Tag Archives: disaster ecology

An Accidental Ecosystem in Space

Update:

I’m always interested in podcasting, and I’ve created an episode of a tentative series on the Anchor app. It’s just this blog post read out. Convenient for those whom listening is a better way to digest content. Here’s the link:

Listen to my segment “Abandonment among the stars” on Anchor: https://anchor.fm/astro-biological/episodes/Ecosystems-in-an-Abandoned-Megastructure-e1e59n/Abandonment-among-the-stars-a3bp5i

Imagine this. It’s the distant future. Space travellers have discovered a huge structure in deep space. Let’s assume the travellers aren’t human. These beings have stumbled upon the greatest discovery in their history. A vast megastructure, hundreds of kilometres long, it’s a huge cylinder spinning slowly across interstellar space. The structure is a riotous collection of cyclinders, and other smaller structures seemingly thrown together. Tests on the structure reveal it’s very old: several thousand years at least. No signals or signs of current occupation can be found, and it’s determined after several years of examination and debate that the structure is abandoned.
An O’Neill cylinder, adrift in cyberspace.. A 3D model of a physical model I plan to build.
The very first team is sent on board…

What do they find?

The structure is derelict, to say the least. The team can safely determine this. There are no signs of intelligent life.

Mechanisms keeping the cylinder habitable are still somewhat operational. By some miracle of engineering the cylinder still has gravity as well.

But that’s not to say that life hasn’t found a way.
The structure is exploding with life!
The structure is essentially intact. It continues to rotate, driven by some unknown energy source and mechanism. It orbits a medium sized yellow star, lying just beyond the orbital path of the second planet out from this sun. The second planet is completely uninhabitable.
Image: Pixabay

There is a third planet from the Sun which seems habitable. Other expeditions are already exploring that world, and it seems this cylinder was built by whatever sentient beings once lived there.

Image source: Unknown
The structure is an oasis of life, all alone in the night. The builders may have long vanished, but the other organisms they brought on board: whether they be pets, food or pests, don’t seem to know they shouldn’t be here claiming this place as their own. It’s become an accidental ecosystem that has no business being out here and yet out here it is.

….

A couple of weeks I decided to do something different with all the video stuff I do. I did a livestream on facebook and periscope. The topic of my stream was the very question addressed above: what new ecosystems and organisms could arise in an abandoned, livable space station were the human occupants to disappear?

abandoned-factory-1513012_1920

Image: Pixabay

It actually really got me thinking. The whole thing began as a random question on Isaac Arthur’s Science and Futurism facebook group. To my surprise there were a lot of great comments and ideas in response to this question.

I’ve addressed this subject matter before. A blog post explored the nature of interactions between the natural world and those sad, abandoned places on the periphery of civilisation. It’s like discovering a completely new world when I stumble upon these “transitional” places. Imagine finding such a world like the cylinder orbiting Venus. Just how and in what direction would any life on board manage?

It’s a really interesting question, and ties into the nature of life and how it has spread across our own planet. Most life existing today hasn’t arisen spontaneously from the firmament. Nothing’s done that for around 4 billion years. No, life has migrated, hitched rides or been tossed about by catastrophe and happenstance. It has essentially gone where the wind blows, and taken root wherever it has landed. The theory of panspermia relies on this vagrancy to offer an explanation for how life might have appeared here in the first place. I personally think Panspermia is very plausible.

In some ways we’ve seen panspermia in action, from a certain point of view.

This is of course, a very tenuous observation I make, but the principle is the same, using the example of Ascension Island in the Atlantic Ocean. This tiny little mound of dirt popping up from the waves is a giant ecological lab, an ongoing experiment that began over 150 years ago. All manner of species: some introduced, some native, were thrown together, on a barren little rock. Within decades, the island was a lush green paradise, with new ecosystems and new equilibriums. Quite amazing really, and Ascension Island represents a window into the greening of a dead planet such as Mars.

So. To return to the premise of this post. Explorers find a derelict space colony, now overrun by non human life. We’ve seen this on Earth too. Life is especially good at exploiting new niches. When the dinosaurs perished, the mammals that had lived in their shadow for 180 million years suddenly had an entire planet all to themselves. This resulted in the Tertiary radiation, a speciation event rivalling the Cambrian Explosion in the profusion of new species of mammal that suddenly appeared to exploit all this open space. Disaster ecology is an area of study devoted to this knack life has of adapting to catastrophe and finding new balances. Places like Ascension Island are one example of this. Others, like Chernobyl, are another.

03-Chernobyl-animals.ngsversion.1493139603170.adapt.676.1 (1)

Life is doing nicely in the radiation soaked wilderness of Chernobyl. Image: James Beasley and Sarah Webster, National Geographic Creative

So what of my superstructure, adrift in orbit around Venus? It would take several posts to really give it some justice, and so that’s what I’m going to do. A few posts on the post human world in a self contained semi functional space colony.

I must admit I have not been active with this blog lately. I have been busier than usual with new work and things in personal life shifting and changing constantly. It’s never forgotten. This will be attended to, and posts are going to start going up on a more frequent basis. Stay tuned, keep reading and I’ll be writing soon.

Ben.

Advertisements

#Symbiosis: meeting at transitions

I’m standing on a very worn and not well maintained footpath overlooking a huge expanse of pungent sand. A mile or two out the ocean shivers and snaps in a strong midday breeze. It’s cool but the sun is putting up a fight. This place has that perfect combination of quiet, bottomless deep blue sky and loneliness. I could spend  a whole day in a place like this.

I’m here to explore a small part of the vast tracts of mangroves that crowd the coast of the St Vincent Gulf north of Adelaide. 

There are only a few places like this left in South Australia. Humanity has wrought it’s usual brand of havoc on local ecosystems, concreting and carparking the living heck out of everything in it’s path. These kinds of places are a refuge of all kinds. A refuge for wildlife and a refuge for those wanting to escape the cancerous sprawl that is humanity.

It always strikes me when I visit these kinds of places that there is a particular kind of peace here. A bizarre form of symbiosis exists between nature and the derelict fringes of civilisation  you find in these forgotten corners. To be sure, St Kilda is no wasteland: hundreds of people live out here. However, out here you see a kind of comfortable embrace between abandoned humanity and the natural world. Like tired frayed spiderwebs such old ruins hold on, degenerating somewhat to a previous natural state. 

Perhaps another term to describe this relaxed coexistence is attenuation. Out here, nature and abandoned places have become used to each other. An old shack, with it’s windows and doors long gone may be held up by nothing more tangible than the fact that gravity hasn’t really bothered with it yet. Like an old worn face these shacks sag and lean at unflattering angles, but the myriad creatures that make them their home don’t mind. 

I love finding these kinds of places, but I also respect them. They don’t belong to us anymore. They lie on some boundary which has emerged from the clash of two Orders; the human and natural worlds. We have removed ourselves so completely from nature that we forget our place in it. I watch these places fade away and see this symbiosis: a kind of neutral zone between humanity and the living world. 

These places are another kind of beast: a hybrid world, where old patterns overlay the new, and something new emerges. Even now we are beginning to see nature coming to terms with humanity in this way, as more and more species transplant themselves into our world. Birds are an example of organisms that are now thriving in the densest of human population centres. As we spread so relentlessly across the planet, do they really have any other choice?  It’s the oldest choice in nature: adapt or perish. 

These “edges”: places like the St Kilda mangroves and other regions that form transitions between humanity and wilderness will be where a true coexistence between us and Nature develops. This symbiosis could be crucial not only for our future but the future of life on this planet.