The Serpents and The Gods

This text was taken from 'A Moral History of Existence' written in the middle 100's by an unknown author. Many scholars believe the author to be a monk who lived in a monastery somewhere in the province of Ru. Because of this, he has come to be known simply as The Monk of Ru, and has had many texts philosophical, religious, and instructional (possibly erroneously) attributed to his name.

To call the place formed by the corpse of Something the bitter fields is misleading. The world was not called this due to the prevalence of grasslands within it. In actuality the bitter fields are called such because in the infinite grey recesses, beings of strange forms emerge inexplicably, like crops from the earth. Many of these being defy explanation, and, before clocks and calendars and weekends, they churned against each other eating and being eaten. This churning pitted infinity against itself, and allowed no peace within the world. Of the creatures to form in this world, only the great and clever were able to persist, and of these, the greatest were the serpents and the most clever were the gods.

The serpents were very large, very powerful creatures, but they possessed animalistic intelects. Because of this combination, often they would grow so long that they would forget where their tails were. This did not trouble the serpents because they knew that only another serpent would have jaws strong enough to injure them, and they avoided each other's hunting grounds. Still, the longest of serpents would circle back centuries later, and, upon seeing their own tail, think it the tail of a rival, bite it, and tear themselves apart. The amazing aspect of the serpents though was that they were also natural magicians. Often times their coiling would mirror the exchange, and sections of their long bodies would fall out of the bitter field all together, to occupy some other space.

The gods, not unlike humans, thrived by virtue of cooperation, and in the midst of the terrible churning were able to build Peladokus, the first city. Inside Peladokus, the gods studied many things, and over time some of them learned secret things from echoes, and others found remnants of the exchange in the action of the churning: some of the gods became magicians, and others grew wise. The gods who held the wall of the city became great warriors and the gods that gave themselves over to passion became great artists and lovers.

All of this happened and Peladokus flourished. Peladokus was the gem of the world, and it was all the gods cared for, until it was eaten by Monmigut, a great blind serpent. Few of the gods survived, and the wise men among them discovered something first-hand: it is better to be great than to be clever.

Getting Farther Off Topic

No-one has seen beyond the horizon, and winds can only carry so many whispers.

There are many beginnings we know of, and most likely many more that have been forgotten or never even known. So, it is with this knowledge that we set down what happened in our history, and we attempt to go back all of the way to the first beginning. Certainly there is a beginning which came before, but allow us the privilege of calling our oldest known beginning the first.

The First Beginning

First, there were two brothers: Something and Nothing. They together were Everything and they were one and the same. Regularly, Something would become Nothing and Nothing would become Something. This switch was the oldest ritual, known as The Exchange. This entire system was called Potential.

Sometimes, instead of practicing The Exchange, Something and Nothing would create an idea and place it inside of Something or Nothing, depending on what it was or wasn't. So, at one point, instead of practicing The Exchange, Something and Nothing created Separation. Separation did not fit in either set, so it lay down between Something and Nothing.

Separation prevented Something and Nothing from practicing The Exchange and appeared to have put an end to Potential.

For a very long time Something, stuck as Something, continued to create things to fill only himself, while Nothing, stuck as Nothing, became more and more bitter. Eventually, Nothing and Something no longer remembered they were brothers and viewed each other as the enemy from across Separation: Something recognized the bitterness which had consumed Nothing, and Nothing saw only Something's senseless pursuit of more.

Nothing plotted to kill Something.

Nothing approached Something when he was distracted with creation and, using The Exchange, wounded Something. Something's Blood poured out, half on either side of separation. One half the blood pooled around Nothing and the other half stewed upon Something's dieing form. The corpse of Something bloated and tainted the blood. This tainted blood created a bitter field, filled with monsters. Nothing, in his killing of Something, had finally bridged Separation and felt great sorrow for Something. He took the blood that pooled around him and, using the Exchange for the last time, created a world within himself as a shrine for his dead brother. This world was entirely empty, and its form was that of penance.

Together, the bitter field and the world made of sorrow, divided by the primordial force of Separation, were the beginnings of our world. All of this happened before the gods. The world that was created was called Potential.

Jellyfloats

Imagine lighter-than-air robots, made in the form of jellyfish. Drifting about in a room, they would turn the air into water. Spun from plastics, filled with gases, and printed with circuits, they would emerge into life from the spawning machine like soap bubbles. They are initially indeterminate, then become something real and frequently flawed, floating about, gently undulating. They might flex to the touch, but only to a point - often breaking on a finger leaving behind a lifeless husk as its helium soul departs. More can be spun, but the spawning machine breathes only borrowed life and fleeting freedom. Creating creatures out of air in a world like ours is somewhat immoral.

The needed fix

Project Daedalus was intitially started with a vision that far out shines its current splender. I am coming back to trim the weeds that have choked this story blog for some time and to apoligize for allowing my vision to dissapate long before my first post. Project Daedalus is indeed the story of a probe exploring first contact, but it is also much more than that: it is a place designed to celebrate things that fly, not only in space, or in our atmosphere, but also in our hearts. Project Daedalus is being redesignated, or maybe reclaimed, as a place to prove that ideas - both near and far can be lighter than air. The story of the probe is still a story I would still like to tell, but I am revoking its grasp upon this blog. The story will now be told as it should be - not in an exacting manner, but rather in pulses received from a distant star. The transmissions are mixed and delayed. Do not look to Houston for guidance. The ground has lost control.

Brief Description of Probe

The probe is defined by it's spherical nose-cone and cylindrical fuselage. When all instruments are retracted, it resembles a very large, wingless dragonfly. The front of the sphere is thicker than the rear parts of the assembly, shielded because of the higher particle collision rate of the front and also for a single use atmospheric entry. The ability to function over a small area after entry is one of the most impressive features of the Project Daedalus probes. Unfortunately, because of the time invested in travel and the inability of the probes to return to space after atmospheric entry, the option to land was more tantalizing than utilized. In fact, the AI that regulates the probe in the absence of human commands (essential due to increasing communication delays over larger distances) does not even have the capacity to initialize the entry sequence.

Each probe was equipped with an extensive list of sensors and tools. The midsection of the fuselage contains two retracting solar panels. On the rear of the front sphere are several compartments that house a three-jointed arm, a camera, a microphone, an EM antennae, a microscope and a gas spectrometer.

The solar panels are used to power the shuttle inside of solar systems and to drive the instruments when stationary. For higher speeds in deep space, a nuclear explosion engine is used. The effects of the nuclear test ban treaty prohibited the use of the nuclear engines within the solar system. It was these restrictions that led the developers to opt for a two power source option. This configuration also allows for operation even if on of the systems are compromised, adding even more durability to a probe that depends on continuous operation without any servicing or maintenance.

Project Daedalus Launch

The probes designed over 250 years ago for the Project Daedalus Systematic Unmanned Space Exploration were truly beautiful. Like all well build devices, their technology at no point out shined their pragmatism, durability and style, but likewise was not insufficient. Each Project Daedalus probe was capable of operating without human intervention: all man had to do was to get them into orbit. This was still a tremendous task though, seeing that 5,000 of these probes, each about as large as a refrigerator and five times as heavy, were to be launched. Of the initial 5,000 probes only a lucky 3,432 actually made it into space. At a raw materials cost of over $30,000, the excess probes were adapted for other programs when it became clear that launching them was no longer possible. Twenty three of the probes were taken into orbit each launch. It took a better part of a decade to get the ones that did make the launch from the pad to orbit. From there they all went their separate ways, each probe to travel no less than 100 years away from earth. This project was monumental in its scope - both chronologically and spatially. It was a true investment in the future. With a probe survival half life of 400 years, it was an investment that promised to have great returns for the great-great-great-great-grandchildren of the visionaries that began it. Project Daedalus' first launch, September 26th, 2042 was the date that humanity became serious about space.

Space

Like all good Scots, I have an affliction known as the wanderlust. But this wanderlust carries ambitions that those before have lacked though. My wanderlust is lust for the stars, and not even love of home can bring me back again.