(A short break from completely serious discussions…grab a beverage)
Seven years ago, on March 15th, 2009, the Space Shuttle Discovery had an unexpected passenger climb aboard for mission STS-119. It wasn’t a trained astronaut or Russian cosmonaut. It wasn’t an MIT student, or a paying passenger. It wasn’t even human. It was a flying rodent, best described as a Free-Tailed Chiroptera.
This bat was not a part of any type of experimentation happening aboard the shuttle or International Space Station. Nor was he anyone’s pet, or mascot for that matter. Some may recognize Space Bat simply as an average bat, but to others, he may be a true symbol of courage in the face of imminent danger.
Just prior to shuttle launch, surveillance imaging detected something out of place adhered to the orange fuel tank. After post-launch disasters (most notably Challenger), no detail may be overlooked prior to take-off. After advanced zoom and image rendering, this variability was found to be none other than our true American hero.
Local experts from a wildlife refuge determined, based on the movements of the animal, that it’s wing and shoulder must have been injured, thus it being stuck hopelessly clinging not knowing it is about to be blown into the stratosphere. This is where I, along with you, should deviate from “expert opinion”. Injured, Space Bat may be, but I believe those injury-based motions were signals to the launch personnel to skip the countdown and launch the metal beast (and Space Bat) into orbit….STAT.
Already gifted with the amazing ability of flight, Space Bat could have settled for a life of flying to-and-fro the same cave every evening, dining on the same local fare of mosquitoes. Certainly a fine talent- and a useful one at that! However, how many bats could take his place…One? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands?
Space Bat did not want to settle for a life of passive simplicity. He wanted to go to the f@&%ing moon! All creatures that wish to slip the surly bonds of earth know the risks involved, including the incredibly high stakes of saddling up on the external fuel tank that is used to push the limits of Newtonian physics. This was the only logical option for our fur-clad friend.
Using advanced scientific calculations, or basic common sense, it was concluded that Space Bat did not make the return descent. Whether burned up by rocket fuel, or frozen by stratospheric pressure conditions, the end does not define the act. It is the act that defines the hero. Had Space Bat not made the conscious decision to push the limits of possibility (and we all know, bats are fully capable of logic and reason), we would have never been told this tale. Nor would we have been inspired to push ourselves past the realm of what we thought was once impossible.
Neither I, nor Space Bat, would encourage you to trespass on NASA property, or to take overtly suicidal action to prove a point. In his action, however, may it guide you to dream bigger than what is expected of you. No matter your place in life, ability, or physical condition, it is your American right to dream as big as you’d like and shoot for the moon (sometimes literally). If it weren’t for those who take great action, there would never be great success or great failure. But as our cosmos-bound beast proves to us, failure cannot be feared, and it is often the perceived failures that lead to the greatest inspiration.
Godspeed, Space Bat. Gone, but never forgotten.
-John
liberty by choice 