#SpacefarerLife

[hopefulvowel]

Letter to a spacefarer

Tell me spacefarer, when you look out, what do you see? What lies ahead on the cosmic horizon? Where are you headed? I think of you visiting far-flung outposts, orbiting space stations, and glimmering megalopolises. I dream of you touching pulsars, nebulas, black holes, and new stars.

Tell me spacefarer, what drives you? Why do you stay in that bubble of life surrounded by the endless void? Are you with family or are they far away? Does a corporation own your servitude, or do you fly for you? I imagine a large family onboard a generation ship excited to start their new life on another planet. I believe in an independent captain, who unites their crew when faced with overwhelming odds.

Tell me spacefarer, is your life filled with excitement? Is every week packed with new adventures? Or has your extraordinary voyage through the void become a repeatable exercise in logistics? Does your job inspire wonder or boredom? I picture your colleagues with titles like fusion technician, anti-matter analyst, or space folder. I envision them leap with excitement at their work, or dread yet another day at the same station.

Tell me spacefarer, how do you see us? Are we specs, stepping stones, or a bridge connecting humanity to the stars? Do you think of us like Verne, dreaming of an impossible submarine? Or are we the Wright brothers, only touching the surface of the inevitable?

I see a man, born in the late 14th century, standing on a dock looking at a newly built ship. He marvels at advances made to develop grander and faster ships that require fewer sailors to operate. He hears exclamations that within a decade these advancements will create new trading routes for all, a thought that intrigues and excites him. He dreams of brave explorers venturing out and imagines what they will discover by going further and faster than anyone before them. He pictures himself, aboard a huge barque, manning the helm and commanding the crew. The speed at which they travel astonishes him, enabling them to explore new lands with ease.

This man stands in his present and looks out to the horizon, the future, dreaming of what is out of reach.

Within a few centuries, whilst this man has long passed, his dream has become a reality. Ships have become so large and fast that they can move cargo from Europe to Asia and back within a year. New worlds have been found. Yet, with the wonders around them the sailors on board are no longer fascinated by the same advancements, but exhausted from the effort. They now see their role, not as brave explorers, but as employees in a repeatable exercise in logistics – often dreading the journey.

Spacefarer, you are my sailor. I look at you and marvel, even if you do not marvel at yourself. I stand here in my present, looking out at the horizon, and dream of what it must be like for you over the bend.

But, spacefarer, I do not write to you to tell you how I marvel. I write to ask you this: when you look out, what do you see? What lies ahead on the cosmic horizon? Where are you headed?