As I See It: Gratitude

December 2, 2024 Victor Rozek

Tech has taken a number of hits this year, and many of them were aptly deserved. The issues are well known and thoroughly documented. What is often obscured, what is often lost amid the outrage, are some of tech’s extraordinary accomplishments. They are overlooked in part because they have become the baseline for our expectations.

In the smartphone, for example, the least among us has access to more computing capacity than powered the first Moon landing. We hold a miracle in our hand, and get annoyed if our text message isn’t promptly delivered.

Imagine, for a moment, living in the United States in the 19th century and wanting to send a letter to relatives in Europe. If you lived anywhere in the West, the first challenge was getting your letter to the East Coast. That could take up to several weeks, depending on the point of origin and the mode of transportation.

There were basically two options: Wagon or horse. Wagons, of course, took longer and were subject to an assortment of mishaps: broken axles, dangerous river crossings, mountains made impassible by deep snow, and occasionally irate natives who took issue with swarms of foreign immigrants.

The fastest option was the Pony Express (think FedEx on oats), which managed to deliver mail from coast to coast in around ten days. Providing, of course, that the horse did not stumble and break a leg or injure the rider. But in spite of Herculean efforts by man and beast, and the mythology that has since grown around the exploits of the Pony Express, it actually only operated for about 18 months, from April 1860 until October 1861. And then, only between Missouri and California.

But let’s assume your letter arrives safely on the East Coast. Once there, it waits for the next ship scheduled to make the transatlantic crossing. A sailing vessel will take two to three weeks to reach Europe, while steamships, which were launched later in the century, can make the trip in one to two weeks.

So, under the best of circumstances, a month or so passes before your letter reaches Europe. If your relatives live in England, they will likely receive your news sooner that if they live in Central or Eastern Europe. Regardless, by the time they receive it, your news will be about as fresh and timely as last month’s baguette.

The miracle of instant global communication has become so commonplace as to be taken for granted, inspiring little more wonder than a hand-held kitchen appliance. Unseen and under-appreciated is the technology that powers a global deluge of 23 billion text messages each day! That’s 270,000 texts every second. And in order for us to send or receive endless missives, the technology must be able to track millions of individual users, penetrate concrete and metal, wood and glass, and communicate with devices in moving vehicles, including airplanes. It’s all become so ordinary as to be invisible.

Yes, we have all been impacted by the misuse, abuse, and deliberate misinformation spawned on the Internet and spread – innocently or otherwise – from one magical hand-held device to another. Still, the technology undeniably amazes, and I for one am grateful and privileged to have access to it.

Technology changes so quickly, that there are few, if any, technological achievements that remain unchanged yet still manage to remain relevant after nearly a half-century. That singular attainment belongs to Voyager 1, which was launched back in 1977 at a time when about half the people on the planet hadn’t even been born yet.

Its original mission was to explore the outer planets in our solar system. But against all odds it has remained operational long past NASA’s expectations and continues to send information about its journey back to Earth.

One would think that something so durable must have been constructed of exceptionally enduring materials. Well, not all of it. Apparently, there is intense radiation around Jupiter and it was thought that certain cables could use additional shielding. But with the launch pending, there was little time to engineer an additional protective layer. So, the brain trust decided to apply strips of kitchen-grade aluminum foil to the vulnerable cables, and voila! The modest craft whizzed by Jupiter unharmed, and eventually left our solar system entering interstellar space on August 25, 2012. As of November of this year Voyager is an astonishing 15.4 billion miles away from home, making it the most distant human-made object – with the possible exception of a baseball I once saw Willie McCovey hit.

While enduring, Voyager is not eternal. Scientists expect Voyager to continue to return scientific data from beyond our solar system until at least 2025, with a maximum lifespan lasting up to 2030. But even past its best-used-by date, it is still expected to send knowledge home. Voyager is powered by something called radioisotope thermoelectric generators which, fingers crossed, are expected to supply enough electric power to return engineering data through 2036.

That data is sent via a twelve foot diameter antenna which sends and receives radio waves to and from three Deep Space Network stations on Earth located in Barstow, California and Madrid, Spain and Canberra, Australia. As of last year, it took more than 22 hours for Voyager’s missives to reach Earth. Not cellphone speed, but consider the distance.

As Voyager transitioned from solar system explorer to deep space probe, it carries greetings, images, and music samples on what is knows as the Voyager Golden Record. Should the craft be scooped up and examined by some alien race in the distant future, recordings of people speaking 55 languages will assure them of our peaceful intent—which will no doubt confuse them if they have any knowledge at all of our history.

Missing from the Voyager Golden Record are the names and faces of the engineers, scientists, software developers and countless other professionals who conceived, designed, constructed, launched, and supported this technological tour de force for an astonishing 47 years.

We seldom have the privilege of meeting the people who anonymously provide nourishment for mind, body, and spirit. And this is no exception. I have never met any of the people who worked – and are still working – on Voyager, but I am most grateful for your excellent labors. Not ironically, your achievement is the embodiment of a famous fictional alien, none other than Mr. Spock of Star Trek fame, who famously said: “Live long, and prosper.”

And Voyager 1, against all odds and expectations, has achieved both.

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