Six (The Plan) • Brady Salz

step one of a plan
how to make a mouse into a man
oh you do it with your hands

a jumbled collection of thoughts
on what it feels like to say goodbye
to something you desperately love
and then have it say hello again

Florida

It left and I followed it. I did it my way, taking a pit stop in Colorado to sweat out the anxiety with a mosh pit and a foreign language. It was another classic reminder that I can't keep in touch. The friend I finally reached out to see had left over a year ago. That's fine, there was still room for one at the bar.

We landed in Florida and I thought I knew what I was getting into. We practiced, we rehearsed, and in the end, all plans are equally good after they take a punch to the face. That is to say, not at all. It was some pretty tough days down there. We had a tight schedule and a lot to do. I don't want to wallow in the grind but from the outside, it must've looked like a legendary experience. From the inside, it was a fight to stay alive and on the podium for the hardest I've ever worked: Summer 2020, Winter 2021, and Spring 2023, but not yet sure on the order.

Yet like all other miserable experiences, they are barely memorable just a few short weeks out. Soon they will fade out forever. Let me tell you what I will remember though:

The first time I saw a rocket launch and land

I was fortunate enough to be extremely close (“on base”) to watch my first rocket launch. It was an awe-inspiring sight. I have always labeled myself a mild aerospace skeptic. The job is cool, the work is interesting, but the fact it leaves the Earth is not a thing I fetishized. I'm not sure where I sit now, but it's certainly not as sure-footed. Watching that seemingly innocent structure light, go, and go left me dumb-founded. My coworkers around me were taking pictures and videos of every second but I was struggling to remember to breathe. You zoom out and realize you don't get to see that much physical force outside of war. This thing is not natural and I can't stop thinking about it.

And then, just a few minutes later, when my lungs were almost full of air again, you see it again. Or do you? Is that just from you squinting at this small dot? Wait… that's it. It's no longer gone. It's back. It's coming back. It's coming for us. The phrase “marvel of engineering” is basically every theme song on scientific content, and it's a damn shame I don't have a better phrase right now. I pride myself on creativity and that's all I got. This devices plummets down and then safely lands and your mind can't quite believe it happened. The second you think it's done, the sonic boom hits you and you are appropriately knocked on your ass. Thank god for that – an alibi for standing there trembling and weak-kneed.

I was too shocked to document any of that, but I was able to do a small capture of my second experience. Despite what the lighting might imply, this took place during a pitch-black evening. We were actively worried about stumbling into an alligator up until the moment mankind decided the night was over.

The first time I said goodbye

I always knew that I wasn't ready to do that. How could I be? It's insane to pretend otherwise. The entirety of my trip I was working brutal 18 hour days, and each one of those hours dedicated to sleeping was restlessly brainstorming how to let go. Aerospace hardware is special because of how long it lives. I remember seeing you in the lab and I didn't know if you were going to make it. I remember seeing you in the clean room and I didn't know if you were going to make it. I remember seeing you in the vacuum chamber and I didn't know if you were going to make it. I remember seeing you on vibe table and I didn't know if you were going to make it.

But now? Now I see you in Florida and I don't know if I'm going to make it. I did what I do best. I got drunk every night and I wrote things. I wrote things that made no sense and things that hurt a little too much. My best friend and I wove it into a story, and the resulting pattern was beautiful. Artificial intelligence be dammed, this was real emotion breathing one last piece into this beautiful machine: a spark of a heart.

We had a computer say goodbye. We had a very strong man muster the strength to say he was ready. We had a room of people watching and holding their breath. We had a host of folks crash the party, all scrambling to peek at what could be their one last chance too. And when the song concluded, so did I. I can't tell you how long it took me to move again. Hours, easily. I can't tell you how long it took me to think again.

I shuffled into the parking lot and got in my car. Foolishly, we all mostly drove ourselves, and thus left ourselves on the hook to return. When I got in that car and turned on the stereo, I finally realized what happened.

I. DID. IT. Cradle? Check. Grave? You better not fucking die on me you sick son of a bitch, but goddamn if you do, I can say I was here for every second of it. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. I got you here. God-willing, we were given a chance, and I did not give up. I did it. I screamed again: NO FLAKING NO LEAVING

My favorite part came about an hour afterwards. This wasn't the end but goddamn if it wasn't a finish line. Now that you're on the other side, what comes next? Well, you start to look at things a little differently. You look at the past few years and you look at the brick walls you've built up to hide the skeletons in your closet and realize that you missed a few spots. Maybe it wasn't as compartmentalized as you thought. Maybe those eyes peeking in… maybe they weren't judging. Maybe they were just your friends checking in on you. And maybe you should tear those walls down and let them in. So that's what I did. And the very strong man who spent the last 18 hours giving it his all at the launch base committed to fueling a bomb on a mere four hours of sleep if it meant celebrating the journey with a friend. I'll never forget that.

Going Up

I left the coast I was born on and returned to the coast I found myself on. And there began the long wait. It's easy to delay, it's impossible to wait. Holding our breath and waiting every second, because the next second could turn into days. As I've said above, these are, for the most part, forgettable. There were several and I had other things to do. But as always, the highlights stand out.

Looping You In

It is difficult to tell people that things aren't going to plan. It gets harder the more removed they are. A friend you talk to every once in awhile surely wants to hear something new? Not just “still no news, which is still no good news, contrary to the saying”. So week after week, month and month, year after year, I kept silent. I was amazingly blessed to grow my pool of friends during that time, but communication on this project flatlined.

I took a pretty aggressive pivot as we got within the two week window. Social media failed us, so I reverted to digital carrier pigeons and blasted out a huge email on what I was doing to everyone who I could think of. I was afraid, I was embarrassed, but I know I owed my family, my friends, and everyone else along for the ride an update.

It changed my life. People are so kind. I sent the email and went to bed. I woke up, looked at my phone, and struggled to piece myself together. We spent years in a pandemic communicating in a strictly virtual realm. After a year of moving past that, I realized what I should've been doing the whole time. These people are your friends and they care about you and there is no wrong answer. I apologize for being late to realize it.

I continue to read through that email thread but for some reason the letters are a little blurry. I squint and they don't get any clearer. Their must be some interference between my device and my eyeballs, who knows what it could be. Every time I regretfully sent an update, I immediately received an outpouring of encouragement, support, and love. I'll conclude this with the notes my grandmother sent me after each delay. Warning, she's an infinitely better writer than I, so you might want to get a tissue first:

There was a time when I worried about grass growing. Now it's rockets and my dearest Brady

It's like going to the movies every night and seeing the same show! But what a great show it is. Worth waiting for. Keep the faith!

Wholeheartedly

I find it incredibly hard to imagine giving something anything less than your entire self at this point. It's unhealthy, it's exhausting, it's parasitic, and yet… it's me. The first real launch attempt was exactly that. We're rolled up and vertical on the pad. The building is filled with coworkers, friends, and families. And where am I? I'm crying and shaking in a conference room at T-45 minutes, afraid of what comes next. Terrified. I wasn't the only one: there was hints of joy in the air but for the most part, it was riddled with the clouds of anxiety and apprehension.

The very strong man asked if we were go for launch. Oh so, oh so, because my eyes lit up when I saw it. That beam of sunlight didn't just part the clouds, it eradicated them. I slammed opened the door and asked everyone the only question that mattered: ARE YOU FUCKING READY?

Electricity is a beautiful thing. It's a damn shame most folks just don't get to see it. If you happened to be at the corner of 20th and Illinois St that day, you just might've had a chance. Every time that question was asked, it received in return not just an answer but a few more buzzing electrons too. Those innocent charges could not remain stationary. It's easy for things to get out of control: were they generating momentum or were they victims of it? A current that you could see flying around the room! Muscles contracted and released incessantly: people stammered, legs bounced, eyes darted, and the energy, it was truly electric. It traveled without resistance.

90 brief seconds before our life could change, we held our breath. At 60 seconds, my pressurized lungs could hold no longer, victims of the ideal gas law. In a volume hereto unknown to most, I gave my simplest decree:

LET'S

FUCKING

GOOOOOOOOOOOO

I ran and I ran and I ran through the crowd until an unstoppable object ran into an immovable force: time. It turns out that time could indeed stop anything, including itself. We made it one second further and not an inch more. 59 seconds away. Blink, rub your eyes, take a breath. 59 seconds away. Shake your head, clear off your face, and defog your glasses. Huh that's funny, why are you holding pieces of hair. 59 seconds away. Wipe your brow. Shake your hands dry. Your phone's buzzing, might want to check that. Still 59 seconds away.

Everyone was worried about me for some bizarre reason. If they can land the rocket, I can come back down to Earth too.

They didn't know that I was born for this. I am an ideal capacitor. Sure, empty now, a brutal derivative, fully slewed out in a single moment. At the same time, ready to be charged again overnight and rebound into the exact the same performance tomorrow. If not then, the next day. I live for this.

This Time, For Real

The lead up was the same as above. We soldiers came to the line a little weary, but that doesn't mean we weren't ready for battle. We were fortunate enough to have an off day prior. 24 hours isn't a sufficient amount of time to recuperate, but it lets you lick your wounds enough gear up once more. The eternally dark breach was calling, and it was our turn.

We counted down once more. We learned our lessons: start holding our breath at 90 seconds. Wait to release it until 30 seconds. Just wait, all you have to do is wait. 50 seconds. Look at them. They're looking at you. They're looking at you and you're looking at them and everyone in the room is thinking one thought and you just have to wait. 40 seconds. You're almost there. Think about breathing. Think about taking the big breath now. Start in your gut and move up through your lungs. End in your throat. Breathe so hard your body can't hold it. 30 seconds.

SCREAM! SHOUT! MOVE! LIVE LIFE GIVE LIFE LIVE THIS IS THE LAST TIME YOU GET TO LIVE HERE WITH IT MAKE SURE IT KNOWS YOU CARE ABOUT IT

15 SECONDS

YOU ARE NOT READY. YOU ARE 3000 MILES AWAY AND WE ARE ABOUT TO LIGHT THIS MATCH. WILL IT BE A FUNERAL PYRE OR THE SPARK OF A PHOENIX? ARE YOU THE FIRE OR THE FLAME?

5 SECONDS CAN YOU SEE IT THE NUMBERS ARE REALLY GOING CAN YOUBELIEVETHATWE'REHOLYSHITTHEFIREISLITANDBREATHETHEBREATHBREATHEANDGOGOGOGOGO ITSNOTTOUCHINGTHEGROUNDANYMORE

DO NOT STOP! LEAVE THIS PLANET! isthisreallife GOOD BYE GOOD RIDDANCE thisishappening YOU CAN PICK ANY DIRECTION AS LONG AS IT'S UP gravityfeelsstrong YOU HAVE TO GO HOME AND YOU CAN'T STAY HERE ialwayslovedyou THIS IS MY LIFE dontstopnow

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Long Time No See

Four long hours. Sitting there, watching a large Earth and a small dot swap places in the timeline. The pale blue dot fades away, and my dot is all that matters. A live video feed is a matter of perspective. When my best friend told me to look at the screen, I laughed. Look at the screen? As if there was anything else to – WHAT?

The dots swapped places again. I am looking at you and you are looking at you. I can hear the tones and I, because you made it. I know you're not home but I can see you up there. You're still sleeping on the ride, but I don't blame you. It's very hard to keep the magic and the faith 24/7, you're preaching to the choir on that. Even the most childish adults close the window to get some shuteye. It's just twenty minutes until you make it though.

[As an aside, all of these are written after the fact. But this portion was truly an emotional black-out]

It all comes down to this. We have humans all over the world trying to find you. Everyone is looking right at you. In just a couple of minutes, you will be just 80 seconds away from calling me. The video is looking right at you. We hold our breath for what must be the one-hundredth time this night.

Separation coming up and I hate that phrase. I've been separated for weeks now, this is just our stop. After the literal warfare of rocketry, we've come to expect something dramatic and yet… it's the lightest touch. It just pushes right off. Just like that, we're on our own in space. Wait, it happened? The clock?! We're powered up ???!?! How long until we get signal?!! Is this thing really goi–

This is Dongara, we're seeing something

This is Hassan, we're seeing something

You see the first dots of telemetry show up and you abandon everything. You're halfway down the aisle.

No, you're three feet in the air.

No, you're punching the whiteboard.

No, you're jumping into their arms.

No, you're slipping and sliding and exploding. No, you're imploding.

No, no, no, you're waking up because this can't be real. Oh no, oh yes, breathe in the air of your most glorious destiny.

Yes, yes, yes, we've really done it.

Good Morning

I apologize because I lack the skill to describe what the rest of the night was. It wasn't trivially easy, but it was far easier than anything I had done to get it into space. The most difficult part was remaining professional while on-console and not exploding.

My shift had one simple goal: get us all home safely. When a satellite is let go, it's equivalent to a newborn. It's mewling, spinning, and confused. Their eyes can't focus and you baby them. Getting them home on my first shift was too much to ask, but you can stabilize and give yourself a chance to exhale. I've built, loved, and tested everything I could about that satellite, but it is an altogether different matter to realize you are about to fire thrusters in space and watch the vehicle respond to that.

I will always remember the first two moves. They are one word apart, but those words are day and night apart:

First open-loop maneuver
First closed-loop maneuver

Open loop is a phrase that horrifies me. Take a look and take a leap. Sprint across the diving board and spring right off. Replace our eyeballs with automata, because you get one shot. For some bizarre, reason, we started with open loop. We analyze our rates and we poll the room. Ready? Ready? READY? …How can anyone answer that truthfully? The total operation took half a second, but it felt like a millennia to me. The second that next point came down, we knew something special was happening.

Closed loop is a phrase I love, yet horrifies others. Closed loop is trust. If I know you and you know me, we're going to make it. You can't close a loop by yourself. You reach out, extending yourself as far as you can go, but someone else has to hold your hands and let current flow. My heart swelled up and had room for everyone at this point as we polled again. Ready? Ready? ready.

The only thing slicker than closed loop maneuvers is the reaction to them. While the vehicle shook free of all momentum, don't forget that energy is always conserved. Two of the coolest cats I've ever seen slid out, tapped hands for a brief moment, and closed their own loop. The second we stopped spinning, they started spinning. And grinning. And shouting. And realizing that if you can't beat them, you should join them: entropy, take this energy, we're not going anywhere.

Six and one-half hours later, I was briefing for my shift change. As the sun rose, so did the hopes of the entire building. I told the room the most important update:

Yesterday was April 30, and today is the first day of the rest of your life

Thirty minutes later, or a total of seven hours later, I was off console and headed home. I fell asleep listening to the mission voicenet. I did not need dreams anymore. I lived them.

What Comes Next

Down One

Everyone talks about how long founders stay at a start-up, and rightfully so. I can't imagine getting here without any other people leading the company. I know I'm biased but I still have to throw my heart out to the first employees. Who were the people who decided to follow this path when the ideas were nothing more than a post-it note? I'm not going to come here and try to gatekeep risk appetites, but there's one thing I can't avoid discussing.

It wasn't easy for me to come here and work here. I flipped and flopped a lot. But man, if I look at one person who really drove it home for me, one stands out. They were my first professional manager and I really grew with them. They were always five steps ahead of what we needed to do. Five steps is too far to really appreciate in real time. It's only after you've spent significant time catching up to their footprints do you realize just how far ahead they were. Of course, once you realize how far ahead they were, you think you've caught up. Bah, no, just wait and see what they've got up their sleeves.

Being the front of the pack might sound fun, but it also must be exhausting as the pace-maker. In the cruelest twist, I got to witness how bad a person could get burned. You can give it everything you have, but that doesn't mean you get to enjoy it. There's so many ways that the cards can fall, and you can't beat yourself up over any given hand you're dealt. This hand though… this one was different. This felt like proof that there is no God. How could there be? How could they allow someone to set the pace for years and years and then, right at the finish line, deny them the dopamine? I have never run a marathon, but at 26 miles in, the only thing that stops you is a much greater force.

I miss that guy more than I can tell him. I feel like I'm walking into a different office without them. I'm working very heads-down right now because I'm scared of looking up. How can I make progress without seeing the path he always carved for us? I'm lost.

Money Maker

This story doesn't tell a proper timeline. The last part of this is my part. I joined this company to build radios for space. I feel blessed knowing that my work will allow people to consume content. Some think of it as a derogatory phrase, but don't you dare pin the elitism pin on me. I am you and you are me and we are here to explore this deep Internet sea. Don't judge.

We hit the crest of “it's not fun anymore”. I put on my gameface and went to work, but even the king of professional athletes will tell you they do this for the job. There was one last milestone eluding us, and that was powering up my own hardware. I pushed and screamed to make it happen on my shift, and surprise surprise, I got my way. I guess it's still my company sometimes.

I felt jumpy and anxious, to say the least. I had built up a small peanut gallery. Those who had supported me, joined me, worked under me, mentored me, but chiefly above all: trusted me. They were willing to stay up for hour after hour in pursuit of one last glorious milestone with me. When we finally reached that moment, it was only fair that I ask them too. It's time to turn it on. It's time to give it life. Ready? Ready? A door slams opens and I scream out ARE YOU READY? and the unsuspecting crowd figures it out instantly. We are go.

Thirty seconds. Breathe. One second.

It works. I did it with my hands. I have grown. I apologize for the second time, words can't tell you what I did. Find me some time and ask or look up in awe.

You Can't Lose

I'm sitting here writing this at the same corner of the world I always write it. The lights are dim. The beer is cold. People don't know why I have my laptop open, but cash is green to the bartender. My life has changed but I haven't moved on… so has it?

How do you beat a 7 year mission? I screamed out everything I had in me and I crossed the finish line. Just a week later, I found the ground moving beneath me. I almost slipped, but I found my footing and started jogging again. A couple weeks later, I blinked, and magically, I was running uphill again. It's a familiar pattern, so why not? It comes easy to me. A trained athlete can do it with their eyes closed after all.

Every day is a new high water mark in my technical career. If that's true, why does it continuously feel like a challenge? By all accounts I should be resting on a bed made of laurels. Yet all I feel is the bed of nails, as I snap awake and get back to it. Ironic isn't it? I just said I could do it blind-folded but I still have trouble resting. If we can't lose, how do we know when we've won?

It's never been farther from me and and yet it's never felt closer. You can look up and you can see them. I do it every night.

My pal Arcturus