Category Archives: 37 Minutes

Most readers of Channel 37 have probably read the stories of Jules Verne, but how many of you know that some of his most memorable stories and characters were inspired by a real person? That person was Felix Nadar, who has been described as “one of the most curious Parisian characters from the nineteenth century and … the last survivor of the romantic Bohemians” (Ben Mackworth-Praed, Aviation: the Pioneer Years, 76). Nadar (that was his stage name) started out as a caricaturist for an illustrated magazine before launching two magazines of his own, and eventually drifting into photography, which was then all the rage in Paris. A daredevil at heart, he took the world’s first aerial photographs, from the gondola of a balloon, and there he discovered his other great love — buoyant flight. The combination proved to be ready-made for some steampunk-era adventuring.

Never one to do anything halfway, in 1863 Nadar — inspired not only by his balloon flights but by correspondence with some of the era’s aviation pioneers and the fledgeling author Jules Verne — undertook a multitude of aviation-related activities. He published the Manifesto of Aerial Auto-Locomotion calling for research into winged flight, began publishing the magazine L’Aeronaut, and later founded “The Society for the Encouragement of Aerial Locomotion by Means of Heavier than Air Machines,” with himself as President and Verne as secretary. The society served as a model for the Baltimore Gun Club, the Weldon Institute, and all the other societies that tend to appear at the beginning of Verne’s stories.

Why the interest in heaver-than-air flight after becoming so enamored of balloons? The answer can be found in a misadventure that led to the publication of Verne’s first novel. That same year, 1863, Nadar constructed a 200,000 cubic-foot balloon, Le Géant (“The Giant”) — the largest gas balloon constructed up to that time. It was large enough to support a unique gondola underneath:

“The car had two stories, and was, in fact, a model of a cottage in wicker-work, 8 feet in height by 13 feet in length, containing a small printing-office, a photographic department, a refreshment-room, a lavatory, &c.” (Encyclopedia Britannica, 1902 edition)

The balloon set off with Nadar, his wife, and seven other passengers for a grand flight across Europe that ended in farce 17 hours later. While attempting to land in Hanover, the balloon was caught in strong winds and was dragged along the ground for over seven miles, with everyone aboard bumping around the house sustaining bruises and broken bones. Undaunted, however, Nadar shipped the gondola-house — which was rather conspicuously out of plumb after its travails — back to England, where it was exhibited at the Crystal Palace for a year and generated much enthusiasm for flying among the people who came to see it.

The enthusiasm spread to Jules Verne, who wrote Five Weeks in a Balloon, which included all the elements for which his later adventure stories would be famous. A scene from the novel in which the balloon was dragged across the landscape for miles after snaring an enraged elephant was no doubt inspired by the wild ride of Le Géant!

Although Nadar swore off balloons after his memorable mishap, he continued to frequent the Paris flying scene, keeping his society and magazine going long enough to bring together some of the pioneers who would lay the groundwork for the Wright Brothers just a few decades later. Returning to photography, Nadar took iconic portraits of many of the day’s noted aviators. He lived long enough to see the dream of heavier-than-air flight come true, dying in 1910 at the age of 89.

But that’s not the end of his influence on Verne. He was also the inspiration for the French adventurer Michel Ardan, who volunteers to fly in a projective to the moon in Verne’s iconic masterpiece, From the Earth to the Moon. How fitting that Nadar, the daring balloon pilot and promoter of winged flight, should also symbolically embark on what would soon be mankind’s next great adventure!

We all know those crazy metaphysicists. The ones that have all the answers about life, humanity, and the secret to “things beyond.” We’ve compiled a list of the top ten in the Science Fiction and Fantasy world. These might be the ones we like best, please feel free to come up with your own and let us know!

10. Hari Seldon. Hari Seldon sees human behavior as something that can be predicted on a mass scale. As a Psycho-Historian, he sees the Empire headed for chaos and knows what to do about it. He works out a thousand year plan, which despite complications works. His exploits are in the Foundation Series, by Isaac Asimov.

9. David Bowman. Dr. David Bowman sets out to unravel the mysterious of the Universe in Stanley Kubick’s film 2001: A Space Odyssey.. He then finds himself in the center of the mysteries of the Universe. It is in the film 2010: The Year We Make Contact that Dr. Bowman starts to reveal the secrets he has learned, after being missing for nine years.

8. Glinda. From the movie The Wizard of Oz,. Glinda dispenses her wisdom, but never revealing all the secrets. And like all grand metaphysicists, announces that the thing one is looking for is there all along.

7. Mr. Peabody. Mr. Peabody, as everyone knows is a talking dog with a time machine. He spends his time teaching his young protégé, Sherman, the meaning of life. For examples he uses real life events at real-time. Can’t get much more metaphysical than that! Or maybe…

6. Morpheus. Officially, Morpheus was the captain of the Nebuchadnezzar. Unofficially, he was tasked to search for “The One.” When he finds such a person, Morpheus trained the one and all levels – physically, spiritually, and metaphysically.

5. Spock. Yes Spock. Spock is the perfect blend of calculating scientist and wizard. His ability to crunch numbers is overshadowed by his focused attention on logic. If that isn’t enough, there’s the Vulcan mind-meld. Don’t forget the time in Star Trek – The Search For Spock. How metaphysical is it to hide your “essence” is someone else’s body. Weird, but cool.

4. Galadriel. The Elven queen from The Lord of the Rings. Galadriel is feared by most of the residences of Middle Earth. Galadriel can enter minds far away and plant thoughts and ideas. She can see the future, and she’s hot!

3. The Lady Jessica. Paul Atreides’ mother from Dune. Not only did she give birth to the prophesied new ruler of Dune, she teaches the “Weirding Way” to rally the indigenous people of the world Dune.

2. Yoda. The ultimate leader of the Jedi Knights. He is the ultimate teacher. He can lift a X Wing fighter just by thinking about it. Move over Chuck Norris!

1. Rod Serling. Rod Serling as The Narrator of The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery. He knew all, saw all. He knew what was going to happen next and was not surprised by the outcome.

Reginald Bretnor is likely to be the remembered as the first science fiction author to not only create an entirely new form within the genre, but to also write well-received books on military theory and translate into English a seminal 18th-century scientific study of cats.

I only recently discovered Bretnor’s work, while perusing a stack of well-preserved editions of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction from the mid-1950s that I acquired at Balticon in trade for three Mattel Shogun Warriors (in the original boxes). No doubt the dealer with whom I traded thought he had made out like a bandit in the transaction, but in acquiring a complete run of several years’ worth of Golden Age literature in pristine shape that, not incidentally, took up considerably less shelf space than the trio of aged plastic robots, I felt right to to claim the upper hand in the deal.

Anyway, as I read my way through the issues, savoring with delight the brilliant short-story writing skills of that bygone age, I came across my first Bretnor. It was, as were many of his stories, to be found at the foot of a page, at the end of a longer story. “Through Time and Space with Ferdinand Feghoot,” it was called — a delightful, if brief, fantasia about a hale-fellow-well-met (Feghoot) whose travels had taken him to a planet where he solved an intricately explained problem with a most atrocious pun.

Naturally, I was hooked.

Turns out this Bretnor fellow wrote quite a few chapters in the adventures of Mr. Feghoot — to the point where, today, the term “feghoot” is the accepted label for humorous vignettes that end with bad puns. A noteworthy distinction for any science fiction author, certainly. But Reginald Bretnor — born Alfred Reginald Kahn in Vladivostok, Russia in the waning days of Tsar Nicholas II — was hardly limited to that precise form. His short stories, which are often characterized by first-person narratives, unexpected-yet-foreseeable-in-hindsight concluding twists, and brilliantly memorable character names (Dr. Christopher Flewkes, Maximus Everett, Ambrosius Goshawk). He is also renowned for a series of short stories featuring his anti-hero Papa Schimmelhorn. Bretnor’s fiction appeared in all the major science fiction magazines of the day, as well as publications as wide-ranging as Esquire, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Southwest Review, and, apparently, Today’s Woman.

In addition, Bretnor’s wide-ranging interests included military theory (on which he wrote several studies) and literary theory of science fiction (for which he invited his many author friends to contribute, persuading them over a glass of well-matched wine following one of the sumptuous dinners for which Bretnor was renowned). His fascination with felines — which inspired one of his most famous short stories, the aptly-named “Cat” — led to his undertaking to translate into English, for the first time, the first known study ever written on the subject, Les Chats (1727) by M. Moncrif.

In researching this entry for 37 Minutes, I came across a most interesting, if little-known, anecdote about Bretnor’s early life that I believe explains much of what followed. It seems that shortly after arriving in San Diego from the collapsing Russian Empire in 1917 (following a brief stop in Japan, owing to it being somewhat more hospitable to refugees than the ice-cold Bering Sea), Bretnor’s parents, eager to assimilate their child into the new culture as quickly as possible, began referring to their son as Jack, which sounded quintessentially American.

Now, in those days, San Diego was home to a thriving expat community of refugees who had fled the carnage of the First World War. This bumptious environment offered young Jack many opportunities to learn the ways of his adopted country, and soon he was enrolled in a school for Russian refugee children that was run by a French tutor by the name of Fernand Nauplait. At first Jack thrived in the school, but within a year the school acquired a new headmaster, a dour Prussian by the name of Johann Ohlwerk, and the once-boisterous reading and debate of the classics was replaced by rote memorization and recitation. At first Nauplait, who had been demoted to the teaching staff, resisted the new pedagogical approach, but soon he too relented. Jack, whose imagination and creativity had already begun to manifest through the production of short stories that foreshadowed his later work, withered under the tedium.

His parents, particularly his mother, a former governess from England, became concerned for the mental welfare their son and decided ultimately to pull him out of the academy in favor of San Diego’s public schools. When asked the reason she desired to withdraw her son, Mme. Kahn replied, matter-of-factly:

“Why, because Ohlwerk and Nauplait make Jack a dull boy, of course.”

Channel 37 thanks Fred Flaxman’s indispensable Bretnor.com, which was perused extensively in the preparation of this entry.

In the year 1530, The Reformation was in full bloom. Martin Luther stood firm in opposition to the Catholic Pope. The German princes saw a way of getting out from under the pope’s thumb and largely supported him.

By Luther’s side, stood a small diminutive man, Phillip Melanchthon. Philip Melanchthon was credited with many of the documents of Lutherism, particularly the Augsburg Confession. Much was written about Phillip Melanchthon, including a little device that he carried with him.

It was in 1530 that Melanchthon took possession of the latest “gearpunk” devices. It was one of the very first pocket watches ever made. It is, in fact, the oldest know pocket watch in history.

The date is confirmed by the inscription, “To God Be The Glory – 1530” on the top. Many people on both side of the Reformation process were quite annoying by Melanchthon’s gadget. The ticking sound annoyed them, the fact that Melanchthon would always be looking at the watch. Many accounts were written of the “accursed device” and descriptions leave no doubt that the item pictured here is, in fact, Melanchthon’s watch.

By the way, you can visit this watch any time you want. It’s on permanent display at The Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore.
All pictures are from the Walters Art Gallery. See here.

It’s been 30 years since “cyberpunk” — the genre’s first self-declared literary movement — burst onto the scene. As well as inspiring its own body of work, it has also inspired a slew of sub-genres seeking to bask in its reflected glory by adopting the suffix “-punk.” A sort of “punk-athon,” if you will (and even if you won’t).

Many of the derivative forms borrow their prefixes from a dominant technological driver to define a time period. Others derive their prefixes from an influential person or design movement of the time. So for example, in addition to cyberpunk and post-cyberpunk, we now have nanopunk, biopunk, atompunk, dieselpunk, decopunk, teslapunk, steampunk, and clockpunk. In addition, there’s been an historical land rush to stake claims in stonepunk, bronzepunk, sandalpunk, transistorpunk, and spacepunk (arguably the genre formerly known as “science fiction”), and we have read about expeditions being formed to explore the far-flung territories of powderpunk and dinopunk.

We here at Channel 37 are naturally curious to see how these trends will affect the future of the genre. So we tuned our bank of powerful trans-dimensional antennas toward the future and intercepted an article on the subject from the June 2045 issue of Locus, the genre’s trade magazine. With full awareness of the possible harm we could be causing to the fabric of spacetime, we present a tantalizing glimpse of the future:

Spoiler alert, as they say.

* * *

“End of an Era: Punk Literature is Done, Says PWA”
by Abner Cottlefish
Locus, June 2045, pp. E46D-F32N

With the publication of the comprehensive saladforkpunk anthology Undressed, the genre has declared that the last frontier of the punk movement has been conquered. “There are no more technologies to punk,” says Geraldine Hanson, President of the Punk Writers of America (formerly SFWA), in a recent holo-interview. “No more art movements, no more inventors. That’s it.”

“We’ve scoured Wikipedia,” added Hanson, who burst on the scene five years ago with her trilogy of abstractexpressionistpunk novels that made her edgy, dark hero, RoboPollock, a household name. “Nothing. Seriously.”

Writers have been warning of Peak Punk (not to be confused with peakpunk, the sub-genre about mountain climbers) for decades now, but until recently they have been dismissed as cranks (not to be confused with the authors of crankpunk). But now, it appears, their predictions have come true.

“I’m not sure where to go next,” says Ken Houseman, author of a particleboardpunk trilogy set in his dark, edgy “Staplegun” universe. “I think the only option is to start looking into, I don’t know, imaginary places, maybe? Like, other planets or something? But I don’t know if that would catch on.”

Peter P. Pumpkineater, the creator of a gritty, edgy zipperpunk trilogy set in the “YKK” universe (and infamous for his bitter break with the buttonpunk writers at last year’s Worldcon), predicts that the only salvation for the genre is to look beyond what he derides as “purely marketing labels.”

“These categories are just some marketer’s way of organizing our books on the virtual shelves in your pocket bookstore,” he wrote in a recent essay posted on Facepress. “We need to break out of the stultifying world of ever-smaller prefixes.”

Instead, Pumpkineater proposes, we need to develop a new suffix.

“Why not something like ‘-core?'” he wrote. “We could probably come up with some stuff for that. Right?”

Taking him up on his challenge, a group of writers has banded together to proclaim science fiction’s second literary movement, “Cybercore.”

“We want to go back to our roots,” says Jen Jefferson, one of the new movement’s founders.

* * *

Ever since water was turned into wine at a wedding nearly two thousand years ago, mankind has been seeking a way to turn to ordinary into the precious. For thousands of years, many have sought to turn the base metal lead into rare substances such as gold and silver.

Most of the ancient alchemical writings were lost in a burning at the Library of Alexandria in the year 292. Yet myth and legend of the beginnings of Alchemy remain. The god Hermes was said to have written on an emerald tablet. These writings were called the “Great Arcanum” and are frequently quoted as a passage appears to surface every so often. Alchemy also was known as the “Hermetic Arts.”

Another important character to the Science of Alchemy was Aristotle. He proposed that the four elements were actually four states. These elements were derived from “Prima Materia” or prime matter. Aristotle was most impressed when he watched ore being smelted into precious metal. The ore passed from the solid state (earth) to the liquid state (water) and back to solid, but substantially changed or transmuted.

If all ore was prime matter, it was the skill or the smelter or metal worker to determine what state the matter would eventually become.

The city of Baghdad in Iraq was an early capital of Alchemy. After the rise of the Prophet, many scholars studied the surviving manuscripts from Alexandria. One of the most famous was Abu Musa Jabir ibn Hayyan. Hayyan (also know as Geber) was one of the earliest proponents of the scientific method and brought that strategy to alchemy. Interestingly, Jabir ibn Hayyan is considered the father of modern chemistry.

As the popes called for the crusades, learned men from both sides would talk amongst themselves, between battles and share medicinal treatments, philosophy, etc. Eventually the lure of alchemy was imported to Europe.

It was Robert of Chester’s translation of the Arabic book, Book of the Composition of Alchemy, ignited the imaginations of the scientists of Europe. Of course, the influence of the church crept in and made alchemy a “spiritual Journey.”

In later centuries, alchemy became a great scam for con men. One of the last famous men to be conned by a fake alchemist was General Erich Ludendorff. General Ludendorff was a buddy of Adolf Hitler ad was trying to find a quick way to raise money for the up and coming nazi party.

So, does alchemy still matter? Are there any alchemist left in the world?

Very recently, The Gemesis Company announced that they have perfected man made diamonds. From basic carbon to cool diamonds! Alchemists!

When I made my pilgrimage to the Star Wars exhibit at the National Air and Space Museum fifteen years ago, it was the fulfillment of a childhood dream. No, not to get my picture taken next to Boba Fett or to marvel at Luke’s Day-Glo orange X-Wing flight suit. but to see if there really was a Champion spark-plug sticker on the Millennium Falcon.

There is. It’s right behind the top of the cockpit window.

For while other visitors marveled at Ralph McQuarrie’s legendary concept art or ogled Princess Leia’s gowns, a small cadre of young fans like me spent their time circling the cases containing Han Solo’s ship and the fearsome Star Destroyer, scrutinizing every detail on their surfaces, and calling out to each other things like: “Revell Bismarck rear superstructure over here,” “Monogram B-52 engine pods,” “I’m pretty sure that’s an M46 Patton tank chassis,” and “are those F-14 landing gear struts?”

For we were kitbashers and scratchbuilders, and these were our David and our Pietà.

Kitbashing, as its name suggests, is the art of recombining parts from many models to create new ones. Scratchbuilding, likewise, is the art of creating models entirely from scratch, often using parts from models alongside found objects like shampoo bottles and ballpoint pen guts. While these forms of scale modeling have a long and illustrious history in science fiction films, what’s not as well-known is that they have large, thriving communities of practitioners today.

Even in the age of CGI, scale modeling using plastic, resin, and other materials is very much alive and well — and the vehicles that these imaginative creators are building are as detailed, intricate, and mind-blowing as the best science fiction story. They are visual invitations to entire universes of possibility. Take a moment to visit the galleries on the two elder statesmen sites of the community: Starship Modeler and CultTVMan. You’ll be impressed, amazed, and not a little awed at the patience, skill, and imagination freely on display.

The science fiction scratch and bash community is wonderfully open to people of all levels of skill. Beginners are welcomed and encouraged with the same enthusiasm as veterans who make models for movies (yes, some directors still prefer the Old Ways). Suggestions are always constructive, and it is truly a “big tent” — people who hold wildly differing conceptions of Federation starship design fundamentals can still appreciate each others’ work, and people whose designs adhere strictly to intricate technical and engineering backstories will gladly exhibit their work alongside people whose primary interest is the aesthetics of line and color.

The Mecca of science fiction modelers — kitbashers, scratchbuilders, monster modelers, diorama builders, and people who build straight out of the box (or “OOB” in modeler parlance) — is WonderFest Hobby Expo, an annual summer convention in Louisville, Kentucky. It is the family reunion of the modeling clan, and the models on display will blow your mind.

Kitbashing has come full circle in the Maschinen Krieger ZbV 3000 universe of master designer Kow Yokoyama. The designs for combat spacecraft and armored fighting suits in this dark-future setting are actually based on kitbashed models. So that means half the fun of building a Ma.K. kit is identifying the kitbashed parts that were used to make the prototype.

Makes me feel like a kid again, my nose pressed to the glass as I stare wistfully into the bowels of the Millennium Falcon, looking for that Champion spark-plug sticker.

We at Channel 37 are often asked, “How much work is involved in writing Science Fiction?” Well, frankly, we’ve never really thought about it. It just something we do.

But in order to answer our adoring public, we’ve decided to hire a consulting firm to see what all is involved. The consulting firm provided a pair of efficiency experts (like the “Bobs” from Office Space) and here are the results.

To properly interpret the data, one must have an understanding of “Therbligs.” The Therblig is a measure of work (Some may remember from Management classes) that was developed by Frank Bunker Gilbreth and Lillian Moller Gilbreth (Therblig is the backward spelling of their last name). The Therblig is defined as one unit of work. The traditional Therblig chart may be found here.

Obviously, this chart cannot properly refer to writers, so the consulting company (name withheld for privacy sake, but a subsidiary of Recalcitrant Laboratories, Inc. one of our sponsors) came up with a custom chart. Each operation counts as one unit of work or Therblig.

Symbol Unit of Work
F Find
S Search
T Take
TK Think
PO Program Operation
R Read
RE Respond
E Edit
TR Transport
O Observe

The parameters are these; the writer is facing a 5pm (1700) deadline with a start time at 10am (1000). Here are the results:

1000: Start computer (PO) [1 Therblig unit]

1003: Get a cup of coffee (S, F, and T) [3 TC]

1007: Start word processing program (PO) [1 TU]

1010: Typing begins (TK, PO) [2TU]

1025: Read writing (R, TK) [2TU]

1029: Delete all (PO) [1TU]

1030: Thinking of new idea (TK) [1TU]

1032: Thinking of Cute Eastern European girl at coffee shop (TK) [1TU]

1034: Thinking that Eastern European girl’s name could inspire a story, if not a novel (TK) [1TU]

1036: Deciding to get coffee (TK) [1TU]

1038: Leaving house to obtain coffee (TR) [1TU]

1040: Returning home to get keys to car (TR) [1TU]

1041: Looking for and finding car keys (S, F, T) [3TU]

1047: Drive to coffee shop (TR) [1TU]

1049: Not seeing cute Eastern European girl, but seeing her mother (coffee shop owner) who reminds writer of every female KGB agent in every James Bond movie over the rank of Major (O), [1TU]

1053: Ordering a “Grand Siberia” to avoid glare from KGB Colonel coffee lady, which is essentially whirled milk with nutmeg, cinnamon, and Tabasco sauce (RE), [1TU]

1055; Retuning home, pouring concoction down sink due to writer’s aversion to milk (T. RE) [2TU]

1102: Opening email and responding (PO, R, RE) [3TU]

1117: Playing solitaire (PO, TK) [2TU]

1134: Read other bloggers looking for ideas (PO, R) [2TU]

1157: Thinking of lunch (TK) [1TU]

1159: Solitaire (PO, TK) [2TU]

1204: Searching for leftovers (S) [1TU]

1207: Finding Ravioli and frozen bagel (F) [1TU]

1209 Combining both (T, TK] [2TU]

1212: Having lunch while reading other blogger sand Twitter, looking for ideas (TK, PO, S) [3TU]

1235: Thinking lunch would have been better if bagel wasn’t Pumpernickel (TK) [1TU]

1242: Reading Email (PO, R, RE) [3TU]

1312: Turning on TV Guide channel to Search for Science Fiction Program looking for Ideas (S, O) [2TU]

1427: Waking up and running to computer (TR) [1TU]

1429: Checking email (PO, R, RE) [3TU]

1445: Checking Science Fiction bloggers looking for Ideas (PO, R, O) [3TU]

1452: Thinking of needing massive amounts of Caffeine (TK) [1TU]

1455: Thinking if Eastern European Coffee girl is home from school yet (TK) [1TU]

1457: Remember last trip to coffee shop resulted in $5.99 being poured down sink (O, TK) [2TU]

1502: Solitaire (TK, PO] [2TU]

1508: Noticing less than two hours till deadline (O, TK) [2TU]

1510: Solitaire (TK, PO) [2TU]

1515: Cursing the writer of the solitaire program, asserting that “they” should burn in hell until he wins an actual game (PO, TK, RE) [3TU]

1518: Deciding whether a quick painless death or a slow lingering one will be the result of missing deadline (TK, O) [2TU]

1520: Locking doors in case of ninja attack (TK, RE) [2TU]

1523: Looking at clock to decide on time left (O, TK) [2TU]

1525: Solitaire (PO, TK) [2TU]

1527: Wondering why writer agreed to write a stupid story for uncaring corporate, blood sucking entity in the first place (TK, RE) [2TU]

1529: Solitaire (PO, TK) [2TU]

1537: Check email (PO, R. RE, TK) [4TU]

1544: Blog Check (PO, TK, R) [3TU]

1552: Solitaire (PO, TK) [2TU]

1607: Remembering discarded idea from 20 years ago. (TK) [1TU]

1610: Furiously typing, trying to reach 1000 words (PO, TK) [2TU]

1652: Pushing F7 key (PO, TK) [2TU]

1654: Arguing with spell check function (PO, RE) [2TU]

1655: Looking for word on Google, convinced spell check is wrong. Cursing Bill Gates as the “anti-Christ” for allowing stupid function on worthless word processing programs (R, E, RE, O, PO, TK) [6TU]

1656: Finding the accursed spell check is correct, knowing Bill Gates has bribed Webster just to make writers think their going crazy (PO, TK, E, TK, R) [5TU]

1657: Saving story (PO, TK) [2TU]

1658: Emailing Story to editor with pleasantries about how if you ever need any thing else… (PO, RE, TK) [3TU]

1659: Observing time stamp on outgoing email 16:59:57. (O, PO) [2TU]

1700: Solitaire (PO, TK) [2TU]

Total number of Working operation (Therblig Units): 114.

This Sunday, as everyone knows, marks the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. So it seems fitting that we here at Channel 37 should commemmorate the moment by taking a look at the long, rich history of shipwreck stories in science fiction — a genre that, naturally, abounds in spaceships:

• Shipwreck by Charles Logan
• Ummmm . . .
• [*sound of crickets chirping*]

And even that one is more of a Robinson Crusoe-type story than a shipwreck. (Not to mention Robinson Crusoe on Mars, which is actually a pretty good movie.) So what’s that all about? Since the 1930s, science fiction has been awash in spaceships of every conceivable type, size, and capability. And there has been no shortage of accidents, from asteroid collisions to warp core breaches. But in terms of your classic shipwreck story, combining chivalry and self-sacrifice with survival instincts and tick-tock suspense, we have precious little — as far as I can tell.

We have plenty of stories in which humans find alien ships adrift from some disaster or another. Clearly, aliens have all kinds of problems with their ships (now there’s a new subgenre — retelling science fiction stories from the aliens’ perspective!). But for us humans, it tends to be pretty binary: either the ships work, or they just blow up completely. Not a lot of middle ground. Or if a ship does get wrecked, we don’t find it after it’s been abandoned. Let’s face it: as compelling as it was when Kirk and Co. found the USS Constellation adrift in the Classic Trek episode “The Doomsday Machine,” the blow-by-blow of the abandoning of the ship would be a great little story in its own right.

What is it about science fiction that hasn’t lent itself to the disaster genre? Is it that we just have too much faith in our ships? Are they — to authors, readers, and crew alike — unsinkable? Is it that the focus on the stories of survival are too “character-centric” and not enough about science-y things?

Science fiction is experiencing a resurgence in heroic storytelling. Space opera is back in a fresh new guise, and military sf is always popular. We love our movie and TV spaceships more than ever, thanks to super-detailed CGI models. Cinematic science fiction has plenty of epic-scale disaster stories (from Meteor to Independence Day). And stories of survival at sea are among the most enduring in our literature, both fiction and nonfiction (from Moby-Dick to The Perfect Storm).

Maybe it’s time we set our science-fictional sights on a classic story of spaceshipwreck?

The Wind from the Sun is a short story written by the great Arthur C. Clarke. It was first published in 1962. it has since been published in various places and again under the title of Sunjammer.

The story revolved around a race between “space yachts” using only the wind from the sun as propulsion. The wind from the sun referred to the wave of radiant energy that the sun discharges. These yachts have thin fragile “wings” that would capture this energy and use it as propulsion.

The sun, for the past several months, has shown that this is a real energy source idea.

This video shows a solar tornado. The sun is sending out tremendous amounts of energy.

A NASA video talks about the power unleashed in a Solar Flare between March 8th and 10th of this year. (Warning: This is a government video; do not view while operating heavy machinery.) The video states that this storm produced enough energy to provide power to every house in New York City for two years.

Even last week, we were subjected to another round of Solar Flares.

Of course, to many people, this means the end of the Earth. Many loyal Channel 37 visitors of course remember the last “End of the Earth” story we posted here. Already the sales of aluminum foil hats and fashions are being planned on the drawing boards. The next big fashion show in Paris may have some of these concepts.

We at Channel 37 however feel that this is not time to panic, but time for great opportunities! Arthur C. Clarke, one of our favorite Science Fiction writers, has a history for predicting things that actually happen – Think Communication Satellites. We feel that as the “Space Program” is winding down in this country, there is a real chance for many businesses to actually make a profit.

Using Solar Wind technology, transportation costs would be minimal. Stations could be built for the express purpose of energy harvesting. Dwindling fossil fuel supplies could give way to a secure, cleaner energy alternative.