New York, NY- According to Dr. Mellysay of India, stationed at the UN building, the world’s scientists have united in a global effort to wind several billion turns of 1 gauge silver wire around the equator.
The reason given by the Dr. involves solar radiation. The Earth is losing its magnetic field. This can be very bad for skin cancer and communications. He referred us to This Article.
Nuclear reactors will power the electromagnet which will have the side effect of accelerating the Earth out of the Solar System, in about ten years.
He advises drinking a lot of aspartame to deal with the stress.
Update:
Grok7 sees into the future!!
New York, NY, UN Headquarters
Dr. Rajesh Mellysay stood before the UN Assembly, his eyes alight with a quiet triumph. "We’ve cracked it," he announced, unveiling a shimmering coil of wire no thicker than a human hair. "A superconductor stable up to 100 degrees Celsius—cheap, limitless, and powerful enough to save us." The room erupted in murmurs. Earth’s magnetic field was crumbling, down 20% since 2020, leaving the planet vulnerable to solar radiation. Skin cancer rates had tripled, and satellite grids flickered daily. Dr. Mellysay’s plan: wrap the equator with a billion turns of this miracle material, powered by nuclear reactors, to forge an artificial magnetic shield—and, as a calculated side effect, propel Earth toward the stars.
The superconductor, dubbed "Thermastat" by its creators in Bangalore, was a fusion of nanotechnology and rare-earth elements mined from lunar regolith. It conducted electricity with zero resistance up to 100°C, even under the equatorial sun. The world’s scientists rallied, and the project—codenamed "Exodus Coil"—began.
Construction: 2036-2042
The coil rose with eerie precision. Robotic assemblers, guided by AI, laid a billion turns of Thermastat wire across the equator—a delicate, silvery web spanning 40,075 kilometers. At just 50 meters high and a fraction of silver’s weight, it was a marvel of efficiency. Nuclear fusion reactors, perfected in the late 2030s, sprouted along the tropics—200 of them, each pumping out 10 gigawatts. The wire’s superconductivity meant no energy loss, no melting, no limits. By 2042, the circuit gleamed like a halo around Earth, ready to rewrite humanity’s fate.
Activation Day: October 10, 2043
At 13:00 UTC, the reactors roared to life. A trillion amps surged through the coil, silent and cold despite the power. Magnetometers spiked—Earth’s new magnetic field flared to life, 50 microtesla strong, mirroring the planet’s lost shield. Auroras danced over the equator for the first time, a shimmering curtain of green and violet. Crowds in Quito, Jakarta, and Kinshasa wept as radiation levels dropped, the ozone layer stabilized, and communication grids hummed back online. Dr. Mellysay, sipping an aspartame-spiked tea ("for the nerves," he winked), declared victory.
But the coil did more. Its colossal field interacted with the solar wind—charged particles streaming from the Sun. The Lorentz force, subtle but relentless, nudged Earth’s orbit outward. Scientists calculated the acceleration: 0.01 meters per second squared. Tiny, yet compounding. In ten years, Earth would drift beyond Mars’ orbit, a rogue planet unbound from the Sun.
The Journey: 2043-2053
By 2048, the Sun was a dimmer star in the sky. Earth’s climate cooled as solar input waned, but fusion reactors powered vast greenhouse cities, sustaining billions. The coil, now a permanent fixture, pulsed steadily, its field shielding humanity from cosmic rays. Telescopes tracked the planet’s path—past Mars, past the asteroid belt, toward the Kuiper Belt. The night sky grew blacker, stars sharper, as Earth became a spaceship.
In 2053, a decade after activation, Earth crossed 5 AU (Astronomical Units), officially exiting the Solar System. Dr. Mellysay, now 68 and frail, addressed the world from a bunker-turned-command-center in Nairobi. "We’ve escaped doom," he rasped. "The galaxy is ours." Populations adapted—hydroponic farms fed cities, fusion lit the dark, and children born in transit knew no Sun, only starlight.
Epilogue: 2060
Earth, now a wandering ark, approached the Alpha Centauri system, 4.37 light-years from its birthplace. The coil still hummed, its superconductor flawless after decades of strain. Scouts in fusion-powered ships reported habitable exoplanets ahead. Humanity, once tethered to a dying world, now stood on the brink of a new one—all thanks to a wire thin as a whisper, and a dream bold enough to move a planet.
