Finis Origine Pendet [Latin] - The End Depends Upon the Beginning
Science is not a collection of facts; it is a process of discovery. . . . Ideas have consequences. - Robert Zubrin
Lehrer/Sheen Industries has launched its inaugural space station flawlessly. As its first captain, I will be maintaining this blog, accessible to passengers and crew aboard Laurasia; it will also be available to family and friends who possess a connected Lyceum device here on Earth. The station itself automatically logs a sort of celestial journal, cataloging all technical, operational, and navigational data, which it backs up at Lehrer/Sheen's operations base in Green Bank, West Virginia.
Since the first six-month expedition will not include civilian passengers, the Lyceum connections at this stage are provided solely to the crew aboard Laurasia for communication with their friends and family. The technical aspects of the launch, as previously noted, have been recorded and analyzed by the station's computer, with details accessible on the Laurasia website, linkable via your device. To reiterate, the launch proceeded without any issues.
We are scheduled to arrive at our first destination, L1 (Lagrange Point 1), approximately 0.01 AU or 1.5 million kilometers (809,935 nautical miles) from Earth. There, we will observe the Sun-Earth system for one lunar month, before proceeding to the other points in sequence. The primary objective of our mission is to establish, or more accurately, to confirm the optimal location for our sister ship, Gondwana. Gondwana will be operated, for lack of a better term, entirely by artificial intelligence—robots dedicated to the manufacturing of pharmaceuticals, electronics, and crystal growth. Both stations will also employ androids for research purposes.
Akio Tsukino, Thursday, January 7, 2076
Experimentum Crucis [Latin] - Critical Experiment
Dominance hierarchies have always been our society's backbone, a true pecking order where survival often means subservience. The notion that those at the apex of this order care for those at the base has always been a fallacy. Historically, we've labeled the bottom rungs as parasites, feeding off the system, but the real leeches, the true parasites, are those at the top.
The Global Revolution, sparked by a desire to level this uneven playing field through wealth redistribution, was met with skepticism by Raymond Sheen. He argued that such an approach was as misguided as the hierarchies themselves. 'Hierarchies,' he proclaimed, 'are only detrimental when corrupted. It's not merely about redistributing wealth; it's about dismantling the very incentives that breed corruption.' Sheen posited a radical idea: power, as we know it, was not just flawed but entirely obsolete in the new world he envisioned. - Compendium Of The Global Revolution
The Laurasia space station drifted silently, a gleaming speck 900,000 miles from Earth, tethered to the Earth-Sun Lagrange Point 5 in a Lissajous orbit. Nineteen-year-old Christian Lehrer sprawled in his quarters, the station’s low hum a constant companion, like a heartbeat in the void. A week into his six-month escape, space felt less like freedom and more like a sterile cage.
His Lyceum, a sleek device from Lehrer/Sheen Industries, glowed in his palm. It was meant to capture discoveries, insights to carry back to Earth. Chris stared at the blank screen, its neutrionic light flickering across his face. Nothing worth noting. Space was empty, and so was he.
A clatter shattered the hum. His grandfather, Dietrich Lehrer, shuffled past the doorway, muttering curses. His gray hair, wild and unkempt, framed a face etched with frustration. “My Lyceum—where is it?” he growled, rummaging through a pile of data slates. The man who’d built an empire from a Galesburg railroad town looked like a disheveled professor, not a titan of industry.
“The androids only move it if you leave it out,” Chris said, glancing at his Lyceum’s clock: 23:52. “I need sleep, Grandpa.”
Dietrich ignored him, still digging. Chris sighed and plugged his Lyceum into the room’s audio system. A soft chime from the station’s archive filled the air, meant to drown the hum and lull him to sleep. But voices cut through—Dietrich’s, low and urgent, and a woman’s, sharp and commanding.
“He’s our only shot,” Dietrich said, his voice tight, almost desperate.
The woman’s reply crackled through the Lyceum’s speaker. “He’s not ready, Dietrich. An outcast like him? He’ll fracture the collective before it forms.” Her tone was ice-cold, authoritative. Chris stiffened, recognizing the voice—Kacela Lehrer, Deputy of the Ministry of Science and Technology, or so he’d overheard once. She spoke like she held the world’s reins, reducing even Dietrich Lehrer to a pawn.
Chris crept to the doorway, heart pounding. Dietrich stood hunched, clutching his Lyceum, its light casting jagged shadows. “He’ll grow into it,” Dietrich muttered, but the connection was already dead.
Outcast. The word lodged in Chris’s chest, heavy as the station’s artificial gravity. Was it him? Unready for what? He’d heard whispers of Earth’s unrest—a revolution against banks, oil, the old powers. Lotte Bauer, Dietrich’s chief data officer, had called it a global awakening, a push to dismantle systems built on greed. But here, 900,000 miles away, it felt like someone else’s fight. What role could he possibly play?
He slipped back to his bunk, the station’s hum pressing in. The chime faded, and memories rose unbidden—Galesburg, Illinois, a boy of twelve shouting sermons on street corners, voice echoing with eternal damnation. The megachurch’s cameras, the weight of a global audience, his name—Christian Lehrer, teacher and savior—crafted to carry meaning. He’d walked away, the reasons a blur, his voice reduced to noise. Was that what Kacela saw? A hollow preacher, all sound and no substance?
Chris fell asleep, dreaming of simpler days as a child evangelist in Galesburg, Illinois, passionately preaching about eternal damnation to unsuspecting passersby. He heard his voice swirling around him, echoing in the familiar settings of his childhood town, but they were only sounds, no comprehensible words.
