Most of the planet bound public has grown up believing the usual stereotypes about space and spacers that fictioneers have been serving up for centuries. Fiction typically portray space as the last frontier where enterprising voyagers embark on missions of exploring new worlds. Seeking out fortune and adventure. Trekking boldly through the deep and black between the stars.
While that makes for exciting fiction, it’s not true. The truth about spacers is that they are careful, cautious, meticulous, tedious, calculating, timid and boring. Spacers are very boring. They like boring. Boring is good.
You know that feeling you get when you are excited. Your heart pounds, your senses seem heightened, every nerve tingles, you feel faster, stronger, almost invincible and completely alive?
Spacers hate that.
Excitement in space means that something’s gone wrong and the next of kin needs to be notified. As the saying goes, there are old spacers and bold spacers but there are no old bold spacers.
Most spacer are boring by nature. But the profession has also crafted for itself institutions that encourages that trait amongst its members. Chief of those institutions is ‘The Checklist’.
Over the centuries almost every conceivable contingency had been encountered, analyzed, assessed, diagnosed, dissected, diagrammed, evaluated, examined, scrutinized, categorized, deconstructed, indexed, numbered and filed into its proper place on the checklist.
Need to fix the CO2 scrubber? Go through the checklist. Are you ready for your eva? Consult the checklist. Wake up after a three day bender not knowing who or where you are? Refer to the check list. Have to destroy an enemy battle station the size of a moon? Use the checklist. May the checklist be with you. Really, keep it on you at all times.
The checklist is the holy writ spacers use to plot their orbit through life. Violations of its edicts are a cardinal sin. And the wages of sin is death.