I was re-reading The Martian recently, and it got me
thinking about the level of scientific accuracy in our work. The Martian has been universally praised for
its devotion to accuracy, but once you dig behind the details, it isn’t the
precise science everyone claims it is.
To start with, Martian soil is toxic due to a substance known as
perchlorate, which would make Mark Watney’s potatoes inedible unless he
remembered to wash the perchlorates out of the soil. Also, while wind can reach high speeds on Mars,
the atmospheric density of the planet would mean that those gusts of 100mph
might let you fly a kite, but it wouldn’t knock over your ship.
The movie Interstellar has similar issues with scientific accuracy, despite doing what it could to stay true to science. The biggest example in this is when Matthew McConaughey goes into the black hole known as Gargantua to collect quantum data. This would be quite impossible due to the phenomenon known as spaghettification, where as the closer you get to a black hole, the stronger the gravitational pull is at your feet as opposed to your head. This would lead to your atoms being stretched out into one long noodle before you ever crossed the event horizon.
However, as the nerd in me looked at these inaccuracies, I wondered if it really mattered. The obvious answer is no, it doesn’t. That’s because while audiences know enough to laugh at obvious errors – like flying through space using nothing but an umbrella, or pretending the water in your shower can melt steel – they don’t know science intricately enough for misuse to take away from their enjoyment. Most people know that growing crops requires water, dirt, and fertilizer, so they’re just fine with what Watney did. Use a plausible concept, throw in a few big words that sound cool but no one will take the time to learn about, and most folks will accept your version of “science.”
What it comes down to in the end is the enjoyment of the audience. People accept that they have only a surface layer knowledge of complex things, so as long as it doesn’t go overboard, they’re fine with pretending it’s real. This can have poor societal consequences when applied to real life – prosecutors in murder cases are having an increasingly hard time getting convictions because every potential juror has seen CSI and claims to know how important DNA evidence is and how easy it is to get – but most folks sit back with their popcorn and beverage, happily immersed in the plot.
This is where you as the writer come in. For those that write sci-fi, or anything that requires a passing explanation of science, don’t fret if you’re not an astrophysicist or biologist. Do what I do – use the University of Google, make it sound cool but not outrageous, and focus on your story. Some may give you a hard time, but most will concentrate on the story and not the holes in its science.
The movie Interstellar has similar issues with scientific accuracy, despite doing what it could to stay true to science. The biggest example in this is when Matthew McConaughey goes into the black hole known as Gargantua to collect quantum data. This would be quite impossible due to the phenomenon known as spaghettification, where as the closer you get to a black hole, the stronger the gravitational pull is at your feet as opposed to your head. This would lead to your atoms being stretched out into one long noodle before you ever crossed the event horizon.
However, as the nerd in me looked at these inaccuracies, I wondered if it really mattered. The obvious answer is no, it doesn’t. That’s because while audiences know enough to laugh at obvious errors – like flying through space using nothing but an umbrella, or pretending the water in your shower can melt steel – they don’t know science intricately enough for misuse to take away from their enjoyment. Most people know that growing crops requires water, dirt, and fertilizer, so they’re just fine with what Watney did. Use a plausible concept, throw in a few big words that sound cool but no one will take the time to learn about, and most folks will accept your version of “science.”
What it comes down to in the end is the enjoyment of the audience. People accept that they have only a surface layer knowledge of complex things, so as long as it doesn’t go overboard, they’re fine with pretending it’s real. This can have poor societal consequences when applied to real life – prosecutors in murder cases are having an increasingly hard time getting convictions because every potential juror has seen CSI and claims to know how important DNA evidence is and how easy it is to get – but most folks sit back with their popcorn and beverage, happily immersed in the plot.
This is where you as the writer come in. For those that write sci-fi, or anything that requires a passing explanation of science, don’t fret if you’re not an astrophysicist or biologist. Do what I do – use the University of Google, make it sound cool but not outrageous, and focus on your story. Some may give you a hard time, but most will concentrate on the story and not the holes in its science.
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