Energy Economies

The August '05 issue of National Geographic has a wonderful article on the future of energy generation. Fossil fuels are still (relatively) plentiful and (relatively) cheap, but frankly they don't have much life left in them. Whether oil becomes too scarce to be the viable base of our economy in five years or fifty, it's inevitably going to happen, and it'll probably happen during our lifetimes. That's not the end of the show, though it will mean a lot of changes in the way we get power and the way our economy works.

This article provides a great rundown on the various technologies currently in the works to step in as a replacement for cheap oil. As the author says, this is more likely to be a congress than a president: there is no one technology or energy source that will fill oil's shoes. Oil is like heroin--the concentrated energy of billions of years of sunshine. Nothing we can do can top that. But many technologies--solar, wind, biofuels, even nuclear--working together can still probably provide all our foreseeable energy needs.

For what it's worth, my money is on solar. Sure, it works better in sunny climes than others, but what I like about it is how modular it is. Solar panels can be popped onto buildings, homes, even cars and backpacks. Solar creates a distributed network of power generation that can be increased gradually and locally depending on need and conditions. It could also create a national or global marketplace where people with extra power can sell their surplus to those in need. (A sunny day in Chicago can cancel out a rainy day in Albany.) And with improvements in battery technology, days or even weeks of power could be stored against a rainy day. Of course, any renewable system, even with battery backups and a power marketplace, is not foolproof, and some combination of solar, wind, hydro, tidal, and maybe even a few relic coal or nuclear plants, just in case, will be necessary. But solar has the potential to be the real democratic future power technology, and I think people will respond to that.

But ultimately, what will be truly interesting is to see what shape the stormclouds take when they arrive, and how easily and peacefully we weather the transition from an oil-and-gas economy to the renewable, self-sustaining energy future.

VapOr?

I gestured back at the skimmer, seeming to float in the tall, waving grass.

"No room!" I tried to enunciate clearly, speak loudly, even though I knew it wouldn't do any good. "We come back!"

The man looked at me in confusion, then suddenly took several broad steps forward. I involuntarily stepped back, one hand on my pistol. I glanced nervously at Shaun, but he wasn't even looking. Instead his attention was on the woman, the shrouded figure, who seemed to be struggling in her veil.

"Unnnnn...." A low moan rose from the sheets that enwrapped her, something hideous and otherworldly. I felt a chill run down my spine.

I looked back at the big fellow, their leader, and could see the worry and confusion written across his face. I put out my hand and started to step around him, toward the woman. He almost reflexively grimaced and moved to block me.

"No!" I said hastily, stepping back. "I help!" I looked helplessly at Shaun.

But Shaun still wasn't listening. He was sitting down in the tall grass, a slack expression on his long face. The locals standing near him were starting to back away.

I quickly walked over to his side.

"Shaun!" I said loudly. "Are you alright? What are you doing?"

"Mmmn.." he mumbled. "Tired, doc. Can't seem to..."

I started to reach out to shake his shoulder when a rough, strong hand grabbed my wrist, holding me back. I looked up angrily and not a little bit fearfully to see the burly leader fellow, his eyes wide with fear.

"What in the devil..." I began when he yanked me away from Shaun and began jabbering at me again. Of course I couldn't understand what he was saying, but I wasn't really listening. I was watching the now-unconscious form of my assistant as it began to, I'm not sure how to put this, mutate rather rapidly into some kind of cyborg, sprouting antennas and sleek metal nodules and appendages quite rapidly. I looked up at the leader fearfully and could sense his relief now that I was aware of the danger.

Rogue tech. And something strong enough to quickly overwhelm Shaun's defenses.

I wondered how on earth these people weren't dead. Or, for that matter, why I wasn't.

Vapor Cont. 3

The wind smacked me in the face as the glass on our skimmer rose, smelling of rain and distant buffalo. The folk around us had halted when I raised the cockpit, but now one took a cautious step forward. A tall, imposing fellow whose huge frame belied his gauntness, he wore his brown beard long and hair longer. He was dressed in a simple, dirty jumpsuit, something he'd probably gotten from the generators in U Town or New Omaha. He gave me a fierce look, his gaze narrow as he raised one huge hand in a formal greeting.

"Sor buenoman ke es de skie, esa buenwoma taka muh infima, sor. Vasos tenar te pillen e U Town. Kin puin me aida?

His voice was rough and his accent thick, and though he spoke deliberately, I could understand little of what he said. The locals hereabouts spoke a difficult tongue for me, a much-mutated hybrid of Classical English and Spanish. I had been making attempts at the language since I arrived at U Town, but so far had had little time to devote to it. Like most native-born Martians, I spoke Classical English and Mandarin, but I found I had little facility with the native tongue.

I shrugged in exagerrated confusion to let him know I hadn't understood, and turned to Shaun. He spoke Classical Spanish, having spent some time in the Iberian Hills as a child. I was hoping he had a better idea of what this fellow was about. He nodded and leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"I think they're saying they have a sick woman. They were trying to take her to U Town to get medicine, and they want us to help them."

I nodded at Shaun and looked back at the leader of this little group. I didn't know exactly how we were going to fit this woman into the skimmer, what with our nearly full cargo of bears.

Vapor, Cont. 2

I took my hands off the stick and looked back at Shaun in surprise, barely noticing the small jolt as the autopilot took over and slowed the skimmer into a lazy circle. He returned my gaze in kind, confusion written over his narrow, bony face.

"Maybe it's a funeral procession?" I suggested, loudly. Shaun shook his head.

"No, I think the locals cremate their dead. They wouldn't come out to the plains for that."

We both looked back down at the ragged band below. Their gestures seemed urgent, almost frantic, pointing up at us and back at the body, its white shroud whipping around in our exhaust and the rapidly rising winds. I considered leaving for a split second, taking our cargo back up to U-Town, but in the same instant I found my hands on the throttle and we began to descend.

The folks below us scattered back to their buggies as we came down, save for two men who carried the shrouded figure back to the edge of the circle, where they crouched among the furiously beating waves of grass. We settled down into the middle of the circle and I cut the fans. For a moment there was a cavernous silence, filled only by the shriek of the wind as it washed over the cockpit.

I glanced back at Shaun, who had slung his Syst8 over his shoulder and unholstered his pistol. I could see the confusion in his eyes, but he said nothing. Outside, I could see several of the locals cautiously moving toward us. Reaching down to feel the reassuring weight of my own pistol, I popped the canopy.