BUGS! BUGS! BUGS!

Cuss! Hiss! Spit!

There I was, happily writing along, when it hit me . . .

I, One-eyed Black did set this down in me own hand of this account. This be me mark of me name made with me own hand in ink: X

Ink? What a dorkfish! They would not write with ink—nor would they have paper. Bad writer! *smacking forehead hard with open palm* Bad! Bad!

I’m still thinking in a land-based way. The whole story has to go below the sea and all the ways our normal items would be adapted in their way of doing things.

So—how do we fix this? For their ancient scrolls, I would imagine they used rolled up pieces of their local version of kelp. No worries there. Slime something on it to keep it from dissolving in the water. “I’m done writing this scroll, someone hand me a slug…”

But they would not have ink—oh, all right—they have ink. Squids and octopus have ink. But they would not write with it.

Poke holes in the kelp? This would work—but imagine how difficult it is to put all their nuances of color and scent down in holes on a piece of seaweed? How many different shades of red can you think of? Now create a letter mark for each one. So we now have 50,000,000 versions of the letter A (as an example). Now how many shades of orange can you think of? Create a letter mark for each of those. Move along to yellow . . . then green . . . blue . . . our alphabet is getting larger.

But they also use scent as accents to their speech for emotions and punctuation, and whatnot. How do we add those? Do we add points the way the Hebrews do in their language? Sure, why not? So we have the main mark, and then the scent accent point around it. Works.

But would they really have that many letters? No. Each color represent a word, not a letter. So we could get by with a mark in the kelp for the primary and secondary colors, then black and white, and scent points. Three primary, three secondary, plus two more for black and white . . . how many scents would we have? Skip those for now. We’ll have a total of 8 letters for the colors, and they add more or less to create the nuances of the various shades of a color. That’d be a whole lot of letters.

No wonder Khaki-Indigo-Myrtle is using her visual pad with actual colors now (and realistic scents!) instead of Ye Olde Kelp Scrolls.

No Bugs, Just Froggies

Alrighty, then! It’s been how long since I picked up with the Garum? Close to a month now, I believe. I’m going to ignore all the fixes I need to think about and just write, tonight. We’ll bug fix and straighten out rough patches some other time.

Oh, and for those of you who have not been with us since the first post, I’m in the process of idea bashing a story about an aquatic race of frog-like aliens that live on an exomoon orbiting a gas giant in a binary star system.

~~~~~~~=======~~~~~~~

Khaki-Indigo-Myrtle tapped a few dimples on her electric notepad and began to re-read the entry for the who-knows-how-many-umpteenth time.

I, One-eyed Black, do set this down in me own hand of the account where I poked me head Up.

I wasn’t looking to go Up. No, not at all. I was just going after a large swarm of shrimps. Was me turn at the hunts. But they swimmed up. So I followed. Next I knowed, I was at Up.

“Wot’s out yonder?” I thinked aloud. So I poked me head Up. Pain! Oh, the pain! Me eyes were stung by biting little bits of stuffs. No life-givin’ water in Up. No, not at all! It was like a giant bubble. But who knowed that a bubble would have that much angry in it? It angried about me face. It angried about me shoulders. It angried about me eyes. I could not keep me eyes open. So I swimmed down.

But afore I did, I spotted spots in Up. Little bright white spots, like sparks. And Up was dark off to the side. Not Blue like it always is. No, not at all! Was dark, like down a hole. But with bright sparks. Not on rock. No, not at all! In Up’s Up, where it be Blue and not Blue but dark.

I blinked. And blinked. Me eyes stopped hurting. I thoughts of going back Up to see more of these sparks—but that angry bubble made me careful of opening me eyes in Up again.

Shrimps swimmed by. I remembered me task, so I followed. Was a good hunt. Killed many many of many shrimps. The tribe was very happy with me for good hunt of shrimps.

I, One-eyed Black did set this down in me own hand of this account. This be me mark of me name made with me own hand in ink: X

Khaki-Indigo-Myrtle leaned back, looking at the image of his hand print in ink at the end of the account and pondered once more about those sparks of light One-eyed Black found in Up. What could they be? Were there more tribes of Garum in Up? Ones that found out how to live in the Angry Bubble? What was in the Angry Bubble that bit his eyes? This “stuffs” that bit in to his eyes, face, and shoulders. What would float in a bubble that could do that? They were not going Up at the same place where One-eyed Black did. No one knew where that was, but since he had been after shrimp, there was no way it would be near rocks like they were now. Would the Angry Bubble still be angry here by the rocks? Or was it only angry in the Wide Open where One-eyed Black would have gone Up?

She shook herself to clear her thoughts, placing the notepad back in the protective cover she had made for it. In a single sleep time they would find out. There was no use brooding over it for now. Soon. Soon she would follow One-eyed Black and go Up.

I Smell the Smelly Smell of Something Smelly!

Recently, Ed, one of my fans of the Blog, stated that I should come up with some way to get the froggies into space without a ship.

-.-

Now where’s the story in that? I wanted the problems associated with lifting all that water up not only up from the depths, but breaching the surface, and then higher into the atmosphere, and ultimately out of the gravity well, and into space itself. No space warps, wormholes, or hyperspace for these little froggies!

He did, however, bring up a good point. Since they are aquatic and breath the water they live in, they also would defecate (and urinate) in their breathing supply. Yum-o!

“What’s that smell/taste?” Everyone turned and glared at Ecru-Dandelion. He gave a half-smile.
“Dude. Seriously?”
“Soz.”
“That’s fifteen times in the past half hour. Once more and you’re on permanent EVA duty!”

So no bean burritos here! But that does bring up the problem of producing an air scrubber (water scrubber actually—but you get the idea.). Would they have carbon? Probably not. No fire—no burn substance to filter the water through. Sand? Sort of like the under gravel filters we’ve had in prior aquariums? Yes, I have an aquarium—my wife’s 20 gallon long. Yes, I look over my shoulder at it from time to time as I write this. No, I don’t have any African Dwarf Frogs (aquarium frogs). Just fish. Yes, it is fresh water and the Garums live in salt water, so there will be differences. Salt water . . . what takes nastiness out of salt water? Suspension feeders! But we couldn’t have a bunch of krill floating around, getting in the way. So we’d need a sessile suspension feeder. Barnacles! (Our ship just got crustier…) They would filter out “floaters” that would foul the water. The Garums, of course, would selectively breed a more effective barnacle that weighs less than the original product—and does not breed/spread in such a prolific manner as to take over the whole inside of the ship. They would also probably come up with some substance that if spread in a thin layer where the Garum don’t want the barnacles to grow would inhibit them from attaching in those unwanted places, just to be on the safe side.

But what about urine? That causes lots of problems with ammonia and other toxins in the water. So we’d need a biological filter. You have to be able to cycle the ammonia (NH³ or NH³+4) into nitrites (NO²) and then into nitrates (NO³). We’d need some type of beneficial bacteria to help in this process, but they’d need some place to grow. So we’d need a rocky surface that is porous where they (the bacteria) would be able to live, yet be out of the way. Again, we’re adding more mass to the ship.

And we haven’t even come up with an engine concept yet . . . we’re still just filling out life support. We also have to provide sustenance. Do they have refrigeration? They certainly can’t have dried stores. Or do they carry it live? If so, there’s more mass—plus the mass for the food for their food. And the mass for the food for the food for that food. Eventually we’re going to get to a point where it is a plant that just needs photosynthesis for food. But in the dark of space, where do you get the sunlight for that? Will their synthetic light from their bioluminescence be adequate for their purpose? Will they be capable of creating a power source capable of lifting this massive ship into the stars? Will they invent an aquatic Beano before Ecru-Dandelion gets lynched?

Livable Exomoons?

So let's toss this out for consideration...

In light of the movie, "Avatar," which is set on the life-bearing satellite, "Pandora," revolving around the gas giant, "Polyphemus" in the Alpha Centauri star system, we are given the usual scifi plot of the moon being habitable instead of the gas giant planet proper. (This was also done in the Star Wars movies with the moon, "Endor.")

If we were to create our own moon around our own giant planet, in our own star system (our own and a creation since we humans have yet to actually find a satellite orbiting a planet outside of our own solar system) what would need to be the parameters for life? (I may not have a continuing path of thought here--I may go off on a certain tangent that strikes my fancy and pick at it, forsaking the rest of the original thought. Bear with me here. I'm just idea bashing. Might use them, might not.)

It would have to have a mass close enough to Earth's own to retain an atmosphere primarily--unless we took the route of another form of life that did not need breathable gases to support its life--perhaps some type of photosynthesis that pulls nourishment directly from the rays of its star and capable of living in vacuum? But I'll leave that for another day--if ever.

So we're massive enough to retain a breathable atmosphere. Is it so massive that it is able to scavenge atmosphere from its gas giant planet? Is the mother planet giving off radiation? If so, the atmosphere would have to be thick enough to protect the life forms from the ambient radiation.

Next, do we have a rotation? Or is the exomoon tidally locked? One side always facing its planet? Imagine this, for a moment--a set up similar to our own moon. Depending on the circuit around the planet, and thus the star, one side would always be warm (warm only--not superheated. We want life here, not cinders) and the other always cold. Well, not always--but for a lengthy measure of time. The transit time of dark to light would vary depending on how long the lighted side was facing the star. Would we get substantial winds as the warm and cold air fought along the shadow-line? How substantial could they be and still have life develop? Would the life forms be low to the ground? Or just massive? How would the life develop to deal with the high winds? Or would the life forgo surface dwelling altogether, returning to the sea and gills?

Let's go the aquatic route. They never stayed on land due to the high winds. They remained aquatic. So we now have a set of aquatic denizens on our exomoon that have now become sapient and are in the process of discovering space flight. Of course they are after space flight. We don't want a puddle of tadpoles, swimming around. There's no story in that. (We'll skip the long trek out of the stone age into the industrial age for now.) How cold did the dark side get during the night. (Let's make the "days" and "nights" last 4 months for each portion, for a total 8 month long day/night cycle, just to pull a number.) Did the oceans freeze over during the night? We obviously would not have a fire-based launch system living underwater. Would they even be able to launch from beneath the surface? Since they did not stay on the land during their climb from stone age to technology, it would seem so. But that gives us a new set of problems. We now have to reach escape velocity through the water and through the air.

Let's have the oceans freeze at night. Not solid, but enough of a crust of ice that "Launch Window" takes on a whole new meaning. It's not whether or not we have the proper trajectory to reach our target, it's whether or not we can break through the ice.

What other problems will they face? We're not just launching our life form's mass. They will also have to bring up their "atmosphere" too. In this case, we're talking enough water to breathe. They live underwater, of course they are going to breathe it with gills.

One gallon of water on Earth weighs 8.35 pounds, making a five gallon jug weigh 41.75 pounds. Without going in to the difference in gravity from Earth to our exomoon, let's just think about the mass of all that water.

Quick experiment: get a one gallon jug of water and a five gallon jug of water. Put both of them on the floor. Balancing yourself on on foot, push the one gallon jug with the other foot. Now push the five gallon jug with the same foot. See the difference? Imagine now the amount of water needed to "breathe" for any extended space trip. Imagine now the amount of force needed to lift it off-planet (or off-moon as the case may be). Are we delving into the realm of diminishing returns here? Mass of life forms, plus mass of space ship, plus mass of ship's drive, plus mass of water, verses delta V to break out of the gravity well.

And once we're clear of the exomoon's gravity well, we have that of the gas giant it orbits to deal with. We'll also have that of the star--be it a single, or a binary (like that in "Avatar").

Are they so advanced in mathematics as to create a star drive that does not require fire? One that would lift all this mass? Through the water resistance?

Or am I poking sticks in the wrong mud puddle? Are they truly just happy sapient tadpoles, ignorant of the stars and space? Will they simply be happy swimming in their oceans, thinking artistic thoughts and occasionally poking their heads out of the water long enough to lick their eyelids and decide that this is not for them?

Tadpoles . . . juvenile lifeform that later crawl out of the mud and walk erect to tackle space and fire and the atmospheric wind? Naw, we already decided that they gave up on the wind. So we're back in the mud.

Let's give them a drive that can do what we need: lift the froggies, along with their breathable water, and their starship. Since we're just idea-storming at the moment, let's just call it the "Tadpole Drive." Somehow it mathematically waggles its forcefield tail behind the ship and swims it up through the water, and through the air--and is capable of doing the same in vacuum. Alas, it is slow, in star distances. So once they are clear of the water, they have to switch over to some type of star drive.

For the sake of argument, we going to decide that they have found that the light speed boundary is able to be broken. They discovered the mathematical calculations to show that it can be passed. (Hey, speed of sound used to be unbreakable, too!) No hyperspace here! Nosireebob! They have a good old fashioned zoom along drive!

They're first ship must have met with a horrific end. Not knowing about all the particles that are out there, they would have plowed into one and bam! Fireball! Imagine the energy released by two objects colliding at faster-than-light speed. One, a starship of . . . let's say the size (mass) of a 737--filled with water instead of air, of course. The other, a grain of sand. Imagine a particle collider . . . with our froggies as one of the particles. Boom.

So our humbled froggies go back to the drawing board and come up with some type of magnetic field (I'd hate to call it a force field, but along that idea) that will deflect particles and such from the path of the starship.

But wait--let's back up. How did they even discover about space and stars? They're aquatic, after all. At some point they would have to brave the winds to look unblinking into the night sky and wonder at those bright points of light. And with a gas giant as the mother planet their exomoon is orbiting, conditions would have to be just right for both the sun and the gas giant to actually allow a star watching night sky.

So the conditions were all perfect, and Froggy went a gazing and he did spot a star. Uh, huh. Being curious creatures, they decided that they wanted to travel to these pinpoints of light. But wait (there's more!) the traditionalists fight them. If Froggies were meant to star travel, the Great Egg On the Surface would have given them fire erupting from their hind end--not tails.

We would have a great conflict between the two factions. They would most likely be omnivores. So meat is on the menu. Why? Omnivores and carnivores are feistier than herbivores. We don't want herd beasts. We want individuals that will have that spark of fire that drives one being to overcome another.

So how would the fight go? Would it be mostly rhetoric with occasional bellowing matches? For that matter, how would they communicate? Color changes on their skin in a manner similar to that available to the octopus? Voice is right out the submarine's window...

We'll select color changes on the skin, supplemented by scent emitted into the water. So we have a stinky Technicolor battle of ideals going on under the sea. The seas are shallow enough for light to permeate, but deep enough for their cities. Perhaps along the lines of the crystal clear waters in the Caribbean? C'est bon. We'll leave them flashing and stinking for now, and pick it up another day . . . maybe. I don't like the smell of day-old fishy things.