Climate change is one of the biggest challenges we face, and a big part of that challenge is the excess carbon dioxide (CO2) in our atmosphere. While reducing emissions is crucial, what about the CO2 that’s already there? That’s where Direct Air Capture (DAC) comes in.
Think of DAC as a giant vacuum cleaner for the sky, sucking CO2 directly out of the ambient air. It’s a technology that’s gaining attention as a potential tool to help us combat climate change. But what exactly is it, and what does it mean for industries like yours?
The Upside: Why DAC is Promising
Direct Air Capture offers several compelling benefits:
Removing Past Emissions: Unlike technologies that capture emissions at the source (like a factory smokestack), DAC can remove CO2 that has been accumulating in the atmosphere for years. This makes it a unique tool for tackling “legacy” emissions.
Location Flexibility: DAC plants can theoretically be built almost anywhere there’s a power source and a place to store or use the captured CO2. This is a big advantage over solutions tied to specific geographies.
Measurable & Verifiable: The amount of CO2 captured by DAC is directly measurable and can be verified, which is important for carbon accounting and markets.
Potential for Permanent Removal: When combined with geological storage (where CO2 is injected deep underground and mineralises into rock), DAC can offer a permanent way to remove CO2 from the atmosphere.
Scalability: While still in its early stages, DAC technology has the potential to be scaled up to remove significant amounts of CO2.
A Source of CO2: Captured CO2 isn’t just waste. It can be used as a raw material for various products, including synthetic fuels (e-fuels), building materials, and in industries like food and beverage.
The Hurdles: Downsides & Technological Limitations
Despite its promise, DAC faces significant challenges:
High Cost: Currently, capturing CO2 from the air is expensive. The concentration of CO2 in the atmosphere is very low (around 0.04%), so moving vast amounts of air and separating the CO2 requires a lot of energy and sophisticated technology.
Energy Intensive: DAC processes require substantial energy. For DAC to be truly beneficial for the climate, this energy must come from low-carbon or renewable sources. If fossil fuels are used, it could negate the climate benefits.
Technological Maturity & Scale: DAC is still a relatively young technology. While there are operational pilot and demonstration plants, widespread, large-scale deployment is still some way off. Significant innovation and investment are needed to improve efficiency and reduce costs.
Land Use: Large-scale DAC facilities will require land, though generally less than some nature-based solutions for equivalent carbon removal.
Storage Security: Ensuring that captured CO2, if stored geologically, remains permanently locked away is crucial. This requires careful site selection and monitoring.
Moral Hazard Concerns: Some critics worry that focusing on DAC could distract from the urgent need to reduce emissions at their source, potentially giving polluting industries a perceived license to continue emitting.
Who’s Leading the Way? Key Players in DAC.
Several companies are pioneering DAC technology research and development. Some of the major names include:
Climeworks (Switzerland): Known for its modular DAC systems and projects like “Orca” and “Mammoth” in Iceland, which store CO2 geologically.
Carbon Engineering (Canada, acquired by Occidental Petroleum): Developing large-scale DAC technology, often with a view to using captured CO2 for synthetic fuels or permanent sequestration.
Global Thermostat (USA): Focuses on DAC solutions that can be integrated with industrial processes or powered by waste heat.
Heirloom Carbon Technologies (USA): Developing a process that uses minerals to pull CO2 from the air, aiming for lower costs.
1PointFive (USA, a subsidiary of Occidental Petroleum): Focused on commercializing DAC technology, including building large-scale DAC plants.
Verdox (USA): Working on an electrically driven DAC system aimed at improving energy efficiency.
Cydonis Heavy Industries, Ltd. & The DAC Opportunity
For a company like Cydonis Heavy Industries, Ltd., the rise of DAC presents several potential avenues for engagement and benefit:
Strategic Partnerships & Investment:
Collaborate with DAC technology developers or project implementers. This could involve direct investment, joint ventures, or providing industrial expertise for scaling up DAC facilities.
If Cydonis has access to low-cost renewable energy or waste heat, it could partner to power DAC operations, reducing a key cost component for DAC companies.
Carbon Credit Trading & Offsetting:
Purchasing High-Quality Credits: As pressure mounts for companies to decarbonize, Cydonis can purchase carbon removal credits generated by DAC projects to offset its own hard-to-abate emissions. DAC credits are often considered high-quality due to their permanence and measurability.
Investing in Credit-Generating Projects: By investing in or co-developing DAC projects, Cydonis could secure a future supply of carbon credits or even become a seller of these credits in the growing voluntary carbon market, potentially creating a new revenue stream.
Supply Chain & Infrastructure Development:
Heavy industries often have expertise in large-scale engineering, procurement, and construction (EPC), as well as manufacturing complex components. This expertise could be valuable in building and deploying DAC plants.
Cydonis could explore opportunities in developing or supplying specialized materials or equipment needed for DAC systems. The possibility of capturing other GHG’s (greenhouse gases, such as methane) for device feedstock also exists, (though our preliminary goal will be just CO2 as a starting point).
Utilizing Captured CO2:
Depending on Cydonis’s specific industrial processes, there might be opportunities to utilize captured CO2 as a feedstock.
Enhancing Corporate Sustainability & Reputation:
Engaging with DAC technology can significantly enhance Cydonis’s environmental credentials and demonstrate a proactive approach to climate change, appealing to investors, customers, and employees.
Pioneering CO2 Disposal and Energy Regeneration (A Cydonis Specialty):
Beyond conventional storage or utilization, Cydonis Heavy Industries, Ltd. is at the forefront of developing a revolutionary approach to carbon management. We are working on a patent-pending technology (details available under a Non-Disclosure Agreement) that utilizes a controlled nuclear fusion/micro-singularity process. This device is designed to take captured CO2, processed into large cylindrical pellets, and effectively annihilate it.
This groundbreaking technology offers a potential game-changer for the DAC industry by providing a novel and potentially highly efficient way to deal with the “waste” CO2 captured by DAC companies, moving beyond long-term storage concerns for a portion of captured carbon.
Furthermore, the process is designed to be regenerative. The significant waste heat generated by the device could be harnessed to drive steam turbines for electricity generation or be used for district heating, creating a closed-loop system that not only disposes of CO2 but also produces valuable energy. This positions Cydonis as a potential key partner for DAC facilities looking for innovative and comprehensive carbon management solutions.
The Path Forward
Direct Air Capture is not a silver bullet for climate change, but it’s a promising technology that can play an important role alongside aggressive emissions reductions. For forward-thinking companies like Cydonis Heavy Industries, Ltd., understanding and strategically engaging with the DAC sector nowโespecially with innovative, proprietary solutionsโcould offer both environmental benefits and significant long-term competitive advantages. Exploring partnerships, understanding the carbon markets, and identifying synergies with existing operations are key first steps.
The air in the city of Aethel was impossibly crisp, humming with a low, resonant frequency that spoke of gathering order. Above, the twin moons, once fractured and scattered debris, were slowly, meticulously, drawing themselves back together, their surfaces smoothing, their orbits tightening into perfect, silent ellipses. This was the way of things in this universe โ not decay, but assembly.
Elara adjusted the focus on her ocular implant, observing the street below. A discarded piece of plastic, left carelessly hours ago, was not weathering or breaking down. Instead, tiny crystalline structures were emerging from its surface, drawing in ambient energy and matter, weaving themselves into intricate, fractal patterns. Soon, it would be indistinguishable from the deliberately grown architectural components that formed the city’s spires, each one a testament to the universe’s relentless drive towards complexity.
“…out of its loop like an apple from a branch, the first of the season.” – Simon Armitage.
Life here didn’t fight entropy; it rode the tide of extropy. Organisms weren’t born simple, growing complex, and then decaying. They emerged fully formed, often from inorganic matrices that spontaneously organised, and then, over their lifespan, they simplified. Elara herself had begun as a being of dazzling, multi-limbed complexity, her thoughts a symphony of simultaneous processes. Now, in her later cycles, her form was streamlining, her consciousness focusing, shedding unnecessary functions like a tree shedding leaves in a conventional autumn. Her nonbinary companion, a creature named Kaelen who was just entering their prime, rippled with vibrant, shifting colours, their form a fluid, ever-more-detailed sculpture of light and sinew. Kaelen pointed a newly formed appendage towards the sky.
“Look,” they chimed, their voice a complex harmony. “Another star is clarifying.”
Indeed, a distant nebula, once a chaotic swirl of gas and dust, was resolving itself. Stars within it are not dispersing, but drawing closer, their elements fusing with impossible efficiency, their light becoming sharper, more defined, burning with a cool, pure intensity. Planets are coalescing from diffuse clouds, their geological strata arranging themselves into perfect, layered symmetries.
Living in an extropic universe was a constant process of refinement. Tools didn’t wear out; they became sharper, more efficient, their components aligning with greater precision. Memories didn’t fade; they became clearer, more detailed, shedding the fuzziness of initial perception. The challenge wasn’t holding things together, but learning to let go, to embrace the inevitable simplification that came with age, to become, eventually, a single, perfect, irreducible point of consciousness before dissolving back into the ever-ordering fabric of reality. Elara smiled, a simple, elegant gesture. “Beautiful,” she whispered, her voice a single, clear note. The universe was a perpetual bloom, each moment adding another layer of exquisite, inevitable order.
They walked through the city’s thoroughfares, the ground beneath their feet a tessellation of self-repairing, self-assembling tiles that hummed faintly with contained energy. The air was filled with the soft clicks and whirs of countless small objects spontaneously organising โ pebbles forming perfect spheres, dust motes aligning into shimmering geometric patterns. Even the shadows seemed to deepen and sharpen, defining the edges of things with impossible clarity. Kaelen paused by a public ‘Simplification Garden’, a place where older beings gathered to embrace their final stages. The garden wasn’t a place of rest or decay, but of intense, focused refinement. Figures sat or stood, their forms becoming less distinct, their colours fading, their movements slowing as their consciousnesses distilled towards that ultimate, singular point. It wasn’t sad; there was a profound sense of peace, of fulfilling a universal purpose.”Do you ever wonder,” Kaelen asked, their voice shifting into a slightly more complex chord, “what it would be like… to disorder?”Elara considered this. The concept was alien, almost nonsensical.
Disorder was the absence of the universe’s fundamental drive. It was the theoretical state before the first spark of organisation, a void of formless chaos. “It’s difficult to imagine,” she replied. “Like imagining silence in a universe of perpetual song. Why would you?” Kaelen’s colours shifted, a flicker of something akin to curiosity. “Just… the opposite. Everything here becomes more. More defined, more complex, then more simple, more pure. What if it became less? Less defined, less… itself?” Elara looked at her younger companion, at the vibrant, intricate tapestry of their being. Kaelen was still in the phase of increasing complexity, their form and consciousness expanding, exploring the myriad possibilities of organised matter and energy. The thought of that complexity unravelling, becoming less, was counter to everything in their shared reality.”Perhaps,” Elara said, her voice gentle, “that is the mystery of the ‘before’. The state from which all this order emerged. But it is not our way. Our way is the bloom.”They continued their walk, the city around them a living, breathing testament to extropy. Buildings grew taller, more intricate, drawing matter from the ground and air. Water flowed uphill, purifying itself with every drop. Even the thoughts in their own minds felt sharper, more organised, shedding the extraneous noise of lower states of being.
In this universe of perpetual assembly, life was a journey not towards dust, but towards ultimate, perfect form.A summons arrived shortly after their return to Elara’s dwelling โ an invitation to a wedding ceremony on the world of Xylos, a place renowned for its breathtaking crystalline forests and the complex, resonant harmonies of its inhabitants. Travel between worlds in an extropic universe wasn’t about propulsion through space, but about aligning one’s own energetic signature with the increasingly ordered frequencies of distant systems. It required immense focus and a deep understanding of cosmic resonance. Elara and Kaelen prepared for the journey. Elara, with her refined consciousness, would act as the primary navigator, her mind a finely tuned instrument seeking the harmonic pathways between star systems. Kaelen, with their burgeoning complexity, would provide the necessary energetic amplification, their vibrant being resonating with the universe’s ordering forces.Their vessel was less a ship and more a contained field of pure resonance, its form constantly refining itself for optimal efficiency as they travelled. As they detached from Aethel’s orbital resonance, the familiar hum of their home city faded, replaced by the silent, vast symphony of intergalactic space, a space not empty, but teeming with invisible threads of organising energy.
Their journey was smooth at first, a graceful descent into deeper layers of cosmic order. Distant galaxies, once fuzzy and indistinct, resolved into breathtakingly detailed structures. They passed through regions where nebulae were collapsing into perfectly formed star clusters and rogue planets were aligning themselves into stable, harmonious orbits.The first sign of adversity was subtle โ a discordant note in the cosmic symphony. The resonant pathways they were following began to waver, their frequencies becoming erratic. Elara’s focused consciousness felt a jarring sensation, like a perfectly tuned instrument suddenly encountering static.”The path is… distorting,” Elara communicated, her thoughts projected directly to Kaelen. Kaelen’s form flickered, their colours momentarily losing their vibrancy. “I feel it too. A resistance. As if the universe is… faltering in its ordering here.” They had entered a region known in ancient texts as the ‘Churn’, a vast, anomalous zone where the relentless march of extropy seemed to encounter an opposing force. Not entropy, the slow slide into disorder, but something more active, a localised field of chaotic generation that actively prevented organisation.Their vessel, designed for smooth resonance, began to struggle. Its refined form wavered, tiny imperfections appearing on its surface โ a terrifying sight in a universe where imperfection was anathema. The air within the field grew heavy, the crispness replaced by a thick, cloying sensation.”We need to find a stable frequency,” Elara focused, pushing her consciousness against the rising tide of chaos. “A pocket of order within the Churn.” Kaelen amplified her efforts, their being radiating pure, focused energy, trying to cut through the distortion. But the Churn pushed back, its chaotic forces attempting to unravel Kaelen’s intricate form.
Appendages blurred, colours muted, their harmonious voice strained with effort. Their adventure had begun. It wasn’t a physical battle, but a struggle against the very fabric of reality. They had to navigate this zone of anti-order, find a way to realign their vessel’s resonance, and reach Xylos before the Churn’s influence overwhelmed them, threatening to reduce them, not to a perfect point, but to formless, unorganised potential. The wedding, and perhaps their very existence, depended on their ability to master the disharmony. The Churn pressed in. It wasn’t a void, but a swirling, nauseating kaleidoscope of un-forming. Matter here didn’t coalesce; it fractured into ever-smaller, less defined particles. Energy didn’t organise; it dissipated into a formless hum. The very concept of ‘structure’ seemed to lose meaning. Elaraโs refined consciousness, so used to navigating the elegant symmetries of the cosmos, felt assaulted by the sheer randomness. Her thoughts, usually sharp and linear, began to scatter, fragments of memory and sensation blurring together. She fought to maintain focus, anchoring herself to the image of Xylos, the crystalline world, a beacon of perfect order.
Kaelen, in their prime of complexity, was more vulnerable. The Churnโs forces actively worked to dismantle their intricate structure. A newly formed appendage would begin to pixelate, its vibrant color fading, before Kaelen could pour more energy into reforming it. Their complex voice fractured into dissonant clicks and static.” Elara,” Kaelen managed, their voice a struggle. “The… the vessel… it’s… losing cohesion.” Elara looked at the field around them. The shimmering boundary, usually a picture of perfect, self-repairing geometry, was rippling violently. Small tears, like pinpricks of anti-light, appeared and vanished, each one a threat to their contained resonance.”We need to find the ‘eye’,” Elara said, her voice steadier than she felt. Ancient texts spoke of the Churn having a core, a paradoxical point of intense, localised order at its heart, around which the chaos swirled. It was a dangerous theory, but their only hope. Navigating towards a point of order within a field of active disorder was like trying to swim against a current of pure chaos. Elara had to filter out the overwhelming noise of the Churn, searching for the faintest signal of structure. She reached out with her consciousness, not seeking pathways, but seeking patterns, however fleeting. Hours bled into a timeless struggle. Kaelen poured their energy into maintaining their form and amplifying Elara’s search, their vibrant being a shield against the Churn’s corrosive influence. Elara delved deeper into the cosmic static, her mind a finely tuned sieve, discarding the noise, searching for the signal.Then, a flicker. Not a pathway, but a resonance, faint but distinct, a perfect, unwavering tone amidst the cacophony. It was the eye.”There!” Elara projected, a surge of relief steadying her thoughts. “Towards the core. Amplify, Kaelen!” Kaelen, despite their struggle, focused their remaining energy. Their form flared with a desperate brilliance, pushing back the encroaching chaos just enough to allow Elara to lock onto the signal. She adjusted the vessel’s resonance, a subtle, precise shift, aligning it with the frequency of the Churn’s eye.Slowly, painstakingly, they began to move. The chaotic forces still buffeted them, but the vessel, now resonating with the core’s frequency, held together. The air within the field began to clear, the heavy sensation lifting. Kaelen’s colours deepened, their form stabilising. As they approached the eye, the chaos didn’t vanish, but it became… structured chaos. Like the turbulent flow of a river around a perfectly still stone. At the very centre was a point of absolute stillness, a singularity of pure, unadulterated order. It was breathtaking and terrifying.They didn’t stop at the eye; they used its stable resonance as a sling-shot, aligning themselves with the pathways beyond the Churn. With a final, collective push of will and energy, they launched themselves out of the anomalous zone, the discordant symphony of the Churn fading behind them, replaced once more by the vast, silent harmony of the extropic cosmos.They were battered, their vessel showing faint, lingering signs of the struggle, and Kaelen was exhausted, their form simplified by the energy expenditure. But they had survived the Churn. Xylos, a point of brilliant, crystalline light, shimmered in the distance, a beacon of order in their path. The wedding, and the promise of perfect harmony, awaited them.Emerging from the Churn was like surfacing from a suffocating depth into clear, resonant air. The vessel, though still bearing the faint, almost imperceptible scars of its passage, hummed with renewed stability. Xylos grew larger in their view, a world not merely of solid rock and liquid water, but of living, breathing crystal.From orbit, the surface was a breathtaking mosaic of towering crystalline growths, refracting the light of its clarifying star into a dazzling spectrum. Forests of resonant quartz trees sang in harmonic chorus with mountains of perfectly structured obsidian. Rivers flowed, their water not merely HโO, but intricate, self-organising liquid crystals.
They descended towards a designated landing resonance, a point above a city that seemed to have bloomed directly from the planet’s crust, its buildings spiralling upwards in impossible, self-similar patterns. As they neared, the air filled with the complex, layered harmonies of the Xylosian inhabitants, a species whose very biology was based on resonant crystalline structures.Their vessel settled onto a landing platform that instantly began to integrate itself with the vessel’s form, sharing energy and information. As the field dissipated, Elara and Kaelen stepped out onto the crystalline surface, which felt cool and vibrantly alive underfoot.The Xylosians who greeted them were beings of pure, shimmering light contained within intricate, ever-shifting crystalline matrices. Their forms pulsed with complex colour patterns, and their communication was a symphony of resonant tones and harmonic vibrations.”Welcome, travellers,” chimed a Xylosian, their voice a chord that resonated deep within Elara’s being. “We felt your struggle through the Churn. A difficult passage, even for those of refined order.”Elara inclined her form in greeting. “The Churn is… a profound challenge to the universal flow. We are grateful to have reached your world.”Kaelen, though still simplified from their ordeal, managed a resonant greeting in return. The Xylosians acknowledged their fatigue with a gentle shift in their light patterns, a gesture of understanding.They were guided through the city, the crystalline structures around them constantly refining themselves, adding new facets, deepening their resonant frequencies. The air hummed with the collective song of the city, a symphony of ongoing organisation.The wedding ceremony was held in a vast, open space where the crystalline forest met the sky. The two beings to be wed were radiant, their forms pulsing with anticipation. The ceremony wasn’t an exchange of vows, but a complex dance of resonant frequencies. They circled each other, their individual harmonies intertwining, creating new, more complex chords. Energy flowed between them, their crystalline matrices beginning to merge, forming a single, more intricate, more ordered being. It was a breathtaking display of extropy in action โ two distinct entities willingly combining to create something greater, more complex, and more perfectly ordered than either could be alone. The assembled guests, including Elara and Kaelen, added their own resonant frequencies to the ceremony, amplifying the merging process, contributing to the creation of the new, unified being.As the final, perfect chord resonated through the space, the two individuals were gone, replaced by a single, magnificent entity of light and crystal, its form a dazzling, intricate tapestry of their combined essences. A new, unique harmony pulsed from its being, adding to the symphony of Xylos.
Witnessing this act of ultimate organisation, Elara felt a sense of profound peace. Their struggle through the Churn, the encounter with anti-order, had only deepened her appreciation for the universe’s fundamental drive towards the bloom. Kaelen, watching the newly formed being, seemed to understand something new about the potential for complexity, their own form pulsing with a renewed, vibrant energy.The adventure had tested them, pushing them against the very limits of their reality. But it had also brought them to Xylos, to witness this beautiful, resonant expression of life and love in an extropic universe.
They had navigated the chaos and arrived at a place of perfect harmony [Cydonis], a testament to the enduring power of order in a universe that was forever assembling itself.
Fuelling a Lunar Dream: Could Water Launch a Probe from Shetland?
Imagine a rocket standing tall on one of the rugged Shetland Islands, ready to embark on an incredible journey. It’s destination? A free return trajectory around the Moon. And it’s fuel? Water, split into its fundamental components, hydrogen and oxygen, using renewable energy from the very winds and sun of the islands.
It might (to some) sound like science fiction, but the concept of using water as a propellant source for hydrolox (liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen) engines is very real. The question is: how much water would you actually need to send a 100kg probe on such a mission from a place like Shetland?
Launching anything into space, especially towards the Moon, requires overcoming Earth’s powerful gravity and achieving immense speeds. This is where the concept of Delta-v (ฮv) comes in. Think of ฮv as the total “change in velocity” capability your rocket needs to have. For a lunar free return trajectory, starting from Earth’s surface, the required ฮv is substantial โ thousands of meters per second. Launching from a higher latitude like Shetland means you get slightly less help from the Earth’s spin compared to equatorial launch sites, potentially increasing that ฮv requirement a little.
The efficiency of a rocket engine is measured by its Specific Impulse (Ispโ). Hydrolox engines are known for having high Ispโ, meaning they get a lot of thrust for the amount of propellant they consume. Our hypothetical engine has a 40% efficiency. This efficiency factor impacts the effective Ispโ the engine can achieve in the real world, making it lower than the theoretical maximum.
The Tyranny of the Rocket Equation!
The core principle governing how much propellant you need is the Tsiolkovsky Rocket Equation:
ฮv=Ispโโ g0โโ ln(mfโ/m0โโ)
Where:
ฮv is our required change in velocity.
Ispโ is the engine’s effective specific impulse.
g0โ is standard gravity.
m0โ is the initial mass of the rocket (with propellant).
mfโ is the final mass of the rocket (without propellant), also called the dry mass.
The crucial part here is the mass ratio (mfโ:m0โโ). This equation tells us that to achieve a certain ฮv with a given engine efficiency (Ispโ), you need a specific mass ratio. The higher the ฮv or the lower the Ispโ, the larger the mass ratio must be. This means the vast majority of your rocket’s initial mass has to be propellant.
Figure 1:
This graph illustrates how the required mass ratio (initial mass / final mass) escalates rapidly with increasing Delta-v for a fixed engine efficiency (Specific Impulse). Achieving higher speeds requires a disproportionately larger amount of propellant to climb out of Earth’s gravity well, and escape the monstrous ‘homo sapiens singularis’ below.
The Dry Mass Challenge.
The dry mass (mfโ) isn’t just the 100kg probe. It includes the rocket’s structure, engines, fuel tanks, guidance systems, and importantly, the equipment needed to split the water and power the process using renewables. We’re assuming a structural mass fraction of 1/8. In rocketry terms, this usually relates the mass of the structure to the total mass or dry mass, and a fraction like 1/8 suggests a very lightweight structure relative to the total vehicle or dry mass. In our water-splitting scenario, we also need to account for the mass of the electrolysis unit and the power generation/storage system (solar panels, wind turbine components, batteries).
The electrolysis efficiency (~37%) tells us how much of the energy input actually goes into splitting the water. A lower efficiency means you need a more powerful, and likely heavier, power system to produce the required amount of hydrogen and oxygen within a reasonable timeframe for fuelling. This adds to the dry mass.
Putting Numbers to the Dream (An Illustrative Example).
Let’s try a simplified calculation based on some assumptions, similar to how engineers start to size a rocket:
Target ฮv: Let’s assume a challenging but plausible ฮv requirement of 10,000 m/s for this mission from Shetland.
Effective Ispโ: Using a typical hydrolox vacuum Ispโ and considering the 40% engine efficiency (interpreted as an overall efficiency factor applied to the theoretical Ispโ potential), let’s work with an effective Ispโ of around 400 seconds.
Payload Mass: 100 kg.
Dry Mass Estimate: This is the trickiest part. The structural mass fraction of 1/8 is very optimistic if applied to the whole vehicle. Let’s instead estimate the combined mass of the structure, engine, tanks, guidance, plus the electrolysis and power equipment. For a mission like this, this supporting mass could easily be several times the payload mass. Let’s illustrate by assuming this combined mass is 5 times the payload, or 500 kg.
So, the estimated dry mass (mfโ) = Payload (100 kg) + Structure & Equipment (500 kg) = 600 kg.
“No magic conjures, no void finds, mind(s) travels, light shines…”
Now, using the Tsiolkovsky equation to find the required mass ratio for ฮv=10000 m/s and Ispโ=400 s:
The required mass ratio is about 12.8. This means the initial mass (m0โ) must be 12.8 times the dry mass (mfโ).
m0โ=12.8โ mfโ=12.8โ 600 kg=7680 kg.
The propellant mass (mpโ) is the difference between the initial mass and the dry mass:
mpโ=m0โโmfโ=7680 kgโ600 kg=7080 kg.
This 7080 kg is the total mass of hydrogen and oxygen needed. Since water (HโO) splits into hydrogen (Hโ) and oxygen (Oโ) in a mass ratio of approximately 1:8, the total mass of water required to produce this propellant is also 7080 kg (mass is conserved in the splitting).
Finally, converting mass to volume using the density of water (approx. 1 kg/litre):
Volume of water = 7080 kg/1 kg/litre=7080 litres.
The Verdict (with *Big* Caveats!)
Based on our illustrative calculation with several key assumptions (especially about the required ฮv and the mass of the rocket structure and equipment), you would need on the order of 7,000 litres of water to fuel a rocket launching a 100kg probe on a free return trajectory to the Moon from the Shetland Islands using hydrolox derived from that water.
This figure is an estimate, not a precise engineering number. A real mission design would involve complex trajectory analysis, detailed mass breakdowns of every component (including the renewable power system and electrolysis unit, influenced by the 37% efficiency), and careful optimisation. A structural mass fraction of 1/8, it seems, is likely very optimistic for a real-world rocket capable of this mission profile.
Nevertheless, our concept is compelling โ harnessing local, renewable resources in a unique location like the Shetland Islands to reach for the Moon. It highlights the incredible engineering challenges and the vast quantities of propellant needed for space travel, even for relatively small payloads.
Firstly, the initial premise of the question, (I would contend) is somewhat logically faulty. The Earth is ~4.5by (billion years) old, and was trundling along in her orbit and spinning rather finely without the advent of human life that came along with the first bipedal and opposable-y thumbed skinny and podgy little apes, that were the nascent beginnings of our ancestral lineage some roughly 1.2my (million years) ago.
So in combatting the climate crisis by switching our power supplies to more renewable and sustainable solutions, insulating our homes, engaging in more sustainable construction practices, and shouting from the rooftops about the desperate human need for net zero, what we’re really doing is trying to save a (omni+)suicidal species from themselves – saving the human race (one that does not want, nor asks to be saved, and fights tooth and nail against any form of change [nimby-ism, concern for nature as a form of dog whistling over actualised real estate value concerns], etcetera) from within. Although they demonstrate time and again, thanks to religious, dogmatic, literalist, eschatology, quite often peopleand organisations make the task far, far more difficult, sometimes near-impossible, even, than it needs to be.
Choices…
Secondly, the pursuit of the scientific method and pure research is not an either/or question. It is and always has been a symbiotic trickle down relationship between both activities.
“Why not both?” – Ask any child. (Whether it’s Haribo, Ice cream flavours, or geo-engineering options…) ๐ฅ๐ถ๐ป๐คฑ๐ปโ
Gaia (another ancient name for Earth) is quite happy to shake us off like a smelly dog with a bad case of fleas, and nurture once again another species from scratch, or just have a world ruled over by bacteria around sub-sea fumaroles and radiation eating, cenote dwelling archea.
So we will most likely attempt both, with the time we have left, before the climate crisis swings beyond all possible opportunities for applicable remediation. ๐ชฆ๐๐๐๐ชจ๐
The year is 2242. Humanity, though still grappling with its terrestrial issues, had finally begun to stretch its fingers beyond the Kuiper Belt. Outposts dotted the major moons, and automated mining facilities hummed in the asteroid fields. The next frontier, the true deep black, was the Oort Cloud โ the vast, icy shell surrounding the Solar System, holding billions of potential resources and offering a launch-pad to the stars.
It was during the commissioning of the Odyssey, the first crewed long-range explorer, launched from a dry dock construction facility in orbit around Mars, and carefully, precisely, designed for interstellar precursor missions into the Oort Cloud, that they hit the wall. Not a physical wall, but something far stranger. Something that terrified everyone in the astronomical union to death.
As the Odyssey reached the calculated inner edge of the Cloud, deep space comms crackled.
“Approaching designated coordinates,” Commander Eva Rostova’s voice was calm, professional. “Sensors showโฆ interference. Gravitational readings are stable, no immediate hazards detected.”
Then, a scream. Not of pain, but of impossible, visceral terror. Followed by silence. Utter, unnerving silence. Rescue probes were dispatched immediately. They carried cameras, sensors, and even biological samples in shielded containers. The probes themselves zipped through the region where the Odyssey had vanished without issue. Their cameras transmitted bizarre, swirling patterns of energy that seemed to coalesce just beyond the edge of the known Oort Cloud. The biological samples, however, returned inert, reduced to fine, inorganic dust within their containers. The shielded containers were untouched.
More tests followed, increasingly desperate and grim. Drones carrying lab rats, then primates, then even volunteer convicts on one highly controversial mission. The results were always the same: the non-organic components passed through, the organic matter was instantly, horrifyingly, annihilated. It was as if the very building blocks of life were offensive to whatever lay beyond.
Panic rippled through the Solar System. The dream of reaching other stars, of finding other life, was cruelly, inexplicably snuffed out. A cage had been built around them, invisible and absolute for anything that lived and breathed.
Analysis of the energy field was inconclusive at first. It wasn’t a conventional force field or radiation barrier. It was something designed, something targeted specifically at organic compounds. Then, hidden within the complex energy signatures, patterns began to emerge. Not just energy, but data. Complex, alien data streams that spoke of observation, of assessment, and of control.
Decrypted fragments revealed a chilling truth. A vast, unimaginably ancient extraterrestrial civilisation had encircled their system. They saw humanity not as a potential peer or threat, but as a volatile variable. They had observed Earth for millennia, witnessing its cycles of progress and destruction. Their conclusion: humanity was too unpredictable, its technological leaps too rapid and often coupled with self-destructive tendencies. They weren’t malicious in a conquest sense; they were curators, gardeners pruning a potentially invasive species before it could spread its chaotic seeds across the galaxy. Their goal wasn’t annihilation, but containment and directed evolution โ control over humanity’s outward progress until they deemed it ‘ready’, or perhaps, until they deemed it harmless.
The Oort Cloud barrier was their ultimate, elegant solution. Let humanity thrive within its solar cradle, build its machines, explore its planets. Enjoy their games, sports and war machines. But step outside the boundary with so much as a single living cell, and face instant disintegration.
Humanity was left reeling. Trapped. The vastness of the universe, once a beckoning frontier, was now a taunting prison. The focus of scientific endeavour shifted overnight. No longer were they solely focused on reaching the stars, but on understanding the cage, on communicating with the unseen jailers, and perhaps, one day, finding a way to dismantle the bars โ not with force, which seemed futile, but with understanding, adaptation, or perhaps even a demonstration that humanity could be trusted with the freedom of the cosmos. The probes continued their silent vigil at the edge of the barrier, the only witnesses to the invisible wall that held the fate of a species in its unyielding grip. The aliens watched and waited, patiently tending their human experiment, ensuring that for now, and for the foreseeable future, humanity’s progress would remain firmly within the confines of their controlled cosmic garden.
A patient garden. A whispering garden. A punishing garden.
“YOUR SINS WILL BE READ TO YOU CEASELESSLY THROUGHOUT ETERNITY.”
“YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE.”
“OUR JUDGEMENT IS FINAL.”
Chapter Two.
“Seeing, contrary to popular wisdom, isn’t believing. It’s where belief stops, because it isn’t needed any more.” – Pyramids, Terry Pratchett.
The decryption of the alien data streams continued, growing more sophisticated, more terrifying. What initially seemed like abstract judgements on humanity’s ‘volatility’ began to coalesce into something far more personal. Buried deep within the complex alien algorithms, within the data matrices that assessed human behaviour, was a singular, recurring identifier. It pointed, with unwavering focus, to one man.
Jayce Warren.
The name resonated with a dark infamy in human history. A fossil fuel executive whose insatiable greed and pathological narcissism had driven his corporations to aggressively accelerate climate change, long after the science was undeniable. He was a man whose personal ambition was measured in melting ice caps and drowned coastlines, a genocidal psychopath masked by billionaire charm, who had single-handedly pushed Earth’s climate past the devastating 3ยฐC tipping point, unleashing a cascade of irreversible ecological collapse and human death & suffering that would scar the planet for centuries.
The alien data revealed they had observed him. Not just his public actions, but every moment of his life. From the tantrums of infancy to the cold calculations of his board meetings, from his most private moments of sleep to his mundane trips to the bathroom. They had studied his neural pathways, his emotional responses, the chilling absence of empathy, the calculating cruelty. They had watched him make choices that prioritised profit over planetary survival, ego over the lives of billions.
For the aliens, vast and ancient intellects who measured galactic civilisations by their harmony with their environments, Jayce Warren was the ultimate, irrefutable proof of humanity’s inherent, catastrophic flaw. He was the living embodiment of unchecked self-interest, destructive power, and wilful blindness on a planetary scale. If one individual could wield such influence and inflict such damage, and if the species allowed him to do so, what horrors would a truly interstellar humanity unleash upon the wider cosmos? The Oort Cloud barrier wasn’t just a precaution based on millennia of observation; it was a direct, immediate consequence, a collective punishment. Humanity wasn’t being contained for its potential future sins, but for the very real, observed sins of one man. Jayce Warren, in his arrogance and destruction, had inadvertently signed the cosmic arrest warrant for his entire species. The alien data streams continued to flow, clinical and cold. They outlined the parameters of the containment field, the energy requirements, the constant monitoring.
And woven through it all was the lingering ghost of their analysis of Warren โ a case study in planetary self-sabotage, a prime example of why this volatile species could not be allowed to escape its solar cage. The galaxy remained tantalisingly out of reach, not because humanity wasn’t ready in some abstract sense, but because the aliens had watched Jayce Warren, and they had decided the risk was simply too great. Humanity was trapped, paying the price for the monstrous legacy of one man’s choices. The silent barrier around the Oort Cloud was a monument to his sin, a cosmic judgement on a species found wanting, judged by the actions of its worst.
Chapter 3.
“If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkinโs cheek, Dashes the fire out.”
โ William Shakespeare
The revelation about Jayce Warren hit humanity like a second, psychological barrier. The initial fear and frustration of being caged curdled into a toxic brew of shame, anger, and existential despair. How could the fate of an entire species, the potential to explore the vast tapestry of the cosmos, be forfeited because of the pathological actions of a single, monstrous individual? Recriminations exploded across the Solar System. Warren was already the most hated man in recorded history for the climate catastrophe he’d engineered. Now, his legacy expanded into the cosmic. Statues were torn down (those few that hadn’t been already), his name was purged from records where possible, and historical analysis became a frantic, desperate attempt to understand how they could have allowed such a man to wield such power. Was it a unique aberration, or did Warren represent a deeper, fundamental flaw in the human psyche, one the aliens had correctly identified?
Deep space programs, once focused on propulsion systems and life support, pivoted entirely. Fleets of highly sophisticated probes were designed, purely robotic, powered by advanced AI. These were humanity’s only ambassadors, their only hope of interacting with the unseen wardens. They were sent towards the Oort Cloud barrier, not carrying payloads for exploration, but complex data packages. The first packages were apologetic, pleading. They detailed the global condemnation of Warren, the desperate efforts to mitigate the climate damage he’d caused, the arguments that he was an outlier, not representative of the species’ true potential. They transmitted humanity’s art, music, philosophy โ attempts to showcase the beauty and complexity that also existed within their nature.
The barrier remained, an impassive wall of energy. The probes passed through, delivering their data into the silent, swirling patterns beyond. Analysis of the energy field continued to yield data streams from the aliens, but they offered no response to humanity’s overtures. The alien data was solely focused on observation โ sophisticated analyses of human sociology, technological development within the solar system, population dynamics, even psychological profiling derived from monitoring trillions of data points across the net. They were watching, always watching, assessing, but never communicating in a way that suggested dialogue or negotiation.
Frustration mounted. Some data packages became defiant, even accusatory. They challenged the aliens’ right to judge an entire species based on one member, questioned their own presumably perfect history, demanded explanation or release. These probes, too, passed through the barrier, their digital shouts swallowed by the indifferent silence beyond.
The psychological toll of this invisible, inescapable cage was immense. Knowing they were watched constantly, judged by unseen eyes based on the worst of their kind, fostered a pervasive sense of helplessness and paranoia. Innovation continued, but the driving force shifted from outward expansion to inward perfection โ or at least, the appearance of it. Perhaps, some argued, if they could demonstrate absolute control, absolute harmony, the aliens might relent. Societies became more regulated, surveillance increased (ironically, mirroring the alien observation), all in a desperate, unspoken plea to their cosmic jailers.
But the barrier held. The alien data streams flowed, ceaselessly recording, analysing, judging. Jayce Warren’s shadow stretched across the solar system, a permanent stain on humanity’s record, a constant reminder that their freedom had been revoked, their cosmic destiny curtailed, all because of the sins of one man whom their silent, cosmic jury had found sufficient cause to condemn them all. The cold war was not fought with weapons, but with information, patience, and the crushing weight of a species’ collective guilt.
Chapter Four.
Seven hundred and fifty million years. The span stretched the imagination, a gulf of time that made the rise and fall of empires seem like the blink of an eye. On Earth, the sun, though still a G-type star, had brightened considerably. The atmosphere, ravaged by ancient warming and millennia of subsequent shifts, had failed. The great oceans, the cradle of life, had boiled away into space or been locked into super-critical states within the crust. The once vibrant blue marble was a parched, red-brown wasteland, a tomb world baking under an increasingly harsh sun. Humanity had long since fled, migrating outwards, establishing vast, enclosed habitats on the moons of the gas giants, mining the asteroid belts, and terraforming (on a small, internal scale) dwarf planets. They were a scattered, resilient species, bound together loosely by the stelnet, a solar system-wide network of high-energy laser tightbeams carrying instantaneous communication across the vast distances. Knowledge flowed, cultures diverged and merged, and the memory of Earth became a mix of sacred reverence and cautionary tale. But history, like a persistent ghost, had a way of returning in monstrous forms. From the icy blackness surrounding a captured Kuiper Belt object, now a fortified moonlet orbiting Saturn, a new power had risen. They called themselves the Inheritors of the Flame, but the rest of the solar system knew them simply as the Warrenites. On their dark, metal-encased fortress, built into the core of the moonlet, they venerated Jayce Warren. Not as a villain, but as a prophet, a visionary leader who had the courage to face the “necessary truths” of existence. Their twisted ideology, broadcast across the stelnet with relentless, fascistic zeal, claimed Warren’s actions weren’t destructive, but acts of ‘pruning’, clearing away the weak and sentimental for a stronger, more realistic future. The climate catastrophe wasn’t a failure, but a test, a crucible humanity had to endure to shed its naive dependence on a fragile environment. They lauded his narcissism as supreme self-reliance, his psychopathy as the ability to make hard, unemotional decisions others shied away from. Their propaganda was slick, pervasive, and chillingly persuasive to those disaffected or seeking a brutal certainty in the complex, fragile existence spread across the outer system. They offered order, strength, and a perverse pride in the very events that had shattered the past world.
Orbital bombardment. Total devastation.
And they had teeth. Over centuries, they had secretly amassed resources, built shipyards within the asteroid belt, and designed a fleet unlike any seen since the system-wide conflicts of millennia past. These were not exploration vessels or habitat transports, but sleek, angular warships bristling with particle beams, kinetic drivers, and energy shields. They were built for a single purpose: dominance.
Messages crackled across the stelnet, no longer just propaganda, but ultimatums. Demands for resources, subjugation of independent habitats, pronouncements of the Warrenite destiny to rule the solar system. Skirmishes began โ swift, brutal attacks on independent mining stations, raids on transport convoys. The scattered, diverse peoples of the outer system, unused to large-scale conflict, were caught off guard. War beckoned, a horrifying echo of Earth’s past conflicts magnified onto a solar system scale. It was a war born of ancient sin, nurtured by distorted ideology, and spearheaded by the followers of a man whose actions had already cost humanity the stars.
And out beyond the Oort Cloud, the silent, invisible barrier remained. The alien data streams continued, their analysis of human behavior now recording this new, violent phase. One wondered if they saw it as a validation of their ancient judgment, or simply another, grimly expected turn in the chaotic saga of the species they had chosen to cage. The Inheritors of the Flame, in their fervent madness, seemed determined to prove the aliens right, not just by their internal wars, but perhaps, eventually, by turning their lethal fleet towards the barrier itself, seeking to break free with the very violence that had trapped them here in the first place.
Chapter Five.
War came, swift and brutal, igniting across the vast distances of the outer solar system. The Warrenites, fueled by fanatical zeal and centuries of resentment, unleashed their fleet. Across the stelnet, propaganda broadcasts mingled with tactical commands and chilling boasts of conquest. Independent habitats burned, asteroid mining colonies were seized or destroyed, and the fragile peace that had reigned for millennia shattered under the onslaught of particle beams and kinetic strikes. It was a war of ideology, a horrifying re-enactment of ancient Terran conflicts, fought not for resources alone, but for the soul of a scattered species, one faction desperately clinging to a toxic past as justification for present violence. But the Warrenites had a goal beyond mere solar system dominance. Their ultimate aim, the twisted culmination of their faith in Jayce Warren’s ‘vision’, was to prove humanity worthy of the cosmos. And for them, ‘worthy’ meant breaking the alien cage. They believed that if they could overcome this ultimate obstacle, violently assert their will against the cosmic wardens, they would somehow validate Warren’s legacy and earn their place among the stars. Gathering their most powerful warships, stripped of internal habitat components to maximize weapon capacity and shielding, the Inheritors of the Flame launched an armada towards the Oort Cloud barrier. Their advance was broadcast across the stelnet โ a grand, terrifying spectacle intended to inspire awe in their followers and terror in their enemies. They spoke of ‘shattering the celestial chains’ and ‘claiming the rightful inheritance’ denied them by weaker hands. The fleet reached the barrier, a region marked by the ceaseless flow of alien data and the unsettling energy signatures that annihilated organic matter. With fervent cries broadcast over the stelnet, they fired their most powerful weapons. Fusion lances hotter than suns, kinetic projectiles accelerated to relativistic speeds, focused energy bursts capable of carving through moons.
Nothing happened.
The energy lances dissipated harmlessly, their immense power simply vanishing as they touched the field’s edge. The kinetic rounds, capable of obliterating a small moonlet, likewise ceased to exist the moment they crossed the invisible threshold. There was no explosion, no resistance, no visible effect on the barrier itself. It wasn’t deflected, wasn’t absorbed and redirected. It was simply impervious. Their most devastating attacks, the culmination of 750 million years of technological progress within the solar system, were met with absolute, silent nullification. Panic flickered across the faces of the Warrenite commanders shown on the stelnet feeds, quickly masked by grim determination and then, a chilling, fanatic reinterpretation. “It is a test!” screamed one commander, his face a mask of zeal. “The Inheritor’s final trial! The Barrier requires faith, not just force!” They threw themselves against it again and again. They tried complex energy frequency modulations, attempts at localized spacetime distortion, theoretical quantum destabilizers. Nothing worked. The barrier remained, an unyielding, passive fact of the cosmos, utterly unbreakable by any means at humanity’s disposal. It wasn’t a lock to be picked or a wall to be breached; it was a fundamental property of reality in that region of space, imposed by a power far beyond human comprehension.
Frustrated, humiliated in the face of cosmic indifference, the Warrenite fleet turned back from the barrier, their fervent energy curdling into a brutal, redirected rage. If they could not break the cage, they would dominate what was within it. The internal war intensified, the fury of their failed cosmic aspirations turned inward upon their own species.
The silent, unbreakable barrier remained at the edge of the system, a permanent testament to the judgment passed upon humanity. And the alien data streams continued, recording the futile violence, the ideological madness, the self-inflicted suffering unfolding within the confines of their perfect, inescapable cage. The war for the solar system raged, a contained conflict observed by silent, ancient eyes, a tragic confirmation that perhaps, just perhaps, Jayce Warren’s legacy had indeed proven humanity too dangerous for the stars.
Grab a snack, some drinks, and settle in… ๐๐ฆ๐ฅค
Learn why, & indeed, how, the Universe is complex, supremely nuanced, and does not care about your wilful ignorance of it – that which was and is true remains true, with or without you, long before you had your first thought! If you truly care about your free speech, your human rights, then you MUST care also about the rights of others, even strangers, for that which erodes the rights of one, erodes the rights of all people(s). ๐
“The problem is that the game was rigged before I was born…” ๐ค๐ซฃ๐ฎโ๐จ๐ซฅ๐ถ๐ป๐ฃ๐ง๐ปโ๐ผ
Two Years In: The Unseen Cost of the Bootstrap Dream
They talk about the hustle, the grind, the sleepless nights fueled by passion and cheap coffee. They tell you to bootstrap, to build lean, to prove your concept without outside money. And you listen, because it sounds like the purest form of entrepreneurship โ building something from nothing, driven solely by belief in your idea.
For two years, that’s been my reality. Two years of pouring every ounce of energy, every spare moment, every last bit of mental and emotional bandwidth into bringing a vision to life. Two years of “no money down,” which really means “all of your money down,” or more accurately, “no money coming in, ever.”
The pain isn’t just financial, though that’s a constant, gnawing ache. It’s the pain of watching friends and peers hit milestones, buy homes, take vacations, while you’re calculating if you can afford the cheapest hosting plan for another month. It’s the pain of explaining, again, what you’re doing, only to see a flicker of polite scepticism in their eyes when they hear “still working on it.” And that’s among those that didn’t dropout of high school with the lowest grade – these are the people in your home town. They mean well, but understand almost nothing, and know even less. They fill their lives with the lowest common denominator of dreary scripted idiomatic/idiocratic reality TV entertainment, booze, and nicotine vapes. They defend the indefensible actions of billionaires, not realising that as human beings, they are equals, as we all are mortal.
The time commitment is absolute. Weekends cease to exist as leisure time; they become development sprints, marketing deep dives, or desperate attempts to network. Evenings aren’t for unwinding; they’re for catching up on the mountain of tasks you couldn’t squeeze into the day job (if you’re lucky enough to still have one). Every hour feels like it must be productive, leading to a relentless, self-imposed pressure cooker.
And the effort… oh, the effort. It’s not just coding or designing or selling. It’s the administrative slog, the legal hoops, the endless customer support queries (even when you only have a handful of users/clients/projects). It’s the mental gymnastics required to wear ten+ different hats simultaneously โ CEO, CTO, Lead Developer, Accountant, HR, Porter, Engineer, Science Advocate, Physicist, Head of Marketing, Customer Service Rep, and janitor. You learn skills you never knew you needed, push boundaries you thought were insurmountable, and discover reserves of resilience you didn’t know you possessed.
But the struggle is perhaps the most insidious part. It’s the constant battle against doubt, both internal and external. It’s pitching your heart out, presenting a meticulously researched business case, showing clear market potential and a viable path to profitability, only to be met with polite rejections, radio silence (ghosting), or the dreaded “come back when you have more traction [etc].”
You refine the pitch, tweak the model, gather more data, show early signs of adoption, however small. You believe, fundamentally, that this should work. The logic is sound, the market need (nay, the human species need) is real, the solution is elegant, profound. Yet, despite the undeniable effort and the seemingly solid foundation, the appreciable success remains elusive. The traction isn’t enough, the growth isn’t exponential, the investors aren’t biting.
Two years. From late ~2023. It feels like a lifetime and a blink of an eye all at once. You’ve built something real, something functional, something you’re genuinely proud of. But the world hasn’t embraced it in the way you envisioned. The dream isn’t dead, not yet, but it’s certainly battered and bruised.
This isn’t a story of failure, not definitively. It’s a story of the brutal, unvarnished reality of the bootstrap journey when the stars don’t align perfectly. It’s a testament to the sheer willpower required, and a sober reminder that sometimes, even with a sound plan and relentless effort, the path to success is longer, harder, and more uncertain than any blog post or startup guru will ever fully prepare you for.
And you’re left standing, two years in [turn the page], wondering what comes next, and how much more [the engine’s failed again] you have left to give…
Beyond the Wallet: Exploring the Psychological Impact of Universal Basic Income
Universal Basic Income (UBI) is a hot topic. Most of the discussion revolves around its economic implications: how it could reduce poverty, affect employment rates, or be funded. But what about the deeper human impact? What happens to us, psychologically, when the fundamental problem of financial survival is significantly eased?
Our lived experience has delved into this less-explored territory, moving from the individual experience of finding purpose to the potential trajectory of the entire human species.
UBI: A Foundation, Not Just a Handout
First, let’s quickly define UBI for those new to the concept. Imagine a regular, unconditional cash payment given to everyone in a society, regardless of their income, wealth, or employment status. The idea is to provide a basic safety net, ensuring everyone can meet their fundamental needs like food, housing, and healthcare.
Proponents argue this could dramatically reduce poverty, improve health outcomes, and provide individuals with greater bargaining power in the labour market. But the effects, we discussed, might run much deeper than just the economic.
The Inner Landscape: UBI and Individual Psychology
Easing financial stress has clear psychological benefits. Research suggests that financial insecurity is a major driver of anxiety, depression, and chronic stress. A guaranteed income could act as a powerful buffer, potentially leading to improvements in mental well-being.
Beyond stress reduction, UBI could significantly impact an individual’s sense of agency and control. When you’re not constantly worried about making ends meet, you have more freedom to make choices about your time, education, career path, and personal life based on what truly matters to you, rather than just what pays the bills. This aligns with psychological theories emphasising the importance of autonomy for well-being.
It could also shift motivation. If the primary driver for work is no longer solely survival, people might be more inclined to pursue work that is intrinsically rewarding โ something they find interesting, meaningful, or that utilises their unique skills. This could lead to greater job satisfaction and a more engaged workforce, albeit potentially a smaller one in traditional employment.
Furthermore, the universality of UBI could reduce the stigma often associated with receiving traditional welfare benefits. If everyone receives it, it becomes less about being “on welfare” and more about a shared societal foundation.
However, we’ve also touched on a potential psychological challenge: the feeling of hollowness. If basic needs and even many wants are easily met, where does purpose come from? If external achievements and consumption no longer provide sufficient fulfilment, individuals might experience a sense of apathy or indifference. This highlights the difference between hedonic well-being (pleasure and comfort) and eudaimonic well-being (meaning, purpose, and growth). True fulfilment often requires contribution, deep connection, and engaging with meaningful challenges.
Scaling Up: The Species-Level Dilemma
This individual challenge leads us to a more philosophical concern: could UBI, by removing the fundamental problem of survival, hasten a kind of “asymptotic burnout” for the human species?
Our history is largely defined by identifying and solving problems โ from finding food and shelter to conquering disease and building complex technologies. This drive is deeply ingrained. But if UBI eases the most pressing survival problems, what problems do we turn to next?
The concern is that we might continue this cycle of problem-creation and solution, not out of necessity, but simply because it’s what we’re wired to do. These self-created problems could be increasingly complex, perhaps even detrimental, pursued simply to maintain a sense of purpose or progress. This rapid, potentially arbitrary cycle could lead to a collective feeling of futility and a species-wide apathy โ a form of burnout where the immense energy expended feels increasingly meaningless.
Redirected Energy and Higher Purpose
However, this isn’t the only possible future. An alternative perspective suggests that UBI might unlock unprecedented human potential. The energy and cognitive resources currently consumed by the struggle for survival could be redirected towards solving truly significant global challenges like climate change, developing sustainable technologies, advancing scientific understanding, or creating profound art and culture, purely out of intrinsic motivation and curiosity.
With basic needs met, more people could potentially operate at higher levels of psychological need, focusing on belonging, esteem, self-actualisation, and even self-transcendence โ contributing to something larger than themselves. UBI could enable a shift in collective energy from mere survival to meaningful creation, deeper connection, and the pursuit of higher human flourishing.
Ultimately, the psychological impact of UBI, both individually and as a species, isn’t a predetermined outcome. It depends on how we, collectively and individually, respond to a world where basic needs are met.
Will we fall into apathy and create artificial problems out of a lack of direction? Or will we seize the opportunity to redirect our energy towards meaningful contribution, deeper connection, and the pursuit of higher-order purpose?
The dominant psychological perspective โ whether we approach this future with peace and a willingness to redefine purpose, or with regret for a perceived loss of traditional drivers โ will shape the path we take.
Exploring the psychological dimensions of UBI is crucial because it reminds us that this policy is not just about economics; it’s about what it means to be human and what drives us when the most basic needs are met. It’s a conversation about the future of work, purpose, and the potential for a different, more beautiful kind of human flourishing and thriving.
