Home ›› 18 Nov 2021 ›› Opinion
When Cassandra Klos was growing up in rural New Hampshire, it was easy to see the stars. She traced the constellations with her finger and imagined how it would feel to travel among them. As a college art student, she launched a photo project about Betty and Barney Hill, a New Hampshire couple who claimed to have been abducted by aliens.
Then Klos went on her first mission to Mars. To be clear, no earthling has actually set foot on the red planet. NASA is hoping to send a crew there in the 2030s, as is China, and the private company SpaceX is working to establish a permanent Martian presence with starships ferrying humans back and forth to Earth. “We don’t want to be one of those single-planet species,” SpaceX founder Elon Musk said outlining the company’s ambitions. “We want to be a multi-planet species.”
First, though, there’s some figuring out to do. Designing the right spacecraft and living spaces is part of the challenge. There are also prosaic, but important, questions. How will people shower with a limited supply of water? What will it take to grow fresh greens to supplement the steady diet of dehydrated food? And with civilians from different backgrounds living together in close quarters, will Martian habitats end up resembling the set of Jean-Paul Sartre’s play No Exit, where hell is other people? The two-week mission Klos joined was designed to explore those kinds of questions. It took place at the Mars Desert Research Station in Utah, four hours south of Salt Lake City, but everyone spoke and acted as though they were actually on Mars. A group of six people lived in a two-story cylindrical building. The commander, a former member of the Army National Guard, kept the participants on a strict schedule of fixing electrical systems, taking inventory, tidying up the facilities and sampling the soil. Everyone was assigned a special role: Klos’ was to prepare reports to share with the public. The health safety officer kept tabs on the crew’s well-being, and the engineer monitored levels of carbon dioxide and solar power.
Before stepping outside in a spacesuit, Klos and the others had to get permission from mission control back on “Earth” (actually a coordinator stationed in a nearby town). That person would send information about the winds and weather, and determine how long each person could stay outside the base. Sometimes dust storms rolled in, cutting off the solar power supply just as they would on Mars. Klos was allowed to bathe only once a week, using a couple of buckets of water. She was enchanted.
“This is not performance art,” says Klos. “These are real scientific endeavors. Sometimes people make the critique that we’re role-playing too much. But the goal is to really live the way people are going to live on Mars so scientists can figure out how to make it work when we get there.” HI-SEAS is located on Hawaii’s big island at 8,200 feet above sea level, on top of the active volcano Mauna Loa. NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center is collaborating with the facility to gather information about volcanic caves and the microbes that live in those Mars-like conditions. HI-SEAS is also studying the limitations of doing that kind of work while wearing heavy spacesuits. It’s hard enough for astronauts to hold a screwdriver in a gloved hand while repairing the International Space Station, but if people are going to be clambering on Martian rocks looking for microbes, they’ll need the right gear.
Smithsonian
