Futuristic Out Of The World Solutions To Space

In every aspect, space is perilous, and any endeavor to colonize it will be plagued with danger and pain. Because whatever inter-dimensional intelligence constructed the universe sure wanted us, humans, to stay the hell on Earth.

In this article, we're going to talk about the futuristic out of the world solutions to space problems:

Sleep in a vacuum-sleeping bag.

When you sleep on Earth, fluids accumulate in your skull as well. And it gives you the freshly awoken puffiness that you see mirrored in the coffee carafe as you shakily move it to your cup. On Earth, however, fluids redistribute to the rest of the body after (if) you get up and go about your day. No such luck in microgravity. They keep swirling throughout the head, causing yet another major complication: vision problems.

Fluid buildup eventually deteriorates the eyes, altering their shape or stretching the optic nerve, which transmits visual signals to the brain.

More than half of the astronauts who spent six months or more aboard the International Space Station returned with vision impairments. Some people gain farsightedness, while others need aid to complete activities.

Such barriers might be costly on a longer, two-year Mars journey, when lives may be at stake during colonization operations.

To remedy the problem, UT Southwestern collaborated with outdoor-supply company REI to develop a sleeping bag that acts like a vacuum cleaner, gently sucking off astronauts while they sleep.

The findings were promising after a 72-hour period spent lying down (courtesy of the test subject above), with the nights spent inside the half-body blowjob wonder-bag. The bag did draw fluids from the skull area, assisting in avoiding additional strain on the eyes.

Blood-Dirt-Pee Concrete

If getting items into orbit is expensive, getting them to Mars is prohibitively expensive. It's predicted that shipping a single brick to Mars would cost around $2 million. So why not construct Mars bricks? We'll have everything we need, thanks to the abundance of dust on Mars and the abundance of biological fluids in our astronauts.

The University of Manchester recently developed "AstroCrete," an interplanetary concrete consisting of Martian dust (regolith) and a protein (human serum albumin) from blood. As one would expect,

The resulting AstroCrete had a compressive strength of up to 25 MPa (Megapascals), which is comparable to conventional concrete, which has a compressive strength of 20–32 MPa. How?

The scientists could have turned around, clapped themselves on the back, and gone to the bar for a Boddingtons. No, they reinforced their AstroCrete by adding another biological substance: urea. It won't be missed by astronauts because it's a waste product expelled by urine, perspiration, and tears.

In-situ manufacturing on Mars might produce more than 1,100 pounds of this material over the course of a two-year mission. That's enough for a space crew to double their housing possibilities, gradually establishing the groundwork for an ever-expanding Martian colony.

Moon-A Gas Station

NASA's Moon Mineralogy Mapper instrument (installed on India's frugal Chandrayaan-1 mission) verified in 2018 that our natural satellite has a reasonable amount of frozen water at its poles. Locked away in the Moon's darkest and coldest areas, resting in polar craters where the sun never shines and temperatures never rise above -250 degrees Fahrenheit.

This water, if freed from its everlasting darkness and chill, could nourish farms, cool spacemen, and provide a key source of fuel. After all, rocket propellant is simply liquid hydrogen and oxygen combined to produce a loud boom. However, rockets must carry full propellant from the start, wasting a lot of space and mass and increasing launch costs.

However, we may avoid this issue by gathering said ice with one of those badass lunar-thresher-looking things:

In the world of space technology, however, 125 Gs is the equivalent of that tarnished coin you discovered while cleaning cruller crumbs from your floor mats.

Redwire's design was chosen because it is simple, cost-effective, and lacks sophisticated mechanisms that could backfire in a variety of ways. Instead, it uses a small Lunar Regolith Excavator (L-REX) to dig out icy soil and a low-mass rover, the Lunar Transporter (L-Tran), to transport the L-REX and all the ice.

Despite their simplicity, a Tran and Rex team could provide NASA with 60,000 pounds of water each year. Perhaps enough to lift the Draconian, Expanse-style water limitations and give astronauts a good rest.

Cosmic Chain Mail

The cost of launching materials into space is thousands of dollars per pound. It's difficult for astronauts to pick between crucial tools, life-saving equipment, and a life-size Michael Clarke Duncan statue from Armageddon.

This chainmail-style "space fabric" has excellent thermal properties, strength, malleability, and adaptability. And, unlike the substance that shielded medieval crusaders while they fought over who loved God the most and best way possible, the cosmic version does not necessitate the time-consuming, painstaking connecting of numerous tiny rings. It's created via additive manufacturing, sometimes known as 3D printing.

It has several uses because this and other second-space-age designs are appreciated for their versatility. For starters, the cosmic chain mail is a thermal gangster, capable of operating on both ends of the temperature range. Its gleaming surface reflects light, potentially shielding people and probes from being fried. And the non-shiny side absorbs light, keeping everyone warm when the crew's comic relief member slips the Moonbase keys down a grate, locking everyone out on the Lunar surface.

This version is intended to be cheaply printed on the fly, whether in deep space or on a distant planet inhabited by cutlass-wielding marauders from the Age of Sail. It can be made from basic printing materials, such as melting plastics, the vapors of which coat the lungs so wonderfully.

The chain armor is sturdy, and it may protect spacefarers and craft against micrometeorites, a drop-down a Martian ravine, or space-worms. To face tough, uneven terrain, it can conform to varied shapes without surrendering any tensile strength. Put a coat of mail on a rover or some landing struts, and it can easily cross rocks.

Slick Space Garments

The reality of space suits has always been utilitarian, making them heavy and unattractive. But that is no longer the case thanks to the folks at Boeing, who are ushering in a huge evolution in cosmic exploration. The B-Blue is a next-generation spacesuit for passengers aboard Boeing's next-generation aircraft, the reusable CST-100 Starliner, which will one-day shuttle people (and deadly AI systems) to the International Space Station and various low-Earth orbit destinations, such as space-Guantanamo and other covert orbital interrogation camps.

Cosmic explorers will benefit from better suit design, utility, and eye-pleasing aesthetics when dressed in their soothingly deep hues.

It is just a device for transporting tiny constituents into a large, dark, scary abyss:

However, instead of delivering constipation-relieving chemicals, this suppository will tear through the anus of near-Earth space to deliver seven passengers, who could be scientists, space tourists, or Saturn spies.