Artifacts of a Major Event

Somehow I managed to weasel my way out of needing to be physically at work last night for the big Entry, Descent, and Landing (EDL) event of the Curiosity rover on Mars.  I was able to stay home and watch the proceedings with my wife and children, who stayed up WAY past their bedtime to see the festivities.

I don't think any of them truly comprehended just how critical a successful landing was to my career, and so while I was literally twitchy with anticipation and hanging on every word from the NASA feeds, they were nonchalant and overly chatty.  They were so noisy that much of the time I couldn't actually hear what was being said.  I finally had to snap at them towards the end to get them to be quiet.  Seriously, didn't they know that their Daddy REALLY needed to hear Every. Single. Word being said by the commentators and his co-workers?  Because, really, every word was of historic significance and were never to be heard again ... okay, I felt a little bad for snapping at them, but I was seriously stressed out.

In any case, the landing went exceptionally well.  The artifacts we've seen come out attest to that over the past little while, some of which I'll share below.  During EDL itself, the orbiter did experience a plasma blackout.  The recorded UHF spectrum from both of the orbiters we had overhead that were recording the events in an open-loop manner clearly showed the Doppler effects as the spacecraft decelerated from 13,000 mph to 0 mph in just 7 minutes.  I'd include one of the graphics here, but I don't think it's publicly releasable, yet.

During descent, the Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter (MRO), which I worked on for many years, took a picture of the rover as it was hanging from its parachute.  We first did this 4 years ago, when the Phoenix spacecraft had its own EDL.  We had a 50/50 chance of getting that picture, and it was a stunner; and we had a 40/60 chance of getting this one, and it's even more stunning, but in a different way.  For Phoenix, the picture was remarkable for the giant crater visible in the background.  For Curiosity, it's remarkable for the detail that can be seen in the image.

This first picture is the larger image and sets the context:

This next picture shows a zoomed in and slightly more processed view, which clearly illustrates the parachute with its "ring" around the perimeter and the hole in the middle.  Stunning.

We had maneuvered all 3 orbiters, namely NASA's MRO and Odyssey, and ESA's Mars Express; so that all three of them would be geometrically visible to MSL during its descent.  The hope was to record the signal being transmitted from the rover as it made its way to the surface.  We did manage to get all the vehicles in position, with MRO at +9 seconds from its intended overflight time (it was early), Odyssey at -25 seconds, and Mars Express at +41.5.  Considering these are orbital geometries, and we didn't expend a lot of fuel to get any one of them into position, that was pretty darn good.

Odyssey recorded the signal coming out of the rover and demodulated the signal to extract data at 8 kbps.  This was transferred directly to Earth during the EDL event and provided the primary means of information regarding the health and safety of the rover.  It was this signal that told us that the rover was passing through its various configuration changes on the way to the ground, and that it was safely on the ground.  Further, it was this signal that transferred from the rover on the surface the very first images received from the rover, which showed unambiguously that the rover was on Mars.

This first picture was from one of the rear HazCams ("hazard camera") which is used when driving around.  The project decided, somewhat late, to add the taking and transmission of this picture (with a thumbnail) as something to be done right after landing, in the event that Odyssey could transmit the picture.  Here, you can see the pebble-strewn surface behind a dirty lens.  This was the first picture from Mars returned by Curiosity.

 The dirty lens was expected, and so this is actually a picture taken through a faceplate that was later removed.

This next picture came from a front HazCam, and interestingly it shows the shadow of the rover in the afternoon sun.  Despite the dirty lens, it has an oddly beautiful quality to it.

This picture, though, reminded me of something I'd seen before ... hmm, what was that? Oh, yeah! When a Decepticon killed Beagle 2, that's it ...

But back to the first image.  Soon the cover plate, which was expected to get dirty in the mess of landing, was "blown" (explosive bolts are awesome) and the next image came back clear.  Yep, that looks like a barren wasteland.  It must be Mars.  Despite how boring this is to Martian neophytes, this image actually suggests a lot of juicy potential for scientific exploration and discovery. 

This next image was annotated to show some of the hardware in the image.

All the while this was coming down, the people in the control room were going nuts with excitement.  This following picture shows a fellow I know pointing ecstatically.  Ah, happy nerds ...

Come the morning, I showed up at work for an early 7 am meeting.  Everything was going normally.  The recorded signals from MRO and Mars Express had been processed, with beautiful spectrum diagrams clearly showing the recorded signal and the plasma blackout that occurred just after entry, and a remarkable swing in the Doppler as the spacecraft decelerated maniacally.

Later, images were returned from the descent imager, which have not yet been released, yet; which clearly show the heat shield falling away after the parachute was deployed and a long series of images which show the landing all the way to the ground.  I'm confident the images will be assembled into a movie quite shortly.  It is truly something to behold.

So, today's been quite exciting.  I haven't been able to get much done in all the excitement, but I suppose nerds get to enjoy the fruits of their labor every once in a while.  It's been a good day, and the mission hasn't even really started, yet ...

Until Today, Curiosity Was Just An Academic Exercise

I'm sitting here contemplating how to write about the events of the past day.  It's been pretty big news, and almost none of what's been happening is the result of my own efforts.  Well, that's not entirely true, but I'll get there.  With Curiosity - a.k.a. the Mars Science Laboratory - now securely landed in Gale Crater on Mars, I can now proceed with the rest of my life.

Too dramatic?  Sorry, but let me explain.  My job at work is to coordinate when and how spacecraft that are orbiting the planet Mars transfer data to and from spacecraft on the surface of Mars from and back to Earth.  We use UHF radios to communicate between the various spacecraft, and my job is to help all the good people who independently operate each spacecraft to figure out the details.  To that end, part of my work is in the day-to-day effort to schedule these "relay" sessions between the rovers and orbiters; and the other part of my work is to help the high-level managers for each of these spacecraft to agree on what is allowed to be done.

Sound a little esoteric?  Let me explain some more.  Say, for example, that you have an orbiter that goes around Mars once every two hours.  This is the case for the two NASA orbiters at Mars which both orbit in a north/south direction - a polar orbit - in a manner where when the orbiter passes over the Martian equator, the surface is at a relatively fixed angle to the sun.  This is called a sun-synchronous orbit and has the benefit of allowing the orbiters to image the surface of Mars with consistent sun exposure (i.e. the observed shadows aren't greatly variable).  The scientists love this.

Operators of landers on the surface of Mars also love this because, from the lander's perspective, the orbiter is always visible at roughly the same time every day.  For example, if an orbiter is at a "3 pm orbit", then the orbiter will be coming overhead every day at roughly 3 pm (and 3 am ...).  This makes planning easier because the rover operators then would always know roughly when they can have the rover transmit data to an orbiter.  However, we typically don't get just 1 "pass" at 3 pm - we usually get 2 because, again from the lander's perspective, the orbiter will come from the north (or south) and pass on the east side of the rover and then one orbit later it will pass on the west side as Mars rotates beneath the orbiter.

Sounds great, right?  Well, from a relay planning perspective it is.  Unfortunately, none of the orbiters are built in such a way that they can support both relay activities AND continue with other science activities simultaneously without impact.  This means that every time an orbiter has a relay session with a lander, there is some interruption to or other impact on ongoing science data acquisition.  The scientists hate this.

Therein lies the quandary for the second part of my work.  I have to get orbiter projects to agree to provide relay support to landed projects when it is not in their interests to do so.  As all the projects are independently funded and operated, this can be problematic.  In the case of Curiosity - an exceptionally capable vehicle that can generate far more bits of data than we can possibly return to Earth given the relay spacecraft we have at Mars - this meant we held extensive negotiations with the orbiter projects before they came to agreement on how many of those relay passes that are geometrically viable that the orbiters would support.  As Curiosity is the new kid on the block and all the other projects are in "extended mission" we did have a little weight to throw around, but that didn't mean the orbiters agreed to their needs easily or quietly.

In the end, I and others managed to get these agreements between the projects in order.  The lander is content and the orbiters begrudgingly agreed to the outlined plans.  Once these plans were in place, we had to go through all the exercises to test and verify the inter-project interfaces (both Earth-based networks and the radio-to-radio interfaces that were to be in place once Curiosity landed on Mars) and the operational test and training plans.  This effort has consumed my professional life for the past few years, but all of it - every bit - was purely academic until Curiosity made it to the ground.  Now it is real.  *phew*

So, my job is to help all the landers and all the orbiters at Mars to work together.  Before Curiosity made it safely to the ground, there was only one rover there, Opportunity - an aging rover which has been trundling epically around on Mars since early 2004.  There are 3 orbiters at Mars right now, 2 NASA vehicles and one from the European Space Agency.  The collection of all of these spacecraft at Mars consists what we call the "Mars Relay Network".  Now this network consists of 5 projects, and I have work to do ...

The Missing Magnitude of Accomplishment

Last week I had the chance to visit the U.S.S. Pampanito in San Francisco. Frankly, it was incredible. I'll not talk much about that experience here, because I have something else I want to muse about.

Whenever I learn about stuff during the World War II era, be it flying fortresses or concrete bunkers built into the side of giant craters or aircraft carriers or atomic bombs, I'm always struck by just how awe-inspiring it was that these things came to be.

You look at today's technology, so carefully crafted with smooth and sleek curves (see Apple, Inc.), and things just seem so ... modern. But then I look at things like the Pampanito, and I remember what a heady time World War II was. It was a time when science and mechanics (and budding electronics) walked hand-in-hand with raw willpower under the demands of pure expedience to create some of the most amazing technological breakthroughs the human race has ever seen. The shape of the world today, for all it's flaws, is the result of World War II.

People of that time just built stuff. Their engineers planned, sure, and they tried to be just as deliberate as we try to be in their designs, but when it came right down to it, if there was a need to put a wire here or a pipe there, they did just that because they had to and they didn't look back. They tried things that had never been tried before, and often failed in the effort, but with each failure they learned something which they would incorporate into the next attempt. Clambering through the "spacious" decks of the Pampanito makes this every so apparent. (Okay, I'm no doubt grossly generalizing, but from the vantage point of 50 years removed and being poorly informed, that's the way it seems to me.)

I'm not saying that reckless design is a good thing, but as an engineer who occasionally gets so fed up with paperwork and process and review, I am in awe that they did what they did. I sometimes think that our modern engineering world is so frightened of making mistakes that we make the even worse error of failing to even try.

I love the world we live in today. I love that, at least for me and most around me, it is a comfortable and secure and content place. Nevertheless, I look back at the accomplishments of the early half (ok, 2/3rds if you include the Apollo program) of the 20th century and I look around at the world of today, and I just don't see the same frequency or magnitude of accomplishment, on such a grand scale.

With all the posturing in the hallowed halls of Washington and the budget uncertainties and the shaky economy and the media fear-mongering, I yearn for days when we can try and not fear. I don't think days like that will come anytime soon.

(See here for a similar rant on the absence of audacious goals in today's world.)

Full disclosure: I manage a small team of engineers developing software to help coordinate activities at Mars between various spacecraft operating there. This is pretty cool. However, the least favorite part of my job is that every year I have to spend gobs of time begging for money from the higher-ups to pay for this work, when to me it is obvious that it is important and necessary. I love my job, but hate that aspect of it, particularly since I don't need very much money to do what needs to be done. This post is very likely a reaction to that frustration and a desire to be free to do what I want and not have to account to anybody. This doesn't make me a bad person ... it just makes me like everybody else in the world with an ounce of ambition.

Sometimes I Really Love My Job

I was sitting in a meeting just now watching as representatives from four different spacecraft operating at Mars were coordinating how they were to work together to transmit data between them. The meeting had broken up, and everybody stood to leave, but lingered to discuss other details of what had to be done to make the next planning cycle go smoothly. I also stood to leave, but paused at the door to marvel at the spectacle. Since my job is focused specifically on trying to get these various projects to work together, the sight brought warm fuzzies to me.

Smart people + working together = great things accomplished.

Sometimes I really love my job.

When Discovery Ends

Okay, so the title of this blog entry is intended to be clever, believe it or not. That said, I have been thinking a lot about the end of the Space Shuttle program, and it's long term implications. With Shuttle Discovery touching down for the last time, prior to becoming a museum piece after having spent a cumulative year in space, only a few more Shuttle flights remain until the program ends.

When Discovery launched on February 24th, I was at work and turned on NASA TV to watch the launch. I was terribly disappointed by the coverage. I know that NASA likes to portray a professional, we-do-this-all-the-time attitude, but watching the launch coverage was about as exciting as watching grass grow. It's no wonder the American public is ho-hum about the ongoing space program. The NASA PR people just can't seem to figure out how to make the whole thing exciting. The irony is that the public really does get excited about it, despite the failures of the NASA outreach folks.

Here it was, the last flight of one of the most iconic spacecraft ever built, and there was nothing discernible in the way of fanfare and glory. I quipped to a friend that day, "So this is how America's space dominance ends ... with a yawn." I was a little miffed at the time, but several weeks later, I still don't apologize for it.

I have written in this space before (here and here) about my thoughts on the Obama Administration's handling of the Space Shuttle retirement. I do appreciate and understand the rationale behind it, and I still have high hopes for the future, but I still worry.

Thus far, even the best of our nation's private industry hopes, namely SpaceX, has yet to produce a human-rated launch vehicle. When it does, it will be more of a throw-back to the Apollo era than anything akin to what the Space Shuttle represents. Listening to the radio the other day, some space pundit said that "the Shuttle could do anything except leave low Earth orbit." That last "except" is a big one, but the first part of that quote (the emphasis was his ...) is nothing to scoff at.

So, even though NASA doesn't seem to have any clue how to gracefully retire the thing, I'm doing my best to help my children appreciate the end of the era. And it really is the end of the era. For the foreseeable future, with no end date in sight, our great nation will have no means to delivery people into space. That's just sad.

But that didn't stop me from taking my kids out on Tuesday night to watch the bright spots of light rise above the horizon as Discovery passed overhead, followed shortly thereafter by the International Space Station. We went to a nearby treeless/lightless park and oohed and aahed in excitement. The kids tried their best to find them in the binoculars, which they quickly, wisely abandoned; and I could only grumble when my oldest son, the dope, announced he left his glasses behind and couldn't see a thing. Even so, the children all thought it was great stuff, and I hope it will have some positive effect on their hopes and aspirations for the future.

And I will continue to do so, because I'm a conscientious parent. Even and especially since NASA can't figure out how to do it ...

Very Exciting Stuff - Falcon 9 Launches!

Now this gives me hope for the future our nation's manned space program ...

Huntsville and SpaceOps 2010

I went to Huntsville, Alabama, last week for a conference. Short story: I'm glad I went!

Long story:

Truthfully, I usually only attend conferences in "interesting" places, as it is a whole lot of effort to write a paper, get it reviewed and approved and cleared for public release, and then to get work to schedule and pay for the trip. This on top of the not insignificant disruption that being gone for a week has on my ongoing, "real" work and my family life.

"So, why did you go?" you ask. Well, it's because my best friend from college lives down there and I hadn't seen him in something like 5 years. Seriously, that's the only reason I went. Now, it's not the only good thing that I got out of the trip, don't get me wrong. But I'd be totally lying if I told you that I actually wanted to go to Huntsville. Huntsville is a small, military town in the South. I grew up in a small, military town, and I served my mission in the South, so ... been there, done that.

Granted, Marshall Space Flight Center is there, but the conference tour of the facility was full before I realized I needed to sign up. So, my only real incentive was to go see my buddy, and I am so glad I did. Two of the five nights I was there I was able to spend with him and his family, and I loved every minute of it.

My good friend from college used to drive me crazy with his hair-brained schemes and exuberant personality. He was nearly always trying to get his homework done at the last minute (guess who had to help him?) or talking about kissing some pretty girl (guess who rarely did? (or did so too rarely for his tastes?)) or extolling the virtues of space power systems (um, yeah). Seriously, the guy was weird, but he was still my best friend and ever since our paths in life have diverged I've watched his career and family life from afar.

He ended up going to Georgia for graduate school after I got married and wasn't as much fun to hang around with anymore. It didn't take him long before he, too, found a pretty girl to marry, and not much longer after that before they started having children. They have three daughters now (they lost a son a while back) and have another little boy on the way. His wife is the kindest person, and she suffered my presence in her household with aplomb despite being 6 or 7 months pregnant (can't remember exactly ... but she's pleasantly round).

I was so grateful to be there in their home as their little girls very slowly got used to this stranger who so rudely interrupted their nighttime routine. Their oldest daughter is an extremely bright little girl who apparently reads anything she can get her hands on and who clearly thinks deeply about things. Their middle daughter is an exceptionally friendly little girl who told me all about her bunny with its floppy ears and asked me to take care of it when she had to go take a bath; I was charmed. Their baby girl is too little to talk to me, and she was a little fussy while I was there, but I chose not to take that personally.

But it was just so nice to be there. They are a wonderful couple that are doing good in their corner of the world. They have firm testimonies of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and keep their commitments to the Lord and His Church. Their home truly does have the Spirit, and it was a warm and inviting place where I felt comfortable immediately. I was so happy to see my friend teach his children during scripture study, and to learn that his wife was going to a women's conference at BYU -- an experience that I know is quite a spiritually uplifting one.

So ... if they're reading this, thank you!

The other night that I was able to spend time with him I went to a meeting of the Huntsville Gem and Mineral Society. Doesn't sound much like a party, I'm sure, but it was really quite interesting. I got to push the button on his computer to advance his slides during his presentation, so I made myself useful. He was presenting to the aged people in the room the merits of building thorium-based nuclear reactors. I'm a true believer now, as are they. What was fascinating was watching how enthralled the people were with my goofy friend as he got so excited about the subject, all the while wearing his political opinions on his sleeve (the crowd was friendly to his views, as it were ...). The people weren't some drooling senior citizens, either, but most were retired army folks who have forgotten more about chemistry and geology than I'll probably ever know. I'm very glad I went.

The conference itself was really great. I had the opportunity to visit with a lot of people that I needed to visit with anyway about some work things, especially some people from ESA. In true conference form, I also trade some business cards, gathered some "conference crap" (pens, pins, patches, gizmos, and other trinkets from the vendors who had booths there), and broadened my understanding of the state of the art of deep space mission operations around the world (bottom line: most are playing catch-up to JPL, but are doing so alarmingly fast).

I also spent some time at the U.S. Space and Rocket Center, which was fascinating. Unfortunately, my timing wasn't so good due to the current uncertainty surrounding the U.S. space program. My overall impression when I left was a feeling of awe at what had been accomplished in the '60s during the Apollo era (seriously, you just can't understand the sheer magnitude of a Saturn V until you're standing beneath one), but, more overwhelmingly, I had a feeling of sorrow. The whole place is effectively a mausoleum to lost spacefaring capabilities -- a reminder of "what could have been".


I also went on a drive-about to see the beautiful, old, plantation-style homes around Huntsville, and to see the beautiful green sights. A funny moment came when I pulled off a highway at a "scenic view" stop, only to find the view completely obstructed by trees.

I also noted that the town has a lot of churches. It's a beautifully green town with an interesting geologic past -- the plethora of strange rock formations and caves in the area are astounding.

I also had the opportunity to go to the formal dinner (underneath the Saturn V at the museum!) and listen to the famous Gene Kranz recount his experiences in mission control during the Apollo 13 mission. It was familiar, but still kind of fun to hear it from him.

All in all, it was a fun trip, and I'm glad I went!

Neil deGrasse Tyson

He's a smart guy. Very popular. Usually I don't get so caught up in the smart-guy-very-popular-worship thing. But I like this:

How (Not) to Inspire The Next Generation of Astronauts

I had a rough night last night.

I am the Space Exploration Merit Badge counselor for the local Boy Scouts, and last night I was asked to go visit with a group of boys, ages 11-17, and help them to earn this badge. This is something I'm normally quite happy to do, so I dusted off a presentation that I gave last year at this time to a similar group of boys, packed up an overhead projector, and cheerfully headed over to the troop meeting.

Little did I know what experience I would have. In one part of my presentation we went through the design of the Space Shuttle. We talked about the solid rocket boosters, the main tank, and the Space Shuttle main engines (fantastic machinery, all). We talked about the orbiter itself and how much stuff it can haul into space. This is normally very exciting stuff, and true to form the kids loved hearing stories of how deafening the roar of the engines can be when it launches and how the astronauts that the Shuttle carries have almost completed the assembly the International Space Station.

However, last night, right after this, things went distinctly wrong. These boys were all excited about the prospects of going into space, but then suddenly the discussion veered towards the retirement of the Shuttle (only 4 flights left!). Then it veered towards the cancellation of the Constellation Program, which was intended to be the next U.S. manned space flight capability. The boys quickly did the math: no Shuttle + no replacement = no way to send astronauts to space. The mood quickly darkened in the room.

I tried to explain to the 30 (!) boys anxiously listening to me that the Obama Administration intends to cancel Constellation in favor of encouraging private industry to step up. I even ticked off the best bets: Virgin Galactic and SpaceX. I even tried to explain that in the intervening years we'll be sending up astronauts to the Space Station via Russian rockets. I even tried to mollify them by explaining that the Constellation program's cancellation isn't a sure bet, and that Congress may push to re-instate it or reach for some other intermediate solution.

It didn't do any good. These boys are smart. They know bad news when they hear it. It doesn't matter that the Russians are willing to give us a ride for a buck. It doesn't matter that there are private companies that very probably will be sending people into space within the next decade. What matters to these boys is that the stereotypical -- but not impotent -- dream of working for NASA and getting your astronaut wings is no more.

Our wonderful and beloved country, thanks to our esteemed President, will soon be out of the business of sending people into space. America will no longer be a space-faring nation. Robotic spacecraft, which is my own bread and butter, just aren't the same, despite what amazing things they can accomplish, and these boys know it.

It was a major downer of an evening. The balance of the evening we spoke about building model rockets, basic rocket principles, and what it means to be in orbit. It was all very good stuff, but there was just no way to shake what had gone on before.

I get President Obama. I get what he's trying to do. I get the logic and the approach and the "hope" that private industry will come through. It may very well turn out to be the best thing in the long run (though I'm not placing that bet ...).

However, when Constellation was funded, even though it was over-budget, behind schedule, and had more technical problems than you could shake a stick at -- at least one could point to the program, as flawed and warty as it was, and say, "There's our manned space flight program! We'll get back up there, yet!" Now, what do we have to point to? Some private companies who are stretched so thin that they are arguably one recessionary dip away from bankruptcy?

Don't get me wrong, I believe in the private sector and in the previously-named companies. I believe they have tremendously talented people working with them and don't intend to quit until they pull it off. The incentives are even greater now than they ever were before.

But what if they don't?

It was indeed a rough night last night.

Apollo 11 40th Anniversary

Today is the 40th anniversary of the first lunar landing. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin made history as the first men to take a stroll in that "magnificent desolation." The event occurred over 5 years before I was born, with the last trip to the moon occurring in 1972.

To me, it's always been something from the history books. I've seen the video countless times of Neil hopping down from the ladder and saying those famous words. Even so, it has never really seemed tangible to me because I didn't "see" it. I didn't stare at the black and white television for hours as did many of my older co-workers. I wasn't around to experience the social buzz or the public wonder. I wasn't thrilled by the glitches or aghast at their bravery. It was an extraordinary accomplishment, to be sure, and something I understand intellectually, but it really is no different to me than old television footage of World War II dog fights, or, worse, silent films. It was something that just ... happened ... when I wasn't around.

For most of my life, I have watched televised shuttle launches and more unmanned rocket launches than you can shake a stick at. For the last ten years, I have personally been involved in the robotic space program. Of this, I am supremely grateful and proud to have played my part. These things I have seen "live", and experienced the same gut-wrenching astonishment at the failures and the same exhilaration at the successes as the rest of the nation.

But it isn't the same. Today, this day, I mark with sadness. It's been 40 years since we first set foot on the moon. 37 years since we last went there. That's a long time. Longer than I've been alive. The space shuttle and the International Space Station are incredible feats, to be sure, but they have never been as awe-inspiring in the public mind as those brave Apollo years. For me, my greatest fear is that I may be lost in the historical middle. Too young to have experienced Apollo, and (at the rate we're going) I may not survive to see people land on Mars. This fills me with a profound sense of sadness.

The current "Constellation" program, which promises to return us to the moon and, theoretically, lay the foundation for manned missions to Mars, is a great thing, but it feels to me like a has-run. In every advertisement for it, the NASA public relations folks use the phrase "return to ...", which directly translates to the unfortunate concept of "re-run". The Constellation program seems to largely be an exercise in bean counting of the very worst kind. The managers and eggheads are trying to fit the whole thing within existing budgets, carefully measured and meted and scheduled. Transition plans for the manned space program are being delicately laid out, and all the while the public imagination flounders, far more interested in the latest Harry Potter movie than the space program (does anybody even know that the space shuttle is in orbit right now?!).

So I make this bold statement: While it would be extremely hard on me and my family, I would be willing to lose my job if our beloved president stood up and said we were going to dedicate the entire NASA budget to putting a man on Mars before 2020.

Today, I sat and listed to wechoosethemoon.org, where they were replaying the audio between the Apollo 11 astronauts and mission control (well worth the time, by the way). I was astonished as I sat and realized that the type of chatter they were having was exactly the same kind of chatter that I've personally done in support of a robotic mission. I realized that these people who accomplished Apollo were not great legends, somehow superhuman in ability and talent. They were just regular Joes who were given a job to do and did it to the best of their ability, which ended up being more than good enough. Given a task like that, I am absolutely confident that today's generation could perform feats equal to it and, indeed, surpassing it in greatness.

So, on this anniversary, I am left to wonder: where is my Apollo? Where is my audacious goal? I and others have more ideas and capabilities than we know what to do with, but our leaders have not unleashed the powers of my generation. Will they ever?

Holy Periodic Table, Batman

My best friend from college works at Marshall Space Flight Center. He has three adorable little girls and apparently has been teaching them to be nerds. When I watched this video, my jaw hit the floor. Considering the ages of these girls, his two oldest, this is a feat that is nothing short of remarkable. I am amazed and impressed by these two, and can't help but shake my head a little at my crazy friend who subjected his daughters to who-knows-how-many hours of training to teach them this. Even so, I'm very impressed, and I think you will be, too.

LRO/LCROSS Launch

LRO/LCROSS just launched. It was very pretty. Most of us here at work are standing around right now watching the video feed of the computer animation that reflects the telemetry coming from the Centaur upper stage. When launches happen, not much work gets done around here ...

When I first looked at the rocket, I thought to myself, "Why are they using an Atlas 5 to go to the moon?!" The Atlas 5 is what MRO launched on in 2005 -- it's a very big rocket that at first blush seems like overkill for a lunar lunch. Nevertheless, going to the moon is nearly as hard as going to Mars, as far as C3 expended, and with the need to push the upper stage on the same trajectory, it does make sense after all.

Very pretty.

On Humility

When I first got married, my wife and I had this fascinating discussion on the size of the universe. This discussion just about blew a few circuits in her brain because she'd never really contemplated how vast space can be. As for myself, I had long-since wrestled with the fact that We The People are tiny, practically insignificant specks in the grand scheme of things, so it doesn't bother me that much. In my head, I just remember that space just keeps going and going and, at least as far as we're ever likely to be concerned, it doesn't really end. It's like asking the question: what is the biggest number? It's impossible to answer that question, for as soon as you give a number all you have to do is add one and you've got another bigger number.

So it was with some amusement that I stumbled upon this video, which shows the size comparison of the planets in our solar system as compared to stars we've observed ... and beyond. Check it out:

Beautiful Thing

This video is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Watch it in HD ... and wait for it. Wow.

Galactic Center of Milky Way Rises over Texas Star Party from William Castleman on Vimeo.

Take Your Child to Work Day

A few weeks back I took my oldest son to work with me. It was the first time I could because my work doesn't let you bring them unless they're 9 years old. He had been there before for the yearly open house my work puts on, so very little of what we did was a surprise to him. Nevertheless, there was something special about him getting his own name badge and walking through security like he was a real employee.

There were booths with activities for the kids, but they mostly seemed aimed at a younger crowd, which was odd since my son was among the youngest ones there, and the activities were a little too young for him. Even so, there were plenty of people who were interested, and the lines were long.

Instead of waiting in the long lines, we went to an auditorium where a fellow was giving a presentation on what it takes to build a spacecraft. It was quite funny. He asked for about two dozen volunteers (only one adult went, and my son was being shy for some bizarre reason), and then he divided them into different tasks.

Five of them he had walk in a tight circle, as if they were the planet "popcorn" spinning on its axis. He took eight of them and had them line up as if they were a launch vehicle (pointed sideways). The rest he identified as different components on the spacecraft, such as the spacecraft bus, the solar arrays, the computer, and most importantly the science instruments, such as the salt-ometer, the butter-ometer, and the caramel-ometer. What better sensors are there to explore a popcorn planet?

It was a kick, especially when the rocket "launched" and all the kids bunched up on their way to the "planet", which by then was composed of the five really bored kids who had been dutifully walking in circles for about twenty minutes like so many zombies.

Afterwards, we went over to a grassy area where we could roll up some paper to make a "rocket" that we could then launch by stomping on a 2-liter bottle. His rocket had three fins and was pretty good, though when it was his turn, he didn't stomp very hard, so it didn't go as far as we both thought it could have. He chased it down, and decided he didn't want to wait in line again to launch it again. (Since his science fair project last month was on model rockets, and he had launched real model rockets before, this wasn't exactly compelling stuff ...)

Instead, we headed down to the clean rooms where we went to the observation room. There we saw the components of the Mars Surface Laboratory. He was very impressed by that, and loved the fact that he was looking at stuff that was going to Mars, never to be seen by human eyes again (possibly). Pretty cool stuff. There was a man there who had his older teenage son (eyes rolling, looking bored) who was more than delighted to fill my younger and more eager son's ears with information about the spacecraft; the man, apparently, was part of the group developing the flight software. My son was in heaven.

We went to lunch (we had awesome pizza), walked around the laboratory (he was impressed by the machine shop), and I showed him my office (which he loved, though it's just a cubicle with a bunch of computer screens). I had a dentist appointment that afternoon (two cavities ...) so we called it an early day. On the way out, I realized we hadn't taken a picture of the two of us together, so as we were walking out, I took a self-portrait of us. Check out our nerdy engineer shirts. You can see he had a smile on his face, and that made it a very good day indeed.

10 (Science) Things On Which I Have An Opinion

So, I wanted to record for posterity a few things that I've been thinking about lately that are science topics on which I have an opinion. They're kind of out there, but it all depends on your point of view.

-- 1) I believe in global warming. I can't say that it is exclusively caused by human-derived factors, but I think it is a combination of these and the Earth's natural cycles. I believe that we (humanity) have likely exacerbated the natural cycle, and we will pay the price. The Earth, as a System, is far too complex for us to arrogantly assume we're the cause of everything, but certainly, I believe, we have monkeyed with the natural order of things.

-- 2) I believe that global warming will ultimately cause the polar ice caps to melt, and it will be disastrous to us all as the oceans rise. I also believe this will happen much, much faster than anybody thinks.

-- 3) I believe the universe is far too big to contain just us. It's a ridiculously naive assumption to believe that life could have arisen only on this world amongst all the uncounted worlds around us. It may surprise a lot of people to hear that I also believe this jives very well with my religion.

-- 4) I have no opinion about visitors from other worlds. If they have been here in the past, they clearly have very good reasons for keeping themselves hidden. I don't find it likely they've been here, but, as they say, the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

-- 5) I believe in something called convergent evolution. You are free to connect this point to any of my previous points, if you choose, but that's a discussion for another day.

-- 6) I believe that true social change in the world will come not from the technologically advanced countries, which have a tendency to be introverted, but rather from the many more people in the poorest of countries. There it is where war and other forms of strife will force changes in the way the world functions, and the "developed world", in all its hubris, will be forced to respond, not the other way around. (Okay, is this "science"? Sure, call it social science.)

-- 7) I believe the biggest threats to humanity come in two forms: death from above, and death from within. The former is my fear of asteroid impacts -- and it would be a crying shame if we could do something about it, but because of our stupidity choose not to put the infrastructure in place soon to do so. The latter is my fear of uncontrolled and/or uncontrollable disease, whether man made or not. Both forms give me the willies.

-- 8) I believe that technological development will continue to accelerate beyond anybody's wildest expectations, but I do not believe that an ultimate singularity where everybody "poofs" into higher intelligences will ever occur.

-- 9) Oddly enough, though, I do not believe that there will be some fundamental breakthrough that will change science as we know it within the next century. I perceive that our technological development will be along three lines: much, much smaller machines; much, much faster computers; and much, much smarter medicine -- the three being intimately connected.

-- 10) When "The Breakthrough" does occur, however, I believe it will be because it has been learned that we (scientists and engineers everywhere) had it all wrong. I believe that all matter and energy is connected in some unknown way. I believe gravity has something to do with it, but we just don't get it at the most fundamental level.

Well, that's my list. My opinions are mine alone, and likely to change.

Constellation Concept

There's an awesome video at this link. Strangely enough, it makes me want to buy a drum set ...

This Ain't Computer Generated

You see stuff like this in the movies all the time, so it seems like this kind of thing comes cheap. Nevertheless, just watching this real video (actually, it's sped up because it'd be too long otherwise), you get a feeling of something marvelous -- a representation of extraordinary forces and awesome power. The space station and the space shuttle are flying at tremendous speeds and it is truly a spectacle to behold. If you watch, you'll see the outline of the shuttle shadowing the space station as the angle changes. It's truly remarkable, and, to me, humbling of just how amazing these machines really are.

Launching Model Rockets

My oldest son is doing a science fair project on model rockets. He's done an enormous amount of research on the history of rocketry, the founders of the space program, and rocket design; and we felt it was appropriate to give him the experience of actually launching a model rocket. Coincidentally, the boy scouts have been hosting me to teach the boys things in preparation to receive their Space Exploration Merit Badge. Part of that is to launch a model rocket, and I managed to secure one for use by my son.

Last Thursday he started assembling the rocket. With his science fair project due the next Wednesday, we didn't have much time to do this, so he started gluing the rocket together Thursday, finished on Friday, and we went to launch it on Saturday. We also borrowed a launch pad from our very good home teacher.

We went to a local park that had a big fenced in area that will be having some construction done in it. There were signs posted "No Trespassing" but there was a gate that was open and it was clear that people go in there all the time. The day was windy and partly cloudy, which would be grounds to cancel any real rocket launch, but we needed to do it then or not at all.

We proceeded to set up about 2/3rds the way upwind of the length of the open space. We slowly and deliberately set up the pad and prepared the rocket for launching. I had found some instructions for constructing a device that could be used to calculate the altitude that the rocket reached, and took some time to remind all three of my children how they work. They stood off to the side and looked through the devices as I got set to launch the rocket. They looked pretty silly, and by their sober mannerisms, you'd've thought we were launching the space shuttle with seven live astronauts on board.

The countdown from 10 began, progressed, and completed and the rocket went skyward ... out of sight! We couldn't see it, let alone track how high it actually went. The kids were stunned, my oldest son in particular, who had estimated the rocket would only fly about 30 or 40 feet high (clearly his depth of experience was extremely shallow). We eventually found it on its way down, just outside the big open space into somebody's back yard. I was afraid that it was going to fall on top of their house, but it landed literally feet park-side from the house. We were lucky.

I told the kids to let it lie where it was, as I needed to pick it up and count the paces for how far away it had flown. 215 paces! At roughly 34 inches per pace, it had flown over 600 feet from where we were. The winds were indeed very strong. Our attempts to estimate the altitude went badly, and at best we calculated it went up just under 200 feet. I think it actually went much higher -- probably 300 or 400 feet, but we couldn't tell for sure.

The parachute had actually melted a little on that first launch. Apparently we hadn't added enough "recovery wadding" (we had used 3 of the toilet paper-like squares, crumpled up and stuffed in the tube between the rocket motor and the parachute). The parachute had melted enough that it couldn't fully inflate, but it seemed serviceable so we proceeded to the launch again. For the second launch, we added 5 squares of the wadding, moved the launch pad to the most upwind part of the empty space in the park, and then my son, himself, pushed the button to make it fly.

He absolutely loved being the one in charge. He counted down and skyward it went! My wife and I were off to the side; she was taking pictures, and I was attempting to get some video, while measuring the altitude (which again went badly, but returned nearly identical results). I paced it off again, and it was about the same distance away when it landed. The trajectory clearly went nearly straight up, though, then the wind took it and pushed it down-range as it floated down.

The third launch didn't go so well. The shock cord that attaches the parachute to the body of the rocket came apart, and the body and the nose-cone (still attached to the parachute) came down at different places, much nearer to the launch site and at a different angle from the launch pad. Either the wind shifted, or the launch just went radically off course.

Even though the parachute had melted and we had a "launch failure" on the third try, the kids had a great time. It was a very positive experience. I think I learned a few things, too, such as: don't try to figure out how high it flies while holding a camcorder while the rocket races downwind (and into the sun) right after pushing the launch button. Next time, I'll try to get video OR take an altitude reading (while standing much further away), and, of course, the kids can push the button every time.

It was so much fun. I remember as a kid not being able to participate in the rocket launches my science group was doing when I was in the third or fourth grade because we didn't have the money to buy the rockets. I remember that it was just one of many "expensive hobbies" that we couldn't afford, and I was so disappointed about it. Even at that young age I had a thing for the space program. Well, now I do the real thing (I even gave a "Go!" for launch a few years back!) and, well, I can afford it. My kids don't know how lucky they are ...

Lost a Spacecraft

This morning, we lost OCO. It was a JPL-managed mission that was launching on a Taurus built by Orbital Sciences. The payload fairing failed to separate, and the rocket didn't have enough thrust to make orbit with it still attached. It went into the ocean down near Antarctica. Sad news. There is a somber mood here at work today as people on the floor above mine now contemplate the near-term. Tough break.