Analog SFF, June 2011 Read Online Free PDF

moderating these meetings, because NASA's part of the solar-power-satellite project drew the fewest questions. Public comments mostly concerned public safety, energy policy, and land use. Never mind, Marcus thought, that Powersat One, the full-scale demo system nearing completion, would be the largest structure ever built. Or that NASA was constructing PS-1 in space, where neither night nor weather could interrupt the sunlight streaming onto its solar cells.
    But all that dependable—and desperately needed—solar energy became useful only when it reached the ground. And once brought to Earth, the power had to be distributed far and wide. Terrestrial solar farms already had connections to the national power grid. Siting the downlink antennas amid the ground-based solar farms just made sense.
    To Marcus, anyway.
    "About that downlink,” the thin woman began, frowning. “'Downlink’ sounds like an Internet connection, and that's more than a little disingenuous. Your downlink is nothing so benign. You're talking about microwaves. A gigawatt or so of microwaves. If you turn on that satellite, it'll roast anyone unlucky enough to encounter the power beam."
    "No, it won't,” someone muttered from down the table—and a mic picked it up.
    Marcus leaned forward to see who had gone off-script. Apparently Brad Kaminski, from DOE. He was clutching his mike stand, and a bit red in the face.
    "Um, thank you for your comment,” Brad backtracked. “Yes, downlinks from the power satellite will use microwaves. That's for a good reason: Earth's atmosphere is transparent to microwaves. By beaming microwaves, we can harvest most of the power on the ground.
    "But as for safety, ma'am, there is no cause for concern. The beam is strongest at its center. By the edge—"
    "How strong?” someone in the crowd hollered.
    "About like direct, overhead sunlight,” Brad said. “By the edge of the—"
    "Like a second sun beating down on you,” the woman at the mike said. “ That should be healthy."
    Brad persisted. “By the edge of the collection area, a zone miles across, the beam has attenuated to well within public safety standards."
    The woman laughed humorlessly. “You expect the birds to mind your fences?"
    From deep within the crowd, a snort. “Lady, do you have any idea how many birds get chopped up by wind generators?"
    "Forget the damned birds!” someone shouted back from across the ballroom. “Just keep the lights on and my car charged."
    Taunts and insults erupted, on every side of the issue. Cameras big and small pointed to memorialize the chaos. It took Ellen several minutes to restore order—
    In order that more decorous criticisms could resume. That powersats were: unsafe, unnecessary, or poor investments. That if only everyone conserved, instead of wasting resources on foolishly audacious projects, it would be better for the United States and the entire Earth, too. That the country could extract additional energy from the tides, or build more wind farms, or re-shingle more roofs with solar cells, or grow more biomass, or . . . do anything other than the powersat project.
    And from the opposite end of the opinion spectrum: That the wind did not always blow when people need power. That—duh!—the Sun did not shine at night or do much for snow-covered roofs. That sunlight beating down on Arizona did nothing for New England. That people shrieking “energy sprawl” against a few square miles to be used for East Coast microwave downlinks fooled no one by suggesting new high-voltage power lines could be built across the continent from solar farms in the southwestern deserts. That the NIMBYs had even less credibility proposing huge new storage systems to save solar power for exploitation at night. And that if the tree-huggers did not wise up, civilization would grind to a halt. Shivering in the dark.
    Since the Crudetastrophe, oil was scarce and painfully expensive. That did not make gasoline any less essential. There simply was