Just 15 minutes away
The Institute - Chapter III
Chapter I: Reorganize the social network
“Let’s take some hight”
Tiffany gestured towards a protrusion of stone and dirt covered with a thick layer of foliage jutting from the edge of the Atrium. It seemed to be a pillar pulled straight from the earth, but something in its shape and strange angles made it look somewhat unnatural. Within arm's reach of the structure, Brennan ran his fingers over the rock-like surface. It felt rough under his touch than what he was expecting. Through the vine- and moss-covered surface, it seemed that the stone had been extruded through a fist-sized pipe before solidifying.
“This was one of our early projects,” said Tiffany. “When the institute was founded, some of the buildings were 3D printed with a cement formulation using the regolith available on site. It was an attempt to mimic the procedure we would use should we manage to visit other planets.”
“It feels brittle,” said Brennan, rubbing his fingers together, now covered with a fine layer of dust.
“The original cement formulation gave mixed results. It is surprisingly challenging to make cement that stands the test of time,” replied Tiffany.
“The ruins scattered across the planet suggest that it is possible. What differs?”
“Well, to start, as the Institute of In Situ Resource Utilization, we were obligated to use what was available to us,” retorted Tiffany with a chuckle. “We did not have the best ingredients. Some of those ruins are made using an ancient technique that combined volcanic ash, lime, and seawater. Two of those ingredients are not present in these regions. The majority of the other ruins are made using a synthetic material that is beyond our current abilities. Besides, in our case, it was actually designed to be porous.”
“Porous?” asked Brennan in surprise. “That seems like a strange design choice for a building material.”
“It is. The initial goal was to cover the outside walls with an organic paste containing moss spores and, in turn, create a thick layer of moss over the outer structure. It would serve as natural insulation and regulate heat. The idea of living walls fits well with the concept of human systems living in symbiosis with nature. We have refined our formulation since. We’ve even developed self-healing building materials made from mycelium.”
“Mycelium? As in mushrooms?” asked Brennan.
“Yes. It’s one of our more unconventional projects. We have a whole department dedicated to Living Building Materials,” replied Tiffany with a grin. “Shall we?” She pointed towards a gap in the vines, a thin slit opening into darkness. She pushed the vines aside and stepped into the foliage, leaving the journalist behind. Brennan hesitated for an instant before following her.
On the other side was what looked like a small hallway, followed by a spiral staircase leading up through the hollow tower.
“We use this as an observation point now. It used to be the emergency exit,” explained Tiffany, her voice surprisingly quiet, as though the walls absorbed its sound and echo. She started ascending the staircase two steps at a time. Brennan was still scanning the structure in wonder, looking up through the hollow column at the center of the tower. Metal bars occasionally jutted out of the compacted regolith, connecting and stabilizing the winding path.
“Are you coming?” he heard a voice call from a full twist above him. He nodded.
It didn’t take long before the unmistakable burn of untrained muscles slowed Brennan’s pace. Eventually, the dark staircase—occasionally flooded with sunlight pouring through slits in the wall and refracting off dust particles suspended in the air—opened up to a balcony with a nearly noticeable slant overlooking the campus. Nearly.
Slightly struggling to catch his breath and his balance, Brennan panted:
“It is not… particularly… accessible.”
Tiffany smiled, unbothered by the effort, and patted him on the back. “No. You have to earn this view. You’re right, though. It’s a remnant of the early days when accessibility was… a lesser concern.”
The journalist lifted his eyes, and in the mid-afternoon glow, he gazed upon the sprawling chaos that was the Institute of In Situ Resource Utilization. The Atrium extended from the base of the tower, and the arboreal gradient was even more striking from this perspective. The rest of the campus was embedded within woodlands and fields. The textures of nature merged seamlessly with the man-made: bridges and paths linked everything together. Brennan was certain that, if one were so inclined, they could traverse the entire campus, visiting every building, without ever setting foot outside or on the ground.
He thought back to an article he had read a few weeks ago about ant colonies, which had spurred a conversation on the topic of emergence. He reflected that this must be the human equivalent of those formic constructions.
“You mentioned… 15-minute cities?” asked the journalist, still trying to catch his breath.
Tiffany nodded.
“Simply put, a 15-minute city is a city where all necessary amenities—and by that I mean outdoor activities, learning, supplies, eating, moving, cultural activities, physical exercise, services, and health care—are within a 15-minute walk from where you live. It is a form of chrono-urbanism where time plays a major role in city development. We have a finite amount of space available for human habitats.” She pointed toward a darker patch on the horizon—a dense forest. “Primordial habitats are to be preserved, if for nothing else, their sheer beauty. They are a reminder of what we have become. And… because of systems.”
“Ah yes, systems. Emergent properties and the like,” nodded Brennan, recalling their previous conversation. “Why 15 minutes, though? It seems quite limiting.”
“There has been some debate on that question. Some have argued that a 15-minute walk represents an acceptable distance for anyone to travel on foot rather than using a vehicle. It promotes sustainability, resilience, and community cohesion.”
“I’m not sure I could get anywhere in my city with a 15-minute walk.”
“That’s why others have argued we should extend the concept to 20-minute cities by also including public transport.”
“Even then. Twenty minutes on a bus… Taking a car would be so much more convenient and faster.”
“I agree. Currently, most cities do not provide the infrastructure to enable this kind of model. One of our teams developed an algorithm to estimate how feasible resource reallocation—redistributing amenities to different parts of the city—would be for various existing cities. It turns out many cities could become 15-minute cities by reallocating resources from resource-dense areas to resource-sparse ones. They observed that, in many cases, it’s a ‘rich get richer’ scenario. City centers have more amenities, so more people want to go there, which in turn makes it more expensive to live there, ultimately leading to fewer people having access to already existing resources.”
“A lot of infrastructural changes would be required for that!” exclaimed Brennan. “In some suburbs, I can’t imagine being able to walk or even take any form of public transport to get to any of the amenities you mentioned. It would be impractical. Having a personal vehicle just makes more sense. The 15-minute city concept could only apply to compact cities.”
“Many cities around the planet simply don’t have the potential to become 15-minute cities. You’re right. With population growth, we’ll see an ever-increasing urban population and all the challenges that come with it, including health issues. Working toward a 15-minute-like concept will hopefully bring about changes in the way we design urban infrastructure in the future—or how we decide to renovate existing ones. We can’t give everyone the nice house, the car, and the garden. We simply don’t have the space for that. Nor the resources.”
“I have a feeling many people wouldn’t like that at all,” replied Brennan. “Some people don’t want to live in a city. They enjoy the peace and quiet of less populated areas. I know I do. Will they have to live in small, bloated apartments for the sake of sustainability?”
For a brief moment, Tiffany smirked in mild derision. Nevertheless, she continued diplomatically.
“No, of course not. Although, I think many might change their minds about city life if these cities were actually enjoyable. But more importantly, we don’t work for those who have a choice. We work for those who don’t. We aim to make the human habitat as… well, habitable as possible.
Imagine you lived in a small, bloated apartment, as you said, but you know you don’t need a car to get to work. You know you can spend the day in a nice green park with your friends and family without needing a picketed garden—a park like this one.” Tiffany pointed down toward the Atrium.
“Imagine if you could enjoy wonderful music, food, and drink just a stone’s throw away from where you live. Imagine being part of a community that actually feels connected. We’re not trying to take anything away from anyone. We’re simply trying to make an alternative life possible. We want local communities to thrive. We don’t want people to feel like they need to move to live well.”
“I see. I can live with that,” Brennan sighed. “It does sound like an awfully… complex goal. Especially at large scales. How can you make this work for a metropolis or even a country? It seems so disconnected from the local community”
Tiffany raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment, nodding gently.
“Yes. We recently developed a new computational model called PDFM—short for Population Dynamics Foundation Model. I know its a terrible name but our engineers liked it so we kept it for now. We hope to use this model to support the health and well-being of all communities at the scale of countries, continents, and even the planet. It’s a first step in trying to understand what needs to be done, who needs what, and how we can predict system stressors. For instance, without directly using medical data, but instead using geospatial data, we can predict the prevalence of diseases such as diabetes. There’s a long road ahead before we get there, but we will get there one step at a time. One research project at a time.”
“After hearing you describe the work of the Institute, I’m surprised by how… and I’m not sure this is the right term. It’s just the feeling I have… it all feels very mundane. Given the eccentric nature of this place, I was expecting more… you know… more crazy stuff.”
Tiffany laughed. She looked at the sun lowering on the horizon and, for maybe a few minutes, didn’t say anything. Brennan followed her lead, and both seemed lost in thought. Finally, Tiffany broke the silence:
“We like to imagine our lives as a collection of exciting stories and dreams. The more time passes, the more our lives resemble a string of anecdotes. We recall our highs and lows with great clarity. We might remember the day we met our life partner or the day we lost a loved one. We think and dream of a future that might be and tell ourselves that our lives are dedicated to that dream. Everything we do is for that hope to become a reality.
But the truth is, those moments represent a minute fraction of what your life truly is. Most of your life is just… mundane. You’re asleep for much of it. You commute to and from work. You clean. You cook. You go to stores to get groceries. You might spend most evenings watching films or reading a book. Even if you go outside and participate in various social activities, for the most part, those activities will be uneventful. Not a story worth recounting.”
“That seems kind of sad,” said Brennan.
“I don’t think it is. Appreciating the infinite variations of the mundane is where authentic lives are found. It’s the ability to enjoy the feeling of just being… present and alive. The research we do here is to make the mundane as enjoyable and comfortable as possible so that anyone can have that feeling. Anyone can look around and see their family eating fresh food in a clean, enjoyable city and say to themselves, ‘You know what? This is nice.’”
“A friend once told me that comfort is the enemy of progress. Necessity drives innovation. Do you think making the mundane so… comfortable will reduce progress?” asked Brennan.
Tiffany turned toward him with something between a smile and a smirk.
“Well, your friend is correct in some circumstances. Necessity and the drive to make our lives better often spur innovation and creation. It is, after all, what brought us here. However, in my view, innovation driven by necessity tends to be short-sighted—both in scope and in time frame. It often results in projects that address immediate needs or benefit only a fraction of the population,” replied Tiffany.
She paused for a few seconds, looking back toward the tower’s edge and down into the Atrium.
“And so,” she continued, her voice quieter now, as though speaking to herself as much as to Brennan, “do I believe comfort dulls the edge of innovation? For some that might be true. But your friend completely neglects to consider innovation driven by curiosity—and even more importantly, boredom. You’d be surprised at the lengths people will go to for a sense of purpose or just to escape boredom. With the right focus, these individuals can become some of the most ingenious and innovative people out there.
You just have to provide the right environment for them to flourish. We want to create fertile soil for long-term, sustainable innovation. We want to innovate not because we need to but because we can.”