Hot Girl Astronaut

Humanity should establish a permanent settlement on Mars because a beautiful woman might be there, and several men have already indicated that the distance would be “no problem.”

One has offered to pick her up.

This paper examines whether attractive astronauts could accelerate space exploration by converting a renewable resource — men claiming to be interested in whatever she is interested in — into sustained investment in aerospace engineering.

Our central hypothesis is simple: a civilization that cannot persuade a man to drive forty minutes for a museum may still persuade him to spend seven months in a capsule if the right person describes Mars as “really peaceful.”

Consider a hypothetical astronaut, Dr. Maya Chen.

Dr. Chen is an accomplished engineer, an experienced pilot, and a specialist in spacecraft life-support systems.

She also looks extremely good putting her hair into a ponytail.

These qualifications reach different audiences.

Her engineering work attracts the attention of a mission selection committee.

The ponytail attracts Daniel.

Readers familiar with our previous research will recognize Daniel as a man whose personal development occurs primarily in response to women who have not requested it.

On Tuesday, Daniel watches Dr. Chen explain a proposed lunar mission.

On Wednesday, he purchases a flight jacket.

By Thursday, he is disappointed in humanity’s lack of ambition.

He expresses this disappointment from a chair he has been meaning to assemble.

Traditional science communication assumes that public enthusiasm follows understanding. Our findings suggest that enthusiasm may arrive first, dress for the position, and acquire understanding to avoid being exposed.

Dr. Chen mentions propulsion.

Daniel opens seventeen tabs.

Within a month, he can explain several differences between chemical and electric propulsion. He cannot yet explain them briefly. At a dinner party, he uses two bread rolls to demonstrate an orbital maneuver.

The bread rolls collide.

He attributes this to insufficient funding.

We nevertheless observe measurable progress. Daniel now watches mission briefings in their entirety. He has opinions about heat shields. A video of Dr. Chen inspecting a spacesuit seal prompts him to describe attention to detail as “something we have in common.”

His car has a warning light he has covered with a parking receipt.

A reasonable objection arises: should astronaut selection be influenced by appearance?

Dr. Chen has already passed selection. We are proposing that the public be informed she exists.

The mission still needs a thermal engineer.

It now has nineteen thousand applicants.

Several are discovering thermodynamics under difficult personal circumstances.

This brings us to education.

Daniel once asked his mathematics teacher when he would ever use calculus.

The answer, apparently, was when a woman in a flight suit said, “Walk me through your reasoning.”

He contacts the teacher for assistance.

She forwards him an assignment from 2007.

For the first time, he considers the deadline reasonable.

Critics may question the durability of this motivation. To investigate, we inform Daniel that Dr. Chen is married.

He closes three tabs.

Fourteen remain open.

He has already developed a strong opinion about reusable launch systems and cannot simply abandon it. There are people online being wrong.

We classify this as successful separation of the initial booster.

The educational benefit may therefore persist beyond the original incentive. Daniel begins studying a problem Dr. Chen mentioned in a lecture. His first proposed solution does not work. Neither does his second. His third fails in a way that requires protective eyewear.

Several years later, as part of a qualified engineering team, he helps produce a component that passes testing.

The component is useful.

Its usefulness is unaffected by the circumstances under which he first opened the textbook.

We recommend that universities remain discreet.

At this point, our argument faces a problem of scale. A civilization cannot reach Mars through the efforts of one newly employable man.

Fortunately, Daniel is not the only person who has seen the ponytail.

We now turn to public finance.

In our hypothetical congressional hearing, Dr. Chen requests funding for a life-support demonstration.

The committee chairman opens by asking whether the money might be better spent solving problems on Earth.

Dr. Chen explains that the research could also improve water recycling on Earth.

The chairman says this is exactly where he was going.

He was going to a question about why they cannot simply open a window.

That question is withdrawn.

A second member asks whether the project needs more funding than she requested.

A third offers facilities in his district.

His district contains a bowling alley and a lake. Neither is immediately relevant. He asks the record to reflect that the lake is deep.

Within forty minutes, the committee approves the demonstration, a larger research program, and a launch facility that nobody put on the agenda.

An aide later asks the chairman why he supported the expenditure.

“I have grandchildren,” he replies.

His grandchildren are surprised to learn that this has become a factor in his decisions.

The economic mechanism is straightforward. Private enthusiasm becomes public commitment. Public commitment becomes infrastructure. Infrastructure remains useful long after everyone has agreed never to discuss the original hearing.

International cooperation follows.

Representatives of three rival nations spend six hours disputing ownership of a proposed lunar station.

Dr. Chen asks which delegation is responsible for the air filtration system.

All three volunteer.

The resulting diplomatic crisis concerns an unprecedented surplus of willingness to help.

One delegation offers manufacturing capacity. Another offers launch support. The third says it has “actually been doing some really interesting things with filters,” then urgently contacts its universities to find out whether this is true.

It is.

The universities have been requesting funding for nine years.

They receive it during lunch.

A joint mission is announced. Each nation describes the agreement as the culmination of a longstanding strategic vision.

The strategic visions began within eleven seconds of one another.

We must now consider whether these gains can survive the realities of spaceflight.

Long-duration missions require discipline, cooperation, and acceptance of severe discomfort. Daniel previously refused a weekend trip because the hotel had a shared bathroom.

He now describes closed-loop water recycling as “elegant.”

His roommate requests an explanation for why water conservation has become urgent everywhere except the floor.

Daniel’s application also lists minimalism as a personal interest.

He owns nine devices for charging three devices.

He is not selected for the crew.

This does not invalidate our findings. His team’s equipment is selected, which is more useful than sending Daniel.

He accepts the decision with maturity, then asks how strictly they weighed the minimalism section.

Eventually, the mission departs.

Dr. Chen and her colleagues establish a research outpost on Mars. Engineers monitor systems. Scientists study the terrain. People who once scrolled past space news now follow technical updates with the intensity of men who have corrected someone at dinner and need to remain correct.

The benefits are real.

The historical account becomes less reliable.

At the dedication of a new mission-control facility, Daniel is asked what inspired his career.

“Humanity has always looked toward the stars,” he says.

We have retained the original seventeen tabs but see no scientific reason to ruin the afternoon.

Our final experiment concerns settlement.

From the Martian outpost, Dr. Chen records a short public message. She thanks the teams on Earth and mentions that the station could use a greenhouse.

Within a week, six consortiums submit proposals.

Within a year, construction begins.

The greenhouse requires more power. More power requires additional infrastructure. Additional infrastructure requires technicians, accommodation, food production, transport, and a hospital.

A research outpost becomes a town.

Asked why the original greenhouse has seating for four hundred, the lead architect explains that it is important to create opportunities for “informal interaction.”

Dr. Chen had requested basil.

At the opening ceremony, she looks around at the assembled engineers, researchers, construction crews, and visiting dignitaries.

“I can’t believe you all came this far,” she says.

There is a brief silence.

Someone says he was in the area.

We therefore conclude that more accomplished, attractive women should have prominent roles in the public story of space exploration. The women will continue doing their jobs. A measurable portion of the population may unexpectedly begin doing theirs.

Further research will examine whether this mechanism can support missions beyond Mars.

Daniel would like to know who is going before we define “beyond.”

Funding disclosure: All contributors requested anonymity, followed by clarification on whether Dr. Chen would still receive the donor list.