Sunday, July 28, 2013

Too Late Now - Spacefest Bonus Edition

"So I wrote this story," I say to the two very nice, very smart women from NASA, whose job it is to send humans into deep space to explore the mysteries of the universe, "about this old man who used to work on the space shuttle breaking out of his nursing home to see the last one before they sell it for parts."

"Oh wow, I'd love to read it," says Jennifer, reaching for her phone and going to Google. "What's it called?"

They have spent the last twenty minutes telling me how hard they are working on interplanetary travel, on solving the problems of radiation and micro-meteorites and the mind-shriveling distances of space (all of which my story essentially uses as an excuse for why nobody is ever going into space ever again, boo-hoo humanity is shallow and pointless) and I suddenly feel woefully inadequate and scientifically wrong, but it's too late, my ego has spoken the title aloud, and I shudder inside to think of these people who really know this stuff reading my fancies; I, who only know what I make up in my head.

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