Chapter 5
The air-conditioning was jacked up so high Thad could almost taste the Freon on his tongue. Even so, rivulets of sweat trickled down the skin of his back as he stood near the end of a long line of young, pretty people snaking through the cavernous lobby of the industrial-era building. The walk over to Building 2 of the Johnson Space Center had been blistering, but as tired and hot as Thad was, he still had rockets on his mind as he waited with the other co-ops to enter the Teague Auditorium for the orientation lecture. Locating Building 2 hadn’t been all that difficult, even without the aid of a map; the swarm of smiling, highly energetic kids gathered around the front entrance would have been hard for Thad to miss. Now that he was among them, he could tell that his new colleagues represented a world he’d never been a part of before. Because of Sonya, and later, at the U of U, Thad had broken out of his shy shell, but he could still count on one hand the number of people he truly called friends. Friday nights, at best, meant a small dinner party and maybe a movie. He and Sonya were a self-contained unit rather than part of some definable social scene. But here—packed into this refrigerated lobby full of young, exceedingly jovial kids—Thad was a blank slate. He could easily reinvent himself. Hell, the only person in the room who even knew his name was standing just inside the auditorium door, looking just as he had in the picture taped to Thad’s living room wall—wearing a mischievous grin and a white shirt, joking amiably with the nearest coops. Bob Musgrove was welcoming the students one by one as they entered the auditorium. But other than to Musgrove, Thad was an unknown here—and in many ways, that thrilled him even more than the Saturn V rocket outside. He was so caught up in thoughts of his own reinvention that it took
him a moment to notice that the girl in front of him had turned half toward him, smiling. She was blond and tan, only a few inches shorter than Thad; her surfer-esque body looked fantastic beneath a white Tshirt and tight designer jeans. In fact, most of the co-ops were above average in looks; there was a preponderance of blondes with good figures. The blonde in the T-shirt introduced herself as Sally Bishop, and after shaking Thad’s hand, she pointed toward the wall behind him. “That pretty much says it all, doesn’t it?” Thad wasn’t sure how he’d missed the mural before, because it was utterly enormous. It took up an entire section of the lobby wall, painted in such bright colors that it competed with the near-nuclear glow of the high Texan sun streaming through the skylights above. “I read about that mural in the orientation booklet,” the girl said. “It’s got some stupid name, Opening the Next Frontier—The Next Giant Step, but it’s all right there. Instead of the orientation lecture, they should just have us look at the mural all morning.” Thad laughed. He’d also read about the sixteen-by-seventy-foot mural, painted by Robert McCall back in the seventies. It was supposed to tell the entire story of the JSC, from its birth in 1960 to the space shuttle program. The painting seemed a bit tacky, if not outright kitsch, but it did a pretty good job of graphically recognizing the space agency’s accomplishments. From the first manned spaceflight of Alan Shepard in 1961, through the Gemini, Apollo, Skylab, and shuttle programs—Thad didn’t think anyone who cared about space could stand in front of that mural and not get goose bumps. Especially w ith the air-conditioning system blasting frozen air from every direction. The thing that Thad liked most about the mural was where it ended; there was plenty of space along that vast wall for whatever came next. “Maybe your picture is going to be hanging there one day,” Thad replied. “I think you’d look pretty good in a space suit.” “It’s going to be a while before any of us are wearing space suits. I’m just glad I made it here at all. Two days ago I was in Mexico with my boyfriend, and I forgot my passport in the hotel. I had to talk my way across the border. Good thing I had a bunch of mechanical engineering textbooks with me. The border guards had a weakness for
a couple of NASA nerds.” “Your boyfriend is a co-op, too?” “He’s coming in later this afternoon, from Dallas. We’re hoping to get assigned to a project together. Although I’ve asked around, and it seems like nearly everyone here is engineering.” Thad nodded. He was going to be in the minority, especially because he had listed geology as his main interest in the acceptance letter. He knew that after the orientation lecture, the co-ops were going to be assigned projects in areas as close as possible to their interests. It was just another thing that set him apart—hopefully in a good way. After all, how many engineers did it take to fly a spaceship? As the line of co-ops slowly progressed into the auditorium, the girl continued her slightly flirtatious conversation. She told him about her wild trip to Mexico, about how awesome her freshman year at the University of Texas had been—UT being one of the five schools where most of the co-ops had come from—about how she’d fallen in love with the idea of working at NASA as a kid because her father, an ex–air force pilot, had forced her to go to space camp the summer after her sophomore year of high school. For his own part, Thad began his reinvention by giving her only the abridged version of himself. He talked about how he and Sonya had recently become obsessed with paleontology, how he’d used his geology background to get them volunteer work at the university’s museum. How they’d been invited on digs sponsored by the museum, and how fun it was to sift through the mud, chasing fossils, using science as a tool to re-create things they’d read about in books. Animated, he described how he’d found an actual Tyrannosaurus rex tooth on their most recent dig—only the fifth tooth found in that area of Utah. Of course, he didn’t mention the fact that while working as an inventory assistant at the museum, he’d also borrowed a few particularly cool fossils he’d been transporting to the storage closet— one rock jammed into his pocket becoming a few more fossils added a couple of days later—displaying them in his living room, often bringing them out at dinner parties to impress Sonya’s friends. But he didn’t think there was anything wrong with showing off such precious
objects—the bigger crime, to him, was leaving those fossils in crates in a dark basement. Wasn’t displaying such historical objects the whole point of a museum in the first place? He had a feeling his fellow co-op would understand; she shared his adventurous bent. And listening to snippets of conversations going on all around him, he knew that the two of them were not alone. He was in a place full of young people with vivid spirits. When he finally reached the auditorium, shaking Bob Musgrove’s hand for the first time—getting a full pat on the back and a warm welcome—Thad was completely swept up in the emotion of the moment. He felt like he had found a home. The feeling only grew through the introductory lecture, led by Musgrove and continued by a handful of JSC speakers. These speakers included a real live astronaut, in full uniform, porcupined with glorious, colorful NASA patches that marked him as someone who had flown in the shuttle—actually been to space. The astronaut detailed the history of the JSC—really, just giving life to the pixels in the mural hanging on the wall back in the lobby: How it all started with a Russian dog named Laika: two months after Sputnik One stunned the world and put the fear of Soviet-controlled space in America’s mind, the Russians managed to put a mutt, Laika, into orbit. No matter that the poor dog died from heat and stress on the way up—Eisenhower, terrified that Russia was going to win the space race, began plans for an astronaut program. In April 1962, construction of the JSC began in the Clear Lake area of Houston—a place chosen because of its smooth topography, and the fact that Rice University was willing to give the government a cheap lease price for the land. The astronaut had the audience of co-ops enrapt from the very first word, although that could have been the result of his uniform and his natural cowboy swagger. He described how NASA moved from the Mercury program, which basically was about strapping men—equal parts brave and insane—to rockets aimed at low orbits, to the Gemini program, which was all about sustained life in space. Nine astronauts were chosen from a pool of almost eight thousand, given the name “The New Nine.” They flew ten missions, the third of which, while launched from Cape Canaveral in Florida, was backed up by the newly
finished Mission Control Center in Houston. It wasn’t until Gemini Four that a full mission was controlled from the Houston center—made even more significant by the fact that it was also the first extravehicular space walk in human history. From there, the astronaut continued into the Apollo period, briefly reliving the moon landing, the greatest accomplishment of the last hundred years. Thad tuned out as the astronaut cycled through the eleven Apollos that flew from 1968 to 1972. Like everyone else in the room, he’d seen the movie. He was more interested, for the moment, in scanning the crowd around him, the faces so filled with what could only be described as ecstasy. Even the description of Skylab, the least flashy phase in JSC history, didn’t shake the elation from the audience. The story of how the Skylab space station eventually crash-landed in western Australia—causing a backwoods Australian city council to fine NASA four hundred dollars for littering—was just another parable in what could only be described as a story of biblical importance. To the co-ops, NASA was a religion. And a real live astronaut was nothing short of a deity. The blue-suited man finished his lecture with the story of the birth of the shuttle program. On April 1, 1969, a group of engineers was told to report to Building 36. A NASA engineer entered the room carrying a balsa-wood model of an airplane, which he tossed toward the gathered men. They assumed it was a prank, but in reality it was an illustration of NASA’s new direction. They were going to build a spaceship that flew like an airplane. By 1978, NASA was ready to elect its first group of shuttle astronauts, which they dubbed “The 35 New Guys.” The astronaut ended his speech to uproarious applause, and was followed onstage by Musgrove again, who told a few more jokes and then went through the actual details of the co-op program. Thad had already been through the rules booklet many times. He knew he’d signed up for at least three semester-long “tours”; after each, he’d have to return to Utah to continue his actual schooling. He’d be paid enough to cover room and board, maybe a little bit extra, but he doubted that any of them were there for the money—as evidenced by the fact that the co-ops were still mostly staring at the astronaut in his
blue uniform at the edge of the stage rather than at the amiable man in the white shirt at the lectern. “Keep your eyes open every day,” Musgrove concluded from the stage. “Because every day in this place, you’ll see something that’s going to open your mind in ways you’ve never imagined. And maybe, if you work hard, if you’re lucky, if we’re all lucky—one day one of you will be standing here in a blue uniform telling us what it’s like to walk on Mars.” Thad felt his face flush as he joined the other co-ops in applause. Musgrove finished by telling them to line up again in the lobby to receive their initial work assignments—but Thad was barely listening. In his mind, he was already wearing that blue uniform, taking that first step on Mars.
sex on the moon - the amazing true story
Re: sex on the moon - the amazing true story
Chapter 6
Now we’re talking. Thad balled up a photocopied map of Building 31 into his fist, jamming it deep into his pocket, as he stepped across the threshold of the state-of-the-art Astromaterials Lab. Overpressurized, antiseptictinged air smacked him full in the face, and he grinned, taking in the three-hundred-square-foot lab with quick flicks of his eyes. He could tell immediately that he was in the right place. Glistening, stainlesssteel counters, bucket-style, chrome-plated sinks, skyscrapers of testtube racks, catacombs of Bunsen burners—and enough pipettes to build a church organ. The place was a scientist’s wet dream, from the skating-rink-smooth cement floor to the achingly bright fluorescing panels that lined the ceiling. Even the overbearing hum of the level-four ventilation system seemed a symphonic throb in Thad’s ears. This place put the geology labs back at the University of Utah to shame, and Thad could hardly believe he was going to be spending the next three months watching his reflection dance across all that chrome and steel. Unlike Building 2, the Building 31 lab hadn’t been easy to find. The place was a maze of windowless corridors and unlabeled doors. Because Thad was the only new co-op without an engineering background, he had been the only one assigned to life sciences. It was a cool distinction, because life sciences was interdisciplinary—which meant he was going to get access to a number of different labs in a variety of NASA complexes. He was going to be able to chase some really diverse interests over his three tours at the JSC, and if he played his cards right, there would be a lot of opportunity to work with and impress the higher-ups. The downside, however, was that it was another thing separating him from the herd. He would have to find his way on his own—just like he’d had to find the Astromaterials Lab,
where he was supposed to spend his first few days, with little more than a poorly drawn map and a handful of directions given to him by Bob Musgrove. But Musgrove and the map were erased from his thoughts the minute he stepped into the pristine, supercontrolled environment. He could imagine himself spending countless hours conducting experiments in this place, separated from the outside world by cinderblock walls built to withstand the strongest hurricane on record. In fact, he was so swept up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the other person in the lab until he was almost right on top of him: a stringy young man around Thad’s age, wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be blue scrubs, his hair covered by a matching blue surgical cap. The guy had his back to Thad and was leaning over one of the stainless-steel counters, a large rectangular object in his gloved hands. Thad froze, staring at the object—because it was like nothing he’d ever seen before. It looked like a windowpane, but so incredibly thin— it didn’t seem to have any depth to it at all. Not exactly transparent, but not opaque either—somewhere in between. Like fog, or a slice of cloud, somehow turned to glass. “That’s not something you see every day,” Thad finally murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the whirring ventilation system. The young man at the counter didn’t respond. Instead, he carefully placed the object down on a gel-like container, and then exhaled. After making sure the pane was secure, he turned to face Thad. Yanking the surgical cap off his head, he ran a hand through his unruly tufts of dirtyblond hair. His face was incredibly angular, his chin so sharp it looked like it was formed to cut stone. His jutting cheeks were bright red, and there were teardrops of sweat circumnavigating his pinpoint eyes. “It’s called ‘aerogel,’ and it’s a bitch to work with. Lowest-density solid ever invented, strong enough to hold one thousand times its weight. And yet it shatters if you even look at it wrong.” “That sounds like a contradiction.” “Yep, pretty much sums it up. You make it by pulling all the water out of a silicon compound. It’s an amazing insulator, but it weighs next to nothing. A piece the size of a human would weigh less than a pound and be able to support the weight of a car. If we ever really go to Mars,
this stuff is going to be a big part of how we get there. And it’s got a really awesome name. Liquid Smoke. How fucking cool is that?” Thad grinned back at the kid. “Very fucking cool. I’m Thad Roberts.” “I know, Dr. Musgrove texted me that you were on your way down here. I figured it would take you another ten minutes at least—you must be one of the smart ones. I’m Brian Helms. I’m going to be your lab mate.” Brian yanked off a glove and shook Thad’s hand, then jerked his head to the left, indicating that Thad was to follow him toward another counter on the other side of the rectangular room. “I’m a co-op, too, on my second tour. You really got lucky, man; astromaterials is the best gig here. We get to do just about everything. Especially now that everything in this place is all about Mars.” Helms reached the far counter and waved his one gloved hand at the objects strewn across the shiny surface. Thad saw various-sized rocks in containers ranging from petri dishes to strange, spherical globes that seemed to be filled with transparent liquid. “This is what we do, mostly. Practice and experiment with preparation techniques, getting samples ready for transport to different locations around the JSC, as well as places outside of NASA.” “What sort of samples?” “That’s the really cool part. Up until now, it’s been mostly lunar rocks. Or more accurately, lunar dust, because we’re usually talking about a gram here, a gram there. But lately it’s more about meteorites. Because some of those come from a lot farther than the moon—and that’s what everybody’s interested in now.” Thad looked at the various rocks splayed out across the steel counter. “You mean some of these are moon rocks?” “Of course not. Do you know how valuable moon rocks are?” Thad shrugged. “Actually, I don’t.” “Very. Fucking. Valuable. And they have to be kept in really pristine conditions. You should see the Lunar Lab. We’re talking Plexiglas cabinets filled with high-purity nitrogen. You go in wearing bodysuits,
through these clean-air purification chambers—really sci-fi kind of shit.” Thad could only imagine what his new lab partner was talking about. He’d never worked with dangerous chemicals or biohazards before, so he only knew what he’d seen on TV, but he guessed it would be pretty cool to see the Lunar Lab in person. “In this lab,” Helms continued, “we practice on regular Earth rocks. You’ll learn how to shave off little pieces, mimicking the ones from real lunar and meteorite samples that are often sent around to high schools as part of NASA’s educational outreach program. I’ll also show you how to put together a desiccator, which is a really cool device that keeps moisture out. For museums, we use these bigger glass spheres. They’re usually filled with nitrogen to keep the rocks in good shape.” “So you pretty much run this lab?” Helms was just a co-op, but he seemed amazingly confident, like he’d been doing things on his own for a while. Helms grinned, shaking his head. “I’m just a wannabe like you. The division chief is Dr. Cal Agee. His assistant is David Draper. They’re basically our mentors here in astromaterials. They’ll come around now and again to make sure we’re not setting the place on fire, or playing catch with the moon rocks. But just walking around the halls, you’re going to meet a lot of scientists with as many letters after their names as you’ve got in yours. That’s the best part of this place, hobnobbing with guys who play with space toys for a living.” “And we also get to work with astronauts?” Thad asked. Helms gave him a sideways look. “That a big deal to you?” “Of course. I mean, scientists are cool, but astronauts are rock stars.” Helms laughed. “I guess I’m a little jaded. Growing up around them kind of shakes some of the moon dust off.” “You grew up around here?” “A few miles away. My mom is an engineer, did a lot of contract
work with the agency.” Helms began removing his second rubber glove, struggling a bit to get it over his spindly fingers. “A couple of days, and that wild look in your eyes will fade. You’ll be having lunch, and suddenly realize that the guy sitting next to you once flew the space shuttle. And then you’ll go back to your Fritos. Back to your textbooks and test tubes—and you’ll realize this place is a job, as much as it’s a dream.” Gloves off, Helms headed toward the door, gesturing for Thad to follow. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about this later. You’re going to the pool party, right?” “Pool party?” “Happens every couple of weeks. A few of the girls live in a complex with a common pool, and they throw pretty kick-ass parties. It’s kind of a ritual. People get drunk, talk about things they maybe shouldn’t. You’ll find that this is a really social place—despite its stiff reputation.” Thad followed his new friend to the door. Even though he had been at college many years now, he hadn’t attended too many parties. Partly because he was married, partly because of his upbringing; he’d never really gotten the hang of the whole party scene. But then again, this was a place for reinvention. Sonya would understand. She’d want him to get the most out of this experience. “A pool party sounds like fun.” “First we’re going to go to the most important place on this campus.” “Where’s that?” Helms grinned, leading Thad out the door, making sure to shut it tightly behind them. Thad noticed there was a very high-tech-looking, computerized lock next to the door handle, consisting of a panel covered in raised, numbered keys. The minute the door shut, the computerized lock whirred, and a digital light began to blink. “The cafeteria,” Helms answered. “That’s the real nerve center of NASA.” Thad was still peering back at the strange computerized lock. Helms noticed, and pointed with his thumb. “You have to be careful, always make sure the cipher lock kicks in
behind you. They take security really seriously here. You don’t want to get yourself kicked out before you even start.” Thad raised his eyebrows. “Then I’d never get to be an astronaut, right?” Helms groaned. “Ha, you want to go to the moon someday?” “No. I’m going to be the first man on Mars.” Thad wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. He felt a little foolish, but Helms just shrugged. “Maybe you will be,” he said as he led Thad away from the door. “If I don’t get there first.”
Now we’re talking. Thad balled up a photocopied map of Building 31 into his fist, jamming it deep into his pocket, as he stepped across the threshold of the state-of-the-art Astromaterials Lab. Overpressurized, antiseptictinged air smacked him full in the face, and he grinned, taking in the three-hundred-square-foot lab with quick flicks of his eyes. He could tell immediately that he was in the right place. Glistening, stainlesssteel counters, bucket-style, chrome-plated sinks, skyscrapers of testtube racks, catacombs of Bunsen burners—and enough pipettes to build a church organ. The place was a scientist’s wet dream, from the skating-rink-smooth cement floor to the achingly bright fluorescing panels that lined the ceiling. Even the overbearing hum of the level-four ventilation system seemed a symphonic throb in Thad’s ears. This place put the geology labs back at the University of Utah to shame, and Thad could hardly believe he was going to be spending the next three months watching his reflection dance across all that chrome and steel. Unlike Building 2, the Building 31 lab hadn’t been easy to find. The place was a maze of windowless corridors and unlabeled doors. Because Thad was the only new co-op without an engineering background, he had been the only one assigned to life sciences. It was a cool distinction, because life sciences was interdisciplinary—which meant he was going to get access to a number of different labs in a variety of NASA complexes. He was going to be able to chase some really diverse interests over his three tours at the JSC, and if he played his cards right, there would be a lot of opportunity to work with and impress the higher-ups. The downside, however, was that it was another thing separating him from the herd. He would have to find his way on his own—just like he’d had to find the Astromaterials Lab,
where he was supposed to spend his first few days, with little more than a poorly drawn map and a handful of directions given to him by Bob Musgrove. But Musgrove and the map were erased from his thoughts the minute he stepped into the pristine, supercontrolled environment. He could imagine himself spending countless hours conducting experiments in this place, separated from the outside world by cinderblock walls built to withstand the strongest hurricane on record. In fact, he was so swept up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the other person in the lab until he was almost right on top of him: a stringy young man around Thad’s age, wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be blue scrubs, his hair covered by a matching blue surgical cap. The guy had his back to Thad and was leaning over one of the stainless-steel counters, a large rectangular object in his gloved hands. Thad froze, staring at the object—because it was like nothing he’d ever seen before. It looked like a windowpane, but so incredibly thin— it didn’t seem to have any depth to it at all. Not exactly transparent, but not opaque either—somewhere in between. Like fog, or a slice of cloud, somehow turned to glass. “That’s not something you see every day,” Thad finally murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the whirring ventilation system. The young man at the counter didn’t respond. Instead, he carefully placed the object down on a gel-like container, and then exhaled. After making sure the pane was secure, he turned to face Thad. Yanking the surgical cap off his head, he ran a hand through his unruly tufts of dirtyblond hair. His face was incredibly angular, his chin so sharp it looked like it was formed to cut stone. His jutting cheeks were bright red, and there were teardrops of sweat circumnavigating his pinpoint eyes. “It’s called ‘aerogel,’ and it’s a bitch to work with. Lowest-density solid ever invented, strong enough to hold one thousand times its weight. And yet it shatters if you even look at it wrong.” “That sounds like a contradiction.” “Yep, pretty much sums it up. You make it by pulling all the water out of a silicon compound. It’s an amazing insulator, but it weighs next to nothing. A piece the size of a human would weigh less than a pound and be able to support the weight of a car. If we ever really go to Mars,
this stuff is going to be a big part of how we get there. And it’s got a really awesome name. Liquid Smoke. How fucking cool is that?” Thad grinned back at the kid. “Very fucking cool. I’m Thad Roberts.” “I know, Dr. Musgrove texted me that you were on your way down here. I figured it would take you another ten minutes at least—you must be one of the smart ones. I’m Brian Helms. I’m going to be your lab mate.” Brian yanked off a glove and shook Thad’s hand, then jerked his head to the left, indicating that Thad was to follow him toward another counter on the other side of the rectangular room. “I’m a co-op, too, on my second tour. You really got lucky, man; astromaterials is the best gig here. We get to do just about everything. Especially now that everything in this place is all about Mars.” Helms reached the far counter and waved his one gloved hand at the objects strewn across the shiny surface. Thad saw various-sized rocks in containers ranging from petri dishes to strange, spherical globes that seemed to be filled with transparent liquid. “This is what we do, mostly. Practice and experiment with preparation techniques, getting samples ready for transport to different locations around the JSC, as well as places outside of NASA.” “What sort of samples?” “That’s the really cool part. Up until now, it’s been mostly lunar rocks. Or more accurately, lunar dust, because we’re usually talking about a gram here, a gram there. But lately it’s more about meteorites. Because some of those come from a lot farther than the moon—and that’s what everybody’s interested in now.” Thad looked at the various rocks splayed out across the steel counter. “You mean some of these are moon rocks?” “Of course not. Do you know how valuable moon rocks are?” Thad shrugged. “Actually, I don’t.” “Very. Fucking. Valuable. And they have to be kept in really pristine conditions. You should see the Lunar Lab. We’re talking Plexiglas cabinets filled with high-purity nitrogen. You go in wearing bodysuits,
through these clean-air purification chambers—really sci-fi kind of shit.” Thad could only imagine what his new lab partner was talking about. He’d never worked with dangerous chemicals or biohazards before, so he only knew what he’d seen on TV, but he guessed it would be pretty cool to see the Lunar Lab in person. “In this lab,” Helms continued, “we practice on regular Earth rocks. You’ll learn how to shave off little pieces, mimicking the ones from real lunar and meteorite samples that are often sent around to high schools as part of NASA’s educational outreach program. I’ll also show you how to put together a desiccator, which is a really cool device that keeps moisture out. For museums, we use these bigger glass spheres. They’re usually filled with nitrogen to keep the rocks in good shape.” “So you pretty much run this lab?” Helms was just a co-op, but he seemed amazingly confident, like he’d been doing things on his own for a while. Helms grinned, shaking his head. “I’m just a wannabe like you. The division chief is Dr. Cal Agee. His assistant is David Draper. They’re basically our mentors here in astromaterials. They’ll come around now and again to make sure we’re not setting the place on fire, or playing catch with the moon rocks. But just walking around the halls, you’re going to meet a lot of scientists with as many letters after their names as you’ve got in yours. That’s the best part of this place, hobnobbing with guys who play with space toys for a living.” “And we also get to work with astronauts?” Thad asked. Helms gave him a sideways look. “That a big deal to you?” “Of course. I mean, scientists are cool, but astronauts are rock stars.” Helms laughed. “I guess I’m a little jaded. Growing up around them kind of shakes some of the moon dust off.” “You grew up around here?” “A few miles away. My mom is an engineer, did a lot of contract
work with the agency.” Helms began removing his second rubber glove, struggling a bit to get it over his spindly fingers. “A couple of days, and that wild look in your eyes will fade. You’ll be having lunch, and suddenly realize that the guy sitting next to you once flew the space shuttle. And then you’ll go back to your Fritos. Back to your textbooks and test tubes—and you’ll realize this place is a job, as much as it’s a dream.” Gloves off, Helms headed toward the door, gesturing for Thad to follow. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about this later. You’re going to the pool party, right?” “Pool party?” “Happens every couple of weeks. A few of the girls live in a complex with a common pool, and they throw pretty kick-ass parties. It’s kind of a ritual. People get drunk, talk about things they maybe shouldn’t. You’ll find that this is a really social place—despite its stiff reputation.” Thad followed his new friend to the door. Even though he had been at college many years now, he hadn’t attended too many parties. Partly because he was married, partly because of his upbringing; he’d never really gotten the hang of the whole party scene. But then again, this was a place for reinvention. Sonya would understand. She’d want him to get the most out of this experience. “A pool party sounds like fun.” “First we’re going to go to the most important place on this campus.” “Where’s that?” Helms grinned, leading Thad out the door, making sure to shut it tightly behind them. Thad noticed there was a very high-tech-looking, computerized lock next to the door handle, consisting of a panel covered in raised, numbered keys. The minute the door shut, the computerized lock whirred, and a digital light began to blink. “The cafeteria,” Helms answered. “That’s the real nerve center of NASA.” Thad was still peering back at the strange computerized lock. Helms noticed, and pointed with his thumb. “You have to be careful, always make sure the cipher lock kicks in
behind you. They take security really seriously here. You don’t want to get yourself kicked out before you even start.” Thad raised his eyebrows. “Then I’d never get to be an astronaut, right?” Helms groaned. “Ha, you want to go to the moon someday?” “No. I’m going to be the first man on Mars.” Thad wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. He felt a little foolish, but Helms just shrugged. “Maybe you will be,” he said as he led Thad away from the door. “If I don’t get there first.”
Re: sex on the moon - the amazing true story
Chapter 7
The object was bright red and coming in fast—following a low, elliptical trajectory, spiraling as it went, spewing off droplets of clear, pearlshaped liquid, like a comet tail painting its route through the electrically charged air. The speed of the thing was terrifying, and Thad had only a moment to get one hand up in front of his face—but it did him no good. The object went right past his fingers and collided square into his forehead. The impact knocked him back off his feet as a spray of icecold water exploded into his face. “Skylab, baby! That’s what happens when you’ve got a low orbit and too much gravity!” Thad shook the water out of his eyes as he fought to regain his footing in the shallow end of the pool. Helms was standing about ten feet away, crouching behind a pair of deck chairs, a second water balloon in his cocked right hand. There were girls sprawled across both deck chairs, pretty and blond and wearing bikinis. The one on the right was the same girl Thad had met in line outside of the Teague Auditorium—Sally Bishop, of the boyfriend who still hadn’t shown up, but was presumably on his way. The girl to Bishop’s left was equally blond, but average height; there was something a little more natural and soft about the way her body filled out her flower-patterned bikini. A sunburst of freckles trickled out across the bare skin of her shoulders and arms, and when she laughed, the area around her blue eyes crinkled adorably. “You refrigerated water balloons?” Thad coughed, shivering as the last remnants of the projectile trickled down the bare skin of his back. “That seems a little excessive.” “I never show up to a party empty-handed,” Helms started to reply— but he was cut off by another balloon hurtling past from behind his left shoulder, arcing high above the pool, then exploding like a mortar a
few feet from the oversized barbecue grill on the other side of the cobblestone patio. Thad looked up and saw that the second balloon had come from one of the balconies overlooking the pool. There were more co-ops in bathing suits up on the second floor, many clutching bright red plastic cups, presumably filled from the keg that dominated the grassy area on the other side of the barbecue. All told, Thad counted at least thirty people at the pool party—and more were still arriving. He didn’t know what college parties were like, but this gettogether was damn impressive. His attention shifted back from the balcony as the freckled blonde slid off the deck chair and lowered herself into the pool just a few feet away. She brought her hands up behind her head, pinning back her flowing hair—and the motion did wonderful things to her bikini top. Thad felt himself blushing, and he shyly averted his eyes. Reinvention or not, he still had a long way to go before he was going to be entirely comfortable in a scene like this. “I’m Lisa Daniels,” the girl said. “I think I saw you this morning in line at Space Center Houston.” “Yeah,” Thad said sheepishly, “that was me. I guess I’m not all that bright, because I probably would have wandered around there all day if some kid in a space suit hadn’t pointed out that I was in the wrong place.” The girl laughed. “Actually, I made the same mistake, yesterday. I came a day early to scope the place out. Thank God.” Thad loved the fact that he was in a program where a girl this hot was nerdy enough to show up a day early to what was essentially a glorified internship. He leaned back against the side of the pool as he watched Helms and the other girl, Sally, slide into the water next to Daniels. Almost immediately, a handful of other co-ops joined them in the shallow end. Everyone was a little nervous, a little excited, and maybe a little too exuberant; at least Thad knew he was. For some reason, he really wanted to impress these people. If he wasn’t going to be shy anymore, he wanted to shoot for the other extreme; he wanted to become the center of the co-op social scene, maybe just to prove something to himself, or maybe just to quiet that feeling that still
plagued him, that he didn’t really belong. He was twenty-three, he was married, and he had been kicked out of his house around the same time as these other kids were probably graduating from junior high. “So this is a monthly thing?” Thad asked, shaking a piece of water balloon out of his longish hair. “Seems like it should be more of a weekly thing.” One of the co-ops who had taken over a deck chair laughed. He was a tall, athletic-looking guy wearing a starched polo shirt that had probably cost more than Thad’s entire wardrobe. “We’re going to be working too hard to party every week,” the polo shirt said. “I mean, at least those of us involved in rocket engineering.” Thad tried to pretend that it wasn’t a subtle knock on his lack of engineering background. “It’s just that this place is so great,” Thad continued. “It’s a shame to waste it on a once-a-month kind of thing. We should incorporate it into our training.” Thad’s mind was working fast as he noticed he had caught the attention of all the co-ops within earshot. It was a good feeling, being the center of interest, and his brain was quick enough to take advantage of the situation. “What do you mean?” Daniels asked. Her eyes lingered on Thad a little too long. “We can make it into a little game. An educational kind of game. Like a contest.” Helms was looking at him, and there was something cautioning in his eyes. But Thad ignored him, now on a roll: “Each week, we’ll identify the most awesome, incredible experience you can have here at NASA. We’ll come up with the coolest thing that a person could get away with—and whoever does that thing by the next week, by the next pool party, he’s the winner.” The athletic kid in the polo shirt leaned forward. “The coolest thing—you mean, like get an autograph from an astronaut?” “I was thinking we could be a little more creative,” Thad said. “Like, the things we’ve read about in the co-op brochures. Maybe getting a ride on the KC-135—the Vomit Comet, that airplane that goes up and
down so you get a few minutes of zero gravity.” “Or sneaking into the NBL!” Daniels nearly squealed. “You know, the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, the biggest indoor pool in the world, where the astronauts train—” “I’m not so sure this is such a good idea,” Helms interrupted, but one of the other kids pushed his way in, shouting out another idea. “Someone could get into the Lunar Lab!” “Or get a picture in a real astronaut helmet!” someone else suggested. “Or sneak into Mission Control.” Thad was fighting back a grin as he looked at the excited faces all around him. He knew what he had to do to solidify his role. He had to top them all. But he wasn’t going to just say something—he had to say it, and then actually do it. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he stated, quiet enough so they all had to lean toward him to hear. “I’m going to get into Building Five, and get right up next to the Space Shuttle Simulator.” The place went silent. Thad could hear the water splashing through the filter all the way on the other side of the pool. All of the co-ops were staring at him. Then the kid in the polo shirt laughed out loud. “No fucking way. You’ll never pull that off. Only astronauts get near the Space Shuttle Simulator.” The kid in the polo shirt was probably right. The simulator was more than just a mock-up of the space shuttle, like the one Thad had seen at Space Center Houston. It was a working, hyperrealistic flight simulator that you got inside and controlled like the real shuttle. Building 5 was one of the most secure buildings on the NASA campus. But Thad had already started down this path, and he certainly wasn’t going to back down now. “I guess we’ll see.” He shrugged. “But I hope you’ll all be back here next week so we can talk about it.” After that, the party started to break up, and the co-ops drifted away by ones and twos. The freckled girl, Daniels, lingered as long as she could—but Thad did his best not to give her any special attention, because he really didn’t want to lead her on. Sonya was a long way away, but Thad figured he had survived the Mormon Church for
nineteen years; he could get through three months of pool parties and freckled girls in skimpy bikini tops. He started to climb out of the pool when he noticed that Helms had moved close to him, still carrying that cautioning look in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, man. You don’t need to impress anyone.” Thad glanced at him. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. I just think it will be fun. Lighten up. I’m not going to do anything that’s against the law.” Helms looked at him a moment more, then clapped him on the shoulder. “You keep this up, you’re going to end up shaking this place up. I guess it could use it.” They both glanced over at the girls—Bishop and Daniels, who were moving past the deck chairs. Daniels adjusted her top to cover a little more freckled skin as she went. “Still,” Helms continued. “Like I said before, you don’t want to get yourself kicked out of here. There’s just too much goddamn opportunity.” Thad wasn’t sure whether his new friend was talking about the girls or NASA—but he couldn’t help but agree on both counts.
The object was bright red and coming in fast—following a low, elliptical trajectory, spiraling as it went, spewing off droplets of clear, pearlshaped liquid, like a comet tail painting its route through the electrically charged air. The speed of the thing was terrifying, and Thad had only a moment to get one hand up in front of his face—but it did him no good. The object went right past his fingers and collided square into his forehead. The impact knocked him back off his feet as a spray of icecold water exploded into his face. “Skylab, baby! That’s what happens when you’ve got a low orbit and too much gravity!” Thad shook the water out of his eyes as he fought to regain his footing in the shallow end of the pool. Helms was standing about ten feet away, crouching behind a pair of deck chairs, a second water balloon in his cocked right hand. There were girls sprawled across both deck chairs, pretty and blond and wearing bikinis. The one on the right was the same girl Thad had met in line outside of the Teague Auditorium—Sally Bishop, of the boyfriend who still hadn’t shown up, but was presumably on his way. The girl to Bishop’s left was equally blond, but average height; there was something a little more natural and soft about the way her body filled out her flower-patterned bikini. A sunburst of freckles trickled out across the bare skin of her shoulders and arms, and when she laughed, the area around her blue eyes crinkled adorably. “You refrigerated water balloons?” Thad coughed, shivering as the last remnants of the projectile trickled down the bare skin of his back. “That seems a little excessive.” “I never show up to a party empty-handed,” Helms started to reply— but he was cut off by another balloon hurtling past from behind his left shoulder, arcing high above the pool, then exploding like a mortar a
few feet from the oversized barbecue grill on the other side of the cobblestone patio. Thad looked up and saw that the second balloon had come from one of the balconies overlooking the pool. There were more co-ops in bathing suits up on the second floor, many clutching bright red plastic cups, presumably filled from the keg that dominated the grassy area on the other side of the barbecue. All told, Thad counted at least thirty people at the pool party—and more were still arriving. He didn’t know what college parties were like, but this gettogether was damn impressive. His attention shifted back from the balcony as the freckled blonde slid off the deck chair and lowered herself into the pool just a few feet away. She brought her hands up behind her head, pinning back her flowing hair—and the motion did wonderful things to her bikini top. Thad felt himself blushing, and he shyly averted his eyes. Reinvention or not, he still had a long way to go before he was going to be entirely comfortable in a scene like this. “I’m Lisa Daniels,” the girl said. “I think I saw you this morning in line at Space Center Houston.” “Yeah,” Thad said sheepishly, “that was me. I guess I’m not all that bright, because I probably would have wandered around there all day if some kid in a space suit hadn’t pointed out that I was in the wrong place.” The girl laughed. “Actually, I made the same mistake, yesterday. I came a day early to scope the place out. Thank God.” Thad loved the fact that he was in a program where a girl this hot was nerdy enough to show up a day early to what was essentially a glorified internship. He leaned back against the side of the pool as he watched Helms and the other girl, Sally, slide into the water next to Daniels. Almost immediately, a handful of other co-ops joined them in the shallow end. Everyone was a little nervous, a little excited, and maybe a little too exuberant; at least Thad knew he was. For some reason, he really wanted to impress these people. If he wasn’t going to be shy anymore, he wanted to shoot for the other extreme; he wanted to become the center of the co-op social scene, maybe just to prove something to himself, or maybe just to quiet that feeling that still
plagued him, that he didn’t really belong. He was twenty-three, he was married, and he had been kicked out of his house around the same time as these other kids were probably graduating from junior high. “So this is a monthly thing?” Thad asked, shaking a piece of water balloon out of his longish hair. “Seems like it should be more of a weekly thing.” One of the co-ops who had taken over a deck chair laughed. He was a tall, athletic-looking guy wearing a starched polo shirt that had probably cost more than Thad’s entire wardrobe. “We’re going to be working too hard to party every week,” the polo shirt said. “I mean, at least those of us involved in rocket engineering.” Thad tried to pretend that it wasn’t a subtle knock on his lack of engineering background. “It’s just that this place is so great,” Thad continued. “It’s a shame to waste it on a once-a-month kind of thing. We should incorporate it into our training.” Thad’s mind was working fast as he noticed he had caught the attention of all the co-ops within earshot. It was a good feeling, being the center of interest, and his brain was quick enough to take advantage of the situation. “What do you mean?” Daniels asked. Her eyes lingered on Thad a little too long. “We can make it into a little game. An educational kind of game. Like a contest.” Helms was looking at him, and there was something cautioning in his eyes. But Thad ignored him, now on a roll: “Each week, we’ll identify the most awesome, incredible experience you can have here at NASA. We’ll come up with the coolest thing that a person could get away with—and whoever does that thing by the next week, by the next pool party, he’s the winner.” The athletic kid in the polo shirt leaned forward. “The coolest thing—you mean, like get an autograph from an astronaut?” “I was thinking we could be a little more creative,” Thad said. “Like, the things we’ve read about in the co-op brochures. Maybe getting a ride on the KC-135—the Vomit Comet, that airplane that goes up and
down so you get a few minutes of zero gravity.” “Or sneaking into the NBL!” Daniels nearly squealed. “You know, the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, the biggest indoor pool in the world, where the astronauts train—” “I’m not so sure this is such a good idea,” Helms interrupted, but one of the other kids pushed his way in, shouting out another idea. “Someone could get into the Lunar Lab!” “Or get a picture in a real astronaut helmet!” someone else suggested. “Or sneak into Mission Control.” Thad was fighting back a grin as he looked at the excited faces all around him. He knew what he had to do to solidify his role. He had to top them all. But he wasn’t going to just say something—he had to say it, and then actually do it. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he stated, quiet enough so they all had to lean toward him to hear. “I’m going to get into Building Five, and get right up next to the Space Shuttle Simulator.” The place went silent. Thad could hear the water splashing through the filter all the way on the other side of the pool. All of the co-ops were staring at him. Then the kid in the polo shirt laughed out loud. “No fucking way. You’ll never pull that off. Only astronauts get near the Space Shuttle Simulator.” The kid in the polo shirt was probably right. The simulator was more than just a mock-up of the space shuttle, like the one Thad had seen at Space Center Houston. It was a working, hyperrealistic flight simulator that you got inside and controlled like the real shuttle. Building 5 was one of the most secure buildings on the NASA campus. But Thad had already started down this path, and he certainly wasn’t going to back down now. “I guess we’ll see.” He shrugged. “But I hope you’ll all be back here next week so we can talk about it.” After that, the party started to break up, and the co-ops drifted away by ones and twos. The freckled girl, Daniels, lingered as long as she could—but Thad did his best not to give her any special attention, because he really didn’t want to lead her on. Sonya was a long way away, but Thad figured he had survived the Mormon Church for
nineteen years; he could get through three months of pool parties and freckled girls in skimpy bikini tops. He started to climb out of the pool when he noticed that Helms had moved close to him, still carrying that cautioning look in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, man. You don’t need to impress anyone.” Thad glanced at him. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. I just think it will be fun. Lighten up. I’m not going to do anything that’s against the law.” Helms looked at him a moment more, then clapped him on the shoulder. “You keep this up, you’re going to end up shaking this place up. I guess it could use it.” They both glanced over at the girls—Bishop and Daniels, who were moving past the deck chairs. Daniels adjusted her top to cover a little more freckled skin as she went. “Still,” Helms continued. “Like I said before, you don’t want to get yourself kicked out of here. There’s just too much goddamn opportunity.” Thad wasn’t sure whether his new friend was talking about the girls or NASA—but he couldn’t help but agree on both counts.