Proxima B. Pulvirenti Giorgio

Proxima B - Pulvirenti Giorgio


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Jerry tried to insist, but his mother looked more and more upset by what she was hearing.

      “It’s all so absurd… How shall we get through? How long will the voyage last? Who’ll let me know if you’re alive?”

      Francesca, like any other mother, bothered about her son.

      “I don’t know yet, but we’ll be told everything before leaving,” Jerry answered her, trying to reassure her. He approached her, put his hands on her cheeks as a token of his fondness and kept on saying to her,

      “Mom, I’ve always done what I’d been told by you. I only ask that you let me do what feels right to me this time. I must accept this mission. It’s too much important for me.”

      After hearing these words, she looked up and, after a few seconds, she hugged him and burst into tears.

      2099, 28 October. MATER 1, 522 miles above the Earth, 4:00 PM.

      J

      ust above the third generation modular space station called ISS (International Space Station), three enormous spaceships were about to be finished. Dozens of men were working non-stop inside them within what looked like a genuine yard.

      “Come on, guys! We don’t have all the time in the world!” a young foreman shouted at two workers whose task was to set some weird capsules inside a passageway that was placed on the ship’s lower side.

      “Oh no! It’s slipping!” one of the two laborers exclaimed, bringing the capsule as if it were only a refrigerator. The capsule slipped and fell to the deck, but, luckily, it was undamaged.

      The foreman arrived in a flash, his eyes were angry, and then he said,

      “You idiots! How many times have I told you to pay attention to how you handle this kind of things? Thank goodness it didn’t rupture. Come on! Get back to work immediately!”

      The two laborers stood silent at first, but then they picked up the capsule immediately and brought it back to the agreed place.

      “Excellent! It should be okay!” one of them said after leaning the burden. They took a breath. They did not even have time to rest a bit. They were called to muster by the foreman.

      At the same moment, some people led by the foreman Alejandro Fring appeared in the passageway. Mr. Fring was a man of South-American origin that would be responsible for the work on the MATER 2.

      “Good, General, this is the cryostasis compartment,” the man told Arthur Stone who was behind him. The General was there with his staff, which included politicians and founders of the project. They were just touring before being finally transferred onboard.

      “Good morning, General!” the three men in the passageway said to Arthur with one voice as soon as they saw him appearing with his men and the foreman.

      “Rest, boys!” Mr. Stone exclaimed and he came up to one of the capsules that had already been installed.

      “So, these are the cryogenic capsules… I thought they were bigger,” he pointed out. The foreman, Alejandro, did not hesitate and answered, “They were bigger, actually, but technicians have succeeded in dealing with some issues concerning the liquid nitrogen containment, and so we have succeeded in recovering space within the whole surface.”

      “Fine. Let’s go on!” Arthur told him. He looked around and came back to the passageway leading to the ship’s other sections together with his men. The three workers were left to their work.

      “He was General Arthur Stone, wasn’t he? It is he who’s going to lead the expedition on board the ship,” one of the two laborers said emotionally.

      “I’d rather it were Mr. Ross. I don’t like Stone because of his mindset that isn’t comfortable at all,” the other man replied.

      “What can you know about that? He was the one who solved the conflict with India in 2089! He’s just a great man!” the first laborer said. He sympathized for General Arthur Stone.

      “It may be so, but this guy is full of himself, which does not let him be someone to trust,” the other laborer pointed out.

      “Shut up, slackers! Let’s get back to work!” the foreman shouted at them. Then the three guys resumed their work.

      In the meantime, on another floor, Alejandro and the few men reached what looked like an artificial botanical garden. Every kind of plants and thousands of trees stretched over dozens of feet. Even an artificial stream flowed among the trees and the whole thing was lit by hundreds of lamps that re-created the light of the sun on the ceiling.

      “Gentlemen, this one is called `The Cathedral´. Its name comes from the shape of the roof, which is precisely the shape of the roof of a cathedral, and it extends throughout the whole surface. Six hundred twenty-one miles of forest! There are thousands of plant species. This is going to be the ship’s green lung!” the foreman stated under the stunned gazes of all of us.

      “Are there any animals in this special greenhouse, too?” one of the members of the group asked the foreman.

      “No, Sir, there are no animals here. We won’t transport any live animals on this ship, but only their data in the form of DNA,” Alejandro answered firmly.

      “How do you get the energy you need to supply it all?” General Stone asked in a tone that was curious and pleased at the same time.

      “In order to answer your question, General, we have to move to another point on board the ship. Please, follow me!” Mr. Fling said.

      Then he led the group to the lower zone in the ship. A few minutes later they reached the engine compartment in whose middle a metal column with some particular ports by which a blue light was given off could be noticed.

      “This is the engine compartment, gentlemen! Eighty percent of the energy needed for supplying our ship comes from here! The remaining part comes straight from the sun and the cosmic radiations captured by means of special panels covering the outer side of the spacecraft,” the foreman explained. Mr. Stone was listening to those words, and was intrigued by the blue light that was given off by some particular ports with which the metal column in the middle of the huge passageway was equipped.

      “What happens in here, Mr. Fring?” Mr. Stone asked him.

      “What happens there is a nuclear reaction, Mr. Stone,” Alejandro replied, and his answer aroused the astonishment of all those who were there, including General Stone himself.

      “Nuclear? Isn’t it dangerous to have a nuclear reactor on board the ship? Don’t you consider the risks?” Mr. Stone thundered.

      “Well, if it were a matter of hot nuclear fission, it would be dangerous, but we produce energy through cold fusion. So, you have nothing to worry about. It is safe and clean. According to our calculations, it would supply the ship with enough energy to last one hundred years or maybe even more,” Mr. Fring reassured us.

      “I see,” Arthur asserted. He stared at the nuclear reactor, thoughtful.

      “What kind of technology do its engines use?” one of the founders asked Alejandro.

      “That’s a good question,” he pointed out.

      He moved a little farther and came up to a control unit, he pressed some buttons and let some holograms appear; they depicted its own engines.

      “The engines of all three motherships exploit ionized plasma that is accelerated in order to generate the thrust. Such engines are hundreds of times more efficient than the chemical ones, namely the traditional ones. But that’s not all. We’re talking about engines that don’t pollute at all and with no moving parts. They are accelerating the ship to eight-tenths of the speed of light and are arresting it by means of nonstop progressive braking maneuvers. During their flight maneuvers, the pilots are helped by “LISA”. As it was said, gentlemen, the cream of the crop!”


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