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A mite colony is a closed ecosystem
in a space carved out of rock.
in a space carved out of rock.
Limited Resources
There are aspects of colony management as serious as
commanding any ship.
A mite colony is a closed ecosystem in a space carved out of rock. Above the rock lies another mile of ice before reaching the surface, and the ice is moving. Air at the surface is unbreathable. Colonies might as well be stationed on some distant, forbidding planet without any chance of resupply.
This fundamental reality shapes our world in ways humans would find unfamiliar. It requires that we reduce our demand for resources, limit our numbers, and make the best of society within those numbers.
Mites do not rebel against their planners. Limits are firm, and consequences are sobering. As a point of policy, if we allow one exception beyond a limit, we have to let a thousand.
Mites are half-sized relative to humans. That means eight mites can live within the resources required by a single gladiator-sized human. It’s simple geometry: downsizing an object by halving its height, width, and depth reduces its volume by a factor of eight.
Surprisingly, our smaller size makes us twice as strong as humans relative to weight. An athletic 160-pound human can climb a rope hand over hand; a 20-pound mite can do the same with another mite hanging on for the ride.
Mites are vegetarians because growing plants is much more efficient than raising poultry and meat in feedlots. Given fixed resources, there can be more of us if we eat only vegetables. The mite diet would be deficient for humans who need the complete protein found in high concentrations in meat. But mites are genetically engineered to produce complete protein within their bodies.
We require energy to run the farms, infrastructure, mining, and construction. Fortunately, we have an abundance of power generation. Without it, our futuristic marvels would not be possible.
Colonies are fixed in size, with a firm limit on population. Most colonies are city-sized, ranging from a few hundred thousand to a few million inhabitants. Every living mite in a colony occupies a post, and those are numbered and limited. Each post represents an opportunity for life, with all the accommodations and resources that go with it. Our colony is at maximum occupancy, like all the others. No mite can immigrate or be born into our colony until a post is free for them to occupy. Someone has to die before someone else can be born.
Everyone occupying a post has to be worthy of it. No one can define what it means to be worthy of a post, but we have a fair idea of what it means to be unworthy. In particular, if mites feel unsafe after an incident, the colony will take decisive action.
Our possessions are limited. There are no items of conspicuous consumption, like yachts. With some exceptions, we can only have things that robotic machines can manufacture and recycle back to raw materials. On the plus side, any mite can have a copy for free if they see a consumer item they like. We share the colony resources equally; humans who aspired to horde something would be disappointed.
Longevity figures into resource planning. Mites live to age 160 plus some years until the onset of major decline. Unlike humans, who slowly fade away in old age, and can hang on for decades, mites tend to remain in perfect health and then suffer a sudden, catastrophic loss of function. Those super-human features are wonderful until they break.
In traditional human society, a man who hadn’t committed any crimes was allowed to build his fortune and find his way in the world without anyone stopping him. There was always enough air to breathe, territory to conquer, and room for more children. His only limits were to be those imposed by nature. He had a right to live by virtue of being alive. That is central to the human worldview.
Take any of that away, and humans would rebel. “It’s their right,” they say, “their right!” Pin down where their rights come from, and they point to a constitution, a king, a sword, or a god. But constitutions burn, kings die, swords break, and gods are the stuff of war. Their rights were granted them by a world that no longer exists. It’s our turn now, and we have our own rules.
Most humans would readily exchange the treadmill and infirmity they know for a chance to pursue their dreams and ambitions, free from want, with health and youth out to age 160. But they would have to curb the notion that they can take the good parts of our society and then bust its every limit.
The story continues here.
Home | Creation Story | Warriors | Honesty | Limits | Class | Gender | Religion | Sexuality | Countries | Stewardship | Author | Contact
Copyright (c) 2024 by Don Knight
A mite colony is a closed ecosystem in a space carved out of rock. Above the rock lies another mile of ice before reaching the surface, and the ice is moving. Air at the surface is unbreathable. Colonies might as well be stationed on some distant, forbidding planet without any chance of resupply.
This fundamental reality shapes our world in ways humans would find unfamiliar. It requires that we reduce our demand for resources, limit our numbers, and make the best of society within those numbers.
Mites do not rebel against their planners. Limits are firm, and consequences are sobering. As a point of policy, if we allow one exception beyond a limit, we have to let a thousand.
Mites are half-sized relative to humans. That means eight mites can live within the resources required by a single gladiator-sized human. It’s simple geometry: downsizing an object by halving its height, width, and depth reduces its volume by a factor of eight.
Surprisingly, our smaller size makes us twice as strong as humans relative to weight. An athletic 160-pound human can climb a rope hand over hand; a 20-pound mite can do the same with another mite hanging on for the ride.
Mites are vegetarians because growing plants is much more efficient than raising poultry and meat in feedlots. Given fixed resources, there can be more of us if we eat only vegetables. The mite diet would be deficient for humans who need the complete protein found in high concentrations in meat. But mites are genetically engineered to produce complete protein within their bodies.
We require energy to run the farms, infrastructure, mining, and construction. Fortunately, we have an abundance of power generation. Without it, our futuristic marvels would not be possible.
Colonies are fixed in size, with a firm limit on population. Most colonies are city-sized, ranging from a few hundred thousand to a few million inhabitants. Every living mite in a colony occupies a post, and those are numbered and limited. Each post represents an opportunity for life, with all the accommodations and resources that go with it. Our colony is at maximum occupancy, like all the others. No mite can immigrate or be born into our colony until a post is free for them to occupy. Someone has to die before someone else can be born.
Everyone occupying a post has to be worthy of it. No one can define what it means to be worthy of a post, but we have a fair idea of what it means to be unworthy. In particular, if mites feel unsafe after an incident, the colony will take decisive action.
Our possessions are limited. There are no items of conspicuous consumption, like yachts. With some exceptions, we can only have things that robotic machines can manufacture and recycle back to raw materials. On the plus side, any mite can have a copy for free if they see a consumer item they like. We share the colony resources equally; humans who aspired to horde something would be disappointed.
Longevity figures into resource planning. Mites live to age 160 plus some years until the onset of major decline. Unlike humans, who slowly fade away in old age, and can hang on for decades, mites tend to remain in perfect health and then suffer a sudden, catastrophic loss of function. Those super-human features are wonderful until they break.
In traditional human society, a man who hadn’t committed any crimes was allowed to build his fortune and find his way in the world without anyone stopping him. There was always enough air to breathe, territory to conquer, and room for more children. His only limits were to be those imposed by nature. He had a right to live by virtue of being alive. That is central to the human worldview.
Take any of that away, and humans would rebel. “It’s their right,” they say, “their right!” Pin down where their rights come from, and they point to a constitution, a king, a sword, or a god. But constitutions burn, kings die, swords break, and gods are the stuff of war. Their rights were granted them by a world that no longer exists. It’s our turn now, and we have our own rules.
Most humans would readily exchange the treadmill and infirmity they know for a chance to pursue their dreams and ambitions, free from want, with health and youth out to age 160. But they would have to curb the notion that they can take the good parts of our society and then bust its every limit.
The story continues here.
Home | Creation Story | Warriors | Honesty | Limits | Class | Gender | Religion | Sexuality | Countries | Stewardship | Author | Contact
Copyright (c) 2024 by Don Knight
Above the rock lies a mile-thick sheet of ice,
and the ice is moving. Air at the surface is unbreathable.
and the ice is moving. Air at the surface is unbreathable.