Authors: Randall Munroe
. . . you could jump mountains.
Rising Steadily
Q.
If you suddenly began rising steadily at 1 foot per second, how exactly would you die? Would you freeze or suffocate first? Or something else?
—Rebecca B
A.
Did you bring a coat?
A foot per second isn’t that fast; it’s substantially slower than a typical elevator. It would take you 5-7 seconds to rise out of arm’s reach, depending how tall your friends are.
After 30 seconds, you’d be 30 feet
—
9 meters
—
off the ground. If you skip ahead to
page 168
, you’ll learn that this is your last chance for a friend to throw you a sandwich or water bottle or something.
1
After a minute or two you would be above the trees. For the most part, you’d still be about as comfortable as you were on the ground. If it’s a breezy day, it would probably
get chillier thanks to the steadier wind above the tree line.
2
After 10 minutes you would be above all but the tallest skyscrapers, and after 25 minutes you’d pass the spire of the Empire State Building.
Th
e air at these heights is about 3 percent thinner than it is at the surface. Fortunately, your body handles air pressure changes like that all the time. Your ears might pop, but you wouldn’t really notice anything else.
Air pressure changes quickly with height. Surprisingly, when you’re standing on the ground, air pressure changes measurably within just a few feet. If your
phone has a barometer in it, as a lot of modern phones do, you can download an app and actually see the pressure difference between your head and your feet.
A foot per second is pretty close to a kilometer per hour, so after an hour, you’ll be about a kilometer off the ground. At this point, you definitely start to get chilly. If you have a coat, you’ll still be OK, though you might also notice
the wind picking up.
At about two hours and two kilometers, the temperature would drop below freezing.
Th
e wind would also, most likely, be picking up. If you have any exposed skin, this is where frostbite would start to become a concern.
At this point, the air pressure would fall below what you’d experience in an airliner cabin,
3
and the effects would start to become more significant.
However, unless you had a warm coat, the temperature would be a bigger problem.
Over the next two hours, the air would drop to below-zero temperatures.
4
,
5
Assuming for a moment that you survived the oxygen deprivation, at some point you’d succumb to hypothermia. But when?
Th
e scholarly authorities on freezing to death seem to be, unsurprisingly, Canadians.
Th
e most widely used model for
human survival in cold air was developed by Peter Tikuisis and John Frim for the Defence and Civil Institute of Environmental Medicine in Ontario.
According to their model, the main factor in the cause of death would be your clothes. If you were nude, you’d probably succumb to hypothermia somewhere around the five-hour mark, before your oxygen ran out.
6
If you were bundled up, you may be frostbitten,
but you would probably survive . . .
. . . long enough to reach the
Death Zone.
Above 8000 meters
—
above the tops of all but the highest mountains
—
the oxygen content in the air is too low to support human life. Near this zone, you would experience a range of symptoms, possibly including confusion, dizziness, clumsiness, impaired vision, and nausea.
As you approach the Death Zone, your blood oxygen content would plummet. Your veins are supposed to bring
low-oxygen blood back to your lungs to be refilled with oxygen. But in the Death Zone, there’s so little oxygen in the air that your veins lose oxygen to the air instead of gaining it.
Th
e result would be a rapid loss of consciousness and death.
Th
is would happen around the seven-hour mark; the chances are very slim that you would make it to eight.
She died as she lived
—
rising at a foot per second. I mean, as she lived for the last few hours.
And two million years later, your frozen body, still moving along steadily at a foot per second, would pass through the heliopause into interstellar space.
Clyde Tombaugh, the astronomer who discovered Pluto, died in 1997. A portion of his remains were placed on the
New Horizons
spacecraft,
which will fly past Pluto and then continue out of the solar system.
It’s true that your hypothetical foot-per-second trip would be cold, unpleasant, and rapidly fatal. But when the Sun becomes a red giant in four billion years and consumes the Earth, you and Clyde would be the only ones to escape.
So there’s that.
weird (and worrying) questions from the what if? INBOX, #3
Q.
Given humanity’s current knowledge and capabilities, is it possible to build a new star?
—Jeff Gordon
Q.
What sort of logistic anomalies would you encounter in trying to raise an army of apes?
—Kevin
Q.
If people had wheels and could fly, how would we differentiate them from airplanes?
—Anonymous