Astronomy: The Background of My Desire to Become an Engineer

Under the covers, past bedtime, my eyes gleamed, reflecting tiny pixellated flames from the video of a Saturn V launch. The low quality video from the 70’s didn’t do justice to the sheer power and scale of this magnificent rocket, but it didn't have to. My imagination interpolated the 5800°F exhaust, the fifteen tons of fuel consumed per second, and the incredible Mach 7 speed.

At the time, I thought it was audacious to put people on a skyscraper-sized tube of refined explosives and ignite them--with a destination in mind that can only be reached if nothing goes wrong. As I learned more about von Braun’s creation, I became hopelessly enamored with it. I read everything I could about it: final launch sequence (staggered initialization at T-8.9), efficiencies of the F-1 engines (7 inches/gallon), and max thrust (34 thousand kiloNewtons). Space science has always fascinated me, especially after I struggled through Isaac Asimov’s New Guide to Science at age eleven. Since watching that Saturn V launch, I’ve been fixated on one goal: to be able to say “Did you watch that rocket launch? I designed that.”

Of course, I realize that my childhood dream was naïve--no one person can make a rocket. But one mistake can destroy a rocket. I came to this rude awakening while watching the Shuttle disasters. My confidence was rocked to its foundations as I learned of the simplicity of the problems that brought down these intricate machines. The most talented engineering minds in the country failed to account for cold water and flying foam, killing people and obliterating funding. How could I possibly eradicate such mistakes in my career? My childhood model rockets weren’t perfect, but perfection is the only option in this industry. I had ideas for improvements, but the failure of expert engineers daunted me. I realized that rockets are dangerous, spaceflight is hard, and people have impossible expectations for space-based technology (especially considering the impressive failure rate of simple household toasters). Instead of disheartening me, this realization strengthened my resolve. I value the spirituality and sense of belonging I feel by understanding my place in the cosmos. I know that rocket engineering is tough, tedious, and oftentimes thankless. I know that the rewards are few and far between, that the cost of a mistake is alarmingly high. I’m still determined to contribute any way I can.

I had a chance to taste professional astronomy last summer, at the Summer Science Program (SSP). SSP exposed me to the gloriously complicated world that is authentic science. In five weeks, I collaborated with an international group of 36 students to create working Gaussian Orbit-Determination code, accidentally fried the focusing mechanism on a 16” Cassegrain telescope, and drew up questionable plans for a Blacuum WALLIE (Black Hole Vacuum Waste Allocation Load Lifter in Interstellar Environment) to solve humanity’s space-junk problem. Our research at SSP at the University of Colorado Boulder was geared towards determining the orbital elements of a Near Earth Asteroid. My team’s subject of study, asteroid 348400(2005 JF21), was labeled by the Minor Planet Center as an asteroid that is potentially hazardous to Earth. By studying and tracking this asteroid, we have added to the relatively small number of total observations of this important part of the nearby universe. To determine the orbit, I used an iterative method developed in the 1820s by Gauss. Then, using more modern technology, we wrote programs including centroiding, LSPR, and orbital determination to generate updated orbital elements.

My time at SSP was a taste of what I’d always imagined myself doing, and it was exhilarating. The extreme lack of sleep, the accidents, and the infuriating program bugs made my work all the more valuable to me. I cemented my drive to become an engineer as I witnessed the products of complex theories and calculations manifest into something significant. The information I gained was a drop in humanity’s store of knowledge, but it was an addition nonetheless. A lifetime of working with rockets would be even more demanding and rewarding. I look forward to it.