study people's habits as they sit (or stand) on the Tube, enduring that daily ritual of subterranian transportation. On the average commute to work, you've got roughly 4 groups.

1 - The gossipers - those reading the free tabloid-esque newspapers that litter the trains. These people will be getting updates on which pop stars were at which club last night as well as fashion advice and absolutist news stories devoid of any contrasting point of view.

2 - The listeners - people listening to mp3 players. Seems to be roughly 70% iPod users judging from the white earbuds.

3 - The readers. We'll get back to this group.

4 - The sleepers. These people nod off while on the tube, and it's beyond me how they know when their stop is. Perhaps they have fine-tuned their circadian rhythms to correspond with the right stop.

Oh yeah, and there are actually a few people who just stand there looking menacing.

Anyway, I've been struck recently by the books of choice of group 3, the readers. Given the short time periods involved with the average tube ride and relatively chaotic atmosphere, you would expect to see lots of Da Vinci Codes or the latest John Grisham novel, right? Well, not so fast. In the past week alone, I've seen the following books in the hands of tube-riders: Imagined Communities (a book outlining views of the social construction of communities and their relation to political entities), A Brief History of Time (Stephen Hawking's book about cosmology), The Humboldt Current (an explanation of how 19th century exploration relates to the American environmental movement), and Hamlet (I hope I don't need to explain that one).

Sure, there are plenty of shallow bestsellers and romance novels, but I was surprised by the level of reading going on. It was reassuring and inspiring to see members of the general public interested about such substantial issues and actively learning. Not that central London is an accurate representation for the rest of the country or the world, but I think in many cases, the level of discourse in the media and pop culture is determined by the lowest common denominator. This underestimates the sophistication and interest level of many people and fails to inspire us to improve ourselves. Many of the most interesting thing going on at the forefront of science, for example, cannot be sufficiently dumbed-down to suit standard media outlets, so people aren't interested in learning more and rely on stereotypes and TV shows for their science knowledge. We've got to give the "general public" more credit than that.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, I'm a listener.

British Astronauts?

Quite suddenly and unexpectedly, a fascinating debate is taking shape here in England about the benefits and drawbacks of human spaceflight. There's a big report coming out today published by the UK government taking another look at the idea of starting a manned space program. The UK has had many opportunities to get in on this game but has consistently taken a pass; most recently and explicitly when Margaret Thatcher rejected the notion in 1986. But the political and scientific landscapes are much different 20 years on, and we are in the midst of a new age of burgeoning enthusiasm for manned space flight as ascendant powers exert their technological might. This age is driven largely by nationalistic ambition perhaps, but is real nonetheless - China has recently entered the 3-nation club, while India and Brazil wait in the wings.

The UK is now wondering if it will soon be left behind, if the future of political and technological power lies in space. I think it does, to some extent, but I'm not sure everyone needs to put someone in space in order to play. The UK in particular has strong political ties to relatively well-established space agencies - the ESA and NASA - which make the idea of starting its own manned program seem a little redundant. Rather than duplicate past accomplishments, why not contribute in a more specialized way, providing world-leading expertise rather than second-tier re-runs?

The debate is just beginning however, and a committee has been convened to study the economic feasibility of initiating a manned program. Hopefully the process will inject space science and exploration into the public sphere (it seems that most Britons don't realiz(s)e they have a space agency of their own) in a new way. It was heartening to see the article note that "scientists say that the lack of a manned space programme is one reason why there has been such a sharp fall in the number of children applying to study science in UK schools." Now if only there were data to back that up. Regardless, great articles both for and against the notion of human spaceflight; hopefully the debate will continue.

The Philosophy of Astrobiology

It's been an interesting news day from a space perspective. First off, several people were arrested for their alleged spying activities, one of whom worked on Space Shuttle components and sold secrets about its technology to China. Just another reminder that the space program was formed as a political institution and retains political and military implications today. NASA was not and is not primarily a scientific organization. That article can be found here. Also, the New York Times had an article about that space policy meeting I mentioned a few days ago, where some are proposing a re-think of President Bush's Constellation program. Check that one out here. There's a great quote in there by Planetary Society President Louis Friedman that brings the two stories together. “What I don’t understand is, we’re entering a space race we’ve already won,” he says, “and this time we might lose,” referring to the emerging Chinese space program.

Amid these plotlines, I had the opportunity to chat yesterday with Carol Cleland, the NASA Astrobiology Institute's Philosopher-in-Residence. Her title in itself shows the reach of astrobiology - name another scientific organization with a philosopher-in-residence. I wanted to ask her about what finding life on Mars (or anywhere else beyond Earth) would mean to humanity. Would people be shocked or unsurprised? Would people be excited or fearful? Would people be fundamentally shaken or hardly bothered? The answer seems to be 'yes' to all of the above - for each belief system, the finding of life on Mars would mean something different. That said, a couple of over-arching messages came across.

Most notably, such a finding would more or less complete the decentralization of humanity. Back in the day, we humans liked to think we were at the center of the universe, both spatially and biologically. Copernicus put this theory on its head in the 1400s when he showed that the Earth in fact went around the Sun. Further blows to this theory came as we found that our sun was one among many, that our galaxy was one among many, and that we simply weren't at the center of any of it. Biologically, the thinking was similar - we were the pinnacle of all life in the universe. Darwin challenged this notion by showing we just happen to have the good fortune of being the latest in evolution's continuous chain of organisms. Finding life on Mars would take this a step further, proving that the form of life we are so intimiately involved with is not the only example of life. In fact, it would suggest that it is quite common, since life would appear to form wherever the proper conditions are met (and given the size of the universe, these conditions are probably met on thousands or millions of bodies). So that would be pretty profound - a finding to be compared with those of Copernicus and Darwin.

The other interesting question, especially for scientists, is what finding extraterrestrial life would do for our definitions of life. Defining life is surprisingly complicated - should it be defined in terms of its functions (it replicates, it evolves, etc.) or in terms of its composition (carbon-based, genetic material made of nucleobases, etc.)? What we find elsewhere would help answer this. If we find carbon-based life -- that is, biochemically just like our type of life -- then life is probably a compositionally-regulated phenomenon. But if we find something really crazy, something we can't even imagine, that looks a lot like life, then perhaps life is defined by its function. In this sense, astrobiology is a very creative science because we can only find what we look for, so we must be imaginative in looking for potentially weird incarnations of life.

If nothing else, the conversation reiterated just how fascinating the search for life beyond Earth really is. It boils down to this: astrobiology is so much more than 'mere' science - it is a philosophical and religious undertaking as well. It is a pursuit that has significant implications for our view of our place in the universe.

"If they can put a man on the moon...

...why can't they fix that pothole?!" Surely you've heard a comment along those lines, noting the apparent disconnect between the pinnacle of our technological abilities on one hand and our embarrassing underachievement on the other. The one constant in these lines is the identification of the moon landing as the peak of humanity's accomplishments. You might argue that other milestones better represent the best of our technological abilities -- maybe computers, or the Large Hadron Collider -- but I think it's hard to debate the primacy of the moon landing in terms of its society-wide scale, its sustained effort, and its ambition. I was listening to an interview with the great science historian James Burke the other day, and he too points to the moon landing as the technological milestone of our species.

But isn't it a little sad that the most-cited peak of human history happened almost 40 years ago? What do we as a space-faring people have to show for ourselves over the last four decades? Technological advancement is a one-way street, so we most certainly have the know-how and ability to push beyond the moon and expand our foothold in space -- it's the political (and by association public) will that is lacking. We remain in space more because we can, and less because we want to explore new frontiers.

The last time we were jolted from complacency with regard to human exploration was when President Kennedy challenged the country to get to the Moon (and back) within a decade. This was before we had even put a man in space at all, I might add. This notion sparked something, and a groundswell of enthusiasm and hard work took us forward. The inspirational power of Kennedy's challenge and the power of his vision in making the whole thing happen cannot be overstated.



All right, I'm finally getting to my point. I just got off of a conference call with Barack Obama. Ok, that sounds a little grandiose: by conference call, I mean I listened to him speak to thousands of Americans living abroad for 20 minutes. Obama is succeeding largely because of his inspirational message and his embodiment of hope, and these characteristics have led to many comparisons to JFK. But the two men could not be more different with respect to their visions for space exploration. Obama is in fact the least ambitious of the remaining three candidates in his space policy. While McCain and Clinton would carry on with Bush's vision to return humans to the Moon and develop a new space vehicle, Obama would postpone the entire project for 5 years! After these 5 years, the space shuttle would already have been retired and the new launch vehicle that is currently in the works will not have gotten past the drawing board; in effect, we wouldn't have a reliable human space program at all.

For someone who clearly understands the power of ideas and inspiration, I am surprised and disappointed that Obama fails to see the power of the space program. Hopefully he will prove to be a more conventional politician and fail to keep his ill-conceived promise.

Martian Bigfoot?

It's always rewarding when the field you work in breaks out of obscurity into the mainstream press. These instances inspire you to continue working and justify, to some extent, what you've done so far. So you would think that the astrobiology community would have been excited by the news stories about "potential life on Mars" circulating around such august sites as the Times of London and NBC, right? Well, not when the pieces speculate about the existence of a martian bigfoot.

The stories, which appeared a couple of weeks ago, are based on this image, taken by the rover Spirit in early November of last year. Some are speculating that a humanoid creature is galavanting around Mars and that NASA is trying to cover it up.



Let's be honest, this story is absurd, and I think most people with some basis of science knowledge understand this. It is tempting for those of us in the business of searching for signs of life on Mars to look down derisively on those willing to even entertain the idea that there is some element of truth in these outlandish stories. But to do so would be missing a valuable opportunity. True, stories of 'Bigfoot' do a dis-service to the public perception of more rigorous searches for life, but they do raise the public consciousness of the issue. If nothing else, they re-enforce the huge public interest in the idea of life on Mars, given the fact that such tenuous "evidence" could gain such coverage.

But while these images are circulating and people are talking, we would be wise to engage the issue and use the opportunity to shed some light on the "real" search for life. Some of the world's most advanced technology is being harnessed to transport incredible remote-controlled rovers to the surface of another planet, more than 35 million miles away. I think most people would be surprised that the effort is mostly focused on scouring the soil for individual molecules that would indicate life: astrobiologists would be thrilled with the detection of so much as a single molecule of DNA, much less an intact cell or a (gasp) macroscopic organism. This is because Mars is an extremely inhospitable place, and only in very localized niches with just the right distribution of elements might life persist. The atmospheric pressure on the surface of Mars is less than 1% of that on Earth (at sea level)! Our friend Bigfoot would explode rather quickly without a pressurized space suit. What air is he breathing (the atmosphere is only .01% oxygen)? What food is he eating?

The stories of Bigfoot are ridiculous to be sure, but they do serve as a worthwhile thought experiment to work out what life needs to exist, what makes Mars so inhospitable, and what future human explorers might need in order to walk around on the surface. Oh, and for those of you still wondering, the object in question is actually a whimsically-shaped piece of rock that has been sculpted by thousands or millions of years of wind-blown dust. It is roughly 6 cm tall - hardly a Bigfoot at all.

Sled dogs on Mars?

On the frigid, white-washed afternoon of January 17th, 1912, British Captain Robert Falcon Scott and his men approached their goal. After months of frozen fingers, icicle beards, and monotonous scenery, they had almost reached the South Pole. They must have spent the last several kilometres in near delirium, drugged by the exhilaration of the immediacy of their dream: completing the first ever expedition to the South Pole.

But all of that changed when an incongruous speck appeared on the horizon – a dark blob floating in a sea of white. As they got closer, confusion turned to dread: they had been beaten. The foreign object was in fact Roald Amundsen’s tent, and inside was a letter to Scott from the great Norwegian explorer himself, adding insult to injury.

And so ended one of the last great explorations of Earth – a frantic race by two teams to reach the bottom of the world. Driven by national pride and personal ego, Amundsen and Scott set off from similar locations on the Antarctic coast as roughly the same time. So why did Amundsen win? Why did Scott and his men tragically end up dead while Amundsen sailed home as the victor? How does this seemingly random story relate to anything?

All of these questions have the same answer: analogs. Prior to his departure, Amundsen had spent months in the northern reaches of Norway familiarizing himself with his equipment, his crew, and most importantly, his sled dogs. On a previous expedition to the Northwest Passage, he learned from the local Netsilik people about cold-weather survival skills. Needless to say, this all came in very handy – his sled dogs got him across Antarctica faster, and his animal skin clothing (fashionably modelled below) was lighter and warmer than Scott’s apparel.



The tale of Amundsen and Scott is an important parable for future Mars explorers, both robotic and human. We must learn everything we can about martian conditions and simulate them. Robotic components must be tested in Mars-like soils at analog locations to make sure they can operate effectively outside of the lab. One of the most important uses of analog sites for human missions will be to test space suits, whose joints can stiffen beyond repair with continued exposure to the dust.

As our team continues to test the Urey component of the upcoming ExoMars mission, analog sites and their soils are in high demand. Testing the instrumentation on these soils will show us what to expect on Mars, so hopefully there will be no insurmountable surprises once we get there!


The Atacama Desert, one of the best Mars analog sites on Earth. Photo from NASA.

Atlantis launch

It's always a tense 9 minutes or so when a shuttle lifts off from Kennedy Space Center in Florida; fortunately, all went as planned yesterday. Take a look at the coverage, and kudos to CNN for managing to go a whole 9 minutes without mentioning the presidential race!

It's just about that time again...

...for another Space Shuttle launch! This one, an Atlantis mission to the International Space Station (ISS), is set to lift off this afternoon at 2:45 E.T., so tune your computers to NASA TV.

The latest addition to the ISS is Columbus, a science lab module that represents the European Space Agency's largest contribution to the project. The lab itself has three work stations tailored to specific disciplines - one for work on microbes, one for physiological studies, and one for the study of fluids - as well as several others that can be configured as necessary for future experiments.



Reading through NASA and ESA information on the science goals, it's difficult to get a sense of planned experiments and expected results. The most specific line about the BioLab component is that "the major objective of performing Life Sciences experiments in space is to identify the role that weightlessness plays at all levels of an organism, from the effects on a single cell up to a complex organism including humans." Um, ok, so what experiments are actually going to be done...? The BBC gets slightly more specific in saying that "the scientific studies will impact diverse fields, from crop breeding to the development of advanced alloys," but we are still left with no specifics on experimental design, let alone materials, purposes, etc. I understand that there is a reluctance (or inability) of news stories to engage the general public on a deeper scientific level (something that needs to change), but it is distressingly difficult even for those in the scientific community to get information about what our peers in space are up to. The existence of publically-funded space science depends on the communication of results to build support.

Interesting bit of trivia: Leland Melvin, a member of the Atlantis crew, is the only astronaut to have been drafted by the NFL - he was an 11th round pick (how many rounds are there?!) by the Detroit Lions back in the day. More inspiring, however, is the fact that he gave up the potential of an NFL career to pursue science. After being drafted, he injured his hamstring, and during rehabilitation, he met with a University of Virginia materials science professor, "just to talk". Melvin ended up taking a job on a temporary basis, playing football by day and conducting research by night. In the end, he chose the research, giving up the NFL for a graduate program. I think that's an amazing story - a football player giving up the glamour and money of the NFL for a love of science. Check out the full story here. Foregoing fame and glory and money in the name of a true passion doesn't happen often these days. Who knows, maybe Randy Moss secretly sneaks into MIT every night to do a little nanotechnology research. Or not.

Anyway, weather permitting, happy launch viewing.

Mars Sample Return Workshop

I got the opportunity yesterday to see, first-hand, how Mars missions are put together on the policy end of the equation as an attendee at the Mars Sample Return Workshop in London. The gathering included the UK's top space scientists and engineers (including many from industry) and was convened by the Science and Technology Facilities Council, a branch of the UK government.

The idea was to discuss the country's strengths and potential contributions to a Europe-wide sample return mission in an organized and comprehensive manner. The reality was slightly different. After an overview of the rough mission architecture and scientific benefits of a sample return (more on that in an upcoming post) we broke into groups - I participated in the one addressing the science potential for the UK. Our moderator tried to establish which technologies related to the mission were relative strengths for the UK and which areas needed more work. In order to get something quantatative, we needed to rank the UK's abilities on a scale from 1 (needs work) to 5 (world-leading).

The proceedings seemed a bit disorganized and, quite frankly, arbitrary. I understand the need for quantatative measurements of proficiency, but people were throwing around numbers despite little personal knowledge of the category. And there seemed to be an inordinate amount of 5s; not that I know any better, but it seemed a little self-congratulatory. The numbers we came up with were then submitted to the STFC and will be used as a starting point to prioritize the UK's ambitions with regard to space science. On the surface, this doesn't seem like a binding document, but it likely will determine funding far into the future. For example, spectrscopy was established as a particular strength, so money will probably be directed to that field in order to maintain the advantage and position the UK for a spectroscopy-based role in future missions. On the other hand, drilling and coring was rated poorly, so that sector looks to be in trouble in the immediate future, as the STFC might as well let other European nations with greater expertise contribute to that part. At one point, someone mused that these relatively arbitrary numbers would probably help set policy and funding decisions for the next couple of decades: that is a huge responsability that affects hundreds or thousands of people and their jobs, and I would have liked to see a little more rigor in the decision-making process.

On a related note, it's interesting to think of high-level decision making in general. Being detatched from most big decision-making processes (like what tax rates will be or how a war will be waged), it's easy to assume that those decisions go down roughly as follows: people in suits gathered around a large conference table with aides running around behind them in a darkly-lit room and maybe some dramatic background music. While this sense of grandeur is comforting in some sense, I think most decisions are a little anticlimatic. Most of the time, it's probably a few people with gaps in their knowledge and ingrained prejudices sitting in a room making judgment calls.

Despite my misgiving about the meeting, it was incredible to see the process close-up. The earliest this mission would occur is 2021! It's impressive and indcative of the level of interest and international competitiveness of a sample return mission that these discussions of specifics are already happening.

Banksy!

A bit of self-promotion, if you will indulge me...

With nothing going on at work last Friday, I took the day to wander around London searching for some of Banksy's famous stenciled works of street art. It was pretty cool stuff, and I got to know some great part of the city. Check out the result from my artistic day here!

In other news, how bout that Super Bowl! A thriller indeed, especially if you like the Giants. Well worth staying up until 3:30...

Awaiting Lift-off

The Washington Post ran a front page article last Friday (or at least top-of-the-webpage article) about the progress of NASA's new direction in human space flight. The piece comes on the 4th anniversary of President Bush's call for the space shuttle's retirement, a return to the Moon, and a later trip to Mars. Apparently support for the program, dubbed Constellation, has been less than a groundswell, and NASA has commissioned an advertising agency to "brand" the program and increase public support. The article paints this move as a desperate attempt by the space agency to improve its standing, but I think it's driven more by duty than desperation. NASA, like all public programs, depends on public support and is obligated to communicate its message in an effective way. I think some sort of advertising campaign (namely one that is actually noticeable) is long overdue and is one of the most promising ways to enhance public understanding and support of space exploration.

Anyway, the article also discusses a meeting going on in a week or so among top level policy-makers and scientists regarding the direction of Constellation. There's even talk about changing the fundamental architecture of the project, like skipping the Moon, targeting near-Earth asteroids, etc. While some of these proposals may be preferable to the current path, the time for such modifications was after Columbia, when the President's "vision" for space exploration was being formulated. That time has come and gone. This sort of mid-course correction is exactly the approach that has plagued the space program for decades and is symptomatic of the need for instant gratification and the inability to pursue a long-term goal. Of course the public isn't brimming with enthusiasm over Constellation because it's still years away from producing anything visible (the first manned flight of the new rockets -- shown below -- won't be until 2015). We're currently well into the least flashy part of the program - a phase that must be waited out.

That said, viewing the program with a critical eye is a must, and phases that have not yet begun should be optimized and re-thought at every opportunity. Otherwise, the relatively direct path to the Moon and Mars laid out four years ago will end up looking more like a rambling zig-zag, at the unnecessary cost of billions of dollars and years of lost opportunity.