True passengers

Fuck it! I’ve always been fascinated by all these movies about space travel. Especially the ones that show huge spaceships packed with all kinds of designer gadgets for comfort and beauty. Do all these screenwriters know that even now it costs more than a thousand bucks to send a single kilogram of cargo into orbit? There’s nothing bullshit here for any feng shui.

But it’s easier that way. Just take your usual earthly life and transfer it to space: with huge cabins, spacious corridors, bars, restaurants, and swimming pools. And, of course, along with gravity. Oh, yes, fucking gravity! Everyone always forgets about it. No wonder... It’s always with us. As long as you’re sitting on your ass on a cozy planet. But in space, you have to come up with something. And when you get to the point of practicing long-distance space flights in cryosleep for 100-150 years, you have to decide which is better: muscle atrophy or bedsores.

Okay. Smart people are implementing an idea as old as the world itself: to place everyone on the inner surface of a rotating wheel and spin them in one place, like on a carousel, so that centrifugal forces simulate gravity. But what about bedsores? After all, even the most well-padded butt will wear through in 100 years. And then comes the idea of compensating for the artificial gravity that has already been created with liquid, similar to what happens in the womb or in sensory deprivation chambers. Smart, right? But the liquid also increases safety: it reduces the risk of physical injury and, most importantly, shields against cosmic radiation. Partially! Not completely. The rest will have to be repelled from the ship by an electromagnetic field. But that’s okay. We’ll put a generator in the middle; it’s not for nothing that this whole hellish carousel is spinning. Excellent! But there are still many fundamental philosophical questions... For example: where will they all defecate?

Such trifles usually don’t bother Hollywood blockbuster screenwriters. Oh, how I wish I could forget all the nonsense they’ve stuffed into our heads. But even more than that, I want to forget the last few months. That’s quite problematic. Especially after you come to your senses inside a 100-meter wheel, spinning wildly and rushing somewhere in the cold darkness.