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Lithium hydroxide scrubbers:
Hmm, commercial solutions:
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Michael B.
Hmm, commercial solutions:
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Michael B.
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Supplemental oxygen would be necessary. I suppose they could be standard equipment in the event that a team needed to dig themselves out of their boltholes. The expectation being that if they were not used (expected 99.9% of the time) it would end up being supplemental medical equipment.Comment
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As I've mentioned before, I think it's vital for the referee to avoid any hint or presumption of "the Project knew it would be 150 years, but lied to you, the team members". A stack of three dozen oxygen tanks, conveniently in the corner, too bulky to carry off in the MPV, looks a bit like evidence of foreknowledge.
Digging out won't take 4 weeks, if it can be done at all with the tools available to a Recon team.
Hmm, a person uses about 0.5 to 1 kg of oxygen per day. 5 x 28 = 140 kg of oxygen for a team of five, for four weeks. By volume, it's at least 550 liters per person per day; 550 x 5 x 28 = 77,000 liters. A typical scuba tank holds 2300 liters of air; yes, not oxygen, but for a first approximation we can use that. So: 33 scuba-type air tanks. Adding 77 cubic meters of oxygen into the bolt hole will raise the air pressure a bit (though it's being converted to carbon dioxide by respiration and then absorbed by the scrubbers, as long as they're working).
So: it can be done, but a stack of three dozen scuba tanks, and a small mine's worth of carbon dioxide scrubbers, are required. And if the "stack of tanks" exactly matches the amount needed for the 150 year wait -- another clue.
"You realize with dismay that what you were told -- your team would be awakened a few years after the Atomic War, or not more than 15 years in any case -- seems to have been wrong. The temporal stasis machine was turned off, but the time bubble remained in effect. There was nothing your team could do; fortunately, there was a month's worth of oxygen tanks and carbon dioxide scrubbers installed in the bolt hole. And in fact, after a month, the time bubble collapsed, just as the oxygen and scrubbers were depleted."
Maybe a higher "time multiplier" would be useful: say, 20,000:1. The "150 year mistake" would only take up 3 days, not requiring any oxygen tanks or carbon dioxide scrubbers A team expecting a 10-years-to-wakeup will plan on a 4 hour wait, which turns into 3 days. That would make radio communications more difficult though ...
Anyway, I'm sure you can work something out for your campaign.
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Michael B.Comment
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I'm now thinking that maybe the time dilation increases the longer the field is up.Comment
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That sounds like a good idea ... maybe something like:
Once your team and equipment were settled into the bolt hole, the installation team closed the outer doors and your team leader turned on the temporal shift package. The lights flickered a bit, but nothing else seemed to change. A short Morse code message arrived immediately -- within a second or so -- from the installation team, confirming all seemed well externally. You and your team mates settled down to ponder the rapidly-approaching end of human civilization.
After a day or so, you hung up the carbon dioxide-scrubbing curtains, as instructed, to keep the bolthole air reasonably fresh; they certainly kept it warm and moist, however.
43 hours -- the very rough estimate for your wake-up signal -- came and went. A few squeaks and static were all your radio was receiving. What had gone wrong Had Prime Base been destroyed Had the Atomic War occurred
Fortunately, the Project had a plan for that. After 65 hours -- probably ten years after the expected date of the Atomic War -- your team leader shut down the temporal shift package.
Unfortunately: the time bubble didn't collapse! Peeking through the exit door, you could see the inner surface of the bubble, shining bright with upshifted radiation. What could be done The utter impermeability of the bubble had been made clear to you during training.
As more hours passed, the bolt hole grew warmer and warmer; your own body heat, the electrical systems in the bolt hole, the glare from the inside of the time bubble, and the chemical reactions of the scrubber were all adding heat, which couldn't escape. Two days passed with the bubble persisting out of control; the scrubbers began to lose effectiveness, and the carbon dioxide levels began to rise.
The surface of the time bubble, when briefly examined, had begun to shimmer with strange rainbow effects, and flashed with garish sparkles a few times. That wasn't in the manual!
You were having trouble concentrating; lying on the floor, the team considered the real likelihood of dying in a few hours. A couple of your team mates with chemistry backgrounds slowly discussed methods of reducing the carbon dioxide, or of eventually generating oxygen.
Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and a quick thud from the exit door. Cautiously, the team pushed the door ajar, and saw darkness beyond the smoking, melted wire mesh which had established the time bubble. A smell of warm earth and burnt wire came to your noses. The bubble was down!
You tore down the wire mesh in a mad scramble, and shoveled aside the dirt and gravel which had covered the bubble's exterior. Tired and out of breath, you forced a hole to the outside, heedless of any radiation or other contamination. Air! You took turns forcing your heads into the hole, breathing deeply of the sweet, cool air.
In a minute or so, you knocked down more of the gravel and dirt, making a hole big enough for a person to crawl through ...
And of course it's 150 years after the War.
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Michael B.Comment
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