I have always wanted to live under the sea, even though it would be a huge pain in the ass.
I can trace my interest to several sources: Carl Stromberg's subsea headquarters in
The Spy Who Loved Me, the Nautilus in
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,
Man from Atlantis, and several Beatles' songs which celebrate undersea habitation in yellow submarines and octopus' gardens. Ever since I was a kid I thought it would be the coolest thing to live underwater, preferably with a pet dolphin and crack team of wetsuit clad scientists, one of whom is a dusky-eyed female Russian seismologist named Olga with a penchant for tank tops and back rubs.
Mmm... Russian seismologists...
In the years since the idea of living beneath the waves first caught my fancy, I've sort of talked myself out of my boyhood dream. Living underwater may be possible, but I'm probably not cut out for it. I don't even know how to SCUBA dive. I get bummed out after a few sunless winter months here in the Pacific Northwest - living in perpetual darkness on the ocean floor would drive me mad. I'm not a scientist, or an engineer, or a biologist. Even my first aid is rusty. Oh, and I have a deep and irrational terror of swimming in deep water. The only thing I have going for me? I'm sort of skinny and could fit through the hatches with no problem. Surely I am not
the absolute last person you would want living in an undersea structure, but I'm pretty damn close. An aquanaut I am not.
That's why I'm so excited that architects and shipbuilders who surely have better things to do with their time have designed semi-submerged environments that incorporate everything I could want in an oceanic dwelling. It's the perfect solution: a house (or crime fighting headquarters) that floats on the water but has a sizable underwater "basement." You can have sunshine and fresh air AND enjoy the undersea swinger's lifestyle.
The
Trilobis 65 is a floating house designed by visionary architect
Giancarlo Zema that might fit the bill for Phase 1 of my aqua-plan. A "self-sufficient, non-polluting dwelling cell," The Trilobis 65 is a hybrid of flying saucer and houseboat that is ideal for living in sheltered waters like bays, atolls, and marine parks. It sleeps 6 comfortably and offers above-the-wave luxury as well as an underwater viewing chamber with exterior lights so you can check out coral reefs and shipwrecks while you drink a gin and tonic or get a back rub from Olga.
No, I'm not giving up on Olga, she's a crucial part of the team!
Zema has envisioned a special docking structure that the Trilobis 65 can snuggle into, but I imagine you could just drop anchor anywhere a boat could go. In fact, the Trilobis is a boat, with an engine that can push it along at a few knots. It's nothing you'd want to cross an ocean with, but the Trilobis could scoot around the Bahamas or Puget Sound with no problem. These would be perfect homes for visiting dignitaries, loyal henchmen, or hot Russian seismologists.
Sure, the Trilobis 65 would be a good starter home for the semi-submerged life, but since I plan on amassing a vast fortune before the ice caps melt, I'm thinking of the big picture, the long haul. I want a floating city.
Fortunately,
Belgian architect Vincent Callebaut has designed the Lilypad, a completely self-sufficient amphibious city that can house 50,000 people and an unspecified number of cats. You gotta have cats, man.
The Lilypad is a big floating island that looks like the Mothership from Close Encounters after a water landing. The standard prototype consists of a floating habitation ring built around a central freshwater lagoon that collects and purifies rain water. Three "mountains" hold the Lilypad's housing, work, and shopping/entertainment, and the entire structure can be accessed by one of three marinas (and presumably a helipad or two). A large section of the Lilypad lies underwater, where residents can enjoy the sub-aquatic lifestyle - which by my way of thinking includes pet dolphins, personal submarines, and Olga.
Callebaut's Lilypad is part utopian dream, part eco-pragmatism. He argues that as sea levels raise over the century, many people in at-risk zones like the Polynesian islands will become climatic refugees, forced off their land. The Lilypad can offer housing to this new type of refugee and usher in an era of ecologically-minded oceanic nomadism. The entire structure theoretically produces more energy than it takes in, with a wide spectrum of power sources: solar, thermal and photovoltaic energies, wind energy, hydraulic, tidal power station, osmotic energies, and phytopurification. I have no idea what "phytopurification" is, but clearly Callebaut does.
Me, I'd want the Lilypad as my own private city-state, complete with torpedo defenses, Aquabots, and orange jumpsuits. There's no point in having a Bond villain home if you don't have all the Bond villain toys. It solves all of the nagging problems I associate with living completely underwater, plus it has the added benefit of looking cool as hell. My only concern would be algae and barnacle build-up on the the undersea sections - nobody wants a thin sheen of green goo blocking their view of the ocean. I guess that's what you have the Aquabots for...
Semi-submerged living environments - GIVE TO ME!
Labels: give to me
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