After Being Trapped in This Apartment with My Family During a Pandemic, Living in a Mars Simulation Module Sounds Like A Step Up
Please, get us out of here!
“Mars is calling! NASA is seeking applicants for participation as a crew member during the first one-year analog mission in a habitat to simulate life on a distant world, set to begin in Fall 2022…”
“Each mission will consist of four crew members living and working in a 1,700-square-foot module… The habitat will simulate the challenges of a mission on Mars, including resource limitations, equipment failure, communication delays, and other environmental stressors. Crew tasks may include simulated spacewalks, scientific research, use of virtual reality and robotic controls, and exchanging communications. The results will provide important scientific data to validate systems and develop solutions.”- www.nasa.gov
Dear People of NASA,
It is with great excitement that I make this application for my family to participate in your Mars simulation experiment. We are ready to donate our bodies to science. Weigh our toenail clippings and shed hair! Measure our sleep duration and galvanic skin responses! Listen to us bicker about fricking everything! Much can be learned!
Let me introduce us: We are a family of four currently living in a 1,100-square-foot NYC apartment. You may think that your module set-up constitutes “close quarters,” but for us, this would be a major upgrade! Since 2020, our “family togetherness” has intensified to the point where my son can now read my stress-induced acne like braille. (My zits currently spell out “We are out of Wheat Thins.”) With your extra 600 square feet, we could finally resume break dancing. We could find a place for our camping equipment. Or we could construct a Holodeck-like virtual reality station and use it to prevent the inevitable robot uprising. (I’m guessing that’s what you meant by “research science.”) There are no wrong answers here, only great ideas.
Quick question: I noticed that in this module listing you did not indicate how many baths. Our current arrangement has only one bathroom and I am tired of people peeing while I shower. Whatever; I guess it’s not a dealbreaker. Our bowels have already established an interdependent poop schedule. We are ready for Mars!
My family should have no problem adjusting to the austere conditions of the simulation. We eat pretty much anything. As long as it doesn’t have mayo in it or some kind of non-Italian cheese for my husband. Or green bits on it for my son. My daughter and I are very flexible; the food just needs to be ovo/lacto-pescatarian. I would prefer not to have a Snowpiercer-style insect-based diet, but now that I think about it, how different could it be from Lara bars? We know all about supply chain issues and resource limitations and are prepared to substitute spaghetti for bucatini if necessary. Just keep in mind that my son will lose his shit if there is no cream cheese.
You should select my family for this simulated isolation because we are plucky, hardy, and natural problem solvers! Whatever environmental stressors rear their heads, we can handle them ourselves. We don’t need help from outsiders. For the love of God, don’t come in here. Stove broken? We can handle it! Hurricane floods? No problem! Mouse infestation? Easy Peasy! Rats nesting on the car’s engine block? How is that a thing?!? We are so independent, we recently tried our hand at home orthodontics. (Between Amazon and YouTube tutorials, anything is possible!)
Similarly, we are prepared for whatever communication issues the simulation throws at us. Like Max Headroom, we exist primarily in two dimensions and have learned to accept that interactions with other humans largely take place on a digital plane. In 2021 we had a Zoom Seder, a Zoom Mitzvah, Zoom playdates, and even a Zoom D&D campaign. I had a Zoom appointment with my gynecologist. I’m due for a replacement IUD this year but I’m sure she can walk me through it on Zoom. How hard could it be?
While we can’t wait to be hermetically sealed inside your module, cavorting through the barren wasteland of simulated Mars on a “spacewalk” also sounds delightful. Until now, my family has been stumbling through deserted parks and playgrounds, our vision partially obscured by the moist mask-fog that envelops the near-sighted and the tragically hip. I’m sure we would acclimate quickly to wearing full-body space suits. In fact, that may be the only way I would consider returning to public transportation.
Thank you so much for your consideration. I feel confident that you will select my family to participate in your project and want you to know we are ready to start at any time. I know you didn’t ask for them, but I have enclosed some urine samples.
I eagerly await your decision.
