The Belter Home Asteroid: An Iron Sky
THE ATLANTIC | DISPATCHES FROM THE BELT March 2102 The Iron Sky Thirty-seven years ago, a crew of mutineers hollowed out a dead protoplanetary core. Today, their grandchildren argue about zoning laws, honeybees, and whether the bearings holding up their world can take one more floor. If you sit on the laminated bamboo porch of a two-story house in the Orchard Ward of Home and close your eyes, your body tells you that you are in a humid river valley somewhere in the American South. The air presses against your eardrums with the comfortable weight of a mountain town, roughly the atmospheric equivalent of two thousand meters on Earth. Somewhere behind a woven cane fence, Rhode Island Reds are clucking over bruised peaches. A breeze carrying the damp, loamy smell of flooded rice paddies rustles through birch leaves, and a mason bee blunders past your cheek on its way to a lemon blossom. Then you open your eyes, and your inner ear briefly stages a revolt. Three hundred meters ahead, the gra...