Lost in Space

'Yesterday a tote bag containing two grease guns was lost in space. The astronaut was on a spacewalk, a grease gun went off, she stopped to clean up the mess and off the bag spun into the infinite abyss. I can only imagine her frustration as she watched the tools float away, so close yet... Then I started thinking about all the things that have been lost in space or lost to space - satellites, pieces of shuttles and ships, human lives, Laika.

As long as there's been sci-fi there's been the lost in space theme. It is the single most terrifying thing I can imagine. Isolation. Desolation. The cold. Not to mention the constant panic attack that is zero gravity. It's hard to envision Major Tom floating along taking everything in stride, "Oh well, there's nothing I can do. Might as well enjoy the view out my window here." Which is not a bad metaphor for coping with life in general, I suppose. If there's nothing you can do, why fight it? Accept.

Today my thoughts have been madly off in all directions. It all started with Outer Space and thoughts of satellites orbiting their primaries, with things that are lost, which naturally turned into the things that are found. Right now far above my head there's a bag of tools turned space debris never to be retrieved. There might be a metaphor there somehow, but that's not for me to explore. What is pre-occupying me is that all these little things happen, are recorded. These little things become firsts, monumental incidents, and that an event so far away, so inconsequential, can send you off on tangents completely unrelated to tasks at hand.