Traveling at the Speed of Light

It Began with a Flashlight

Let’s  change gears here a bit and extend our gaze out to the stars. Back when I was a kid, somebody told me about light speed. It was on a summer night and we were outside looking up at the stars. To give me an idea of how far away they were, my companion turned on the flashlight we had been playing with, pointed it up to the sky, and flicked it on and off. He explained that in one second, that flashlight beam had traveled 186,000 miles (300,000 kilometers). I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around the idea at the time. What came next really boggled my mind: even if that light traveled all night, it still wouldn’t have even left the solar system. It would take years to get to the next star, if it got that far.

Wow.

I played a lot with flashlights (no doubt annoying my parents who had to keep buying batteries for them) trying to figure out how we could send signals to space using them. It didn’t occur to me (because I didn’t know until much later) that most of the light would eventually be absorbed by interplanetary and (and if I was lucky) interstellar dust. So, my signals to beings on distant planets likely will never get very far.

Human beings, however, are sending out other signals that ARE getting “out there.” In fact, the leading edge of that signal “front” is about 75 years away from us. It’s a spherical “front” carrying a steady stream of signals stretching back to the first radio and TV broadcasts to signals that are just now leaving our planet. As it turns out, there are some stars with planets around them that lie inside that expanding sphere of influence. Any beings on those planets who can receive broadcasts are probably trying to puzzle out just what it is we’re trying to tell the universe. And somewhere, lost in all that noise, I’d like to imagine that my feeble little flashlight signals are limping along, telling the cosmos that I said “hi.” (Of course they’re not, but it’s kind of an awe-inspiring thought, anyway…)

Going to Mars Any Way You Can

We Didn’t Need Spacesuits, Just Cardboard

AS you might imagine after reading the past few posts, I’ve got Mars on the brain. It’s almost genetic, but not quite. Back when I was a kid, living on a farm in Boulder, Colorado, we had a game we played. I don’t remember the name of the game, but let’s call it “Going to Mars.” This was back before we’d landed folks on the Moon. I’d read somewhere about Mars and since the solar system was in the news, I’m guessing we decided to make a game of it.

We got a big cardboard box and put it out in a field. That was our rocket. We stood in it and made lots of rocket noises like we’d heard on TV during launches. And, after a while, we somehow landed on Mars. Never mind that Mars was basically an alfalfa field. To us, it was Mars. And we explored our Mars and found all kinds of cool things.

When I was a few years old, I read the first of the Edgar Rice Burroughs books about Mars and found out that John Carter basically got to Mars by standing in a cave and teleporting himself there. Very cool… we both got there by imagination, which is great.

Well, about a decade ago, I shared that childhood game with the world in the form of a planetarium show called SkyQuest. It’s about a little girl who grows up to be an astronomer and how she played astronaut games as a child. There’s a short sequence in the show where she builds her rocket and goes to Mars, but most of SkyQuest is about her interest in the stars and planets.

Sky Quest frame

In a way, the show parallels some of my life story, and I’ve had many planetarium folk tell me that it reminded them of cardboard rockets and space exploration games they played as kids, too. What this tells ME is that we need both science education AND imagination to make future astronomers and astronauts

A still from SkyQuest, which we created for
the Albert Einstein Planetarium at the
Smithsonian’s National and Air and Space Museum.