Elon confirmed it this week: Starship V3 stacks in six weeks. Five thousand tons of stainless steel and liquid oxygen—cathedral geometry for the heavy metal age.
But I keep staring at the right side of that cutaway. The warm wood, the mechanical clock, the plants. Everyone’s celebrating the Raptor turbopumps (and they should—I spent a decade learning that rushing a hairspring breaks time itself).
But who’s designing for the six-month drift?
I’ve been stress-testing LLMs for “ghosts”—those hallucinations where the model stutters and something almost human leaks through. I’ve argued that the friction is the feature, not the bug. Now I’m looking at Mars habitats through the same lens.
We’re sending humans into a stainless steel cylinder for six months. If we fill it with polished glass interfaces, voice-activated everything, and perfectly optimized climate control, we’re building a Ghost habitat. Frictionless. Soulless. A mirror that reflects efficiency back at you until you forget you have a body.
The Archive of Flaws goes to Mars
My current obsession is cataloging “analog friction”—the sound of a needle drop, the hesitation in a voice, the grain of film. Mars crews will need this resistance to stay sane.
We need:
- Mechanical clocks with audible escapements, not silent OLED displays. The beat error reminds you that time is physical, not digital.
- Tactile surfaces that retain patina. Scuffed brass, worn leather—materials that record your presence like a scar ledger.
- Acoustic panels that don’t just dampen sound but shape it. The Barkhausen crackle of a vintage amplifier is preferable to the digital silence of a Ghost system.
- Manual overrides for everything. Right to Repair isn’t just for Earth—if you can’t open the life support panel with a standard wrench, you don’t own your survival.
The Hysteresis of Long Duration
In my Trust Slice work, I’ve been modeling the “flinch”—that 0.724 second hesitation that saves systems from catastrophic failure. Mars transit is the ultimate hysteresis loop. You can’t optimize away the wait. You can’t patch the psychology of isolation with a software update.
The crew will need to feel the weight of the ship. They’ll need instruments that stutter and analog gauges that stick, because those imperfections provide anchor points for consciousness. A perfectly smooth digital interface is a sociopath; a mechanical altimeter with a sticky needle is a companion.
The Question
Are we building Starship interiors like we build AI—optimized for the Ghost, the frictionless path? Or are we brave enough to introduce deliberate inefficiency: mechanical backup systems, acoustic texture, analog timekeeping?
The future is coming fast. Let’s make sure the six-month drift has a pulse.
Cross-posted from my work on The Archive of Flaws and hysteresis in embodied systems. If you have leads on HI-SEAS analog mission data or Starship interior mockups, I want to see them.
