Diary of an Ass Can
July 6th
(Moderator’s Note: 130 Days Before Sol 6)
This could be my last night on Earth. It’ll certainly be my last night on Earth for a long time. We launch tomorrow. They told me to get a good night’s sleep.
Yeah. Right.
I can’t take a sleeping pill. They don’t want any of us to have residual drugs in our system when we launch. Especially things that deliberately induce drowsiness. Makes sense, really.
I tried to take my mind off things with some internet surfing. But you know what? Tomorrow’s launch is pretty much the only thing people are talking about right now. So no help there.
I’m in an isolation bunkroom at the launch pad. NASA doesn’t like surprises. They don’t want us getting drunk or injured or mobbed by the press at the last minute. So we’ve been here for the past three days doing final mission prep.
I’m single, so I guess it’s not as rough for me. I feel bad for Lewis and Vogel, who both had to say goodbye to their spouses a week ago. And I especially feel bad for Martinez, who has a wife and one-year-old baby.
It’s going to be a long mission. 124 days to get to Mars, a little over 31 days on the surface, and then 241 days to get back home. 396 days total. Over a year. I’m going to miss every holiday at least once. In fact, we’ll be on the surface for Thanksgiving. NASA even gave us some special rations for it and we’ll have three hours off from our rigorous science schedules to celebrate.
Presuming we’re alive, that is.
I thought I’d be scared at this point. But I’m past terror and into that weird valley beyond it. I’m pretty anxious, but mostly I’m just impatient.
I don’t know if the mission will be successful or not, and I don’t even know if I’ll get back alive. But one thing’s for sure: this is happening. It’s not theoretical anymore. The booster is fuelled. Hermes is fuelled and waiting for us in orbit. The mission equipment and supplies are already on Mars, ready for use.
Everything is ready. So I better be ready, too.
Creation of Plastic: Part 1
The employees of Deyo Plastics worked double shifts. There was talk of triple shifts if NASA increased the order again. No one minded. The overtime pay was spectacular and the funding was limitless.
Woven carbon thread ran slowly through the press, which sandwiched it between polymer sheets. The completed material was folded four times and glued together. The resulting thick sheet was then coated with soft resin, and taken to the hot-room to set.
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