A starship. A warp-bubble riding, Casimir-vacuum squeezing, Alcubierre-drive-powered behemoth. Silently, she slips from the skein of the interstellar void; vast, geometry-altering energies puckering the fabric of spacetime off bow and stern. Agile now in her superluminal blister, she hugs the displaced zone. Almost-impossibly-fine stabilising adjustments centre her there, at the heart of the gyre. Satisfied with his work, he turns from the console and smiles, straightening the cuffs of his tight, red jersey.
We know this character. Or we think we do. He is a cod-sci-fi fairytale hero – a Scot as lensed through an imaginary crystal of purest dilithium. From Linlithgow to the great beyond he carries his sense of duty, his acerbic wit and his pessimism-laced engineering prowess. Though often labouring under the apprehension that his vessel’s drives have exceeded calculable design tolerances, his own tolerances to the shocks and alarms of the ‘ final frontier’ appear limitless.
How might we build such a Scot? We have an abundance of raw materials: technical savvy, thrawn determination, egalitarian aspiration. However, we need the correct conditions to convert raw materials into honed devices. Without those conditions, technical expertise may never be drawn out through education and training, determination may slump into indifference or grind down into angry exasperation, and hierarchical ‘me first’ culture may smother the nascent tachyons of soaring ambition.
Engineering genius can, of course, emerge under less-than-ideal circumstances. The varied, and sometimes tragic, histories of inspirational figures of Scotland’s past, such as Watt, Telford and (adoptively) Kelvin, are testament to the great resilience of some intellects. But this is not the past. Though often used as mere sound-bite by those with wealth and influence, some of us care deeply about true equality of opportunity.
Another aspect of the Scotty-engineering scenario seems obvious: for there ever to be Scots in interstellar space, ‘Scottishness’ must survive for hundreds of years to come. Inevitably, our culture and ‘national identity’ will metamorphose into something very different to what we understand of them today; however, if we believe that there is a thread of what we are that can endure through the myriad transformations ahead of us, we should begin to ponder the nature of that thread and to wonder whether it has ulterior value. Our choice is then clear: if we find it robust and valid, we should seek to preserve and enhance it; if we find it fragile and baseless, we should abandon it to the tidal forces of cultural homogeneity.
Historically, erosion or destruction of national identities by external forces was rather more common than was willing relinquishment. Chipping them away piece by distinctive piece or wiping them out in frenzied tabula rasa conquests, the powerful asserted their deity-given entitlements to subjugate, ‘civilise’ and assimilate vulnerable cultures. Our own patchwork nation experienced such shattering pressures, yet somehow, something called Scotland persisted. Now that we are free to choose, will we choose to follow the thread of Scotland – even to the stars – or will we choose relinquishment?
In Scotty’s universe, ‘the Federation’ is a federal republic of planetary governments. A logical step between here and there would be a world federation of national governments. Perhaps of necessity, some form of world government will emerge; looming existential threats will generate a gravitational pull towards such cooperation. As an independent nation, the Republic of Scotland could take its place in that shared endeavour, adding its idiosyncratic elements to a bright new global alloy.
Politically and socially, our young Montgomery is shaped by a context of interplanetary cooperation; nevertheless, as our avatar of Scottish idiosyncrasy, pluck and endeavour, he needs a distinctive voice and platform. He understands that his identity is multi-layered, and he is comfortable with that. He recognises the same of his nation, and understands that it has – consensually – ceded many of its old powers to global governance. But ceding ‘sovereignty’ is so much less of an issue now that all the sovereigns have long gone.
Young Scotty is a product of a new Enlightenment, and of a new Settlement, but he is also a child of the echoes of The Great Catharsis: a shared wracking sob for all who were lost and for all who were caused never to exist; for all who were persecuted and for all who succumbed to self-persecution; for the lies, for the ignorance, for the complicity. And afterwards – in the new light – relief and tranquility. A reckoning, a sigh, a silence, then a quickening. The old edifices of blood and stone were taken down to make way for towering songs of hyperdiamond and billowing graphene. The ghostless world was ready to open itself to the ghostless universe.
Here, then, is Montgomery’s centre – the heart of his gyre.
Depending on our choices, historiographers of the future may view the months in the run-up to Scotland’s independence referendum as a kind of ‘phase transition’ for our nation. This term is used in physics to describe those brief moments of sudden change from one phase state to another, such as the moment when water begins to boil; a grain of salt dropped into superheated water provides a ‘nucleation site’ for the transition, bringing it on more rapidly. In some circumstances, phase transitions may also cause cascading chain reactions. Perhaps this type of explanation would appeal to our technically-minded Scotty.
The chance to be chief engineers of our own futures has been hard-won. As we build steam with our grains of salt, we may find that we initiate a cascading warp-core of change. Isn’t it about time? Though beyond this event horizon we cannot see, we have more to fear from stagnation than from transformation.
Perhaps, for my own ends, I have hijacked Scotty. So, in concluding this brief shuttle excursion, I’ll return him to where he belongs. We step back into our own parallel universe, where the gritty immediacy of everyday concerns so often crushes our hopes for the future. It is true that all we have is the present, and that looking far ahead may be no more than daydreaming, but we could try to remember that every moment is a beginning and an opportunity to spark something amazing.
As he disappears from sight along with the protracted flare of his ship, do we find Montgomery feasible? If we assume that the future will be short, the answer is no. If, however, we feel the tantalising tug of the new and unexplored, there is a complex, humbling and breathtaking ride ahead of us. Warp nine.
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