Why we should feel sorry for Rumpelstiltskin.

Back when I was in design school, one of the most painful critiques was “The idea is there, but…” That feedback meant I see what you‘re going for, but you’ve ruined it with your choices.

Recently, I listened to a BroPod where two influential men discussed a two planet solution to save humanity from itself. And I have to say, from one of them at least, I got a sense that he really does believe that a second planet is the solution for our species. Valid. For three hours the men expressed fear about the things they couldn’t explain. Almost everything they didn’t have first-hand knowledge of was “crazy” and they questioned the legitimacy of all of it. I felt for them. I know from personal experience what it’s like to be afraid and exist in an environment of uncertainty. My unchecked fear can drive me to illogical conclusions in the name of emotional safety. To be honest there are days after I watch my legacy news, I start looking around for my own escape hatch. Things are messy here on earth. I guess space feels like a fresh start.

Not that anyone’s asking me, but I find myself thinking the same thing as my college professors about a Mars shot: the idea is there, but…let’s take a look at your choices.

First, if you have to hollow out the planet you are leaving, can you really call it a two planet solution? I don’t know much about rocketeering, but I’m fairly certain the thing isn’t launching itself out of the atmosphere with solar power. With an estimated fifteen flights before we’ll know if full and rapid reusability is even possible, I’m sure we’ll burn through quite a bit of our limited fossil fuels. Perhaps it’s best to invest some of that hard problem solving on Planet 1’s dependence in that area? I’m old enough to remember that we preferred energy like solar and wind because they are renewable. Seems like a positive, right? No need to be afraid, boys. In fact, it’s good math. If we get this planet operating on it’s renewable resources, we could afford to use the dinosaur soup to shoot you into space.

Second is the issue of how to divvy up the population. Surely, we’ll need our best minds to figure out how we’re going to breathe out there? Who decides who the best minds are? And what if the best minds don’t want to spend the rest of their lives in a dome growing potatoes in cups of dirt? Do we force them into the rocket with cattle prods, or do we ask the second-best mind? And lets say we are able to get things up and running in a manufactured atmosphere, how do we decide who’s allowed to escape to planet 2? Surely, these gentlemen aren’t suggesting that people will be forced to stay or go. Kind of goes against their whole freedom brand. Can I assume it’s open to anyone? Will there be a lottery? Or is there a ticket to be purchased? Who collects the fares? We find ourselves in a diversity predicament at the moment. I’d like to know who’s in charge of resolving those issues for the spacecapades? Would we try and match the population distribution of planet 1 or is there a preferable distribution for planet 2?

Then there is the issue of funding. It’s going to take a lot of money to set up life on another planet. This is where we really start spinning straw into gold. You know what Rumplestiltskin’s problem was? He does all of that work for some jewelry. This poor woman is sold out by her father and left sobbing in a locked chamber and Rumplestiltskin agrees to help her for a short term gain. When the king continues to turn the screws, Rumplestiltskin is emotionally invested but the daughter has nothing left so he settles on extorting her for her child as the best course of action. He never thinks to ask the miller’s daughter any questions. Why are you locked in here again? The king said you had to make this straw into gold or he’d kill you? That seems rash. And who told him you could even do that? Why? Rumplestiltskin is unprincipled. Principles always answer why. Perhaps a king willing to jail and threaten a woman’s life before forcing her to marry him isn’t worthy of spun gold, and Rumplestiltskin would have been better served finding a way to free the daughter. Instead, she becomes queen and uses her connects to discover his name to save her own child. Then Rumplestiltskin tears himself in half. A brutal end for the morally gray character.

One thing I’ve learned from galaxy-based movies is you have to be open-minded if you’re living in space. Things are different out there. When creatures show up on your planet, you need to have a system to welcome them. It’s not like there’s anywhere else they can go, and hostility might backfire. A winning strategy seems to be a kind of guarded hospitality. When you travel to other planets, you need to keep in mind you might understand nothing about the place you land, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to stomp on their bees and steal their honey. Respect for their ways and acknowledgement of yourself as an outsider are the manners that get you invited to dinner. Diplomacy goes a long way in space. Never in all my years watching movies about multi-planet living has it ever gone well for anyone when the greedy rich guy shows up. Even he suffers.

Just now I told my son I’m writing about interplanetary life and we started talking. I asked him:

You know in the movies when creatures from different planets come together to defeat the guy who’s trying to take over everything?

Yeah.

What do you think they all have in common?

I think they all like their own planet and what they have.

Pride. They have pride in themselves and for their home planets. And, say it with me now, because they love themselves, they are capable of loving others. From the mouths of babes.