Imagine it’s 2050 and you’re on a cross-country flight on a new type of airliner, one with no fuel on board. The plane takes off, and you rise above the airport. Instead of climbing to cruising altitude, though, your plane levels out and the engines quiet to a low hum. Is this normal? No one seems to know. Anxious passengers crane their necks to get a better view out their windows. They’re all looking for one thing.

Then it appears: a massive antenna array on the horizon. It’s sending out a powerful beam of electromagnetic radiation pointed at the underside of the plane. After soaking in that energy, the engines power up, and the aircraft continues its climb. Over several minutes, the beam will deliver just enough energy to get you to the next ground antenna located another couple hundred kilometers ahead.

The person next to you audibly exhales. You sit back in your seat and wait for your drink. Old-school EV-range anxiety is nothing next to this.

Electromagnetic waves on the fly

Beamed power for aviation is, I admit, an outrageous notion. If physics doesn’t forbid it, federal regulators or nervous passengers probably will. But compared with other proposals for decarbonizing aviation, is it that crazy?

Batteries, hydrogen, alternative carbon-based fuels—nothing developed so far can store energy as cheaply and densely as fossil fuels, or fully meet the needs of commercial air travel as we know it. So, what if we forgo storing all the energy on board and instead beam it from the ground? Let me sketch what it would take to make this idea fly.

Beamed Power for Aviation

Fly by Microwave: Warm up to a new kind of air travel

For the wireless-power source, engineers would likely choose microwaves because this type of electromagnetic radiation can pass unruffled through clouds and because receivers on planes could absorb it completely, with nearly zero risk to passengers.

To power a moving aircraft, microwave radiation would need to be sent in a tight, steerable beam. This can be done using technology known as a phased array, which is commonly used to direct radar beams. With enough elements spread out sufficiently and all working together, phased arrays can also be configured to focus power on a point a certain distance away, such as the receiving antenna on a plane.

Phased arrays work on the principle of constructive and destructive interference. The radiation from the antenna elements will, of course, overlap. In some directions the radiated waves will interfere destructively and cancel out one another, and in other directions the waves will fall perfectly in phase, adding together constructively. Where the waves overlap constructively, energy radiates in that direction, creating a beam of power that can be steered electronically.

How far we can send energy in a tight beam with a phased array is governed by physics—specifically, by something called the diffraction limit. There’s a simple way to calculate the optimal case for beamed power: D1 D2 > λ R. In this mathematical inequality, D1 and D2 are the diameters of the sending and receiving antennas, λ is the wavelength of the radiation, and R is the distance between those antennas.

Now, let me offer some ballpark numbers to figure out how big the transmitting antenna (D1) must be. The size of the receiving antenna on the aircraft is probably the biggest limiting factor. A medium-size airliner has a wing and body area of about 1,000 square meters, which should provide for the equivalent of a receiving antenna that’s 30 meters wide (D2) built into the underside of the plane.

If physics doesn’t forbid it, federal regulators or nervous passengers probably will.

Next, let’s guess how far we would need to beam the energy. The line of sight to the horizon for someone in an airliner at cruising altitude is about 360 kilometers long, assuming the terrain below is level. But mountains would interfere, plus nobody wants range anxiety, so let’s place our ground antennas every 200 km along the flight path, each beaming energy half of that distance. That is, set R to 100 km.

Finally, assume the microwave wavelength (λ) is 5 centimeters. This provides a happy medium between a wavelength that’s too small to penetrate clouds and one that’s too large to gather back together on a receiving dish. Plugging these numbers into the equation above shows that in this scenario the diameter of the ground antennas (D1) would need to be at least about 170 meters. That’s gigantic, but perhaps not unreasonable. Imagine a series of three or four of these antennas, each the size of a football stadium, spread along the route, say, between LAX and SFO or between AMS and BER.

Power beaming in the real world

While what I’ve described is theoretically possible, in practice engineers have beamed only a fraction of the amount of power needed for an airliner, and they’ve done that only over much shorter distances.

NASA holds the record from an experiment in 1975, when it beamed 30 kilowatts of power over 1.5 km with a dish the size of a house. To achieve this feat, the team used an analog device called a klystron. The geometry of a klystron causes electrons to oscillate in a way that amplifies microwaves of a particular frequency—kind of like how the geometry of a whistle causes air to oscillate and produce a particular pitch.

Klystrons and their cousins, cavity magnetrons (found in ordinary microwave ovens), are quite efficient because of their simplicity. But their properties depend on their precise geometry, so it’s challenging to coordinate many such devices to focus energy into a tight beam.

In more recent years, advances in semiconductor technology have allowed a single oscillator to drive a large number of solid-state amplifiers in near-perfect phase coordination. This has allowed microwaves to be focused much more tightly than was possible before, enabling more-precise energy transfer over longer distances.

In 2022, the Auckland-based startup Emrod showed just how promising this semiconductor-enabled approach could be. Inside a cavernous hangar in Germany owned by Airbus, the researchers beamed 550 watts across 36 meters and kept over 95 percent of the energy flowing in a tight beam—far better than could be achieved with analog systems. In 2021, the U.S. Naval Research Laboratory showed that these techniques could handle higher power levels when it sent more than a kilowatt between two ground antennas over a kilometer apart. Other researchers have energized drones in the air, and a few groups even intend to use phased arrays to beam solar power from satellites to Earth.

A rectenna for the ages

So beaming energy to airliners might not be entirely crazy. But please remain seated with your seat belts fastened; there’s some turbulence ahead for this idea. A Boeing 737 aircraft at takeoff requires about 30 megawatts—a thousand times as much power as any power-beaming experiment has demonstrated. Scaling up to this level while keeping our airplanes aerodynamic (and flyable) won’t be easy.

Consider the design of the antenna on the plane, which receives and converts the microwaves to an electric current to power the aircraft. This rectifying antenna, or rectenna, would need to be built onto the underside surfaces of the aircraft with aerodynamics in mind. Power transmission will be maximized when the plane is right above the ground station, but it would be far more limited the rest of the time, when ground stations are far ahead or behind the plane. At those angles, the beam would activate only either the front or rear surfaces of the aircraft, making it especially hard to receive enough power.

With 30 MW blasting onto that small of an area, power density will be an issue. If the aircraft is the size of Boeing 737, the rectenna would have to cram about 25 W into each square centimeter. Because the solid-state elements of the array would be spaced about a half-wavelength—or 2.5 cm—apart, this translates to about 150 W per element—perilously close to the maximum power density of any solid-state power-conversion device. The top mark in the 2016 IEEE/Google Little Box Challenge was about 150 W per cubic inch (less than 10 W per cubic centimeter).

The rectenna will also have to weigh very little and minimize the disturbance to the airflow over the plane. Compromising the geometry of the rectenna for aerodynamic reasons might lower its efficiency. State-of-the art power-transfer efficiencies are only about 30 percent, so the rectenna can’t afford to compromise too much.

A Boeing 737 aircraft at takeoff requires about 30 megawatts—a thousand times as much power as any power-beaming experiment has demonstrated.

And all of this equipment will have to work in an electric field of about 7,000 volts per meter—the strength of the power beam. The electric field inside a microwave oven, which is only about a third as strong, can create a corona discharge, or electric arc, between the tines of a metal fork, so just imagine what might happen inside the electronics of the rectenna.

And speaking of microwave ovens, I should mention that, to keep passengers from cooking in their seats, the windows on any beamed-power airplane would surely need the same wire mesh that’s on the doors of microwave ovens—to keep those sizzling fields outside the plane. Birds, however, won’t have that protection.

Fowl flying through our power beam near the ground might encounter a heating of more than 1,000 watts per square meter—stronger than the sun on a hot day. Up higher, the beam will narrow to a focal point with much more heat. But because that focal point would be moving awfully fast and located higher than birds typically fly, any roasted ducks falling from the sky would be rare in both senses of the word. Ray Simpkin, chief science officer at Emrod, told me it’d take “more than 10 minutes to cook a bird” with Emrod’s relatively low-power system.

Legal challenges would surely come, though, and not just from the National Audubon Society. Thirty megawatts beamed through the air would be about 10 billion times as strong as typical signals at 5-cm wavelengths (a band currently reserved for amateur radio and satellite communications). Even if the transmitter could successfully put 99 percent of the waves into a tight beam, the 1 percent that’s leaked would still be a hundred million times as strong as approved transmissions today.

And remember that aviation regulators make us turn off our cellphones during takeoff to quiet radio noise, so imagine what they’ll say about subjecting an entire plane to electromagnetic radiation that’s substantially stronger than that of a microwave oven. All these problems are surmountable, perhaps, but only with some very good engineers (and lawyers).

Compared with the legal obstacles and the engineering hurdles we’d need to overcome in the air, the challenges of building transmitting arrays on the ground, huge as they would have to be, seem modest. The rub is the staggering number of them that would have to be built. Many flights occur over mountainous terrain, producing a line of sight to the horizon that is less than 100 km. So in real-world terrain we’d need more closely spaced transmitters. And for the one-third of airline miles that occur over oceans, we would presumably have to build floating arrays. Clearly, building out the infrastructure would be an undertaking on the scale of the Eisenhower-era U.S. interstate highway system.

Decarbonizing with the world’s largest microwave

People might be able to find workarounds for many of these issues. If the rectenna is too hard to engineer, for example, perhaps designers will find that they don’t have to turn the microwaves back into electricity—there are precedents for using heat to propel airplanes. A sawtooth flight path—with the plane climbing up as it approaches each emitter station and gliding down after it passes by—could help with the power-density and field-of-view issues, as could flying-wing designs, which have much more room for large rectennas. Perhaps using existing municipal airports or putting ground antennas near solar farms could reduce some of the infrastructure cost. And perhaps researchers will find shortcuts to radically streamline phased-array transmitters. Perhaps, perhaps.

To be sure, beamed power for aviation faces many challenges. But less-fanciful options for decarbonizing aviation have their own problems. Battery-powered planes don’t even come close to meeting the needs of commercial airlines. The best rechargeable batteries have about 5 percent of the effective energy density of jet fuel. At that figure, an all-electric airliner would have to fill its entire fuselage with batteries—no room for passengers, sorry—and it’d still barely make it a tenth as far as an ordinary jet. Given that the best batteries have improved by only threefold in the past three decades, it’s safe to say that batteries won’t power commercial air travel as we know it anytime soon.

Any roasted ducks falling from the sky would be rare in both senses of the word.

Hydrogen isn’t much further along, despite early hydrogen-powered flights occurring nearly 40 years ago. And it’s potentially dangerous—enough that some designs for hydrogen planes have included two separate fuselages: one for fuel and one for people to give them more time to get away if the stuff gets explode-y. The same factors that have kept hydrogen cars off the road will probably keep hydrogen planes out of the sky.

Synthetic and biobased jet fuels are probably the most reasonable proposal. They’ll give us aviation just as we know it today, just at a higher cost—perhaps 20 to 50 percent more expensive per ticket. But fuels produced from food crops can be worse for the environment than the fossil fuels they replace, and fuels produced from CO₂ and electricity are even less economical. Plus, all combustion fuels could still contribute to contrail formation, which makes up more than half of aviation’s climate impact.

The big problem with the “sane” approach for decarbonizing aviation is that it doesn’t present us with a vision of the future at all. At the very best, we’ll get a more expensive version of the same air travel experience the world has had since the 1970s.

True, beamed power is far less likely to work. But it’s good to examine crazy stuff like this from time to time. Airplanes themselves were a crazy idea when they were first proposed. If we want to clean up the environment and produce a future that actually looks like a future, we might have to take fliers on some unlikely sounding schemes.

The myth has it that the earth is held up by a World Turtle. When asked what holds up the World Turtle, the sage replies: "another turtle".

You know the rest. It's turtles all the way down.

Depending what media you read, you might have heard we're living in an Exponential Age. The pace of change is so fast, and is happening along a curve that's so, well, exponential that it's nearly impossible for the human mind to comprehend.

It's a curve that doesn't just encompass finance or computers, but also climate change and research, genetics and nuclear fusion.

The concept of this age led Packy McCormack to proclaim we might be headed to a Trillion dollar VC future:

Lately, predictions about the Metaverse seem to be rapidly scaling those Exponential peaks. This week Goldman Sachs called it an $8 TRILLION dollar opportunity.

Maybe it's better to create a bar graph of how VCs and analysts value the Metaverse. It would be very Exponential. And it would probably end with Jensen Huang's prediction that “Omniverse or the Metaverse is going to be a new economy this is larger than our current economy.”

(Does that mean our current economy will shrink to zero? Or that it will double? Because isn't the Metaverse also part of "our economy"?)

Regardless - you get the point. The Exponential Age is upon us.

I can feel it.

I can't keep up.

My feed is filled with new AI advances and more realistic virtual worlds, with virtual productions that are almost as good as what Hollywood can produce and robots whose facial expressions look a lot like people.

Oh, and a planet increasingly following an exponential trajectory of its own. And a virus that has taught us all to understand the value of a logarithmic chart.

Maybe you can feel it too? This sense that things are happening so fast, that change is sweeping by us like brush fire, and that we barely have time to recognize it let alone run to keep up.

The Age of Turtles

Turtles might be a by-product of the Exponential Age.

They're everywhere.

How you feel about AI stands on the back of your ideas about intelligence which stand on the back of your ideas about the human mind.

These days even the Turing Test stands on a different turtle than we may have imagined. Alvy Ray Smith argues that Turing set the test out as a commentary on a society that tries to evaluate the mind of a gay mind. The Turing Test was a subversive way of asking: "how can you chemically try to castrate me? You can't even tell if it's a real human behind that curtain."

Not the turtle I thought his test was standing on.

But there are lots of other turtles.

The Metaverse is full of them.

How you feel about avatars stands on the back of your ideas about our capacity to identify outside of our own bodies, which stands on the back of our ideas about the importance of the physical world, which stands on the back of our ideas of humanity's place in that world.

If you want to go down THAT rabbit hole, the Convivial Society is there to guide you through a lot of Hannah Arendt and Marxist-adjacent commentary. And honestly? I can buy all of it on certain days. And on others, I can see it as an author in need of a good anthropologist.

Too much philosophy and not enough doing is one of the turtles we can stand on. But its shell is fragile.

At one point, I wrote that I thought avatar identity and virtuality was a sort of proxy affirmation Gödel's Incompleteness Theorem: no matter how deep we go in trying to find the real 'self', we'll always loop back to where we started.

I am what I am and that includes my avatar. There's no point in finding the final turtle, because it's mathematically impossible to prove that there's one in the first place.

(As a side note, Incompleteness Theorem has deep relevance to the development of the computer - and is where Turing started in the first place. This creates yet another strange loop where the thing that computers tried to solve ended up creating worlds where their solution was made, well, more 'meta' than we imagined).

Decoding the Metaverse

The Exponential Age makes it tough to keep up. Meta, Microsoft, Apple, NVIDIA, Niantic...everyone is piling into the Metaverse.

Sure, maybe you're steeped in this stuff like I am. But most of you aren't. You have day jobs and a dog to walk and you really want to have pizza tonight even though you know you shouldn't.

So how do you decode it? How do you figure out which "metaverse" you want to join? How do you gauge how much fear you should have, or how concerned you should be that we're all about to log-out of reality?

Well...the turtles are here to help. Or more precisely, three of them:

• What does it mean to be human?
• How should humans relate to each other?
• How do you describe humanity's relationship to its tools and technology?

And it goes like this: first, answer those questions for yourself, even if only in a loose way. Second, listen for how people talk about the Metaverse in relation to those three things. Third, compare the two.

Samples of Turtles

What It Means to be Human

Let's start with Meta née Facebook.

To Meta, being human means being connected. In their keynote about their move into the Metaverse it wasn't about finding clean, empty, silent spaces online. It was about connecting. Because to them, that's the human purpose.

Having said that, what they SAY about people and how they act often diverge. Something that goes all the way back to this quote:

Listen for those signals. Whether it's the belief that being human is about work (Microsoft) or play (Niantic) these companies build entire businesses around a singular view of what it means to be human.

How Should Humans Relate to Each Other?

I had an interesting chat on Twitter about decentralized autonomous organizations (DAOs). And it sort of concluded with this:

Now, first, I don't really take any great exception to what Bruce had to say. It was sane, cautious, and skeptical. All good - because there's a LOT to be skeptical about when it comes to some of these new crypto-based models.

But my second thought was: "hold on...so, you're OK with corporations as a structure because they achieve the same outcomes?"

I think that how humans relate to each other is a central question for our times. I've personally come to believe that the "corporate" experiment has run its course.

Whatever this system is we live in is fundamentally broken. We need something better - and I'm willing to throw the dice a bit to see if we can't find it.

But that's me. That's my turtle.

I respect Bruce's turtle also. For him, a corporation is an outcome producing entity and a DAO is a speculative crap shoot.

That's his turtle and I have my own.

But how companies and communities decide this will have a radical impact on how the Metaverse evolves. If we're all satisfied with letting corporations decide our shared future - that's a choice.

Hanging on to old ideas about the efficiency of markets or the glorious power of the corporation (a legal PERSON in some countries) is also a choice. When you hear companies talk up the virtues of the Metaverse, listen carefully to the language they choose around how we'll all interact together.

Do any of them predict their own obsolescence? Or do they continue to act as if the weather is perfectly fine under their corporate umbrellas?

I'm kind of hoping we can come up with something new.

How do you describe humanity's relationship to its tools and technology?

This is the final turtle. And I'll keep it simple:

• Almost everything that comes out of traditional Silicon Valley places technology inside the human circle of empathy (as Jaron Lanier describes it)
• This means that technology is treated as if it has its own place at the same table as us humans. It is treated as if "IT" will save us, help us, improve our lives, make us more connected or wash our dishes.
• But technology doesn't do any of those things. It's just technology. It doesn't have wants or needs, it isn't an organism or a living thing.
• We make things. Some of those things we call technology. The technology we make has our values embedded in it because how else could it be? Technology is not neutral. It's a choice we make. It's a gesture towards a future we want, expressed through our tools.
• In other words, listen carefully to anyone who either tries to priviledge technology OR distance themselves from it.

My own turtle? Technology is a conscious choice made by imperfect people.

Do your own research.

What's Your Turtle?

Do you see what I did here?

I created another strange loop.

Because here's the thing: the Metaverse will be massive. It will contain questions that stand on assumptions that stand on questions. It will challenge us to rethink how society is organized, the role of the corporation, the place of waking dreams and the dependence we can create on imaginary places.

As you enter this strange new world, listen carefully to the carnival barkers and corporate shills, the crypto enthusiasts and the coders.

If you listen carefully to how they talk - about people, their relationship to each other, and how they treat their 'tools' then you can pretty quickly close a lot of doors that should remain shut.

But when you do, you might find yourself questioning whether your own beliefs about these same topics still hold true.

You might start wondering what it means to be human when our capacity for self-expression is no longer shackled to reality, or how we will organize ourselves when corporations aren't the only game in town and when governance and culture happen "on-chain".

And so the strange loop: as we try to understand the Metaverse, we loop back to a deeper understanding of ourself.

There's a quote I love which was perhaps optimistic for its time. And maybe it's optimistic now also.

When asked about his trip to the moon, Neil Armstrong replied:

"We hope and think that those people shared our belief that this is the beginning of a new era—the beginning of an era when man understands the universe around him, and the beginning of the era when man understands himself."

May you ride most excellent turtles on that journey to understanding.

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So...I'd really like to hear from you. If you get this by e-mail, please do reply. I love it when people hit reply.

You can also hit me up on Twitter. I like having chats in the public square when I can.

I also recommend you join the Open Meta Discord (if Discord is your thing).

And if you want something REALLY fun, join me as I explore something that I've been spending a lot of time on. Like, decades. :)