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Self-Limiting

In the previous science speculation chapter, "Future Speculations", I discussed some future concepts for obtaining "free energy" out of things that normally are not considered energy sources, such as linear and angular momentum. I predicted that the conversion of a single unit of atomic angular momentum into energy should produce the energy of a half a ton of TNT—if only some method could be found to accomplish it. This potential source of energy would be even more powerful than the source of energy realized from the fissioning of atomic nuclei in a nuclear bomb. All we need to do is find the technology needed to carry out the conversion.
  

What has always amazed me, is that the technology need to obtain energy out of an atomic nucleus by nuclear fission turned out to be very simple—so simple it is almost like magic. No sophisticated high technology machines are needed. You merely bring two large pieces of enriched uranium or plutonium near each other and the nuclear chain reaction starts—like magic! There is even evidence that a few million years ago, a large, particularly rich body of uranium ore in the French Congo spontaneously went critical and started generating heat when it was flooded during the rainy seasons. The ore from that lode is depleted in the isotope of uranium that fissions, compared to the normal uranium isotopic composition found in other ore bodies.
  

For many years after hearing about the natural nuclear reactor in the Congo, I mused about how a similar thing might happen involving life forms who—driven by evolutionary pressures—bring about a nuclear chain reaction. The following short story was soon written in my mind. But, from a fiction point of view, the plot concept seemed limited to short story length, while from a scientific point of view, the evolutionary pressures seemed weak, so I just stored the concept in the back of my mind and let it rest there for a number of decades, where it served as a focus for collecting relevant ideas on similar subjects. In about 1990, I finally thought of a plausible scenario and a plausible alien life-form, where the evolutionary drive for the life-form to develop nuclear power was much more believable. To develop that scenario properly required a novel-length story. The novel is Camelot 30K, and I won't spoil the plot by telling you what form of nuclear power the aliens develop. Once I had started on the novel and its aliens, however, I finally felt free enough to get this short story out of the back of my mind and put it in print, where it appeared in the May 1992 issue of Analog Science Fiction/Science Fact, Volume 112, Number 6, pages 90-92. 

 

 

 

There are no millionaires on Xanax.

It is, however, easy to make a living on Xanax. Lord Melcor insures that. When a young xanit leaves the hatchery, he is apprenticed to a tradesman, who shares his dwelling and teaches the apprentice his trade. When the tradesman dies, the young xanit takes over the dwelling and the trade. By applying a little effort, the zorins flow in. Most of the zorins are spent on necessities and taxes, but Lord Melcor is easy on his people, and there are always some zorins left to go into the money pit for use in old age.

As the years pass, the money pit slowly fills with stacks of 100-zorin coins stamped with the likeness of Lord Melcor. The coins are a lustrous silvery-gray, made from a precious metal extracted by magical processes from rare and poisonous ores by Lord Melcor's alchemists.

By middle age, the average xanit has over a thousand 100-zorin coins in his money pit. About that time he is assigned an apprentice. For a few years, the work is harder, since the apprentice must be taught. But soon the apprentice takes over and it is time to retire. It is now the time of life for sitting on eggs, while playing long games of pastil with other retired xanits, and most fun of all, telling stories of the old days to young hatchlings.

Fortunately for xanits, the end comes swiftly. One morning, late in life, a xanit rises from sleep to see that his wrinkled skin has turned from a healthy green to a dull grey. He knows then that he has only one day to live, and will die in his sleep that night. The xanit takes the last of the zorins out of his money pit, gives a generous bonus to his apprentice, and then goes out into the streets to give the rest of his money away.

It is not easy to give money away on Xanax. The average xanit, when asked, will reply that he has enough. But occasionally, there will be some that have suffered an illness or accident, and whose money pit does not have enough zorins. They tell the giver how much they need and he willingly gives it to them, for there is no dishonesty and no greed on Xanax.

Then, one day, something went wrong in the development of an egg, and Queed was hatched. Queed made it through the hatchery and his apprenticeship without incident, but when his mentor turned grey and set to the task of giving away the last of his money, Queed wasn't satisfied with his generous bonus, but lied and said that he needed it all. The mentor believed him, and gave Queed all of his fortune.

The next night, Queed expanded his money pit. A typical money pit would hold about a thousand 100-zorin coins. Queed made his money pit ten times larger. When full, it would hold ten thousand 100-zorin coins—a million zorins worth! Queed's greedy body vibrated in ecstasy at the thought of being a millionaire. He was appalled, however, when he saw that his two bags of money only covered one corner of the deep pit. He would have to find a faster way of making money than working at his trade. Then Queed thought of an idea, an idea so foreign to Xanax that there wasn't even a word for it. Queed would "rob" the zorins from the money pits of his neighbors.

Once Queed had made this breakthrough in dishonesty and greed, the bags of coins in his money pit grew rapidly. Each day he would walk the streets until he saw a middle-aged tradesman leave his dwelling to go on some errand. Since Xanax dwellings do not have locks, Queed would simply walk in and take the zorins from the money pit. He didn't bother with the smaller coins, but only stole the massive silvery-grey 100-zorin coins.

Each night after a robbery, he would go to his money pit and get out his rapidly growing treasure. The coins were warm. He played with them, and stacked them, and counted them. Then, he would put them back into the large bags that held one thousand coins each and return them to his money pit. Soon, there were nine bags arranged around the perimeter of the pit, with a hole in the middle for the last bag. When that hole was filled, Queed would be a millionaire.

The next day, Queed was very lucky. He saw a prosperous middle-aged tradesman and his apprentice both leave a well-appointed dwelling. He quickly went inside and scooped stacks of 100-zorin coins from both money-pits into his bag. As he hurried back to his dwelling with his heavy load, Queed was overjoyed. The bag of silvery-gray coins felt much heavier than the ones at home. He entered his dwelling, and leaning over the money pit, he gloated as he dropped the bag of coins into the hole that was waiting for it. Queed could hardly wait until it was night-time and he could take out all the coins and count them. He was now certainly a millionaire!

As the heavy bag of silvery-grey coins made of pure plutonium 239 dropped into the waiting hole, the money pit went critical and exploded . . .

There are no millionaires on Xanax.

 

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