Category: Journalist Report

THE SOUNDS OF MARS
Lindsay Rutter
Commander, Crew 228

Sounds on Mars, punctuated with Japanese onomatopoeia.

Disclaimer: The sequence of events has been modified for creative purposes.

========== Verse One ==========

"You hear that? That whistling sound? Whoooooo," one asked.

"That sure is weird music," the other replied.

On the dark side of the Moon, Apollo 10 astronauts Eugene Cernan and
John Young describe its hauntingly beautiful melody. But the Moon
should have no sound – there is no sound medium. Turns out the
mysterious music was only VHF radio interference between the Command
Module and the Lunar Module. The public hears the eerie sounds decades
later.

We suit up for our first EVA. A muffled buzzing comes from our air
supply. [ぶんぶん Buuuun Buuuun]. It echoes in our space helmets. Will we
hear much of Mars beyond this purring?

Standing in the airlock, the five minute countdown initiates. Our
emotions well up into what almost feels like a sound.

[わくわく Waku Waku].

That is the sound of anticipation in Japanese. In English,
onomatopoeia is restricted to physical sounds. But in Japanese,
onomatopoeia extends past this physical limitation. Our emotions, our
sensations, our motions, our appearance, how we experience nature –
all of these conditions have sound symbolism in Japanese.

We step onto the landscape and squint our eyes at the dizzying
splendor. The Sun blazes its sweltering song. [ぎらぎら Gira Gira]. Jin
and I depart on our rovers, Perseverance and Curiosity. We hear a
raspy track from the gravel below. [凸凹 Deko Boko].

Percy is determined to detect life, meticulously caching rock samples.
They say the tune a rock hums when Percy’s laser strikes it is what
allows us to infer mass and relative hardness. Today, Jin and I join
Percy in her passion project. Our target destination is Jotunheim,
Homeland of the Gods. The inverted river channel is believed to
contain potential biochemistry of interest and our mission is to
confirm this hypothesis.

We traverse the dangerous terrain at the speed of sound. The sound of
a snail’s pace, that is. [のろのろ Noro Noro].

"Slow is smooth and smooth is fast," Jin says.

Disembarking at a predetermined location near Jotunheim, we contact HABCOM.

"EVA to HABCOM. We arrived at the junction. We will now circumnavigate
the feature by foot. Expect a radio blackout. We will reestablish
connection by 0945."

"HABCOM to EVA. Contact by 0945. Copy that."

We head to Jotunheim by foot. The vermillion regolith sighs hoarsely
as we walk on it. [さくさく Saku Saku].

A smoky mint-green sand is exposed beneath. The elevated remains of
the ancient river come into view. My head sweeps across the field from
left to right, a stunning panorama. Variegated mesas and stately
buttes pepper the landscape. We begin collecting samples from the
precipitous slopes of Jotunheim. The steepness proves hard to
navigate, and I stagger backward, with my heavy spacesuit exacerbating
my descent.

I stomp down the slopes until I regain my balance. [ドドドドド Do Do Do Do Do]!

My heartbeat percusses in my ears. [ドキドキ Doki Doki]!

A fall in this harsh world, and I would become one with the dusty landscape.

"Slow is smooth and smooth is fast," a concerned Jin reminds me.

We finish our sample collection. 0938. Seven minutes remain. We walk
back to our rovers, and hear the splashy chimes of precipitation.
[ぽたぽた Pota Pota].

"EVA to HABCOM. We have sampled Jotunheim. We will continue Northward
to examine the raised sea-green dome structure. Do you copy?"

"HABCOM to EVA. We have precipitation. You are not authorized to
continue the EVA." Our radios warble with static. [ざーざー Zaa Zaa].

Did they say we ARE authorized or we ARE NOT authorized? One word sure
can make a difference! Even Neil Armstrong confided his infamous line
was recorded in the history books with one word missing.

I am pretty sure they said we ARE authorized. But sometimes we hear
what we want to hear!

"I repeat. You are NOT authorized to continue the EVA. Please return
to the HAB immediately."

It was clear. Even the pink noise of the static could not conceal it.

"Okay. This is the saddest moment of my life," I say, duplicating the
50-year-old words Ed White muttered, when he did not want to return
from his spacewalk.

We return to the HAB without incident.

========== Verse Two ==========

Back in the ScienceDome, I attempt to extract DNA from the samples.
Bead-beating. Eluting. Vortexing. I pipette the liquified regolith
into tubes the size of my pinky. I line them up in a microtube rack.

"Hey, they look like tiny chocolate milkshakes in little cupholders!"
I say to Jin.

"Can I try one?" Jin asks, hopefully jokingly.

He stands to my right, but his voice arrives at my left. My head
spins. A whispering gallery effect. The circular enclosure propagates
sound waves along its walls, betraying our intuitive senses.

I attempt to separate the contents of the regolith samples by density.
But the microcentrifuge looks ancient. It whirls into a hustled spin –
but is it really reaching 14,400 RPM?

We use auditory evidence to check. Everything that spins causes a
vibration at the frequency of its spin. Jin analyzes those vibrations
with his Spectroid app. Rainbow ribbons of Fourier transformed
vibrations twirl across his screen.

"Yes, it is spinning at 14,400 RPM," he says.

Jin, the audio detective.

========== Verse Three ==========

Back in the GreenHab, Inga works her magic. Green popping sounds.
[にょきにょき Nyoki Nyoki]. The plants sprout their seed leaves. The
microscopic shoots fizzle throughout the space garden. Her years of
living on an organic farm are showing.

Inga harvests rosemary, and carefully documents its weight. She
tallies precious greeneries in our Martian station. Inga sprinkles the
herbs onto delicious soup that she concocted from water and powder.

The hearty warmth of the food is like a sweet lullaby. [ほかほか Hoka
Hoka]. We all gather around the table to share dinner.

Dave regales us with a story from the summer of 1969. The grumbling
and rumbling. The roaring and thundering. [ごろごろ Goro Goro]. The Apollo
11 liftoff happened right before his very eyes. And its bass drumming
sent a rolling shockwave through the gathered crowds.

I glance around the table. All crew are happily listening. Their
smiles are an allegro chorus. [にこにこ Niko Niko].

We turn off the lights. Our tin can morphs into a riveting cinema.
Then Dave plays us his original concerto, "Sunrise from Olympus Mons",
composed on his 1040ST mid-1980s Atari computer. It starts with a
pianississimo ensemble of ephemeral nocturnal sounds. They gradually
crescendo as the blue glow of sunrise lights up the Martian terrain.

[ごんごん Gon Gon]!

An unwanted fortissimo from the pipe of our loft water tank. It thumps
loudly, comically interrupting the music. Back leakage in the valves
have sounded off every few minutes in our mission. The pipe must feel
resentful to hear refined music it could never replicate.

Dave’s concerto ignores the interruption. His electronic orchestration
continues to enchant us. Flutes. Organs. Pianos. “Ice-Rain Locust”
Sound Effects. The sun has now almost fully risen in his composition.

[ごんごん Gon Gon]! [ごんごん Gon Gon]!

The pipes welt at us again.

As our evening winds down, Jin records our body temperature for the
Planetary Protection Office. Our daily monitoring prevents
astrovirological complications.

[カタカタ Kata Kata]. Clickety Clackety. He types away, sending our
anonymized body temperatures to our remote flight surgeon.

We return to our staterooms for sleep. Dave turns off the water tank.
Nobody wants to hear what sounds like machine gun sound effects from
the Space Force in their dreams!

========== Verse Four ==========

Feeling cozy and content in my stateroom, I suddenly remember I need
to finish one last science recording. Begrudgingly, I brave the
pitch-black tunnel system and scurry at a prestissimo cadence toward
the ScienceDome. As I place my flashlight down to turn the heavy
submarine hatch door, I sense something is behind me. I turn around
to see nothing but darkness. I chuckle at my cowardice. Nobody else is
on this Martian terrain! I quickly enter the ScienceDome and turn on
the light. My mind becomes engrossed in the meticulous world of
molecular biology.

[ぴぴ Pi Pi]!

A sudden beeping sound. Coming from the door.

[ぞっとZotto]!

A shiver run down my spine. Who (or what!) is at the door?

My head whiplashes toward the door window. Pitch black. The sound came
from the power system on the opposite side of the room. Fooled by the
whispering gallery effect.

========== Verse Five ==========

Back at the HAB, I lay my head down on the fluffy pillow to the sound
of soft clouds. [ふわふわ Fuwa Fuwa].

The musical performance of the sol replays in my head.

[ぶんぶん 。わくわく。ぎらぎら。凸凹
。のろのろ。さくさく。ドドドドド！ドキドキ！ぽたぽた。ざーざー。にょきにょき。ほかほか。ごろごろ。にこにこ。ごんごん。カタカタ。ぴぴ！ぞっと！ふわふわ。]

[Buuuun Buuuun. Waku Waku. Gira Gira. Deko Boko. Noro Noro. Saku Saku.
Do Do Do Do Do! Doki Doki! Pota Pota. Zaa Zaa. Nyoki Nyoki. Hoka Hoka.
Goro Goro. Niko Niko. Gon Gon. Kata Kata. Pi Pi! Zotto! Fuwa Fuwa.]

Are we living in Dave’s concerto? Is this all a simulated reality?

The piece ends with a final tenuto.

[しーん Shin].

The sound of silence.

DAD JOKES ON MARS
Lindsay Rutter
Commander, Crew 228

We Areonauts followed all planetary protection directives set forth by COVID amendments to the COSPAR treaties. And we successfully prevented the spread of the terrestrial virus into a space virus. But no matter how careful we were, there was one pest that hitchhiked its way onto our spacecraft and now can never be stopped – the Dad joke.

Dad jokes cannot be sterilized. There are no vaccines for Dad jokes. They are extremophiles of the highest order, surviving anything you throw at them, including microgravity and radiation. This is unequivocal.

It all started soon after we exited the Karman line. A crew member (who requested anonymity) let out what was unmistakably a Dad joke. For the most part, we tactfully ignored it. Still, I can’t help but think most of the crew said a little prayer that night in their staterooms, hoping that would be the end of it.

As the solar days turn to solar months, it has become clear we will see no end to the Dad joke. A pattern has emerged. First, a crew member will slip out a Dad joke. Then, there is a moment of silence, followed by a cacophony of groans. Sometimes, the crew will clear the room, essentially imposing an unspoken quarantine on the source of the joke, who is left alone to reflect on how they are no Jerry Seinfeld.

We each have been that person. And we each have reflected in isolation. But still, the Dad jokes continue.

In a last-ditch bid to rid ourselves of the pest, we wrote down the worst Dad jokes that have been committed on Mars so far, and ran the paper through the compost shredder. But this purification ceremony only emboldened the Dad joke, which victoriously resurrected itself within minutes when a crew member blurted out an all-new-low variant of the offense.

We have since surrendered defeat to the Dad joke.

It is possible that, one day, the social contagion of the Dad joke will make the fateful leap from human beings to AI beings. And should the AI community recursively self-improve the cheesiness factor, it will emerge worse than what we can even imagine today. It will be so bad, it will be almost transcendentally bad. What happens at that point – to space exploration, to consciousness in the universe – awaits latently in the realms of science fiction. Only time will tell.

Today, I transmit a rather sobering report that the Dad joke will always go wherever humans go. And now that we humans have landed on Mars, it is here with us to stay.

What to make of this, I wonder? If we couldn’t leave the Dad joke behind, is it possible to prevent contaminating Mars with other human transgressions? The wars. The corruption. The pollution.

I can’t help but fret sometimes. I’m concerned.

Why, nice to meet you, concerned! I’m Dad!

"The Case for Age"

While on EVA today the idea for this report began to take form in my mind. Here I am in the 65+ age group and walking about Mars. But of what use is age here? Is there any advantage? In "The Case For Mars" book a good argument is made for a small crew size with two of the crew being engineers with training in other essential areas. Things will break and that is very bad once you leave earth. Maybe deadly or mission ending. An engineer is usually highly trained in one narrow area (like micro-chip design in my case) and without a diverse knowledge base beyond that. I have heard that NASA has had a difficult time in recent decades recruiting engineers with a diverse experience base. They are highly trained in one niche, but can’t replace a lamp cord or spark plugs for instance. These engineers had missed out on hands on experiences from a young age maybe because of such distractions as "Smart" phones and other electronic information devices. I was blessed not to have those distractions in my youth. Around age 5, I was disassembling small mechanical devices (alarm clock). By age 8, I was disassembling old radios and an occasional TV, even removing rivets so I could add a tube socket to my building inventory that I knew not how to practically use yet. By age 10, I was not very successfull in making my own rockets, propellent and hydrogen bombs (using H and O2 gasses I derived by electrolysis and put into a small container with electrical detonator). By age 12, building some simple electronics devices and repairing radios, By age 14, repairing TVs. By age 16, repairing vehicles and most any other thing that most people would trash, I would restore for more years of use. I could go on, but you surely get my point by now. I used my hands and brains in a wide variety of productive ways that the social and entertainment apps of today would have deprived me of.

I have used that knowledge on Crew 80 and Crew 228 to repair such items as EVA suit electrical, toilets, water pump, ATV, door, radio, sink drain strainer, water heater and things I have since forgotten. And all with full confidence. The extremely useful skill of improvising is also a desirable trait, especially with limited resources.

With all that said, I can now say that one engineer should be older than the rest of the crew for the greater depth and breadth of experience in many mechanical and electrical systems starting from a young age. Good luck finding such a person. Should the author of "The Case For Mars" read this, I can imagine seeing one or two thumbs up to "The Case For Age".

David Laude

Crew 228 Executive Officer/Crew Engineer

The Other

“Do you think EVAs are becoming more routine now?” I ask Jin as we check our radios. “I don’t know, we do try to spice it up by going to different locations every time,” he replies.

What I truly want to know, when does it start feeling routine? When does the simulation get under our skin and become the shared reality we know?

We stand in the airlock for five minutes. We walk to the rovers. I back out. We drive off. All this time in our standard EVA gear that consists of a bulky rectangular backpack and a fishbowl-looking helmet.

We get to Robert’s Rock Garden, the place I visited two days ago. As we walk towards the hills, I scan the view. The red desert still amazes me, but in a way that familiar beauty does.

We reach our path up; it is hidden behind a white stone that reminds me of an antique bust worn out by eons of wind and sand. We climb up; we record the coordinates; we climb down. Just two orange dots bopping around the dead valley.

Back at the rover, an excavator drives past. A local man repairing the road. Jin snaps a picture of him, he snaps a picture of us. Both encountering the other – what is real?

Inga Popovaitė,

Crew 228 Journalist Report 03OCT2021

Author: Marufa Bhuiyan, Remote Crew Astronomer

Title: A mathematical poem on Mars and simulation of our mind

I.

You are the M-STAR, Eon of our generation and messenger of peace

Please tell us your stories and dreams, and where you’d like to go next.

Is it the Moon or Mars or Earth bound again?

Towards the Andromeda or in a different galaxy far away…

Which galaxy would you like to reside in? Then please CONTACT 3021.

II.

Maybe you will ‘time travel’ thousands of years

Please follow your “Imaginary time” at a 45 degree angle,

Carry your trinity in a style, or who knows you might fall into a beautiful Triangle.

If you could travel faster than lights, how old would you be?

You know they say “age” is just a number. Here’s a simple math, 1+2+3+4+5+6+7 = 28.

If you were sure of your immortality, would you live your life differently?

III.

Mr. Robert Frost said long ago “The Prophets really Prophecy as Mystics,

the Commentators Merely by Statistics”

Wherever you want to go my friend, “May the Force be with You”.

When we see a ‘bright star’ every now and then,

And we have a moment to think, “we will think of you”.

Hopefully someday we meet on Earth

‘In between our dreams’ or, in an interstellar journey on my rocket ‘88!

Until then, please take good care of your health and be happy.

IV.

So, the relationship with Mr. ‘X’ which had begun like an opening to the heavens,

Had sizzled in the middle when I believed I had outsmarted the Gods,

finally ended with a rude Earth landing!

Back to Eden? Enjoy the speed of your journey.

V.

Please remember, you are the chosen one, the best of the best,

“But you, children of space, restless in rest, you shall not be trapped nor tamed.”

When I was at MDRS in an analog astronaut training, oh it was not too long ago!

It was about our red planet, it was at the Mars Desert Research Station (#220) in 2020,

Now it seems so long ago!

At that time, I learned as a Crew Astronomer: “Please do not trigger others with your actions or words.”

and “Stay kind, it makes you beautiful.”

Forwarded from Ludovica Valentini:

THE “OVERVIEW EFFECT” AND BEYOND

By Ludovica Valentini, Remote Engineer

It was a crisp night in the Hab, the sky was surprisingly clear again
after many Sols of dust storms, and the stars were burning so bright.
Without thinking twice, the Areonauts headed to the observatory to
enjoy some sky watching. Everyone was so excited, it was their first
such chance during their newly started mission on Mars.

The crew got equipped and prepared the telescope so that the show
could finally begin. The Areonauts first pointed the lenses to the
Mars’ moon Phobos, and everyone was amazed to see the tiny details on
its surface. They took pictures of the craters while discussing what
to admire next. The time came to have a look at the second Martian
moon Deimos, then they let themselves hypnotize by the beauty of the
Milky Way painted across the sky, stretching from horizon to horizon.
The Areonauts were appreciating the charm of the Martian night sky,
someone was shooting photos, someone else admiring the sky and sharing
their excitement, until suddenly it got all silent…

A timeless moment, a breathtaking view, no words to express the
profound feelings invading their bodies. Still holding their breath,
they could look into each other’s eyes and recognize the same thrill.
The telescope was pointing right at their beloved Blue Marble. A
nostalgic moment that goes beyond words, and almost impossible to
convey. It was the experience itself of seeing the Earth standing out
from the pitch-black universe, that one cannot explain.

Memories started to come to their minds of when they first left the
Earth and for the first time, they looked down at their home planet
from above. In that precise moment, something happened in their minds,
and their perception of the Earth and of life started to change. That
Blue Dot surrounded by its strikingly thin atmosphere looked so
beautiful, and so fragile at the same time. There were no drawn
boundaries, no differences, no reasons for hate nor wars, everything
was just a continuous flow of marvelous lands, seas, and dancing
clouds, everything in constant change, and for this reason, unique
every time. The more the time was passing, the more these feelings
were growing profoundly in the crew while they were traveling to Mars.

By the time the Areonauts were approaching Mars, the Earth had become
just a tiny dot in the sky, home had never been so far. As soon as
they stepped foot on the Red Planet, the Areonauts worked hard to
settle in and launch their research programs. Days went by, but no one
would miss their daily glance at that Blue Dot in the sky, until the
weather got worse. Intense dust storms arrived, and the crew had to
cope with operational complications, some of their research being
paused, and to make matters worse, their little light in the sky had
disappeared behind a thick red blanket surrounding the Hab, for many
long Sols.

In the moment they could see that familiar appearance again through
the telescope, everything rewound in their minds back to when they
first experienced that breathless feeling. But this time, it felt
different. The Earth was not taking up most of their view anymore, to
the contrary they could barely discern it with the naked eye. This
time, it was beyond their first experience, this time, they could
observe their Earth as part of the universe. That opened up a
completely new perspective and new questions started to arise in the
Areonauts’ minds. They did not have the answers, yet, but one thing
they knew, those experiences had intensely changed their views and
they felt it their duty to share it once back to their dear Earth.

Never more than today, the so-called “overview effect”, a term coined
in 1987 by Frank White in the homonymous book, should be brought down
to the Earth and spread. The “overview effect” is the beginning of a
shift in your mindset as you move further away from the Earth’s
surface, it is a change in awareness and in the way you see our Earth.
We are part of this complex system, and we are all interconnected to
anything else in it, despite all the differences, or better, this big
machine does work thanks to this diversity. After all, we are all in
this together, aboard this giant and precious ship sailing an immense
ocean, while exploring new horizons, and aiming at the same
destination, a flourishing future for mankind and our home planet(s).

END

Journalist Report

Yuzo Shibata, Remote Agricultural Advisor

My Mind is Landing on Mars.

By Yuzo Shibata, Remote Agricultural Advisor

I live in Kyoto, Japan. It has about 1.5 million people and lots of universities and colleges. About 10% of the population is said to be students. There are also so many scientists here but this ancient capital filled with old temples and shrines seems to be able to change them into poets. I often discuss Mars exploration with scientists here. However, sometimes, the conclusion rather than scientific becomes poetic which is frustrating because I want to arrive at a scientific conclusion.

Also, we Japanese are a little weird ethinic group personifying everything including space rockets and probes with Manga and trying to communicate with them. For example, you can find some manga images of a little girl with solar panels named “HAYABUSA” (Japanese robotic spacecraft) on the net. Most Japanese people must love space exploration, but they don’t seem enthusiastic about manned exploration. They say, “Our friends, Curiosity and Percy have already lived on Mars. Why do you think you need to go there now?”

However, these thoughts might not be all bad. It may not be necessary to physically go to Mars by scientific and technological means, instead it might be good to take our mind to Mars by Poem and Manga power.

I wasn’t able to go to MDRS due to the pandemic as the GreenHab Officer this time, so I’m joining the mission as the Remote Agricultural Advisor from Kyoto now. From the viewpoint of cultivation, I pored over science papers about the climate of Mars over coffee. However, after I decided to be remote, I started reading science-fiction novels and comics, even reading poetry books such as Haiku (Japanese short form poetry) over tea. That might be because I unconsciously wanted only to take my mind to MDRS and Mars.

First, I read and watched “The Martian” again to get insight. (I’m not sure whether planting potatoes is a good solution, though.) However, this ancient capital filled with dynastic styled literature and beautiful four seasons gradually affects my mind. And now, I’m getting interested in the seasons on Mars rather than how to survive there.

The climate there is really hard to live in, so I can’t imagine how much people there would look forward to the winter solstice that comes once every two years. They must want to celebrate the day even more extravagantly than the Yule festival for the Germanic peoples. What should I plant for the festival? Chinese people eat dumplings and Japanese people take a citron bath. Also, It might be desirable to change the calendar based on earth’s seasons into a new one such as the Darian Calendar. The winter solstice would become New Year’s Day like ancient kingdoms in Mesopotamia and China.

Mars was called “Keikoku” in ancient China. It means “Confusion” in English because the movement and apparent brightness of this planet was unexpected. I’d like you to forgive me for confusing you with my excessive imagination taking my mind to MDRS and Mars. Now I promise to stop imagining and to concentrate on supporting the GreenHab Officer with scientific knowledge as the Remote Agricultural Advisor.

Jin Sia, HSO

Forwarded from Charikleia Olympiou, remote Flight Surgeon:

I am not too eloquent when it comes to expressing myself in English as
it’s not my first language. So, for my report, I chose to bring to
your attention, this letter which was written in May 6, 1970, from
Ernst Stuhlinger and was addressed to Sister Mary Jucunda. Now you
might be thinking what does a letter addressed to a nun has to do with
our mission on Mars.

Well, at the time, Dr. Stuhlinger was serving as the Associate
Director for Science at the Marshall Space Flight Center, in
Huntsville, Alabama whilst Sister Jucunda was working among the
starving children of Kawbe in Zambia. Sister Mary Jucunda, surrounded
by dying starving children, had expressed concerns as to whether space
exploration was actually a worthwhile endeavour when at the same time,
some humans were starving to death.

Dr. Stuhlinger replied with the following letter, sharing his own
beliefs for the value of space exploration. In my opinion this is
probably one of the most eloquent and well-written statements that’s
advocating for humanity’s endeavor in space, even today, more than
five decades later.

It’s a bit long but it’s definitely worth the read 🙂

Here it goes:

THE LONG DASH
Jin Sia, HSO

They say it isn’t the speed that kills you
but the stopping.
Free the reins of the Sun’s
rays entangling the Hab in a net of
time and frenzy and the
tick tock tick tock tick tock
of raindrops dying upon the roof;
a patina of water,
here today, reincarnated tomorrow in a puff of the heavens,
returning to the cycle that is here
but isn’t supposed to be here.

From where did the water come?
From where in the disk of
spinning, spinning,
gossamer threads of matter from the dust
that came from dust that came from dust,
and that to dust will return,
from the ice-cold encrusted sleep
upon the sunken eyes of the unknown.

"Shade under my roof of dreams," says the Hab,
"Ponder in my pocket of dark," whispers the SciDome,
"Revive in me," emanates the GreenHab,
"Take a gift and leave a gift," booms the RAM from deep depths above.

Aerobrake into a shower of possibility,
fire retrorockets into a plume of vision.

At the end of the long dash
a summit awaits,
ready for another day,
ready for another day.

Forwarded on behalf of Remote Crew Journalist Stuart Hughes:

LESSONS FROM AN ANALOG VETERAN

By Stuart Hughes, Remote Crew Journalist

One of the buzzwords of the moment is “hybrid” or “blended” working.
As we emerge from the pandemic, we’re living two parallel lives – one
of them in person and the other in the virtual spaces of Zoom and
Microsoft Teams that have become our natural habitat over the past 18
months.

So it is with MDRS Crew 228. We are perhaps the first “hybrid” crew.
Our original mission date was for April 2020. Then COVID struck and
turned all our lives upside down. Remaining travel restrictions mean
we’ve been unable to come together in the Hab as we’d hoped and
planned for. As if to add insult to injury, the long-awaited news of
the lifting of the travel ban to the US came just last week – although
the changes won’t come into force in time for us to jump on a plane
and join our crew mates. So while half the crew carry out our mission
on “Mars,” the other half are watching on with more than a twinge of
jealousy from our home countries.

Prior to our original mission date I sought some advice on how to
approach a space analog mission from Anastasia Stepanova. Anastasia is
an engineer at the Russian Academy of Science. She spent a total of 10
months participating in space simulations with the Mars160 and SIRIUS
projects. When I met Anastasia, little did I know that COVID-19
lockdowns were just around the corner and the whole world was about to
gain more experience of living in isolation than any of us could have
imagined!

In my job as a BBC journalist, I’m plugged into the news cycle all
day, every day. I confess that suddenly being cut off from that
constant stream of information was the thing I was fearing most during
my time at MDRS.

Anastasia trained as a journalist, so I asked her how she coped with
living in an information black hole.

"We didn’t have the internet, only an internal server, but the
psychological team would send you information if you requested it,”
she told me.

“Funnily enough, nobody in our crew asked for any news, apart from
space news! I was asking for space news – so they sent me screen grabs
from space.com. But we didn’t know what’s going on in the world.

“I liked that. I had a little break from all that. A digital detox is
the best thing I had – I still miss it! It’s harder when you’re in
civilization but I still try to go to the countryside on the weekends
and not check my phone for a whole day."

Not being able to monitor the TV news bulletins for months on end may
not have troubled Anastasia Stepanova but there were some reminders of
home she yearned for while taking part in analog missions.

“You start to miss smells and sounds,” she admitted.

“In the last simulation (SIRIUS) we had a really artificial
environment. We were in a hermetic chamber and we had a unique
atmosphere, totally independent from Earth’s. The air pressure was 3%
higher than on Earth to keep dust particles out. We had the sound of
the ventilation but we didn’t have the sound of the wind or rain or
waves. We didn’t have pleasant smells. When mint appeared in the
greenhouse everyone came there to smell it and remember the Earth. You
also miss colours and lights. I think the design of a future space
station is very important. It should be a mixture of high tech and
very earthy.”

I asked Anastasia for her personal tips for coping with the
confinement of an MDRS mission, never anticipating that I’d soon be
using them inside the four walls of my own home in London!

"Always separate the professional from the personal,” she advised.

“If you discuss something and have a disagreement, don’t take it
personally. Keep your sense of humour – in all my crews we had a sense
of humour, and it saved us so many times. When we had conversations
that were on the edge, jokes would lighten things up and we could move
on. If you feel a bit irritated, try to put yourself in the other
person’s place or go and do some exercise.

“If something bothers you, calm down first and then discuss how you
can sort it out. That’s the key. I know it’s hard, especially when
you’re in there and everything seems so big. But just breathe out,
breathe in, do some yoga or meditation, write, play video games or
listen to music. I did yoga in front of the greenhouse, so I had my
"Earth corner." Just take some time for yourself and then you can
react.”

Although it’s frustrating not to be able to be alongside my crew mates
at MDRS, my frustration dissolves into nothing when I remind myself of
the overarching goal – to create a permanent human presence on Mars.

As Anastasia Stepanova says, “For the first time ever in history maybe
we’ll build a life on Mars. Maybe we’ll be the ones who see how the
whole conception of our existence changes – and that’s amazing.”

The pandemic that has ruled our lives for too long will pass and the
chance to fulfil my long-delayed dream of visiting MDRS will come. If
there’s one thing COVID has taught us, it’s the importance of patience
and the ability to overcome disappointments and setbacks.

The end goal is worth the wait.

END