Ever since we figured out that space is a vast, empty abyss instead of a canvas painted by one deity or another, people have looked for ways to travel all up in that horror show. However, the time of brave space travel pioneers like Neil Armstrong, Valentina Tereshkova, and The Smashing Pumpkins is a bygone era. Our longing gazes are already on Mars, and it's just a matter of time before regular folks will be able to traverse the unforgiving emptiness surrounding us.
And that, friends, is a problem. We're space dipshits, you and I. We're not able or willing to pass our space time doing badass space science stuff, eating space jam (that's what the movie was about, right?) and spending several space hours per space day strapped on a weird-ass space gym machine just to stop our bodies from collapsing. We want our space life to be just like our regular life: Lazy, deliciously malnourished, and full of aimless distractions. That is the real challenge of the next stage in space travel. Let's see if it can be solved!
In the 1960s, one of the many surprising issues NASA faced during the space race was none other than the humble fart. Astronauts blow raspberries just like anyone else, which can be a bit of a problem because the methane in farts is just as flammable in space as it is on earth. Although "lighting your own farts in space" sounds like the winning entry in a 12-year-old's "coolest ways to die" list, NASA didn't feel like decimating countless millions' worth of equipment because Steve the Idiot Astronaut is big on leftover chili.
Pixabay Public Domain
"Fuck you, Steve."
Part of the issue can be solved with proper diet, but there's always a few silent-but-deadlies sneaking under the radar, and they don't really go anywhere in zero-G conditions, because there's no convection. They just stay there, air bubbles of turd-gas hovering about like space mines. It's not such a huge problem when there's only a handful of professionals on a carefully restricted diet around, but when we start mass space travel ... well, let's just say that the space equivalent of the average person's Cheetos-and-burgers diet isn't going to bode well for the general odor of the place, let alone fire safety, when you multiply it by thousands. That's your future: Hordes upon hordes of people spewing anal gases from their terrifying cavities until the air turns brown. The inevitable purging fire will seem like sweet relief.
Unless there's proper ventilation, of course. Air fans are already a huge thing in space travel, because unless we have a fan running on our face when we sleep in zero-G conditions, the carbon dioxide we breathe out will just hang around, engulf our head and suffocate us. Of course, we'll obviously need to upscale our space ventilation systems quite a bit to accommodate the horror of our ass revolts, which will probably create inconveniently large exhaust ports that will eventually enable young pilots from Tatooine to destroy our fully operational space station. Yes, I just said Luke probably flew his mission to destroy the Death Star against a giant gust of Imperial butt wind.
Are you reading this at home? Look around you. What do you see? Chairs, tables, and home entertainment technology, probably. Little, meaningless trinkets that you've acquired over time and grown attached to. The reanimated mummy of Rameses XIV silently glowering at you in the corner of the room, forever trapped in the ring of salt and eldritch spices you lured him into at the last minute. You know, usual everyday stuff. Do you need all that stuff? Of course not. Do you want it? Shit yes. Rameses gets you so laid.
Can you have any of it in space? Ha, no. This is what your new space living quarters will look like:
Pics About Space
The dude comes with the room, and will stare at you like that 24/7.
That's as attractive as a giant clump of taint hair pulled from the shower drain. There are freaking prisons that give you better premises. In some countries, you can even bring your Final Fantasy figurines with you, provided you leave out the ones you can use to shank a dude.
So, basically, everything but this plush Vivi.
So, what's going to happen to our precious trinkets and furniture and video games? Hopefully, not a goddamned thing, because we're already trying to figure out ways to build space habitats. See, in the hopefully not-too-distant dreams of space scientists, our deep space living quarters will be less like that fucking broom closet above, and a whole lot more like the Bernal sphere :
Or the Stanford torus:
That is the current endgame for mass space exploration: You don't need to lose any of your shit, because you'll live in a fucking space McMansion amidst fields of corn or grass or whatever the hell we'll eventually be able to engineer to grow in space. These aren't just pipe dreams of sci-fi authors, either -- all of the above models have been proposed by NASA, who are currently balls-deep in the theoretical deep space habitation game.
They'll probably need a pretty significant budget increase to actually build any of that, though. To help pay for them, I will sell all of the rare Final Fantasy figures from earlier, except for the ones that can be turned into shanks. Space farters aren't getting the best of me.