Orbit

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For Kip Dawson, the risks associated with being shot into space in a few hours are finally beginning to seem real.

Am I really going to do this? he thinks, braking the SUV hard, foot shaking, as he casts his eyes up to take in the stark blackness of his destination, amazingly visible through the windshield. This last evening on earth—the very eve of his windfall trip into space—feels too surreal to grasp emotionally. He’s sure of only one thing: At long last, it’s scaring as much as exciting him.

He winces at the irritated blast of a trucker’s horn and pulls to the side of the highway, letting the big rig roar past before climbing out to stare into deep space. He’s oblivious to the sharp chill of the desert night, but aware of the double white flash of the beacon at Edwards Air Force Base a few miles to the east.

To the west, the barest remains of ruddy orange undulate on the horizon, a razor-thin band along the crest of it, whispering a vestigial message from the sunset. But it’s the deep velvet black of the cloudless night sky that’s entrancing him, and he hasn’t seen the Milky Way so startlingly clear since he was little.

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