Comments about technological history, system fractures, and human resilience from James R. Chiles, the author of Inviting Disaster: Lessons from the Edge of Technology (HarperBusiness 2001; paperback 2002) and The God Machine: From Boomerangs to Black Hawks, the Story of the Helicopter (Random House, 2007, paperback 2008)

Monday, June 16, 2025

Starting a Substack: On the Machine Frontier


This is the Substack link

Here's what I mean by the Machine Frontier, a concept that was central to my book on technological catastrophes, Inviting Disaster.

An English dictionary of 1721 defined frontier as “the Limits or Borders of a Country or Province.” In the US, the word came to mean an unsettled wilderness that was ripe for exploitation by restless – sometimes reckless – entrepreneurs.

America's geographical western frontier has long vanished, but I see similar dynamics along the machine frontier: a mix of danger and opportunity that offers innovators new, sometimes dramatic, gains. But building out such niches brings a higher risk of error, since safe and reliable methods have not been established.

My posts, then, will highlight cases where new tech needed new thinking. 

Consider what happened in January 1969 at the Hungarian Carbonic Acid Producing Company, at Répcelak, Hungary. The company was in the business of removing CO2 from natural gas and selling it. The liquid was stored in small cylinders as well as in four big storage tanks, cooled by ammonia refrigeration. The gas arrived at the plant with traces of water in it that had to be removed. On occasion this stray water caused gauges, fittings, level indicators, and even safety valves to freeze shut. But the plant kept running.

On December 31, 1968, the plant shut down with the indicators showing at least twenty tons of liquid COz in each tank. The plant opened again late on the night of January 1. Running short of cylinders to store the liquid CO2, operators directed the flow into storage tank C, which was supposed to have plenty of capacity. About a half hour later tank C exploded, and its fragments blew apart tank D.

The twin explosions killed four people nearby and ripped tank A from its foundation bolts, tearing a hole about a foot across. In escaping furiously through the new opening, the pressurized, liquid COz acted like a rocket propellant. Tank A took off under the thrust, crashing through a wall into the plant laboratory, dumping out tons of liquid CO2 across the floor, and instantly freezing five people where they stood.

The deluge left the room at a temperature of -108°F, starved of breathable air, and covered with a thick layer of dry ice.

While popular history tends to focus on seemingly overnight successes, over the long haul the greatest rewards on the machine frontier will go to innovators who proceed on solid facts and exhaustive testing. When experiments are unsatisfactory, they correct and move forward. If that means scrapping a design and starting over with a clean sheet, that's what they do.