Looking to make NASApunk images, realistic spaceships and, if possible, habitats and facilities such as Moon/Mars bases, and buggies, astronauts, and the like.

Think solar sails, trusses, radiators, centrifugal gravity, spacesuits, chemical propulsion if you want to go for a grittier aspect

It's in Portuguese (because I'm Brazilian) but basically it's:

The Shield (Escudo), Radiators (Radiadores), Central Cargo (Carga Central), Tanks (Tanque), and Engine (Motor).

The spaceship is powered by antimatter, stored in a special module between the hydrogen tanks (used for the annihilation reaction).

What ideas could I add and also explain the engineering of this spaceship better?

I am the author of the book: Arovi, Bengaluru, 22 Jul 2063. The story is set in the year 2063. Arovi is the curious young girl, their family visit the museum. Later they come back home and Arovi continues her conversation with the self-aware home - his name is Tarak. The world is completely different, its governed by Sarvanet - an Artificial super intelligent governance system that has global and local systems and is ultra efficient and democratic!. Self-aware beings live along side humans. They have personalities, life, concerns, humour, kindness - they are a being.

Arovi is a teenager and is curious. Through her interactions, I walk the reader through the plausible course of the technological development journey.

Yes its a scifi work, its mixed with family drama and the rough civilizational journey that leads us to this new world.

The original ideas came from thinking what would the next revolution look like, how many years would it take for the next major leap. I have touched upon the pitfalls in the current AI and also have presented ideas on what it would take to do this right.

I am an engineer myself and my take is that in 30-60 years its a real possibility that self-aware beings are among us! The work includes architectural ideas on how this may look like.

If you are in India: I post author copies out from my inventory and can be purchsed from amzon. There is a personal listing at Rs. 300/- For people outside india the paperback is on amazon and also the ebook on kindle.

I am a first time author and new to reddit. My previous experience with attempting to post this information back fired with some jumpy users claiming my post was AI written and with a judgement the book may be AI written too. I can assure you the book took around 6 months to write and while I had used AI to review and get feedback, every sentence is original work.

I am hoping to get constructive engagement and participation in this imaginary journey. Thanks for your support.

This post is written by human :)

Let's assume we have two types of scifi stories:

One is about a plausible future (let's say space colonization) with actual technologies and scientific principles which may remain speculative or experimental for now but could be feasible in the future (helium-3 fusion, effective ion/antimatter propulsion, wormholes, advanced AI, etc.).

The other is a scifi story that is based on an entirely fictional concept; let's say a steampunk one in which the luminiferous aether was found to be real (like Space 1889), or one in which psychic powers are real. That being said, the story tries to remain as realistic as possible, trying to see how society would behave if such was the case in real life, trying to stay as accurate as possible to human behavior, coming up with sensible in-world physics and ultimately trying to make it feel "realistic".

Now the first is undeniably hard sci-fi, but could the latter be considered hard scifi or would it be entirely soft sci-fi/fantasy ?

Edit: One great example of the latter is Primer, the indie movie about time travel. It has no scientific basis but it presents itself as down to earth, gritty and even pessimistic (sad we equate that with realism). Would you consider it hard scifi?

The EX306pA-QW Expedition has completed a full survey of the four accessible sectors of Deep City, generating a high-resolution 3D reconstruction of the collapsed megastructure.

During the return flight, the survey craft detected an anomalous structure partially buried beneath a chemically and radiologically hazardous sludge layer. Its geometry differs from every architectural typology documented so far.

No measurable energy emissions or biological signatures have been detected, but morphology alone justifies a closer inspection before the expedition departs.

From a scientific perspective, isolated structural anomalies often preserve evidence that the surrounding environment has lost. If this is a specialized facility rather than another residential block, it may provide valuable clues about the final operational phase of the city.

The return has been postponed.

The investigation begins.

Created in Blender 3D + Affinity Designer. No AI.

"The Earth is the cradle of humanity, but mankind cannot stay in the cradle forever" 

 

 

 

Sea of Rains or Mare Imbrium, 225 nautical miles due northwest of Edmund city Province. 

 

 

Almost 7,000 nautical miles from the Lunar north pole. A distance larger than the continental United States. 

 

 

A distance I'd walked to somewhere. Then elsewhere. Then nowhere. 

 

Like every good Pioneer, I did not know where I was going, only that my destination had to be better than the last. 

 

I'd set off from Indigo Station 465 nautical miles east four days prior. Granting myself immense satisfaction as I cross the shadow border of Lunar night.  

 

It marked the end of my circumnavigation of the lunar far side – a zone of prospering Astra Orientalis Intelligentia (AOI) military and mining economics. Coupled with dwindling colonial applications due to its strategic isolation, and the geopolitical implications of its landowners. I was back south of the equator, a land I had not explored for several cycles. 

 

Probably.  

 

The bright grey surface checkered with bleached patches, rocks and creators acted like powdered charcoal underfoot; my boots driving two-inch prints with each step.  

 

Mankind’s likely humorous end would come before they faded. And weren’t alone. 

 

Several other prints trailed the flats, no doubt belonging to other Pioneers. No one else had any purpose so far from settlements. 

 

Many peeled towards the nearby concentric mountains, dredged upon the regolith by a colossal impact older than man. 

 

Chances where they’d come from further distances than me, why would someone do such a thing? 

 

Many Pioneers were forced into the treks, during and after the Dust Wars. When transport was either obliterated or unavailable due to corps' apprehension to wartime operations. At least not without a fair price. 

 

I’d watched kids as young as two cross one of the most inhospitable places known to man beside their parents and siblings because they were unable or refused to give in to corporate greed. 

 

I remember watching their grim trek with fellow Pioneers perched on jagged rocks. 

 

Those were the other kinds, the ones who found solace in the displacement.  

 

No jurisdiction meant no rules. They’d travel from station to station gaining gear and disgracing their patriotism as a fat middle finger to the squares. Occasionally taking it literally and committing Lunar Terrorism towards those aligned against their cause of selfish liberation. 

 

Those who sought athletic endeavour got looped in with the rest. Same as the nomads, something I believed was my reason to start. 

 

Though I emphasise believed. As I can’t remember why I began to walk. 

 

Forever ago now, with the first few treks hanging in my mind, and the whole ‘moon’ thing seeming conquerable with the right methods, I was caught without enough oxygen. 

 

I'd gutted all the safety and warning systems, figuring I could track things myself, and for all intents and purposes, I did. I watched the pressure value slowly drain to nothing. And my laboured breathing turned into a nightmare I still relive if I sleep too long. 

 

With each stunting breath, the suit became tighter and pressured. I stumbled and panicked as I realised I was going to die; crying and screaming being the natural response, but with no oxygen, all I could do was croak and gurgle. My lungs inhaled nothingness. 

 

As my vision became blanketed with white spots, I slowly collapsed to the ground. It felt so soft as my brain blurred away. 

 

By what can only be described as divine intervention, I was found and woke up two weeks later. I couldn’t remember if the doctors or the deprivation had put me into a coma, but I quickly learned that was only the tip of the iceberg. 

 

I can remember most of what he’d told me, and none of it was good. 

 

“It’s like an eraser momentarily clipped your brain. Things are still present, but they are blurred.” He’d said. 

 

And that fact that I couldn’t remember what an eraser was only sold his point further. Equally so with the other biproducts. 

 

I couldn’t dilate my pupils, meaning I had to avoid heavy sources of light. My Utricle vestibules were shot, so I needed pills just to stand upright. My joints, believing the body had died, started cramping – though they were brought down to the occasional spasms with modern medicine. But beyond any amount of physical disfigurement, I’d sustained acute memory loss. 

 

It meant I had overtly reduced social capabilities, which were improvable but lacking in opportunity to do so given my pastime. Which in itself I could only remember snippets of. I could gauge my PLSS (Far more thoroughly now since I’d sustained the memory of the accident). Chart courses and markup plenty of extra gear but I couldn’t recall where or why I'd started without consulting the map. And even that didn’t give me everything. 

 

There were certain encumbering memories, I suppose, that were too important to forget. This reddish rocky headland that I could smell more than see. The Luna surface only from low orbit. A place in which, as far as I could tell, I hadn’t been back since that moment of overwhelming prosperity. 

 

The other notables were more defined through feelings. Anytime my stomach dropped in a certain way, I could tell I’d experienced whatever it was before. I remember a warmth, though the more attached I became to it, the colder it would get. It was often followed by an all-consuming frustration. 

 

There was a heated and fluttery feeling that would leave me uncontrollably grinning no matter the situation. And this bizarre bluntness that had no real evidence other than certainty.  

 

The doctor said it was completely unsafe for me to venture on the moon anymore, but he didn’t exactly stop me from leaving. I’d see points on the map, then follow them til’ everything hurt. 

 

I’d get a little bit more socially capable with each passing station, struggling to retain those lessons with days of continued walking. 

 

Any interactions or overtly conspicuous events for a planet’s satellite all simply became nothing more than background noise to a long-since-undefined goal of kinetic circularity. 

 

But I found some form of enjoyment with it all. I took what I knew about my generation’s norms and dared anyone to feel anything other than awe when gazing upon the distance of dry untouched and black outcrops with dunes and craters. No one had seen those sights before. 

 

That thought was one I’d differentiated as experiencing before due to my body's deja vu etch mimicking response. 

 

 

Sea of Rains or Mare Imbrium, 20 nautical miles northwest of Rim Mountain. 

 

 

Named such because of its half circle shape. Not exactly cutting-edge creativity.  

 

I was soon approaching a small canyon within the unevenly fragmented slopes hopefully shortcutting the difficult terrain. Something I didn’t want to face for a multitude of reasons. 

 

Navigation on uneven terrain would cost me more oxygen, which was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. I also didn’t think my suit could handle much more of a beating. 

 

I’d snatched it up right after my accident and had a growing theory it was older than me. It was a mix between a beachball and a knight’s armour. The ortho-fabric outer layer was mostly black, meaning my underlayer water cooling was double timed and had to be regularly replaced. Every joint bend was interchangeable and hyper manoeuvrable thanks to their ribbed frame and bearings at the articulations. My PLSS (outside of its cargo holsters) was relatively small, with three distinct tubes funnelling into my chest. Its tanks used to consist of pure oxygen, but recent adjustments allowed me to tailor it into my own personal atmosphere. Said holsters were mostly located around the top and kept all manner of belongings and food secure. Food that I could only eat through a small apparatus wedged into the side of my helmet which had plastic eyeshades acting as sideburns. It was all rounded off with a thermal shawl that hung over my shoulders and wrapped around the helmet, intentionally hanging above the visor to counter my photophobia and lack of a sunshield. I also had several stands of rope tied along my extra tanks clipped onto my side for other multipurpose uses. 

 

It didn’t take much longer before I subconsciously slowed. My strides falling sloppy and hitching abnormally. My gauging of the mountain shelf’s distance had been severely off, and I was now wanting to rest. I checked my gauge and saw I had 30 hours of oxygen. Sparing the calculations, if I only stopped for eight hours, I could still make it by the skin off my teeth. 

 

It wasn’t a pleasant arrangement, but I was fighting a losing battle with my body. 

 

Pressurised tents were always an option, if you wanted to chew up twice as much oxygen and weight. No real Pioneers settled for habitable comfort; they wanted to escape the pressured modules not drag them along. The real way to go about things was climbing up a dune, finding the slant of a rock, covering the light best you can before attempting the worst sleep of your life. 

 

It was a process I was beyond familiar with, hardly even noticing the back pain and fatigue anymore. I’d just unfold my shawl like a blanket and slowly close my eyes. Though I’d always leave a slant uncovered to watch my fingers twirl the dry sediment. It was my version of counting sheep – counting each sparkle grain that perfectly caught the light in the cascade. 

 

I’d wait for whatever poor circadian rhythm I’d developed to haphazardly disconnect my consciousness from reality and let it slip into slumber. Where my dreams were trials to reclaim what I once had. 

 

The reclamation on the antique lands I once resided within, but could no longer perceive. I’d ignore any past transgression just to get it back. While taking every preventative measure to halt whatever stupid ambition had brought me there. 

 

 

Sea of rains, 110 nautical miles northwest of Edmund city province.  

 

 

Then I woke, the dew of sleep sticking to my skin which I was powerless to alleviate since it wasn’t advised to remove portions of your suit in a vacuum. 

 

So in a classic routine, I ignored my discomfort and stood, then fell on my back. There was enough time to franticly flaial my arms around, but I’d learnt that didn’t make much of a difference. So I waited to jump back up, dusted the regolith, and continued to the tune of my hums. 

 

I came to the foot of the small canyon cut into the shelf which hung only a few meters above my head with just enough light disbanding its centermost shadows. 

 

I could’ve probably jumped to the top if I tired hard enough, though I couldn’t remember if I’d tired something like that before, nor if it was worth a reattempt. 

 

I was less than hundred meters away from the entrance when I saw sparkles creeping along the edges of my visor; more regolith catching in the sun only now churned from my boots I believed. Only my steps were hardly enough to disturb such a large amount. 

 

Curiously, I lightly turned my torso skyward and was greeted by a characteristically bright sun. But there was a clear difference. In my brief squint, I saw its outer regions brighten, dim, then brighten again. My breath hitched when I fully turned to see the ground tidally erasing my footprints in waves charged by billions of photons. Their source undoubtful. 

 

A solar storm. 

 

The terror I felt was electric as I began jumping towards the canyon, one foot boosting the other as my hairs stood and sweat quantified. I didn’t need increased radio static or a Geiger counter to know I was in deep. 

 

My insistence on travelling untapped doped me again, as I would've disappeared from the region entirely if I'd known a storm of pure radiation was brewing. Genreal infromation had told me anything below 1,000 grams would guarantee premature death, anything over would treat victims to a blood vomiting organ blackening end. 

 

And judging by how much regolith was now floating across the planes, I would suffer the latter in less than an hour. 

 

My only hope was to gamble that the canyon had a cave – it would be the only shelter from the sun that was now actively trying to kill me like never before. 

 

I tried to use the approaching canyon’s potential as a catalyst for hope that could narrow my thinking towards a clear solution. But even once I cleared the entrance, the moon found my hope problematic. 

 

I slipped in my hast and landed on my front in a collection of rocks. Train of thought derailed the second I heard a violent hissing, replacing everything with panicked instinct. 

 

Lacking the time for a full assessment, I drew to my stinging eyes and sharp pressure in my left hip. 

 

I deployed my advanced hole patching equipment (duct tape) and slammed several strips onto my visor, doing my best to focus on the broken sections and ignoring the glass pebbles gathering around my chin. 

 

I alternated between the helmet and my side, taking deep breaths in between to pinpoint the depressions. 

 

The feat had been made harder by my tubes, but I’d saved myself regardless. And as I started down the canyon, I noticed a small cave embedded nearby. 

 

I didn’t hesitate in climbing in and settling as deep as I could, not bothering with lights. Relief settled, but I knew it was far from over. 

 

There was nothing wrong with my oxygen levels at the time. But depending on how long the storm lasted, there could be. 

 

I clambered out and stumbled to the entrance some 20 minutes later only to find the regolith waves had formed large cylindrical plumes like slow motion parallel tornados. 

 

I wasn’t interested in dealing with that, so I waited longer. 

 

I didn’t know how long had passed until the storm passed, but it was enough to compromise my oxygen. And I didn’t have long to rectify it. 

 

I sighed deeply and began weaving through the canyon. I held an apparent sense of dread, but manged to keep the hysterics to a minimum. 

 

But though I wouldn’t admit it, I blinked down a few tears. It was beyond overwhelming to encounter the same situation that left me with only nonsensical thoughts. 

 

 

Aeroplana Dunae, or contested province shard #121, 99 nautical miles due west of Edmund city province. 

Causalities: 103 Fatalities: 77                   MIA: 12 

 

 

I cleared the range into a collection of dunes stretching for a sevral miles before several craters replaced the landscape with their circular, jagged ranges. 

 

Not having any other options, I kept walking with the hope of salvation. Cresting hill after hill checkered with rocks and tiny craters. It wasn’t long before the low oxygen became notable; particularly with my deep breaths cut off by the maximised pressure. It made breathing a challenge and focus that impaired my walking and sight. 

 

But then, salvation. 

 

I crested another hill and saw a rover sitting near a crescent formation I couldn't see the innards off. The rover was on the larger side with a bulbous cockpit that flowed into a boxy cabin around 15 meters long. Its wheels were lowered and solar panels deployed, with clear steps to the airlock. 

The sight wasn't the strange part, asking for help was. Though, lacking any other option, I started towards it.  

My raw dogging method was proving ineffective once more as I had no radio to contact them with. My only option was to go up to the airlock and knock until I got a response. To my unexpected luck, after a few hits I got something.  

A figure cladded in the shadows and condensation of the second door window watched me. I signed the universal SOS signal, but they didn’t respond. I did my best to hold up my oxygen gauge, in which they disappeared shortly after. 

Things weren’t entirely urgent, not yet. But my paranoia about the issue beforehand was already quantifiable. Now that it had happened, I was in aneurysm territory. But then suddenly the door opened, and I didn’t hesitate to hop in and shut it behind me. 

The figure was more comprehensible that time. He was pale with a buzz cut still housing several twirled strands. Nothing else about him was noteworthy other than a concerning firmness towards my desperate state.  

I hit some recognisable buttons on a touch panel and heard the room rapidly pressurise.  

The second I saw the monitor dip above 4 psi, I tore my helmet off; gasping like a dying fish without reason to. The non recycled air was rich like a soup, and far more pure than anything I’d had at other stations in the last few months.  

I inhaled as much as possible, then started concerning my predicament.  

I opened the door, convinced everything was okay, then quickly realised it wasn’t.  

I was greeted with the barrel of an MD-29 Luna pistol; a notably slim weapon designed for personal defence of the working class. Though this one had been modified making the smooth weapon more robust around the front. 

Behind him were two others: a girl with frantic blond hair, and another clean-shaven man.  

“Bouger!”, the gunman ordered, pushing the gun to my temple.  

The language wasn't understood; the motion was. 

I stumbled through the craft; limited by the bulky suit and change in lighting. 

The innards maintained a firm layer of grime and tangled wires from opened panels. It was a far cry from the pinnacle of tech. It was merely a tool that worked no matter the condition.  

Presently, I preformed more of an angling onto the corner bed than sitting; resting my back further up the mattress with my feet working support. And my hands alternated between balancing and holding as the man belligerently waved the weapon.  

There was another bunk beside us connected to a kitchenette where the other man leaned against. The girl approached from the cockpit which was a blur of flickering controls and a panoramic windows. I had just enough time to see the air freshener handing on the dashboard before she enveloped my sight. 

Whatever they were doing out here wasn’t approved. 

“Nous avons besoin que vous fassiez quelque chose pour nous” the gunman said.  

The girl took over as she realised my confusion. 

Her voice was smooth with a Canadian accent, though she was directly radiating nefarious business. 

“You understand the situation you're in, don’t you?”  

I stared down the barrel again, “Pretty clearly, yeah” 

“Then you’ll do as I say”  

I motioned her on with wide eyes, and she reached behind me and pointed through the window. There was a modular base with three adjacent cube structures sitting on a grainy hill wedged into the crescent. 

“That base was an outpost during the war, meaning they probably have goods in it”  

I nodded with a twitch; my brain only interpreting the takeaways.  

“Our dilemma is they mined that entire hill”  

She didn’t have to finish.  

“You want me to scope a path”  

“Your going to scope a path, Pioneer”  

I looked to the other men, who nodded in agreement.  

“What if I say no?”  

The gunman racked the slide.  

“Understanding?”  

“Understanding” I said begrudgingly. 

I put my helmet back on and set off for the base. Halfway between the rover and hill I turned to see three all looking at me through the window; wearing their promise in their stares. 

I was surprisingly content with the situation – the fear of death didn’t belong there. The acknowledgement of its presence was far more fitting. So I acknowledged that if it was my time then so be it. 

 

Still I wore my concerns when I decided to throw a rock at the mound and was met with a rather quick reception. 

  

I watched it slowly spin through the air before almost perfectly hitting one of the heads for a split second. Then it exploded.  

 

A small cloud of regolith blew some two meters upwards; sending rocks flying in its wake. I curled and turned as they landed nearby, with one hitting the back of my head with the clunk.  

 

I looked back up at the small, blackened creator, then back at the rover’s eager occupants. And after seeing there enweaving expressions, I proceeded up the hill. 

 

Hardly even on it and I spotted something distinct. triangular metallic heads cutting through the coarse sand. If the base really had been there from the war, it would’ve seen storms twice the size of the previous one. Meaning the poorly buried mines were semi exposed. 

 

All I had to do was shuffle carefully around them. I triumphantly sprung onto the hill’s levelled top were the disjointed base sat.  

 

Any matter of insulation and windows were almost entirely covered. Same design feature went for the legs, and the perimeter which was lined with long dormant lights. But the biggest giveaway was the flagpole. Two flew from it: a grey and gold depiction of the moon cladded with an anchor behind and NATO compass in front, the description semper protegens wrapped bellow in a golden banner. And a red circle encompassed by a golden one.  

 

They were two flags representative of the Off World Defence Force (OWDF). Specifically the Lunar Defence Force (LDF) branch and the Moon Marines and Japanese aviation crop chapters respectively.   

 

Defiantly a military base. 

 

I didn’t look back before heading towards it’s insides. 

 

With my brief stints in abandoned bases, I had a feeling it would be depressurised. This turned out to be true as the door gave way to my push and I lumbered inside. 

 

I switch my single shoulder mounted torch on to reveal particles floating above as I treaded over years of neglect. They’d catch in my miniscule light just enough to be distracting. 

 

The base itself was barely visible down its corridors; save for a few windows inhibited in a similar fashion to my light. Though its military past was visible though the pure metal structure and remaining instruments hardly passing as science or life support. And I do mean remaining – most left on desks or furniture were picked clean by its fleeing owners or past looters. 

 

Everything else was trashed; all appearing like they were collectively dragged towards one singular source. 

 

Anything of value was either useless or impossible to find. 

 

After a long while of struggling to find oxygen, I found my breathing become overtly apparent as I entered a particularly encasing fabric and Kevlar hall. 

 

I found the broken window which was probably the cause of the trashing – something that I wanted no further part in exploring. 

 

Given the abundance of wreaks it wasn’t uncommon to go through one, but that one felt different. Something terrible happened there, and I was willing to give up my desperate endeavour to escape that reality. 

 

I began slowly moving through the halls looking for an exit; like some spectre observing a long past battle while holding an urgency to join the great majority. 

 

Soon I came to a connecting room with a hot bunking setup that intrigued me. Six enclosed beds were set linearly against the wall. I shifted my massive form between one of them, finding an assortment of old clothes and memorabilia scattered across the four beds. I was compelled to a paper tucked under a sheet when a sudden force flung me out and across the space. 

 

My legs bent as I hit the back wall, though I was quickly able to bounce back up and unintentionally nudged the force away. They wore a similar pressure suit with a smaller PLSS, and larger helmet covered by a sunshield. 

 

They were holding a gun and slowly pointing it towards my face. 

 

I gasped and grabbed his arm trying to wrestle the weapon away. I watched them struggle to pull the trigger as I tightened my grip. 

 

Two bullets fired and sparked the floor nearby, but made no sound. 

 

My only reception were grunts and pants. 

 

We banked downwards as I wrestled for the gun. 

 

They landed a punch on my ribs, but the low force and padding saved me from any real harm. 

 

I knocked the gun from his hand – but they didn’t hesitate in diving after it. 

 

Subsequently I did the same, only I utilized my extra mass to body slam on top of them. 

 

I heard part of my tape rip, but it was worth it as the two of us sprang into the air, watching the gun drift further. 

 

I took advantage of the daze and yanked their leg hard; taking a beat to watch them hit a bunk before scrambling toward the gun. 

 

Finally, I secured the weapon but struggled to fit the trigger around my fingers. 

 

It wasn’t long before they were on top of me again; now grasping at my tubing to disconnect my oxygen. 

 

In a move acquitted to survival instinct, I swung around and aimed at his head; resulting in their frantic counterattack that I pushed aside. 

 

Once he was behind me, without any hesitation, I fired. 

 

A bullet whizzed through the back of the helmet, punching through the plastic and carbon; sending a stream of compressed air and blood droplets towards me. 

 

As I watched their pain, I shot again, this time, connecting with the visor. 

 

A controlled hole tore through it with the same spurting reaction, but now their knees folded inwards, and they slumped to the floor in slow motion. 

 

My shaking wasn’t overtly apparent under the layers, which I attribute to why it was so easy to bend down and open their sunshield. 

 

The bullet left two firm red holes through his eye and nape, which were both immediately arctic around the edges. His remaining eye bloodshot and crystallised around the lids. 

 

I looked down at the gun, a small white revolver with a blocky chamber. Produced in a modern time when space firearms were no longer restricted to exact design principals or conflicts and could just be guns. I sluggishly popped the chamber open to see there was only one bullet left.  

 

For less than a beat, I contemplated using it on myself. Then I started pondering its better uses. 

 

I wanted to go and teach the rover crew a lesson, but once I was outside, it was gone. 

 

Perhaps some stray bullet had escape my view but not theirs –leading to the choice to fight another day. 

 

There wasn’t any oxygen in the base, but I soon saw a seemingly long structure with two dots nearby and a large track following them. 

 

Seeing the same option, I started bouncing from heal to heal towards them. I was highly aware of the stupidity of repeating the same actions that got me into the mess. 

 

But now I had a gun. 

 

110 nautical miles due northwest of Edmund city province.  

 

 

To be continued.... Two weeks from now

Theoretically speaking, what is the smallest a power source can be while having a high energy density? If you wanted a ranged weapon that was the size of a rifle or an rpg at most, are there any theoretically possible power cells that could fit in a device that small while being able to produce a large amount of usable energy relative to its size?


**Welcome to** r/DrNoamOrbital

Deep City is a subterranean megastructure inhabited by robots, buried beneath the frozen ruins of New York City.

It is not a single story.

It is a fragmented metanarrative evolving across multiple timelines, expeditions, lost records, comics, archives, and anomalies.
Each subreddit represents a different layer of the system.

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**CORE PROJECT**

[deep-city-project.org](https://deep-city-project.org/)

The canonical entry point into the Deep City universe.
The place where everything appears organized.
The illusion of control over narrative chaos.

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**SUBREDDITS**

r/ProyectoDeepCity
Main hub of the Deep City universe.
News, archives, chronology, and updates.
The connection point between all narrative branches.

r/DrNoamOrbital
Field journal of Expedition EX306pA-QW.
Scientific logs and misadventures of Dr. Noam Ørbital.
A research record of Deep City — 2407 CE / 306 p.A.

r/DeepCity_2060pA The origin of Deep City’s collapse (\~2361–2365 CE).
A 3D sci-fi noir comic.
Technological paranoia, systemic decay, and corporate satire.

[r/DeepCityComics/](https://www.reddit.com/r/DeepCityComics/) Test before post in r/DeepCity_2060pA

**“If you’re reading this, you’re probably already part of the system.”**
**— Morris Sic**

Hi everyone,

I wanted to share a science fiction project I’ve been building called The New Hope Chronicles.

The first release is Archive One: The Signal.

It begins in 2025, when humanity receives its first confirmed message from beyond Earth — a signal containing data, technology, and something much more dangerous: a warning buried deep inside the transmission.

The story is not written like a traditional novel. It is told through recovered archive documents, including personal journals, classified reports, surveillance transcripts, audio logs, system records, news articles, military orders, and fragments of history.

The first archive follows Ava Ram, a young SETI analyst who discovers the signal, and the people around her as the discovery is quickly pulled into secrecy, military control, fear, and cover-up.

At its heart, the series is about first contact, AI overconfidence, filtered truth, human agency, and the question of who gets to decide what humanity is allowed to know.

Archive One: The Signal is the beginning of a much larger story spanning hundreds of years.

Anyone who registers on the website will get access to the first-hand archives as they become available.

Website / Register:
https://signal.ayvatech.com.au/#register

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61591765081482&sk=reels_tab

The Signal Arrives.
Archive One launches July 30, 2026.

I’d love to connect with other sci-fi writers and readers. Feedback, thoughts, and discussion are very welcome.

#TheNewHopeChronicles #ArchiveOne #TheSignal #ScienceFiction #SciFiWriters #FirstContact #AlienSignal #SpeculativeFiction #IndieAuthor #SciFiBooks

Hi! I need help and get feedback on my writing i've been working on. I will take any feed back and please tell me how you thought about it. :)

(*updated*)

Beyond Earth

Humanity’s Future Among the Stars

Introduction

Space is something that I believe we should all invest more resources and effort into. The idea of exploring distant solar systems and discovering worlds that no human has ever seen before is one of the most exciting possibilities for our future. In 1992, the first confirmed exoplanets (planets found outside of our solar system) were discovered by astronomers Aleksander Wolszczan and Dale Frail. These planets were orbiting PSR B1257+12, a pulsar that was created from the remains of a massive star after a supernova. This discovery changed our understanding of the universe by proving that planets exist beyond our own Solar System and showing that there are countless worlds waiting to be discovered.

There are many star systems near us, but the closest star system to Earth is Alpha Centauri. It is a little more than four light-years away and contains three stars, including Proxima Centauri. Proxima Centauri has a planet inside the Goldilocks zone (the area around a star where temperatures may allow liquid water to exist on a planet's surface) called Proxima Centauri b. It is the closest potentially habitable exoplanet to Earth. However, scientists do not know if Proxima Centauri b could support life. Studying planets like Proxima Centauri b helps scientists understand how Earth-like worlds might support life.

Investing in Space Exploration

Today, NASA, the United States’ primary government agency for space exploration and scientific research, receives less than 1% of the entire U.S. federal budget, around 0.3% in recent years. Of NASA’s small budget, many large-scale missions require decades of planning, development, and testing before they become a reality. In the 1960s, during the Apollo missions, NASA received 4% of the federal budget. The larger investment allowed NASA to rapidly develop technology needed to achieve goals that were once thought impossible.

Returning to the Moon

After decades without humans on the Moon, humanity is preparing to take the next step in lunar exploration. Going back to the Moon is NASA’s next step with the Artemis program. Unlike the Apollo program which was focused on reaching the Moon, the Artemis program is focused on creating a sustainable presence on the lunar surface and preparing for future missions farther in space.

The Challenges of Deep-Space Exploration

NASA is capable of building spacecraft that can reach deep space, but traveling farther requires large amounts of energy and fuel. Carrying enough fuel for such long-distance missions is very difficult because the farther a spacecraft travels, the more energy it needs. Current rockets use chemical fuels that are powerful enough to leave Earth and reach other planets, but they are not efficient enough for extremely long-distance missions. Going to other star systems would require new means of propulsion that have higher fuel efficiency. That is just one of the four main problems that limit how far we can reach.

The second problem that limits deep-space travel is keeping the crew alive during the long-term missions. The crew will need a constant supply of food, water, and oxygen to survive. Carrying enough supplies for years of travel creates a major challenge. The resources add a large amount of weight to the spacecraft, which makes it harder to launch the spacecraft. 

All the spacecraft needs is a way to recycle and manage the resources for long periods of time. Future space craft will need advanced life-support systems that can recycle important resources instead of depending only on supplies brought from Earth. For example, water could be filtered and reused, and oxygen could be produced or recycled onboard the spacecraft. Making reliable systems like these will be necessary before humans can travel farther into the Solar System and reach other stars.

A possible solution for long-term missions is suspended animation, where the crew could be placed into a deep-sleep like state for an extended period of time. The problem with this solution is that suspended animation is much harder than it appears in science fiction. Scientists have studied ideas like this, but they still do not know how to safely slow down the human body for months or years without causing serious damage.

The third problem that limits deep-space exploration is communication between Earth and spacecraft. As spacecraft travel farther away, the time it takes for messages to travel between Earth and the crew increases. For example, if a spacecraft was located near Proxima Centauri b, a message sent from Earth would take about 4.24 years to arrive. A response sent back to Earth would take another 4.24 years, meaning a simple exchange of information would take over eight years. This delay would make it impossible for astronauts to rely on Earth for immediate instructions or help during emergencies. Future spacecraft will need advanced computers and systems that allow them to operate more independently without constant communication with Earth.

The fourth problem that limits deep-space exploration is protecting crew from radiation. On Earth, humans are protected from most radiation by Earth’s atmosphere and Earth’s magnetic field. However, spacecraft traveling through deep-space has no protection like on Earth. The crew on long missions would be exposed to radiation from the sun and cosmic rays from outside our solar system. High levels of radiation exposure can increase the risk of health problems, this is dangerous for the crew. Spacecraft have radiation protection that is being improved so crew can be safer when exploring space. If there are all these problems, why should we spend more resources on space?

Overcoming the Challenges

Although these challenges may seem impossible, history has shown that major investments in science and engineering can solve problems that seemed beyond human possibility. During the Apollo missions, the increased funding allowed NASA to develop new technologies that made landing on the Moon possible. The investment let us develop more efficient propulsion systems used in the lander that helped land humans on the Moon.

NASA is not the only organization working to solve these problems. Private space companies, such as SpaceX, are also developing new technologies that could make deep-space exploration practical and affordable. By working alongside NASA, these companies are helping accelerate development of reusable rockets, more efficient spacecraft, and future systems that can take us all to the Moon, Mars, and beyond.

Some people say hard sci-fi means no violations of known physics. Others say it means taking the implications of technology seriously or just mean "it felt rigorous enough that I trusted it."
That's three completely different definitions and they'll give you three different answers on whether The Expanse, Arrival, or even 2001 actually qualifies. We're developing a tactic game Frontier: Path of Shadows and trying to fit into the hard sci-fi setting.

Is hard sci-fi a threshold you either cross or you don't?

So, I'm working on a Godzilla fanfic where our best boy is a living weapon bioengineered by advanced humans.

I want there to be different "models" of Godzilla, each one iterating and improving on the capabilities of the one before it.

I was curious what kind of various scientifically plausible materials might be used to make him, but I feel like I have a few components on either end of the scale and not much in the middle.

On the one hand we've got perfectly nanoengineered components like pure graphene, carbon nanotubes, perfectly arranged tungsten with no imperfections, etc.

A little higher up the ladder would be some potential materials in the islands of stability higher up in the periodic table. I think I remember there was a stable metal up there with an estimated density of like 42 g/cm3

And then WAAAAAY on the other end of the spectrum, it's pretty much neutron star nuclear pasta and strange matter.

Does any one know of examples of scientifically plausible materials that fall in between these realms of durability?

I'm generally thinking "durability" as it would be evaluated under hypervelocity impacts (like tank shells or railguns) intense thermal exposure (high intensity plasma/laser from weapons like nuclear shaped charges or nuclear pumped x ray lasers) and enormous pressure, (like those found in the hypocenter of nukes or by other kaiju with super strength)

All help and leads in any direction is appreciated. Preferably, I'd like to enter a wikipedia haze, only coming to my senses hours later, possessing knowledge on the universe that man was never meant to understand.

(Prevoius thread: https://www.reddit.com/r/HardSciFi/comments/1s8k9jp/im_building_a_midcenturyfuturistic_ive_heard_it/ )

This has been my passion project for over a year now, and I'm posting it here because I genuinely think you would be interested in it. Let me know what you think, and any ideas you'd like to see as gameplay elements on Titan!

"I’ve been working on a Hard Sci-Fi story, 'FirstCargo2Mars', focusing heavily on structural statics, thermodynamic zoning, and orbital mechanics. I’m an engineer myself, and I’ve tried to build the narrative around the technical constraints of spaceflight rather than just using them as a backdrop.

The document linked contains the first 21 pages. I’m looking for critical feedback specifically on the technical plausibility and the logical consistency of the physics in this setting. Please be as critical as you like – I’m interested in the engineering aspects, not just the story flow."