McAndrew stood at the outer lock, ready to open it. I pulled the whistle from the lapel of my jacket and blew hard. The varying triple tone sounded through the lock. Penalty for improper use of any Sturm Invocation was severe, whether you used spoken, whistled, or electronic methods. I had never invoked it before, but anyone who goes into space, even if it is just a short trip from Earth to Moon, must receive Sturm vacuum survival programming. One person in a million uses it. I stood in the lock, waiting to see what would happen to me.From doing research myself and from bits of interviews, I gather that Sheffield was a guy who did his homework, so take that as you will.
The sensation was strange. I still had full command of my movements, but a new set of involuntary activities came into play. Without any conscious decision to do so I found that I was breathing hard, hyperventilating in great gulps. My eye-blinking pattern had reversed. Instead of open eyes with rapid blinks to moisten and clean the eyeball, my lids were closed except for brief instants. I saw the lock and the space outside as quick snapshots. The Sturm Invocation had the same effect on McAndrew, as his own deep programming took over for vacuum exposure. When I nodded, he swung open the outer lock door. The air was gone in a puff of ice vapor. As my eyes flicked open I saw the capsule at the top of the landing tower. To reach it we had to traverse sixty meters of the interstellar vacuum. And we had to carry Sven Wicklund's unconscious body between us.
For some reason I had imagined that the Sturm vacuum programming would make me insensitive to all pain. Quite illogical, since you could permanently damage your body all too easily in that situation. I felt the agony of expansion through my intestines, as the air rushed out of all my body cavities. My mouth was performing an automatic yawning and gasping, emptying the Eustachian tube to protect my ear drums and delicate inner ear. My eyes were closed to protect the eyeballs from freezing, and open just often enough to guide my body movements. Holding Wicklund between us, McAndrew and I pushed off into the open depths of space. Ten seconds later, we intersected the landing tower about twenty meters up. Sturm couldn't make a human comfortable in space, but he had provided a set of natural movements that corresponded to a zerogee environment. They were needed. If we missed the tower there was no other landing point within light-years.
The metal of the landing tower was at a temperature several hundred degrees below freezing. Our hands were unprotected, and I could feel the ripping of skin at each contact. That was perhaps the worst pain. The feeling that I was a ball, over-inflated and ready to burst, was not a pain. What was it? That calls for the same sort of skills as describing sight to a blind man. All I can say is that once in a lifetime is more than enough. Thirty seconds in the vacuum, and we were still fifteen meters from the capsule. I was getting the first feeling of anoxia, the first moment of panic. As we dropped into the capsule and tagged shut the hatch I could feel the black clouds moving around me, dark nebulae that blanked out the bright star field.
INSKEEP: Now you mentioned that you need to provide everything that an astronaut would need for up to eight hours in space at a time. The obvious requirement is oxygen, but what else is there?A few related previous questions that might be useful:
Mr. FRANCIS: Well, water, food. They do have a small snack that they can actually eat that's inside the helmet. We actually...
INSKEEP: How do they get at that?
Mr. FRANCIS: Well, it's basically on the side of the helmet and they have to move their head inside the helmet to eat it. Maybe not so obvious, one of the things you can't do is you can't get your hand inside the helmet, so you have to be able to move your head to drink. You have to be able to move your head to eat.
INSKEEP: What's the snack?
Mr. FRANCIS: You know, I don't--it's like an energy bar-type thing. I don't--I've never had one myself, so I can't tell you exactly what it is, but..
INSKEEP: I would think, you know, as the vice president and general manager of the company, they'd make you eat a few of those.
Mr. FRANCIS: Well, we don't make the snacks. We just make the suit.
INSKEEP: And I guess it's probably not in a wrapper or anything like that. Little problem.
Mr. FRANCIS: No, a wrapper on the snack would be a real problem. But we do provide water. We also, obviously, have to provide to remove the water from the environment. You know, otherwise, humidity would build up on the inside of the helmet.
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An interesting question is how long before one passes out in vacuum. Estimates range from 15 seconds to 30 seconds.
Tens seconds might be ok, but it would be very brutal.
posted by bonehead at 11:12 AM on October 26 [3 favorites]