Chapter 242: Destiny And Guidance
“Buzz, how is the quality of these astronauts?”
In 1960 America fell into revelry, with everyone celebrating.
The media were all conducting interviews.
Lin Ran had experienced such a moment once before.
Last time after the joint US-Soviet moon landing success, the atmosphere was pretty much the same.
Of course, this time because America completed it alone, plus the live broadcast throughout, the atmosphere would be even more fervent.
But essentially there is no difference.
The astronauts were recuperating and resting in the medical center, Mr. President was giving a speech in Washington, preparing to hold a grand ceremony after the astronauts recovered.
Lyndon Johnson even invited him to the preliminary celebration ceremony held at the White House on Christmas.
However, Lin Ran saw that Lyndon Johnson was not entirely sincere; he clearly hoped to enjoy the media spotlight alone and dispel the gloom of the ongoing failures in the Vietnam War.
At any rate, this could be considered the highlight moment of his four years as president.
The passage of the Civil Rights Act was too, but that was more seen as Kennedy’s merit.
Lin Ran thus said he had to return to New York to attend the grand evening party he had called for, plus the top eight chess players from all of America were raring to go, hoping to tell the professor through a match that chess is not as simple as you think.
After Lyndon Johnson heard this, Lin Ran could feel the other’s sense of relief.
The exclusive interview arranged for him by Jenny was also on the way.
However, at this moment, Lin Ran wanted more to celebrate with Aldrin.
But not the Aldrin from 1960, but the Aldrin from 2020.
His thoughts fifty-one years after the moon landing mission.
The Apollo Moon Landing in the 2020 spacetime occurred in 1969, 2020-1969=51.
Aldrin corrected: “Sorry, professor, they don’t qualify as astronauts.
At best right now, they are astronaut reserves, that is, rookies. Back then after we were selected for NASA, although officially called astronauts, internally, those who hadn’t executed a space mission wouldn’t call themselves astronauts.
It’s just like the young cadets at the air force school; they are just cadets and not yet pilots, for the same reason.”
November in Shanghai was very cold, and so was Kunshan.
Lin Ran and Aldrin were talking on the villa rooftop; Aldrin really liked the feeling of talking with Lin Ran.
Despite their ages differing greatly, nearly 70 years apart.
But Aldrin felt a strange sense of closeness.
At first he thought it was worship of a pure mathematics master; he was a PhD in orbital mechanics, while Lin Ran was a pure math PhD, and one holding the Fields Medal.
Completely solving the Twin Prime Conjecture, calling him a pure math master is not overstatement.
This natural suppression from mathematical ability was the source of Aldrin’s initial fondness.
But over the past three months of interaction, they had overlaps at work and also chatted privately.
Aldrin felt the other understood him very well, and also understood NASA and the Apollo Moon Landing very well.
Aldrin knew Lin Ran collected information; he had seen or heard plenty in the past, or on TV programs where he was invited with other guests—those people were all fervent fans of the Apollo Moon Landing.
These fans also liked collecting information, souvenirs, and such things.
But their hobby and understanding stayed at the surface level.
Whereas Lin Ran was different; on many matters, Lin Ran’s understanding surpassed even those 27 people combined.
On many technical details of the Apollo Moon Landing, Lin Ran’s judgments were the correct ones.
Even including how astronauts should train; Aldrin’s misremembered parts, Lin Ran could point out.
This was extremely exaggerated.
From Aldrin’s perspective, this feeling was like, clearly he had participated throughout the rendezvous orbit of the moon landing and was even a core researcher, but this young man named Randolph Lin just understood it better than him.
Various formulas and derivations came effortlessly.
What he had memorized was not as fast as the other casually writing on the whiteboard.
So after three months, they all sincerely called Lin Ran professor.
Of course, this was not just ability, but also a manifestation of management ability, the ability to insight into morale.
Aldrin even had the thought that it would be great if Lin Ran were his son.
“Their physical fitness is excellent; stamina, spatial sense, psychological quality—these I think have no issues.
As good as we were back then.
After all, so many years have passed; now physical fitness, nutrition concepts, and training concepts are all much more advanced than in our time.
But their biggest shortcoming is that their scientific literacy is too poor.
They always want to turn training projects into instincts, but whenever it involves orbital mechanics principles, orbital mechanics calculations, navigation tools usage, and such content, I know they appear to be listening seriously, but inwardly they resist.
Their learning speed is also very slow, and enthusiasm not strong.
Professor, do you understand this feeling? They always think that in space, with the ground providing calculations, all they need to do is operate the spacecraft, following the ground control center’s commands.
But the problem is, the ground control center cannot provide service for you at all times.
Like me back then, during the Gemini 12 mission in 1966, the tracking system failed; I used a sextant, pencil, paper, and slide rule to measure angles between Earth, stars, and Agena, manually calculating the trajectory needed for docking.
Professor, you know what Agena is, right?”
Lin Ran nodded: “Of course, your target spacecraft for docking.” Lin Ran actually thought to himself, how could I not know; I was watching at the Cape Canaveral control center when you completed that mission.
“Exactly, if during mission execution we encounter this situation, failing the mission is minor; spacecraft problems leading to everyone perishing is far worse.
So it’s impossible to think you can forever rely on external things or the ground; machines always have a chance of failing, and when problems arise, your mastery of this knowledge determines the probability of completing the original plan or even surviving.
How to put it, people now have completely different ideas from back then; even Alan Shepard or John Glenn, on the eve of their missions, had calculations done by Katherine, but they still learned from Katherine exactly how to calculate.
The current batch of astronaut trainees doesn’t take this seriously; more accurately, they always feel machines are more reliable than people.
Subconsciously, they think in space, their own calculations definitely won’t be as accurate as the system’s, and even if the system fails and they can’t contact the ground control center for help, finding a way to restore contact with the ground control center is more reliable than calculating themselves.”
Aldrin talked at length; this was his biggest feeling after spending time with these reserve astronauts recently.
(African American mathematician Katherine Johnson, when awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2015, was really hard to identify as African American from the photos.
In her 33-year career at NASA and its predecessor, she was renowned for mastering complex manual calculations and helped pioneer the use of computers for missions. NASA claims she was one of the first African American women to serve as a scientist at NASA, playing a historic role.)
Lin Ran understood completely after hearing this.
Leaving aside that pilots originally wouldn’t be required to learn orbital mechanics principles, orbital mechanics calculations, navigation tools usage.
Even if they learned this knowledge when young during their astronaut selection campaigns, and mastered it well back then, now so many years have passed, they are at least forty years old; making them learn orbital mechanics calculus, compass and straightedge constructions again isn’t making things difficult?
It’s like forcing someone to relearn high school knowledge twenty years after the college entrance examination; whether they can or not.
And there’s also the risk that they never learned it to begin with.
After thinking for a moment, Lin Ran said: “Here’s an idea; this really can’t be helped, only by painting a pie.
Right now they don’t take it seriously enough; once the moon landing probability gets higher, we’ll include theory knowledge exam scores as an important reference for final selection.
Also, to avoid them slacking off now and cramming later, conduct an exam every month for these three months.
For the top three in the final comprehensive exam, I’ll give extra rewards.”
After hearing this, Aldrin agreed with the former; he understood Lin Ran’s meaning—simply put, not enough importance, feeling the final moon landing probability is less than 5%, not wanting to burn brain cells for that 5%.
For the latter, he was a bit puzzled: “Rewards? Money?”
Lin Ran shook his head: “No, but professor’s math tutoring sessions.
Among these reserve astronauts, some have kids still in school, from middle school, high school, to university.
Even if the kids have graduated and are working, they can save it for their own kids; I’m only 23, so grandkids can still redeem it.”
Aldrin grinned: “Professor, this method should work; I know too well what lengths Chinese descent parents will go for their kids’ studies.”
Lin Ran smiled too: “This is just a temporary measure; ultimately, they need to see long-term hope. See that we really can land on the moon, only then will they seek change from the heart.”
Lin Ran then asked: “Buzz, so when you all successfully landed on the moon and returned to Earth back then, what were you thinking?”
(In 1969 Nixon met the returning astronauts Armstrong, Collins, and Aldrin on the USS Hornet aircraft carrier)
Aldrin replied without hesitation: “The moon is a sea of tranquility, it”
Before Aldrin could finish, Lin Ran interrupted him: “Buzz, I’m not a New York Times reporter, and you’re not the Buzz from sixty years ago.”
During this time, Aldrin felt getting along with Lin Ran was very harmonious; he believed from the heart that Lin Ran could complete the Apollo Moon Landing in this spacetime, and trusted the other’s management.
On many matters, Lin Ran showed understanding beyond imagination; this level even included personalities, behavior habits, and resume backgrounds of many 1960s NASA employees, which Lin Ran could rattle off effortlessly.
But similarly, Lin Ran would have issues on some details, with seemingly plausible errors on many details.
For example, Rudolf clearly worked until the 1980s before retiring, but Lin Ran often mentioned another name as responsible for orbital calculations; though that name was in Haines’s memory also on the orbital calculation team, he clearly wasn’t the head.
Also like just now, the professor was especially rigorous on math and numbers—not claiming to never err, but actually never erring; for calculus calculations, approximations even rivaled calculators.
Yet clearly it was fifty-one years ago, not fifty-one years ago’s Buzz, but the professor liked to say sixty years.
Fifty-one doesn’t round to sixty even with rounding.
Aldrin gathered his thoughts and began recalling: “Emptiness, endless emptiness.
Professor, you know well that before the moon landing, we ourselves estimated the success probability at only 60%, but we succeeded; not only did we reach the moon, we stepped on the moon’s land, even slept on the lunar surface, then returned to Earth.
That was a perfect day; the feeling after returning to Earth was not so wonderful instead.
We splashed down in the Pacific at 12:50 pm on July 24, then were quarantined, said to protect Earth from any possible lunar bacteria infection.
Right, speaking of quarantine, we should be the earliest quarantined; we were quarantined for a full month.
Actually this was very hypocritical, because when we were recovered in the Pacific, the hatch was already opened; to rescue us, the hatch had to be opened.
In the process of opening the hatch, all the damn bacteria had already escaped.
Quarantine was purely for image.
During that one month of quarantine, I felt extremely empty.
I knew clearly, just like after Gagarin executed his space mission, the Soviet Union layered protections around him, not letting him do new space missions, saying to protect their space heroes.
Actually to protect their spiritual totem.
But America was luckier than the Soviet Union; I’ve always thought so. Armstrong and I lived on safely and healthily, while Gagarin died in an accident.
Our moon landing succeeded, while the Soviet Union’s failed.
In short, I knew upon return, I needed to face the gravity of reality again.
To protect us, more to protect America’s spiritual totem, we would not be allowed to execute any more dangerous space missions.
I needed to live with a new identity, but no identity or life could compare to being an astronaut.
Troubles with marriage, family, and depression left me only able to drown in alcohol.
So professor, I’m very grateful to you for recreating such an opportunity for me, possibly to repeat the peak of life.
Neil wasn’t as lucky as me; he didn’t wait for your arrival, professor.
I think life is really wondrous.
51 years ago, professor—not 60 years ago, 51 years ago—I bid farewell to astronaut life with a long quarantine, and 51 years later, I began astronaut life with another long quarantine.
Professor, you know? Without this quarantine, without this sense of destiny, I might not believe in you so much.
It’s like a summons from God.”
Aldrin was an elder church elder; he became the first person to hold a religious ceremony on the moon.
At the time he privately took communion, which NASA didn’t allow, but he did it privately.
This was also humanity’s first consumption of food and liquid on the moon.
In the deep autumn night of November in Shanghai, Aldrin’s words lingered like a ghost in the air.
After hearing this, Lin Ran could hardly imagine that quarantine turned out to be a good thing.
But he had to admit, for a faithful old white male, when life is nearing its end and encountering this, it’s hard not to think in terms of destiny and guidance.
Lin Ran stood on a New York skyscraper, overlooking Central Park, using the telephone to call and greet each of the quarantined astronauts at the Kennedy Space Center.
The first was Aldrin.
“Hello, Buzz, how does quarantine feel?”
