Jack of All Trades
Dear Susannah
Life, my father used to say, is a problem-solving exercise. If you don’t have a problem to solve on any given day, then count yourself lucky and enjoy that day to the full. With Galileo problems occur on a daily basis. Running repairs are the order of the day or hour. I have become a handyman’s assistant, summoned at any hour of the watch by whichever member of the crew needs my help at the time. Thus, I am being trained on-the-job in all aspects of spacecraft maintenance and repair. I have no objection to this at all. Far from it. This extemporised role allows me to feel that I’m actually helping with the mission and provides me with an invaluable education.
I am well aware that every astronaut on Earth would gladly change places with me. The only thing I am not allowed to touch are the computers. This embargo extends to all members of the crew however. Galileo’s Main Frames are Ryuichi’s province alone. Ryuichi’s and the small army of technicians and advisers back at Mission Control, who monitor us as closely as we watch the sun; and for much the same reason, watching for flares and disturbances amongst the crew, for events that might destabilise the mission. They are also monitoring Galileo of course and often direct our attention to emerging problems.
I began the voyage with little idea how the ship worked. How all that has changed in just a few short weeks. Now I can lay claim to a working knowledge of the following: life support, navigation, propulsion and celestial mechanics (a wonderfully Victorian sounding phrase for the techniques of manoeuvring a ship in space).
I am frequently roused from my sleeping bag (I sleep in a vertical position, my arms folded across my chest like a bat dreaming of Nosferatu) by a Russian, American or Chinese voice, urging me to help with a particular problem. And off I go to some corner of the ship; there to deal with a new or well-known task, or to help with observations, calculations and calibrations, as the ship cruises ever onwards, its course as set and predetermined as any terrestrial train moving on fixed tracks.
These ad hoc repairs often develop into lengthy discussions on matters other than the repairs at hand. I have become a confident of sorts to more than one member of the crew. If not exactly a confessor then at least a sympathetic and active listener. Thus, I am repairing souls as well as the ship as we move ever outward, drawing closer to our destination hour by hour, sol by sol.
See also: https://www.facebook.com/thescreamingplanet