I popped a question on work’s Facebook page today, stolen almost entirely from the QI Elves tweet of today.
When was the last time every human was living together on Earth?
The answer is the 2nd of November 2000.
Since then at least one person has been in orbit around the planet on the International Space Station.
It’s a mind-blowing fact. It’s not something you even really think about either – that there’s someone floating in a tin can, high above the Earth. Not unless it’s one of them there celebrity astronauts like Chris Hadfield or Tim Peake (he went to space, he might have mentioned it once or twice).
There’s someone up there now, doing science, taking cool pictures out of the windows and totally hanging out with aliens on NASA (or some other agency)’s dime.
But also you can’t help thinking what a lucky git they are.
Not because they’re in space, but that is cool. But because they’re not on Earth.
There’s no Brexit, no general election bollocks, no Impeachment, no Russian collusion. Nothing. Just some seeds growing in zero gravity. Or something.
I mean, sure, there’s the remote chance of a tiny object moving at ridiculous speeds puncturing the skin of the station and all the air rushing out into the vaccuum of space. Or George Clooney showing up in a dream. And the way things are heading, increasing chances of there not being a planet to come back to – and not even a Vogon ship to thumb a lift from, towel or no towel.
But there’s no Boris. No Trump. No fricking bullshit.