it's all Alma's fault, again
Oct. 5th, 2007 04:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dichroicSpaceHome "First Resident" Contest
Entry #23879:
Names are omitted from all entries to insure fair judging
That was the last entry in my grandmother's journal. She read science fiction from early girlhood, and when she grew up she studied engineering back when a woman knew she'd likely be the only island in a sea of testosterone at any job she took - if she could get an engineering job at all. She followed every snitch of news from the space race. My mother was just barely old enough to remember the first Apollo Moon landing, and her main memory is of how frightened she was, because her mother, her strong powerful mother who could do anything and take on anyone, was crying like a baby. I think she always hoped that it would be like her favorite novels, and that once the Moon was reached, space travel would become routine very quickly. I think she always felt a her country, or maybe her world, had somehow failed her by never giving her that chance to step off its surface.
Well, I'm not writing to you about my grandmother. It's too late for her. The saddest thing about death is that it's forever; there's no chance to fix anything that's gone wrong. I believe the world did fail my grandmother, and it's too late to fix that.
But - my mother is her mother's daughter. Like her mother, she's spent a lifetime snatching at any scrap of news about space travel, choosing a career that let her contribute a little, reading stories about fictional universes where the stars are attainable. Her body is beginning to betray her with the inevitable inroads of old age, but I've watched her face light up as she's followed the progress of SpaceHome. Your foundation is making my mother's dream and her mother's dream into a reality.
My grandmother could only dream of living in space, but it's not too late for my mother. And that's why I am writing this essay and submitting it in your contest. Won't you please take my mother's dream into space and allow her to be the first resident chosen for the SpaceHome Assisted Living Module?
I know one thing: no matter how limited the baggage allowance is, the first thing she'll pack will be my grandmother's journal.
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WRITER'S NOTE: The above is fiction. As far as I know, no one has definite plans to build an old age home in space, or a contest to gain a place in one. There are lots of reasons it could be a good idea; low gravity could well help with some of the common problems of aging. However, there are also a lot of problems to be overcome. First there's the issue of what the high-Gs of launch could do to brittle bones; then you'd need an absolutely reliable transport to bring supplies, support staff willing to stay in space as a way of life, and enough trust in the system for people to want to put their lives on the line, literally. Also, magnetic bingo cards and a zero-G variant golf, but those are easier.
Entry #23879:
Names are omitted from all entries to insure fair judging
"I've seen the Southern Cross from the Australian Outback and the Leonides over the Arizona deserts. I've watched shooting stars and satellites in the clear skies over the Oregon high desert, and I've greeted the moon as a friend in more pre-dawn mornings than I can count.
But I've never really seen them as they are, cold and shining and utterly clear in the absolute blackness of space, never stirred a step off the planet I was born on. If there's one thing I regret, it's that."
That was the last entry in my grandmother's journal. She read science fiction from early girlhood, and when she grew up she studied engineering back when a woman knew she'd likely be the only island in a sea of testosterone at any job she took - if she could get an engineering job at all. She followed every snitch of news from the space race. My mother was just barely old enough to remember the first Apollo Moon landing, and her main memory is of how frightened she was, because her mother, her strong powerful mother who could do anything and take on anyone, was crying like a baby. I think she always hoped that it would be like her favorite novels, and that once the Moon was reached, space travel would become routine very quickly. I think she always felt a her country, or maybe her world, had somehow failed her by never giving her that chance to step off its surface.
Well, I'm not writing to you about my grandmother. It's too late for her. The saddest thing about death is that it's forever; there's no chance to fix anything that's gone wrong. I believe the world did fail my grandmother, and it's too late to fix that.
But - my mother is her mother's daughter. Like her mother, she's spent a lifetime snatching at any scrap of news about space travel, choosing a career that let her contribute a little, reading stories about fictional universes where the stars are attainable. Her body is beginning to betray her with the inevitable inroads of old age, but I've watched her face light up as she's followed the progress of SpaceHome. Your foundation is making my mother's dream and her mother's dream into a reality.
My grandmother could only dream of living in space, but it's not too late for my mother. And that's why I am writing this essay and submitting it in your contest. Won't you please take my mother's dream into space and allow her to be the first resident chosen for the SpaceHome Assisted Living Module?
I know one thing: no matter how limited the baggage allowance is, the first thing she'll pack will be my grandmother's journal.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
WRITER'S NOTE: The above is fiction. As far as I know, no one has definite plans to build an old age home in space, or a contest to gain a place in one. There are lots of reasons it could be a good idea; low gravity could well help with some of the common problems of aging. However, there are also a lot of problems to be overcome. First there's the issue of what the high-Gs of launch could do to brittle bones; then you'd need an absolutely reliable transport to bring supplies, support staff willing to stay in space as a way of life, and enough trust in the system for people to want to put their lives on the line, literally. Also, magnetic bingo cards and a zero-G variant golf, but those are easier.
