Curiosity taking a self-portrait. Image: Nasa
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Curiosity sniffs farts on Mars, could mean extinction of humanity

Fluctuations in methane gas in the Martian atmosphere, detected by the Curiosity rover, could mean that there's life living below the surface of Gale Crater. The implications could be surprising.

There's life on Mars! Maybe. Again. What's going on?

Nasa has announced that the Curiosity rover has detected spikes in methane concentration in the atmosphere within the Gale Crater. Over the last 20 months Curiosity has sampled the chemical makeup of the air around it a dozen times, finding that normally there are seven methane molecules per ten billion other air molecules (which on Mars is about 96 per cent carbon dioxide) - except on two occasions, where it jumped to ten times that. That's a big deal because methane doesn't just linger around; it's produced by some chemical process and then dissipates relatively quickly, so whatever's producing it must be doing it recurrently and frequently.

We all have experience with methane production (particularly around the Christmas season, with brussel sprouts on the table), but it's important to stress this isn't a definitive proxy for Martian life. Sure, it could be microbes, but it could also come from the reaction of the mineral olivine with water, as this Nasa infographic shows, and that's been the suspicion ever since methane was first detected in the atmosphere by astronomers in 2009. But we've always known that Mars' methane is unevenly distributed, and possibly seasonal, and that there are a number of alternative sources for it than bacteria "burping".

The announcement also included the news that the rock sample that Curiosity drilled into in May 2013 yielded further organic molecules when analysed, and also revealed important data about the history of the planet's water - and when it was lost. What we can really say here is that we have even more evidence to support the conclusion that Mars was habitable and Earth-like (or at least from the perspective of microbial life) billions of years in the past, but also that we don't know yet if it still is today.

Something we have to think about when we find life somewhere else - and we will find aliens, eventually, in centuries if necessary - is what the means for us, humanity, in the big picture. Statistically. Those of us who gamble might well consider it a bad omen.

There's this idea that there's a "Great Filter" which none, or very little, life gets through, on the cosmological scale. It was first outlined by economist Robin Hanson in 1996, and others have since refined it or challenged it, but basic premise is this: we haven't met aliens yet because all intelligent life capable of star travel is killed off before it spreads beyond its home star.

We know now that the number of planets far outnumbers the number of stars in the universe, and that it's therefore probable that there are billions upon billions of planets capable of hosting life. And, if life is like us, and works out how to colonise other planets and stars, we know that the amount of time it should take to colonise a large part of, say, a galaxy, should be short compared to galactic timescales - that is, if there's a lifeform that can colonise another star, it's reasonable to assume that it'll colonise almost all the stars it can in pretty short order, at a rate of a few centuries perhaps. So, if there are lots of Earth-like planets with (presumably) Earth-like intelligence on them, where the hell is everybody? (This is the famous Fermi paradox.)

The explanation Hanson and others have suggested is that somewhere, between the emergence of single-cellular life and interstellar travel, there's the Great Filter - many planets reach it, but few get through, because of asteroid strikes or runaway climate change or resource depletion or... anything we have yet to experience as a species. We can't see anybody else, and the universe feels like an empty place, because the cumulative probability of making it through every step - a safe planet where RNA appears and then single-celled life and then multi-celled and then the evolution of a tool-using lifeform that then develops interstellar travel - is so low as to be zero.

What makes the possibility that life evolved independently on Mars (especially multi-cellular life) so worrying from this perspective, then, is that it means the first few stages of that process are even easier than we thought - and that means getting beyond the stage we're at now must be much, much harder than we thought. The probability works out to tell us that we're at the stage of biological and cultural and technological development where we're wiped out before we take the next step.

There are, though, a dozen or more retorts to this: maybe intelligent life is intelligent enough not to have to colonise everywhere, or maybe it's intelligent to the extent that it's able to choose to remain invisible to us. But it's still a sobering thought that the thrilling discovery of alien life could be one of the last great moments in our species before a statistically-likely mishap hits us from left field.

Ian Steadman is a staff science and technology writer at the New Statesman. He is on Twitter as @iansteadman.

Flickr: M.o.B 68 / New Statesman
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“I begged him to come home”: Breaking the taboo around texting the dead

Many people text dead loved ones to cope with their grief – but trouble arises when they get an unexpected reply. 

A month after Haley Silvestri’s dad died from a heart attack, she texted him begging him to come home. In the middle of the night Silvestri’s 14-year-old sister had found their father, with his lips and mouth blue, lying on the kitchen floor. “There was nothing there anymore, just a dead body,” Silvestri says. “My father had his first heart attack months before and seemed to be doing OK. Then, this happened.”

In the very first episode of CSI Miami’s seventh season, the protagonist – Horatio Caine – fakes his death. For the first 15 minutes of the episode, the viewer believes the character is truly dead, as the camera lingers on Horatio’s body face down on the tarmac.

Silvestri and her father used to enjoy watching the show together. After he had passed and she realised she would never see her “best friend” again, she picked up her phone. “I texted my dad begging him to come home,” she says. “I begged my dad to please be ‘pulling a Horatio’.”

"My heart was broken and I was bawling as I texted her over and over" 

In texting her father after he had died, Silvestri is by no means unusual. No official figures exist for the number of people who use technology to message their deceased loved ones, but Sara Lindsay, a professional counsellor, clinical supervisor, and trainer, says it is “more common than we think”.

“I see it as a modern and contemporary part of the grieving process,” she says. “I think in a way it's very similar to visiting a graveside, in that the bereaved are reaching out, particularly in the early days, because it takes a long time for people to process the reality that this person has now gone.”

Karlie Jensen, 18, texted her friend immediately after she found out she had died in a car accident. “I texted her as soon as I woke up to the news from my mom that she had passed. My heart was broken and I was bawling as I texted her over and over waiting for a text saying it wasn't her, that my mom didn't know all the facts, and maybe she was just hurt.” Jensen also called her friend and begged her to respond. “I did it because I couldn't let go and couldn't accept she was gone from my life forever,” she says. Karlie continued to text her friend while also calling her voicemail in order to hear the sound of her speaking again. 

Karlie (right) and her friend

After her first text to her deceased father, Silversti also began texting him once a week. She fell into depression, and on her worst days messaged the number. “I think it helped initially because it felt like I was personally writing a note to him, that I knew he only was gonna see,” she says. “I did it because it was my attempt at pretending he was still here and could text me back.”

Lindsay, who has over a decade’s experience of bereavement counselling, emphasises that this behaviour is in no way unhealthy. “I think on the whole it's a very healthy part of grieving, particularly in the first year where the bereaved faces agonising days without their loved ones,” she says. “There is just so much loss and change in their life that’s out of their control, I see this aspect of texting as a small way of being able to reach out and alleviate that pain. That person is suddenly now not there but how they feel about that person hasn't changed.”

"I was going through my phone and I saw his number – I wanted to delete it, but I hesitated I thought maybe I could send a text"

Despite being normal, however, using technology to talk to the dead is a behaviour we rarely – if ever – hear anything about. If the words “texting the dead” make it into the media, they are usually followed by a far more sensationalist “and then they text back!!!!”. Yet although messaging the deceased is popularly seen as the stuff of horror movies and trashy headlines, in reality it is simply a new, modern way to grieve.

Via Mirror.co.uk

“The first time I texted him I was on my bus on the way to school,” says now-20-year-old Dylan Campbell about his cousin Josh, who passed away from leukaemia. “I didn't have many friends so I had no one to talk to. I was going through my phone and I saw his number – I wanted to delete it, but I hesitated I thought maybe I could send a text and someone would reply or I would get something out of it.”

Campbell continued to send his cousin texts for a few weeks, “kind of like a diary”. He says he did so because he regretted not seeing Josh more up until his death, and “had a lot of things to say” that he’d never had the chance to. Linsday says texting in this way is a very healthy way of completing unfinished business. “There might have been something they've never said to their loved one that they want to be able to say and texting is a very normal place to do that.”

"Begging for a dead person to reply to you hurts since you won't ever get what you want in return"

Nonetheless, Lindsay notes that texting the dead can become unhealthy if grief becomes “stuck”, and the texting replaces normal communication or becomes a long term compulsion. Unlike Silvestri and Campbell, Jensen continued to text her friend in the hopes she would text back. She admits now that she was in denial about her death. “Begging for a dead person to reply to you hurts since you won't ever get what you want in return” she says. “I don't know if it helped trying to contact her or hurt worse because I knew I'd never get a reply. I wanted a reply.”

Quite frequently, however, this reply does come. After a few months – but sometimes in as little as 30 days – phone companies will reallocate a deceased person’s phone number. If someone is texting this number to “talk” to their dead loved one, this can be difficult for everyone involved.

“This story doesn't have a happy ending,” says Campbell. “After a few months someone from that number called me and yelled at me to stop bothering them – it was really heart breaking.” When Silvestri texted her father to wish him a happy birthday (“Saying I hoped he was having a great party up in heaven”) someone replied telling her to never text the number again. “I was pissed off,” she says. “Just block my number if it was that serious. This was a form of therapy I needed and it got taken away because someone couldn’t understand my hurt.”

Indeed, behind the sensationalist tabloid headlines of "texting back" is a more mundane - and cruel - reality of pranksters pretending to be the dead relatives come back to life.

"Visiting a grave is a clear recognition that the person visited does not exist in the normal day-to-day state of life, whereas texting allows for a suspension of that reality"

Silvestri, Jensen, and Campbell have never spoken to anyone else about the fact they texted their dead loved ones. Lindsay says that a fear of seeming “mad” combined with cultural phenomena – like the British stiff upper lip – might make people reluctant to speak about it. There is also a stigma around the way much of our modern technology is used in daily life, let alone in death.

This stigma often arises because of the newness of technology, but Christopher Moreman, a philosophy professor and expert on death and dying, emphasises that texting the dead is simply a modern iteration of many historical grieving practices – such as writing letters to the dead or talking to them at their graves. “I don't think the process of grieving is much changed, even if new modes of grieving come about due to new technologies,” he says. In fact, if anything, the differences between old and new ways of grieving can be positive.

“One important difference is in the sense of proximity,” explains Moreman. “I can text a loved one from anywhere in the world, but I can only visit their grave in one specific location. In another way, texting has the same structure whether I am texting someone who is alive or dead, so a sense of proximity also exists in the experience itself.

“Visiting a grave is a clear recognition that the person visited does not exist in the normal day-to-day state of life, whereas texting allows for a suspension of that reality. Some people may complain that new technologies allow us to ignore the reality of death, but there isn't any evidence that one way of grieving is more or less healthy than another.”

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.

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