Six Minutes of Delightful Chaos in Zero Gravity​

Rhae Adams
Aug 22, 2017 · 6 min read

I was recently given the opportunity to jump aboard a ‘zero-g’ flight with several team members to celebrate some of our accomplishments at the company (what better way for an asteroid mining company to reward its employees than with a brief stint as an astronaut). Asteroid miner or not, it is a rare chance to experience a pure sense of joy and wonder — an almost childlike sense that the rules of the universise don’t apply. While six minutes of weightlessness might seem insignificant, it has already had a profound impact on my outlook of humanities future.

The TL/DR is simple: do it.

To the good stuff…

After checking in at the Seattle Museum of Flight, putting on my flight suit, and sitting down to eat a ‘pre-approved’ breakfast with six of my co-workers, there was only one topic of discussion.

“I’m worried about drinking coffee,” says Wylder Keane, our principle software engineer. “I can see that being the thing that does me in.” We were, of course, worried about the possibility of getting violently ill aboard what NASA astronauts have nicknamed the ‘vomit comet.’ In true Seattle fashion, Brian Geddes, our director of software, countered, “Coffee has never failed me before — today won’t be the day it lets me down.”

As it turns out, only three of the twenty-four passengers had issues keeping the contents of their stomach where they belong (names omitted for obvious reasons). This is slightly above-average. According to Terese Brewster, CEO of Zero Gravity Corporation, only 5% of passengers experience nausea through the fifteen parabolas.

While every passenger is different, I can vouch that a cup of coffee, a few pieces of cantaloupe, and a glass of water produced a comfortable flight.

As one might expect with a group of asteroid miners, dreams of visiting space were not hampered by a few minutes of heaving. “Some people get really sick on the plane, but they are fine in space. And some people are fine on the plane but get sick in space,” claims Astronaut Scott Kelly. I can only hope some people don’t get sick at all.

After a pre-flight briefing and usual TSA security screening, we were off to the tarmac to climb aboard a specially adapted Boeing 737, G-Force One. The most noticeable difference is the amount of space. G-Force Once contains only seven rows of seats, zero overhead bins, and no bathrooms. The focus is clear: create as much space for bouncing around the padded walls as possible.

Before takeoff, things felt like any other commercial flight. Tray tables stowed, seatbelts fastened, and emergency exits identified, we rolled down the runway and took off. A short ride to our assigned airspace is the last connection to anything commercial. Upon arrival, our coach quickly ushered us onto the white padded area to await our first maneuver.

Our ‘warm up’ is a parabola at Martian gravity (about 70% of Earth). Working with engineers who have designed, built, and operated rovers on Mars made this experience particularly meaningful. It’s amazing how much of a difference even a small change in gravity makes on even basic movements. Feeling the translation of technical requirements to a relevant environment, at least on the gravity side of things, gave a whole new appreciation for the challenges of Martian exploration.

With one parabola down, the next two pull at Lunar gravity (about 20% of Earth). As the plane tops out at 34,000 feet and the extra gravity of the ascent is peeled off, I fly into the ceiling, land on a coworker, and avoid a kick to the face. It doesn’t matter — the place is full of grins and laughter. It is the most delightful chaos you can imagine. Here I am with six of the brightest engineers on the planet, and we have reverted to kids having a free-for-all food fight. As gravity returns and we are pinned to the floor again, the plane erupts in applause and cheering. I land next to Sam Daniel, one of our software engineers, and we attempt a high-five only to find the increased 1.8g too much to control our movements and revert to laughter.

Veterans at this point, we begin the climb for our first zero-g maneuver. Any semblance of control that was present for lunar pulls is gone the second we lift from the mat. Despite the many reminders not to “try to swim,” I nearly kick our senior systems engineer, Brandon Block, squarely in the jaw attempting to doggie paddle to the ceiling. Candy is released into the cabin. A man at the other end of the plane tries to juggle. Our coaches play goalie so we don’t end up above the seats when gravity returns.

The atmosphere is one of an elementary school classroom without a teacher.

This happens 11 more times, back to back, with a few minutes to reposition or line up for a group photo. I catch globules of water suspending in the fuselage, scale the ceiling at the flick of my fingertip, and tumble through a sea of arms, legs, and bodies. Eventually, we begin to head the advice of our coach: small movements are better than large, powerful ones. Once or twice, we are even able to link arms, smile, and grab a photo. With the most persistent law of our existence suddenly thrown out the window, the joy of weightlessness takes over entirely.

Of course, rather than circling the globe in the space station to achieve weightlessness, we are repeatedly diving towards the Pacific ocean with G-Force One matching the trajectory and velocity of our falling (i.e., weightless) bodies. About an hour after takeoff, with our fifteenth and final parabola complete, I begrudgingly return to my seat, sit down, and come back down to Earth.

Aside from a few private citizens who have paid the $20M+ price tag to travel to the International Space Station, this as close to space as the public can currently get. With Blue Origin and Virgin Galactic close to perfecting their space tourism vehicles; however, the public is poised to have even more opportunities to throw gravity out the window (and their inhibitions with it). A ZeroG flight is the perfect first step towards a future when humanity is living, working, and playing in space.

As someone committed to enabling that future in my lifetime, I am admittedly predisposed to enjoy a six-minute glimpse into the future. What I was not expecting, and what everyone will enjoy, is the feeling of pure inspiration that comes with it. Imagine living your entire life in your home and being given a chance to play on the lawn for a few minutes. It changes everything — and makes you all the more eager to go back for more.

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Rhae Adams

Written by

Strategy and Business Development @PlanetaryRsrcs, the Asteroid Mining Company

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