Discovery Space: Next Generation

Yuri's Night: Celebrating Space 'Round the World

Something that the Next Generation blog really shows is that it's a great time to be a student in the space industry.

Even if you don't fit into either of those categories, however, there's still plenty you can do to support the cause and have a great time doing it!

For the past two years, I've served as the director of media relations for Yuri's Night. Ok... now I know you're asking, "What's Yuri's Night?"

Peter Diamandis: Brew Master of the Kool-Aid

Michael Laine -- president of the LiftPort Group -- recently set aside his space elevator-building duties to attend International Space University (ISU). The rest of his adventures in Barcelona, Spain are chronicled here.

I like and professionally admire Peter Diamandis. I think his body of work warrants serious applause. (Never heard of Diamandis before? Here's a decent place to start.)

Diamandis came to talk "formally" at the opening ceremonies of the International Space University, but we got to see a more personal side of him.

He said the kinds of things you would expect the founder of a 20-year-old school to say to students that he thinks of as his legacy. He said things intended to inspire and provide hope in the dark economic times we presently live in. He said things about believing in your dreams, and working toward them. He said work together -- interpersonally and internationally.

But he also said things about American toga parties, Canadians with canoes full of beer, and French cross-dressing "cultural nights"... of years past.

So Diamandis gets up there on his soapbox and talks. We ask questions about him, ISU, X PRIZE, and some "failures" he's had along the way.

Now when I hear Peter talk, I get a little serious. I react to it. His message resonates with me. I have heard him talk many times, and his "Space "Kool-Aid Speech" is great.

However, what made this one different:

Barcelona: Home of ISU Space Camp 2008 and Dangerous Curves

Michael Laine -- president of the LiftPort Group -- recently set aside his space elevator-building duties to attend International Space University (ISU). Part two of his adventures in Barcelona, Spain are chronicled here.

Advice to anyone traveling to another country, especially if the trip involves a stay of almost 3 months... learn the freakin' language. Learn something, anything.

I got lost the moment I left the airport. I'd like to blame the taxi driver for getting me lost and driving in completely the opposite direction, but that blame isn't fair. I have no doubt the cabbie was trying his best to be helpful.

So $70, 12 hours, one hotel and a different taxi cab later, I arrive at my correct destination.

Space Camp for Big Kids

Michael Laine -- president of the LiftPort Group -- recently set aside his space elevator-building duties to attend International Space University (ISU). The first installment of his adventures in Barcelona, Spain is chronicled here.

I've never had so much fun, learned as much or played as hard as I did this summer at a "space camp" -- and I'm 41 years old.

The International Space University (aka ISU) was founded 21 summers ago by Todd Hawley, Rob Richards (Odyssey Moon) and Peter Diamandis (X PRIZE Foundation, Zero Gravity Corp, SEDS, Space Adventures, Rocket Racing League). My experience there was a blur of nonstop activity, but that frenzy had a purpose: to learn about space as thoroughly and as quickly as possible.

If the university's following credo sounds ambitious, that's because it is:

"...founded on the vision of peaceful, prosperous and boundless future through the study, exploration and development of Space for the benefit of all humanity... dedicated to international cooperation... where students and scholars seek to understand the mysteries of the Cosmos and apply their knowledge to the betterment of the human condition."

The spectacular thing is that I think it fulfills this vision, and then some.

I had been working on LiftPort, the Elevator to Space Companies, for several years. In April 2007 we hit a financial roadblock that looked to end our role in building a space elevator. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to work around the problems. It was a blow to me, my team and the worldwide space elevator research community. I was stuck.

Closing the company and giving up the cause absolutely crossed my mind. (Some of you reading this would probably encourage that!) I asked myself, "Do I really care enough to work this hard on something that most people think is impossible?" In short, I was having a crisis of faith in what I believed in -- and its potential to make a positive impact on the people of Earth.

I needed a personal reality check, so I took some time off to see if it was simply a case of being tired or a complete burn-out. That's when I went to "space camp."

Disclaimer: the school's administrators dislike it when you call the ISU "space camp" because it's a serious university with a difficult program. I suppose they think my calling it "space camp" is demeaning. To me, however, it's a term of endearment and I'll continue to use it. This is the same reasoning that I use when calling (ex) girlfriends by nicknames. It might get on their nerves, but it's a way of telling whether I care or not. That being said, Boston University didn't get a nickname from me.

Back to space camp: I went to learn something about myself, but also knew that the worldwide space community wasn't that big -- and if my goal of an elevator into the sky was ever going to happen, then ISU was the place to start.

This year the university's Space Studies Program was held in Barcelona Spain. Last year it was in Beijing, the year before that in Vancouver and next year it will be at NASA Ames near San Francisco. By floating around, it lives up to the expectation of being an international program.

My classmates from Barcelona (friends now!) numbered about 120, plus 50 or so instructors and other staff. In short, we were a tight-knit community from 26 nations with a variety of talents. Some were more surprising than others: belly dancing, solving a Rubik's cube in 4 minutes, and singing/using musical instruments (as well as other skills I won't mention here). Our ages ranged from 20 to 52. I think I was the fourth oldest in the program. And no -- I can't solve the Rubik's cube anymore.

More than half of the students had educational or work experience in engineering. There was also a sprinkling of life sciences, physical sciences, information technology, humanities, policy and law, and of course -- my area -- business and management.

I learned some things about the space elevator that I really, really wish I had known six years ago. Suffice to say, there were moments this summer that made me say "ah ha!" and others where all that came to mind was "oh sh*t!"

Did I mention that I'm the sort of guy who actually believes he can build an elevator to space? Imagine the stubbornness and strength of will that a guy like that must have...

Thankfully, ISU professors were there to provide moments of clarity and insight into problems that had hindered me for years. Professors were there to guide, and ask useful questions. Staff who had understanding and patience. Staff with grace in the midst of chaos. Most importantly, there were students who started out as strangers and became friends – friends I know I can count on. Students that turned out to be teachers. Students who broadened their horizons and by so doing, they broadened my own.

I went to Barcelona -- to space camp -- as a "test of faith." I returned committed, healed and ready to wrestle tigers.

This post might sound like a sales-pitch, but it's not. Quite simply, the program had a profound impact on me.

Obviously this is just the beginning of my story. Discovery Space agreed to give me the keys to Next Generation for awhile, so be sure to check back often for new posts!

Michael Laine

Michael Laine is the president of LiftPort Group, the Elevator to Space Companies. You can follow him on Twitter and Lifestreaming, and check out his company's YouTube page here.

Photos, top to bottom: Courtesy Michael Laine; Spaceward Foundation; courtesy Michael Laine

What Building a Spaceship Is Like

From June to September this year, I lived out one of my dreams: working alongside some of the smartest engineers alive today to help build a spaceship (and I got paid for my help).

This magical place isn't Disneyland, but does invoke the same excitement in the hearts of engineers around the world. It's a company that I think will change the world, and it's called Space Exploration Technologies -- "SpaceX" for short.

SpaceX gives its interns in Hawthorne, Calif. the menial tasks of "computational fluid dynamics," "finite element analysis," and so on -- and expects the material to be known thoroughly within a week or two, of course. I was one of these interns, and what was in store for me was plenty enough to make my heart beat just a little faster for the rest of my life.

A spacecraft meant to ferry people calls for a window, so I was given the task to design a testing apparatus (from scratch) for the windows on SpaceX's Dragon capsule.

I was supervised, seeing as I had many questions on how to climb the proverbial brick walls laid before me. Some of those walls included how to navigate the not-so-user-friendly software analysis tools, whether to choose between steel or aluminum for the testing device, what the best fastener choice was, and so on.

Since the company's inception by PayPal co-founder Elon Musk, SpaceX has been on course to disrupt how the world views space. Currently it costs millions, sometimes billions of dollars to reach orbit. In the near future, SpaceX plans on reducing this cost by about 10 times of what it is today.

Think it can't be done? It's already been started... In September 2008, SpaceX tried a fourth launch of their Falcon 1 rocket and successfully carried a 363-pound payload into orbit (watch the video below). SpaceX will charge about $8 million for similar rocket launches, versus competitors' $20-$40 million price tag per launch of a similar size.

In the near future, I hope space will be just another place where people live, business is a day-to-day affair, and transportation is cheap. When that day comes, I'll be proud to have been a small part in the beginning of the future.

James W. Pura is a mechanical engineering undergraduate at University of California, San Diego, specializing in entrepreneurial space.

Photos, top to bottom: James Pura; SpaceX

Paving the Moon

A couple of years ago, I landed an internship at the Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md. with a mission: to help finish the design, construction and testing of a prototype "dust mitigation vehicle".

I couldn't wait to get started, but I had a few questions -- what exactly is a "dust mitigation vehicle," and why would we need one?

The "why" is pretty surprising. During the Apollo program, lunar dust (or "regolith" as the geologists like to call it) proved to be a significant challenge. Apollo 17 astronaut Gene Cernan even went as far as to say, "I think dust is probably one of our greatest inhibitors to a nominal operation on the moon. I think we can overcome other physiological or physical or mechanical problems except dust."

The fine-grained particles wore through the outer layer of astronauts' spacesuits, caused seals to leak, scratched visors and even affected astronauts' health with breathing issues. Whenever the regolith so much as touched a piece of equipment, astronauts found it nearly impossible to clean.

Those are a just a few reasons why lunar dust is so problematic.

As Ryan mentioned in his September 25th blog entry, it is extremely abrasive, meaning that it is able to scratch most things with which it comes into contact. I suppose I'd compare it to ground-up shards of glass. To make matters worse, the dust is statically charged. If you've ever rubbed a balloon on your head, you can wave the balloon over pepper grains to make them cling to it. Same concept with moon dust, except that instead of pepper the astronaut attracts microscopic, razor-sharp particles.

No surprise, then, that NASA spends a lot of time and resources to find ways to both prevent dust from getting on equipment and to remove it if necessary.

The Dust Mitigation Vehicle (or “DMV”) that I worked on is one of these methods. It's a prototype of a rover that would pave the surface of the Moon. It doesn't use asphalt or concrete, but rather sunlight -- something of which we have a nearly unlimited supply on the moon!

The DMV is essentially a rover with a giant converging lens mounted to it. Ever used a magnifying glass to burn leaves (or even poor, defenseless ants) during the summer? Again, same concept.

The vehicle's lens tightly focuses sunlight on area ahead of the vehicle, causing the regolith to reach temperatures well above 3,000 degrees Fahrenheit -- this heat melts the moon dust into a hard, dust-free surface. Run the DMV long enough, and you can create roads or even landing pads. When astronauts or other rovers travel on these hardened areas, they would no longer kick up dust.

I hope that some day vehicles similar to the DMV traverse the surface of the Moon and build roads as they go. If that doesn’t happen, I suppose I could open my own chemical-free ant extermination business. Either way, working on this project has been personally rewarding -- and a lot of fun.

Brandon Hall is an aerospace engineering undergraduate student at the University of Maryland, College Park. He has conducted research with NASA Goddard Space Flight Center focused primarily on In-Situ Resource Utilization.

Photos: Courtesy of Brandon Hall/NASA

Captions, top to bottom:

• Overseeing DMV operation. I'm using welding goggles to protect my eyes from the intense focused sunlight.
• The Dust Mitigation Vehicle with the large Fresnel lens clearly displayed
• Partially and fully “paved” samples.
• A profile shot of the DMV.

Strike a Pose, Gravity

What's the deal with gravity?

We don't know what causes it, but we do know it's a force that occurs when two objects -- such as the Earth and the moon -- attract to one another. We also know that if each object is treated as a perfect sphere, the math describing gravity is fairly simple.

But reality bites, and the Earth is not a perfect sphere. It has deep oceans and towering mountain peaks, and is thicker around the equator. Each little rock, pebble, grain of sand and molecule of water pulls on the moon, planets, the sun and everything else in the universe. Needless to say, accounting for these disturbances is a difficult problem.

Since before the first satellite launch, humanity has studied gravity anomalies, and those investigations have brought us to the Gravity Recovery and Climatology Experiment, aka "GRACE," which uses special satellites to measure this mysterious force.

See right for a 3-D map of these anomalies that the GRACE mission has teased out. The red indicates anomalies stronger than Earth's average pull of gravity (about 32.1740486 ft/s²), while the blue shows weaker-than-average anomalies.

Looks cool, but what do we do with this kind of information?

From modeling satellite orbits to monitoring the melting of glaciers and the polar ice caps, the benefits are numerous. To elaborate on the glacier example: If one is melting, the water drains away. That change in water means a change in mass -- and that translates to a small change in gravity around the glacier. So we can use gravity to study climate change.

Here's where I fit in: Scientists and engineers have used one type of gravity model for the past 100 years -- it's called spherical harmonics and is a bit dense to describe here (just look at the equation). My research looks at gravity from a totally different perspective, and to understand it, let's talk photography.

A photograph helps us preserve a memory, e.g. you as a kid. Years later, the picture reminds us of what we looked like when we were younger. That retrospective approach is similar to the gravity modeling I'm studying: Let's take our knowledge of the Earth's gravity, and store that information like a photograph so we can use it later. And instead of taking a picture of what the Earth visually looks like, we take a snapshot of what the Earth gravitationally looks like.

But one photograph doesn't show us the whole picture. If we take a picture of one side of the Earth, what does the other side look like? How do we know what gravity is like there? Even two pictures don't lend us a clear picture of the edges. We actually need six photographs to give us the Earth as a cube (see right).

So, why this new way versus the "old" way?

We've all sat there, waiting for a computer game or some piece of software to run... the more complex it is, the longer it takes for the computer to crunch the numbers. The "cubed sphere" model of gravity actually makes the software scientists use run faster -- so you get the speed of a rough test with the accuracy of an incredibly complex one. For people trying to model how their shiny new satellites will react to the Earth's anomalies while in orbit, that's a valuable improvement.

Modeling gravity is especially important for missions to the moon, since the spacecraft will be carrying people, and the moon's gravity is much more irregular than the Earth's. Better mapping of the moon's gravity not only improves simulations for planning trips there, but also helps astronauts figure out precisely where their spaceship is without asking for help from Earth.

It's also useful because, quite simply, someone can easily zoom in on a region they're interested in. Like looking at pictures of ourselves from when we were younger, we can use this cube-like model to easily see changes over time in things such as melting glaciers, mountains and more.

Brandon Jones is PhD student in aerospace engineering at the University of Colorado, Boulder.

Photos, top to bottom: Brandon Jones; NASA. Wikimedia Commons; Brandon Jones

Helping NASA Get a Raise

This May I went to Congress to help NASA get a raise. Perhaps surprisingly, I don't work for the space agency -- and I'm a student.

I've always supported NASA, but had never really made a good list of reasons why. That's when I joined the Citizens for Space Exploration -- a group of small and large businesses, teachers, students, local government employees, and others who believe investing is space exploration is a great idea.

Over the course of four days, 146 people from 29 states visited hundreds of congressional offices to make the case for NASA (my group met with North Carolina and Maryland representatives). When I first heard about their trip to speak with members of Congress, I expected everyone to be part of the space industry. I was wrong. No one in my group of five "citizen taxpayers" had ever worked for NASA.

Our meetings with representatives lasted anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes, during which time we explained the importance of NASA in the future of America and asked for a boost in the space agency's funding. How much, and by when? From 0.6 percent to 1 percent of the national budget by 2013. To get some perspective, look at NASA's funding during the Apollo era -- it received 4 percent of the national budget (almost seven times larger than today's funding situation).

I went on the trip because I've come to understand that NASA validates our role as explorers, has far-reaching educational benefits and creates new technology that ultimately brings us so many things we take for granted. By the end of my congressional visits, I felt like I could convince a total stranger why they should care about NASA.

We are an exploring species. Every elementary school student can tell you about Christopher Columbus' voyage, but few can tell you how the Norsemen found America in 1000 AD -- Columbus simply opened the floodgates to settling the Americas.

Like pre-Columbian explorers, we have visited the moon and now plan to settle it. NASA needs the proper funding to work towards permanent lunar colonies, but is a bit strapped. Imagine if Europeans had decided that it was too expensive to travel across the oceans and settle unknown lands. Now compare that to what future the other planets might hold for us.

To return to and colonize the moon, we need to develop new technologies. For example, moon settlers need to be able to generate their own food supplies and air to breathe on the moon. In the process of researching how to do such things, we push the technological barrier.

For example, the imaging technology used in some telescopes is now used to help detect cancer. My father is an orthodontist and uses brace wires derived from morphing materials researched by NASA. My mother is a physical therapist and uses a machine developed through research conducted on astronauts after they returned to Earth.

Maybe more important than technology spin-offs are the "people spin-offs." Teachers try to inspire students because they know it will help drive them to learn and succeed. A child who wants to be an astronaut knows they have to stay in school, stay out of trouble, attend college, etc. Although he or she may not become an astronaut, they're like to be inspired to go to college and stake out a career in science, technology, engineering, or math.

As a member of this new generation of explorers, I'm thrilled to help NASA return to the moon and colonize it, then head to Mars -- and beyond.

Laura Meyer is a University of Maryland senior in aerospace engineering at the James A. Clark School of Engineering.

Designing NASA's New Moon Crib

I never expected to find myself working on a project with NASA, mainly because I wasn't particularly gifted in math or science. The most I remember from high school chemistry class was the teacher shouting, "That was spontaneous!" every time he caught us rolling wooden molecules across the linoleum floor.

Now, as an industrial design student heading into a second year of grad school at the Rhode Island School of Design, NASA is exactly who I'm working with. 

The connection bewteen RISD and NASA started with Michael Lye, my dedicated professor, throughout a decade of coursework that brought the two institutions together. Thing is, design school can be short on real-world constraints, often drifting into conceptual and theoretical regions, while NASA has no shortage of constraints.

It was a wonderful match.

I was hired along with four other students for a summer to work on NASA's new lunar lander suitlock/airlock project for the lunar habitat -- a setup the agency plans to use for extended stays on the moon. The major challenge facing astronauts once they arrive? Moon dust.

Inside an astronaut's living space, moon dust can be a big hazard by causing allergic reactions and grinding away at small parts in equipment. So NASA asked for a habitat that could keep lunar dust out.

Other factors we had to consider included strong, protective storage places outside of the living quarters and space suits tough enough to handle the moon's unforgiving conditions. Also, the astronauts needed to be comfortable in their spacesuits, able to reach the suit storage containers, and go into and out of the habitat safely and easily.

With Michael at our side, we took a first crack at the habitat and improved NASA's "Mark III" space suit design. It was essentially a clean slate: Help astronauts get into new one-piece-style suit, get out of the habitat, then get back safely. The rest was up to us.

After weeks of conference calls with the Human Factors team in Houston, we quickly found our tasks snowballing, and were proposing designs for dozens of things: the hinging mechanisms on the door, way-finding signals, foot and hand supports, bulkhead formations, airlock space, and on and on. The complexity of each spacey challenge quickly became apparent to us as we worked.

Our mission, however, wasn't all work and no play. A particularly fun phase came when we built a one-sixth gravity harness in our studio, then put the suit through a number of physical tests to see if it would hold up in true moon-like conditions. (Also check out the video at the end of this post.)

In mechanical engineering humans needs often come last, but we had to put the body first. We started by comparing the body with the original Mark III design. Unfortunately, the prototype is a multi-million dollar piece of equipment, so we couldn't physically get our hands on one. Instead, we spent weeks researching and talking to the makers, then constructed our own rendition of the suit -- keeping in mind the capabilities and limitations it put on the wearer, of course.

For example, could he or she see over her shoulder?  (Nope.) Asking such simple questions created a domino effect of design needs: When astronauts bend their knees in the suit, at what angle of knee bend did the suit and body weight become too great to push up to standing position? And so on.

Unlike countries that put restrictions on their spaceflyer height, American astronauts are a wide range of heights -- so the suitlock and airlock needed to be adjustable (yet another aspect we had to take into consideration). And after studying a set of gorgeous, custom-built astronaut gloves, we got a sense of how limited astronaut dexterity and mobility would be. That's a big deal, because we knew the astronauts would need to use small pieces of hardware. 

By starting with the design approach, I think we were able to innovate in ways we might not have if we began with a focus on engineering. In the long run, I hope our work creates a more comfortable (and productive) experience for astronauts visiting the moon.

Julianne Gauron is a second-year industrial design student at the Rhode Island School of Design. For more information about the RISD NASA collaboration see, click here.

From the Earth to the Moon... With a Few Stops Along the Way

Space exploration has always been the largest driving force in my life, and it's something I'm spending both my academic and professional time to pursue. I've been fortunate to be in the right places at the right times, but I also like to think that I'm actively seeking out opportunities as I reach for the stars.

The next event in my "spacey" life, for example, is the International Astronautical Congress in Glasgow, Scotland. That is where I am presenting my Ph.D. research paper on the abrasive properties of the lunar environment. Why moon dust, you ask?

During the Apollo moon missions, lunar dust abrasion created several issues for astronauts. To name a few things: faceplate scratching, which obscured moonwalker vision, and spacesuit pressure leaks, which could have put the astronauts in serious danger. As we gear up to return to the moon, finding out which materials best stand up to the its harsh environment is more important than ever.

In addition to my paper, I'm a co-author on four others at the IAC this year, and they're all related to Mars mission simulations that I've been a part of at the Mars Desert Research Station (in Utah) and at the Flashline Mars Arctic Research Station, or FMARS (in Nunavut, Canada).

In 2007 I was a member of a seven-person team that carried out a four-month Mars simulation at FMARS. During the simulation, we conducted more than 22 science projects in geology, biology, human factors, operations, and engineering. We also did eight outreach presentations to students, but since we were using a simulated 20-minute Mars-Earth delay, we created and sent a full audio-visual presentation.

One of the highlights during my time was when the crew went on Mars Time for 37 sols, or Martian days (which are 39 minutes and 35 seconds longer than Earth days). This was possible because of round-the-clock sunlight during the Arctic summer.

All of this work might sound out of this world, but it allowed me to gain experience in an extreme environment analogous to the surface of another planet -- in terms of isolation and research, that is. Beyond my own interests, it was a one-of-a-kind opportunity that I think will help us prepare for long-duration missions to the surface of the Moon and Mars.

Some day I hope to experience a real space mission first-hand! I've already replied to both the Canadian Space Agency's (CSA) and NASA's call for astronauts, so I'm crossing my fingers and working hard towards my career I've always wanted.

Space!
-Ryan

Ryan Kobrick is a Ph.D. candidate in Aerospace Engineering Sciences at the University of Colorado at Boulder, is a NASA Student Program member, and is researching lunar dust abrasion funded by a NASA Graduate Students Researchers Program grant. You can follow him on Twitter as RyInSpace.

Photo: Ryan Kobrick