When Space Becomes a Home for all of Us

It's hard not to watch the launch of British astronaut Tim Peake into space without a complete sense of awe, and without feeling that everything else after it is completely mundane.

The splendidly retro and reliable technology of the Soyuz spacecraft and launch vehicle - both rooted in the 1960s, check out the way the rocket looks like it has flares on - successfully did their job on taking our plucky astronaut up to the International Space Station.

But what struck me while watching the launch, was the fact that space is still a place for the test pilot and the ultra clever scientist, the strong and the smart. The much admired Commander Mike Hadfield, the Marlboro Man looking guitar strummer of a previous mission, said as much during the BBC's launch coverage.

But for us to expand out from our overcrowded, polluted home, Space can't remain the preserve of the elites with big brains, or big wallets to pay for a trip on Virgin Galactic, forever. Sooner or later, we will need it to be a home for everyone.

Space will need shelf stackers, warehouse runners, toilet cleaners and plumbers to build a society up there. Cosmonaut Commander Bigballzikov won't want to waste his time tending the Martian base flowerbeds, he'll be wanting the municipal gardener to do it for him.  Captain Goldstein won't want to take out the garbage, and Doctor Fortescue-Blyth will blanch at idea of emptying the zero gravity toilet. There will be a need for bus drivers, teachers, speeder bike traffic wardens and folk to run the corner shop.

It won't be me of course, too old even now, as are indeed most people who are already born on this planet. But someday the adverts of Blade Runner, enticing the masses of Earth to the off world colonies, will be a reality. One day, there will be opportunities to be astronauts for all of us.

Si

All text copyright CreamCrackeredNature 15.12.15

Showing off the International Space Station

Last night, got to do a little bit of long hoped for "astronomy outreach" when I went to the Prince Rupert pub last night. The sky was holding clear, despite the threatening presence of purpley grey clouds in the west as I walked down.

So, in the beer garden, fine pint of Reverend James in hand, I warmed up the crowd - of two - with a discussion about George Adamski, and the Warminster Thing flap of 1964 - 65;

http://www.weirdwiltshire.co.uk/archives/3990

We concluded that it was natural for even the most sceptical sort of folk such as ourselves to be interested in such phenomena, representing as they do a particularly interesting part of folk-culture, and that the changing nature of visitors from space from benign nordic types preaching at us to stop nuclear weapons development; to empathyless grey entities wishing nothing more of us than an endless supply of cavities to violate, shows the nature of our changing relationship with space, and the subconscious collective fears of humankind in the first world.

It was two pint pub talk basically, although I'd only had a half by this point.

Then came the main event. The ISS appeared over the pergola, and made its way over the pub proper, watched by several people as I explained what it was - a space station the size of a football pitch, 200 miles or more above us. These people had never seen it before, and couldn't quite believe the idea it was permanently occupied. A few minutes later, the ATV4 Albert Einstein supply ship followed it, fainter but faster, and I explained the importance of this vessel, an Ariane launched European effort.

Someone insisted it was a helicopter, no matter what I said.

Then it was gone, and the conversation had moved onto the nature of alien life. My job done, I headed back inside for more lovely beer, and a think.