I’ve been watching this post-apocalyptic sci-fi show – doesn’t matter which one, pick one – and the fiber enthusiast in me has a serious question. So here you are on a ship in space, fleeing for your life, no renewable resources, low on fuel, and scraping by with the barest necessities for life, and you’re prancing around in brightly colored frocks. That hat you’re wearing, for example, is clearly knitted. So where are the space sheep that are producing all this wool? Frack if I know. And on your tour of the outer rim where fruit is so rare it might as well be gold, how much did it cost you to buy that brightly-dyed orange vest? More than that protein brick in your hold, I’d wager. Shiny.
I know that when you partake of fiction, you are supposed to suspend your disbelief to the best of your ability. I get the notion. But the thing about science-fiction is that appeals to scientists and scientists have this nasty little habit of questioning everything. This scientist has a basket of yarn on her desk as big as a womp rat, and I’m looking through it and not seeing a whole lot of fibers in there that would be readily available in space.
What are your options?
Plant fibers = cotton & hemp. They take a fair amount of space and resources to cultivate. I know a lot of you might tell me that you “knew a guy” who was raising hemp plants in his dorm closet in college and it didn’t seem all that tough. Fair enough, but he wasn’t interested in the fiber. Enough plants to pulp into fabric to clothe a community? That takes a bit more space. You can toss bamboo (i.e. rayon) in here if you want. It’s sort of the platypus of the fiber family. It technically starts as a natural fiber and then through some combo of alchemy, a sprinkling of noxious chemicals, and the sacred chantings of a holy vedek, it becomes fiber. Same issue though - sunshine, water, and dirt are necessary ingredients, along with the noxious cocktail.
Animal fibers = wools, silks. Space sheep eating space grass in space pastures. Gear up your FTL and jump to Never Never Land, because I don’t see it happening. Ditto with silk worm farms.
Synthetics = acrylic, nylon, polyester, etc. “But this is the future,” you say. “Surely they have found a way to make synthetic fibers?” Sure. So have we. We make them out of fossil fuels. That’s woven plastic you’re wearing there. And plastic comes from oil. And oil makes the war go round and round. If we’re fighting over this non-sustainable resource here and now on Earth That Was, how scarce will it be in the future? Anyone who has put a tank of gas in the car recently has had a moment to ponder that question.
Knock the idealistic Star Trekian future all you want, but the less plausible technologies give the writers a lot of creditability when you get down to the nitty-gritty details. Replicators and transporters go a long way towards knitting you out of a corner.
Did anyone actually watch Enterprise? Not many, obviously. I only caught the odd episode myself. One of the things that I thought was interesting about this pre- Captain Kirk show concept, though, was the limited technology available is this young Star Trek universe. What an interesting challenge to cultivate a Star Trek show in a reality where the technology is limited and clunky. Unfortunately, I don’t believe the writers really rose to that challenge. Instead they went for cheap thrills, altering the time line and betraying their characters. (The Vulcan did what? Again?!)
My friend Chezza and I like to talk about how jacked she and I will be in the way of marketable skills when apocalypse arrives. (Never mind how it happens. Nuclear holocaust, revelations, zombies, whatever. Pick the end-game scenario that best suits your spiritual and creative tastes and ride with it for a few minutes.) We educated folk with jobs heavily based in computers and technology will be SOL without electricity, so what then? We like to postulate that our fiber crafting skills are the only trade that we will have to offer such a society. We sew and we crochet. Useful skills if you can get your hands on some sheep and know how to spin a good yarn. That’s as good an excuse as I need to take up spinning. And animal husbandry, I guess.
I know I’m probably taking this too seriously. Maybe there are space sheep and the writers figured this wouldn’t interest 90% of their audience. Fair enough. Maybe I’m the only one in the verse who wonders how River Tam crocheted her vest rather than how Serenity could outrun those Reivers. (Except I’m not.)
All I can say for myself as we jump past the red line in a quest for the lost colony is this: This seems like an odd place for a yarn shop, doesn’t it?