Illustration by Leo Espinosa

RESULTS OF NASA’S INQUIRY INTO FLIGHT PV-801:

Multiple lapses by Ground Control, compounded by astronaut error, led to the stranding in space of U.S.A.F. Major Thomas D. Ogletree (MAJOR TOM). Established procedures were not followed; flawed decision-making was rampant and systemic.

Below are excerpts from the official CAPCOM transcript, with comments by the investigators.

The panel found the command to swallow nutritional supplements just moments before liftoff to be reckless and foolhardy.

In addition, the panel determined that T minus ten seconds was far too late in the launch sequence for Major Tom to “put [his] helmet on.” Consequently, his CO2 purge valve went unchecked, and he did not have time to rub his visor with anti-fog compound.

The panel found it bizarre to be “commencing countdown” near what is obviously the end of the countdown. In fact, a background voice can be heard saying “. . . six . . .” as the countdown is “commencing.”

Moreover, activating engine thrust requires a complex multi-step protocol, and cannot be accomplished merely by saying, “Engines on.” One investigator compared this to a small child ordering, “Car go fast!”

At liftoff, capsule video clearly shows Major Tom, his mouth stuffed with protein pills, looking flummoxed. He paws at the control console (trying to check ignition?), then sees his helmet lying on the floor, still in its protective bag (!). The Major scrambles frantically, almost comically, to screw on the helmet as powerful g-forces buffet his body.

This empty praise, just forty-six seconds into the flight, is perhaps intended to divert attention from the helmet fiasco. What is indisputable is that coolant is spraying wildly from the Major’s helmet seal.

No corroboration could be found for this strange statement. Certainly, astronauts are not known for their snappy dress. (In recent years, the most discussed piece of astronaut fashion was a diaper.)

The panel felt that the gratuitous addendum “if you dare” showed poor judgment, and may have rattled Major Tom. (Later, we hear the even more baffling “Take out your comfort pillow if you dare.”)

Panelists were incredulous that a seasoned astronaut could be unfamiliar with basic weightlessness. Lax training was cited.

This cheap shot at his spacecraft from the usually courteous Major is troubling. Is he beginning to unravel? At Cape Canaveral, the designers of the capsule can be heard sighing in humiliation.

Taxpayers who spent $4.8 billion on the mission were surely not thrilled with this banal observation.

Sadly accurate, as vital silkworm experiments go undone, and no docking is achieved with the International Space Station, despite its location, just eighteen inches away.

This remark cannot inspire confidence.

Major Tom is not married.

RECOMMENDATIONS:

In future NASA missions, the use of Dyna-Z Protein POW!!! should be curtailed. The pills are unnecessary, and their source (the flight director’s daughter Melanie) creates a conflict of interest.

In no event should protein-pill consumption delay the far more critical putting on of the helmet.

Ground Control must project a calm, steady authority. Remarks like “Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong!” sound panicky and unprofessional. Better would be “Major Tom? We’re looking into a technical issue. Please stand by.” Light, reassuring music could follow, e.g., “Hey, Good Lookin’ (Whatcha Got Cookin’?),” by Hank Williams.

If communication is interrupted, we suggest the standard “Do you copy? Over.” Repeatedly pleading “Can you hear me, Major Tom?” better suits a needy, neurotic lover than the world’s foremost space program.

Finally, a rescue mission should be launched at the earliest convenience to return Major Tom to Earth. The Major’s frequent call-ins to morning radio programs may be entertaining, but his erratic, hobo-like opinions and dirty language could alarm budding astronauts. ♦