No-one is further from home than Artemis II astronauts.
Well. Until now.
The Earth shrinks in their mirror but the line to Houston holds. Constant. Calm. A tether. Then it snaps.
Behind the Moon. 23:47 BST. Monday night.
The Moon itself blocks the signals. Radio dies. Lasers fade. Just four humans. Forty minutes of void.
Silence hits hard.
Victor Glover wants the world to feel this. Not just watch. “When we’re behind the Moon,” he told us. “Let’s pray. Send good thoughts.” He wants the globe to sync with the capsule. To hope they come back.
They will. Probably.
We saw this before. Fifty years ago. Apollo days. Michael Collins. The loneliest guy alive.
While Armstrong and Aldrin stepped out Collins stayed behind. In the command module. Alone. The far side swallowed him. Forty-eight minutes of black. He called it “truly alone” in Carrying the Fire. Isolated from life itself. No fear though. Just peace.
A break from Houston’s constant chatter. Nice break? Maybe.
Here on the ground it feels different.
At Goonhilly in Cornwall. The big dish stares up. Pinpointing the Orion. Feeding data home. Matt Cosby runs the tech side. He says his hands will sweat.
“First time tracking a ship with people.” True. “Nervous when it goes behind. Excited when it pops out.” Knowing they’re alive is the point.
This dropout won’t last forever. Hope springs eternal? No. It’s logistics.
Nasa builds bases. Agencies ramp up. You can’t live on the dark side with dead channels. “Need full comms,” says Cosby. “24/7. Even back there.”
Exploration waits for no one. And the far side has secrets too.
Do we have the tech?
Maybe soon. Maybe not.
The clock ticks. Forty minutes left.
“Let’s take that as an opportunity.”
