Until recently, I was the youngest person to have gone to space. I’m still
the youngest to have landed on the moon. In 1966, I was working as a test
pilot for the Canadian Air Force, having racked up thousands of hours of
flight time, and apparently impressing the Usonian government with my
skills. At the time, only three nations were engaged in space flight, and
Canada was not one of them, but the Usonian Space Department was looking to
show the world that they were inclusive. They reached out to us to help
realize humanity’s dream of reaching the moon within a year. By then, the
primary crew of astronauts were already picked, and all of them Usonian. I
was part of the B-team, so I would only be called up if something went
wrong. Something did go wrong, and they needed me to pilot the craft. No one
ever thought that I would go on the mission, so I didn’t receive quite as
much training as I probably should have, but I was confident in my
competence, and ready to do my country proud. I still wasn’t meant to set
foot on the moon. Three people made the trip to lunar orbit in 1967, but
only two were intended to go down. Someone had to stay up and keep the
module running while the landing party did their thing. Unfortunately,
something else went wrong. The USD wanted the crew to be inexperienced in
space. A few people had already been to Earthan orbit a few times, but they
wanted this new mission to start with fresh faces. No one had really done
any studies until then regarding the psychological effects of being in outer
space for long periods of time, trapped in a tin can, with so little
stimulation. This was the longest mission yet, and the most difficult. Our
commander couldn’t handle the pressure. He had a breakdown which threatened
the safety and continuation of the mission.
The lander pilot wanted to go down on his own. There was a contingency for
this, and the USD was prepared to agree to this decision. The problem was
that our commander was exhibiting erratic behavior, and I was not
qualified to help him through it. The two of them knew each other. They
understood each other. And the lander pilot was the only one who could make
sure the commander didn’t jeopardize the lives of all three of us without
realizing what he was doing. If he landed, and the commander did something
to sabotage the module while he was gone, all three of us would die. Because
of all of this, the USD decided to abort, and bring everyone back home, but
the other pilot wasn’t happy with this decision. We went all the way out
there, spent millions of dollars, and inspired millions of people to reach
for greatness. Someone had to be the first to land on the surface of the
moon, goddammit, and if it couldn’t be him, there was only one option left.
Me. The USD wouldn’t hear of it. Back then, it wasn’t illegal to be a woman,
or anything, but many people who were huddled around their TVs and
radios—and some in the control room—didn’t want the history books to record
that a female Canadian achieved this milestone, especially not alone. He
didn’t listen. While he protected the commander from himself, I climbed into
the lander by myself, detached from the module, and flew down to my destiny.
I planted both feet on that gray regolith at the same time, and spoke some
of the most famous words in history, “I stand here, lighter than ever,
smiling at the Earth in the distance, not as a Canadian...not as a
woman...not as a pilot. Today I represent the world, and the spirit of
humankind. I am not the first explorer, and I cannot wait to watch the
next ones lead us further into the future.”
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