Moderators’s Note:
It’s me again! This is another spot where the timeline gets a little shuffled in the original book. Throughout the week, there are little excerpts that fans like to call “The Creation of Plastic.” All of them are in the archives if you want to reread them. If you can’t remember, I’d definitely recommend a refresher before the end of the week. Happy reading!
LOG ENTRY: SOL 118 (Mar. 6, 2036)
My conversation with NASA about the Water Reclaimer was boring and riddled with technical details. So I’ll paraphrase it for you:
Me: “This is obviously a clog. How about I take the it apart and check the internal tubing?”
NASA: (After 5 hours of deliberation) “No. You’ll fuck it up and die.”
So I took it apart.
Yeah, I know. NASA has a lot of ultra-smart people and I should really do what they say. And I’m being too adversarial, considering they spend all day working on how to save my life.
I just get sick of being told how to wipe my ass. Independence was one of the things they looked for when choosing Ares astronauts. It’s a 13-month mission, most of it spent many light-minutes away from Earth. They wanted people who would act on their own initiative, but at the same time, obey their Commander.
If Commander Lewis were here, I’d do whatever she said, no problem. But a committee of faceless bureaucrats back on Earth? Sorry, I’m just having a tough time with it.
I was really careful. I labeled every piece as I dismantled it, and laid everything out on a table. I have the schematics in the computer, so nothing was a surprise.
And just as I’d suspected, there was a clogged tube. The Water Reclaimer was designed to purify urine and strain humidity out of the air (you exhale almost as much water as you piss). I’ve mixed my water with soil, making it mineral water. The minerals built up in the Water Reclaimer.
I cleaned out the tubing and put it all back together. It completely solved the problem. I’ll have to do it again some day, but not for 100 sols or so. No big deal.
I told NASA what I did. Our (paraphrased) conversation was:
Me: “I took it apart, found the problem, and fixed it.”
NASA: “Dick.”
AL102 shuddered in the brutal storm. Withstanding forces and pressure far greater than its design, it rippled violently against the airlock seal-strip. Other sections of canvas undulated along their seal-strips together, acting as a single sheet, but AL102 had no such luxury. The airlock barely moved, leaving AL102 to take the full force of the tempest.
The layers of plastic, constantly bending, heated the resin from pure friction. The new, more yielding environment allowed the carbon fibers to separate.
AL102 stretched.
Not much. Only 4 millimeters. But the carbon fibers, usually 500 microns apart, now had a gap eight times that width in their midst.
After the storm abated, the lone remaining astronaut performed a full inspection of the Hab. But he didn’t notice anything amiss. The weak part of canvas was concealed by a seal-strip.
Designed for a mission of 31 sols, AL102 continued well past its planned expiration. Sol after sol went by, with the lone astronaut traveling in and out of the Hab almost daily. Airlock 1 was closest to the rover charging station, so the astronaut preferred it to the other two.
When pressurized, the airlock expanded slightly; when depressurized, it shrunk. Every time the astronaut used the airlock, the strain on AL102 relaxed, then tightened anew.
Pulling, stressing, weakening, stretching…
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