I’ve decided to fix the room above the one I’m working in by making it a giant bay-watching room.
Yeah that didn’t make any sense, let me try again.
So I hollowed out this chamber and I’m walling it in with my standard 3-meter-high walls and a ceiling, but there’s still a lot of space above my ceiling.
On the other hand, there’s also a lot bay above my ceiling.
Which means I have a good space to finish hollowing out (and I can see some granite up there which is part of my motivation, I’ll admit) and at the same time if I work on that area, there will be some air trapped under there and I won’t necessarily drown if I dig through a wall into the bay. (Always a good idea to determine how much of your chamber is going to flood out when you decide to dig out a wall, because oxygen is kind of required for life and not in its liquid form.)
But I think I’ll also have to do some of the ceiling in glass.
Which means I could end up with more than half of the room made of glass, and a full 160 degree or more view of the underneath of the bay. Without goggles, which by the way I haven’t figured out how to invent yet.
Good thing the water isn’t caustic.
Yesterday I talked about using glass blocks as building supplies but I didn’t mention why.
Well the reason why is because I’m building something so weird I’m not even sure how to address it.
See, part of this space I’m digging out to get close to the sheep is prone to flooding.
Okay, all of it is prone to flooding. It’s between what appears to be a river and what appears to be a bay. I never know when a whack with a pickaxe is going to cause flooding in my passageways.
But anyway, I’ve been using the glass block to patch the holes in the ceiling because, well, if you patch a hole with glass then you can see six months later that “hey moron there’s water on the other side of this hole”. If you patch it with dirt or stone, then six months later you dig right back through the same patch and, boom, wet feet.
I’m using a lot of glass, but I’m also getting some very interesting views because when an entire wall turns out to be unstable or, well, missing, after mining, it becomes a glass wall.
And that means I can sit back and watch the fish through the wall. It’s really entertaining to be honest.
Some of the things I’m able to build here don’t make any sense.
Ok, let me clarify first. I’ve already mentioned a couple of times a while ago that the gravity and density of things here seem to be way lower than Earth norm, which frankly is the only reason I’m able to carry most of the things I carry.
(When I was a child there was a medical scare that those of us in space who don’t do weights and the like would develop fragile bones. But it turned out that we could defeat that by carrying more stuff. So for example, even though carrying what would be 100 kilos of dirt on Earth weighs about 10 kilos here, I can make sure I still get my standard workout by carrying what would be 1,000 kilos of dirt on Earth and is only 100 kilos of dirt here. My muscles and bones don’t really care what things weigh, only what they seem to weigh.)
Anyway, all this means that things like water pressure and air pressure are much lower than they would be under Earth-grav. Which means the glass I make to Earth thicknesses and densities appears to be much stronger than it would be on Earth.
So I can use glass blocks here for things that wouldn’t ever fly at Earth standard: glass floors and walls and ceilings that have very little support and yet still hold my weight and the weight of all the stuff in the room. Glass holes in the ground above that ensure that I can see what I’m doing. Glass bathtubs, for pete’s sake.
It’s odd, but handy, which is why once I realized this was all true I started picking up every single grain of sand I could find.
I just watched the most beautiful sunset I think I’ve ever seen.
There’s no point trying to draw it, the supplies here would never do it justice. Heck if I had a camera I’m not sure that would do it justice. It was all the right colors at all the right times and the perfect temperature breeze coming through the cracks in the door, and the fresh smell of the outdoors and the soft noises of the animals in the yard behind me.
Here, let’s do this instead:
Picture the most beautiful peaceful sunset you’ve ever watched. Now don’t just picture it, give yourself a moment to relieve it. The breeze, the sights, the smells, the things you heard… go ahead, I’ll wait.
That’s what it was like.
I’m not all that into sunrise due to it occurring at the crack of dawn, and sunset around here usually means the zombies and skeletons will be out momentarily (not to mention the screaming night birds) but this one was worth noting.
I’m going to blow out my candle and sleep well tonight.
Now that my brick path is in (and it does look really sharp) I’m strongly tempted to put in more paths to some of my other entryways. I mean, I do still have a LOT of brick sitting around.
On the other hand, I’m supposed to be headed toward sheep.
I think my hesitance is bringing in even more animals in this madhouse. I mean, I’ve already got hundreds of duckens, a bunch of cows, and now a good half dozen pigs. Plus gardening. I don’t want to be a farmer.
I mean, sure, there’s no poo, but I prefer my callouses come from a pickaxe than a hoe.
On the other hand, wool socks.
The wool socks are still winning, but it’s not like they’re going to be easy to make either. I remember how to knit — my great grandmother insisted I learn — but spinning isn’t something we did a lot of on the ship heading out to mining sites, what with the lack of sheep, wool, and space.
But warm socks.