QUOTE(Wolfpack @ Jun 20 2008, 02:14 PM)

I am really concerned about the lack of humanity in you, does your soul NOT guide you to new, exciting and thrilling experiences? I see most of you wish to remain safe and certain, not wanting change at all, or wanting reward for your acts. I laugh at you, cold hearted robots, laughing at my supposed lack of humanity.
Well, I'd do it even if nobody would know I was the guy who tripulated that ship. I do not care about rewards for after my death I won't be able to rejoice on them, I'd rather wish to live life to it's fullest. And by the way, if I had the opportunity to travel to the depths of space I'd probably not come back because of personal choice and not because of technical limitations.
I have something that might be of relevance. When Marge Simpson spent days inside a glass dome that covered all of Springfield, she said, "I think what I miss the most is the feel of the wind blowing."
Now, consider this, exploring space is not like exploring earth. Within our planet, our ancient mariners spent months, or maybe a year, at sea, but there's always fishes to catch, islands to land on, reefs to avoid, ports to moor in, gulfs to take shelter in, natives to trade with, heck, they even have each other to play cards with and, generally, share 99 bottles of good rum. They had the sun, moon, stars, wind, storm, rain, lightning, thunder, sea, spray, foam, whirlpools and ocean currents to keep them a rather lively company.
In space, there is nothing. Oh sure, you'd get to cross the asteroid belt and see Jupiter two years after leaving Earth. Within twelve years, you could be viewing the frigid Neptune. Then what?
Really, I don't even think humans could manage to last twelve years of complete isolation and inactivity. Yeah, sure, Jupiter and Saturn are really lovely to look at, but of what use are they to you, as an individual? Can your patience hold out for two years? For two years, can you really wake up every single day, looking forward to a brief encounter with the gas giants?
If only we could really be selfless people in the name of science, we'd gladly undergo a one-way mission, enduring an eternity of solitude in exchange for a few weeks of "discovery" Unfortunately, we are but humans who have needs like social interaction, various weather conditions like wind and rain, recreation, sex, heck, even just human touch or the presence of another human, that, m'dear, is real humanity. That is soul, the imperfection that makes us humans. You call us cold-hearted robots; what do you think then of those high-technology machinery that we hurl unto planets to gather data?
There is a reason why these trips are meant for cold-hearted, unimaginative, inhuman precision instruments called robots.
Now then, let us get back on that hypothetical trip. Right after speeding past Neptune (or Pluto, depends on which one's closer to the sun) twelve or thirteen years after your launch, we come right into the middle of nothing. There'd be not much matter here, no planetoids, no asteroids, not much space dust, there are lots of electrons zipping outside your window, but I doubt you'll care much for that. You'll soon enter the Kuiper Belt but don't expect to be encountering a profusion of trans-Neptunian objects. They don't really breed that much celestial bodies out here anymore.
You'll probably spent a healthy twenty years inside the Kuiper Belt, so you might as well sit back, relax and enjoy the view. On the porthole on your right side, you'll see pretty much nothing, dotted with little white dots of somethings that are so far away. Every five or so years, perhaps, you'll actually see something, a shadow moving, blotting out those small specks. The good news is that you can still see the sun. Head to the stern of your ship and you'll see a faint white speck. Yes, ladies and gents, that is the sun that was, twenty-two years ago, blazing brilliantly overhead.
Now comes the hard part. Waiting. After the very exciting region known as Kuiper Belt, you'll really come into the middle of nowhere. This is where you'll probably die of old age, if not isolation. Your body will no longer be able to hold itself together and you will simply degenerate into a helpless lump of old human, missing social interactions. Oh what you'd give for a game of chess with your old buddy!
Now, note that you are not even in deep space yet. In a thousand years, your corpse will reach the Oort cloud, which is, relatively, a lively region in space. Sorry to disappoint, though, but much of this region is emptier than the Kuiper Belt. It was probably just as well that you're dead for even the most creative bloggers out there will soon run out of words to describe this emptiness. Even the most zealous scientist will soon grow tired of reporting nothing.
A few more thousand years and you'll come into interstellar space. According to
wikipedia, this is a very turbulent region, where the solar winds meet other stellar winds. Yet, still, this is not deep space. It's gonna take you billions of years to get halfway there. Double that and you finally come to the edge of the Milky Way. Welcome to deep space. Welcome to the beginning of your journey into nothingness. If you thought that gap between Kuiper Belt and the Oort Cloud was boring, see what you can make of this
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