Brian D. Buckley

Me, my wife, and my best friend, having undergone radical cranio-pumpkin transplant surgery. I regret nothing.

Halloween 2011.

Occasionally at work I’ll see somebody walking down a hall, a sidewalk, whatever, and then suddenly – for no visible reason – they’ll stop, turn around, and start walking the other way.

I can think of two causes for this curious phenomenon. First, they realized they forgot something and have to go back for it. Or second, they’re lost, and just noticed they’re going the wrong way. I’ve done both these things myself.

I find these turnarounds fascinating.

All throughout life, but especially in the business world, we try to project the image that we’ve got it together. Somebody may want nothing more than to curl up under their desk and cry, or be seething with fury, or feel utterly confused about what they’re working on, but they still act like everything’s cool. That’s part of being a professional. Hell, it’s part of being an adult.

As a side effect, though, we find ourselves surrounded by people who seem calm, cool, and collected. The only insecurities we see are our own. So it’s easy to be fooled into thinking nobody else has them.

The turnaround is a rare exception. It’s an unambiguous sign of confusion. There’s simply no way, if you turn around mid-stride, to act like you’ve got it all figured out.

So if it happens to someone else, it’s a pleasant reminder that we’re all just human, game faces notwithstanding.

And when it happens to me, it’s a little voice that says: “Don’t take yourself so seriously! We’re just a bunch of hairless monkeys, after all.”

Image source

In Osaka, Japan, there is a building called Gate Tower Building.

There is a highway that goes through it.

That is all.

On Friday, I had blood drawn to get some lab work done. After the nurse finished, she tossed the used hypodermic needle into a plastic bin with all the others.

I looked in. The bin was nearly full, nothing but used needles.

Then the nurse said the strangest thing. “If there was a million dollars at the bottom of that bucket, would you put your hand in and grab it?”

Shudder. No. No I would not. I told her so.

“Really? Not even for a million dollars?”

Bear in mind, I’m a needlephobe, so I’m pretty impressed with myself already for having my blood drawn and not passing out. But all I said was, “It’s probably contaminated, isn’t it?”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “What are the odds you’re going to hit that one needle that’s contaminated?”

I confess, I had not heard this sentiment voiced by a nurse before.

“Would you do it?” I asked.

“Sure!” she said. “I’m fifty years old, I’m going to die soon anyway.”

I expressed my belief that the typical fifty-year-old is not likely to die soon. She just laughed.

I sometimes think these brief moments of strangeness and humor are part of the reason we’re alive.

If you can’t bring the people into space, then bring space to the people.

That’s the idea behind ARKYD, the world’s first crowd-funded space telescope. It’s like Hubble, except you get to use it. Admittedly, the images are not as hi-res as Hubble, but they’re pretty good for 1/1000th of the cost.

Planetary Resources, the company building ARKYD, figured they could make this dream a reality for about a million dollars. Rather than seeking out government funding, bank loans, or high-rolling investors, they went straight to the public.

And the public responded. In just one month, 17,000 people donated $1.5 million to the project on Kickstarter, leaving their original goal in the dust.

The expected launch date seems to be 2015. What happens then? Well, the ARKYD becomes available to astronomers, schools, and the general public. You can pick any celestial object, and the telescope handlers will take a photo and send it to you. Yes, there’s a fee, but we’re talking hundreds – not millions – of dollars. As the technology improves, prices will only go down.

This is what the space industry needs.

For too long, government institutions have been the sole gatekeepers of outer space. That’s not a criticism of NASA or the incredible work they’ve done. It’s simply reality. Government funding was a major bottleneck.

With the rise of private investment, space exploration will open up as never before. And not just in an economic sense. ARKYD is about recapturing the wonder of those early years, the time of Neil Armstrong and Yuri Gagarin. It’s about giving kids the power to look deep into the stars, just to see what they can find. Even if those “kids” happen to be 27 years old, like me.

I’ve already got my telescope time reserved. I can get a photo of anything I want: the Andromeda Galaxy, the moons of Neptune, anything. I haven’t decided yet. But whatever I pick, you can bet it’s going straight onto this blog.

Any suggestions?