A guy walks into a bar wearing a NASA jumpsuit and a nametag that still says “Kinko’s, Employee of the Month – 2004.” He orders a Tang and says, “Guess who’s going to the Moon, baby?”
Turns out he’s part of the new lunar workforce—corporations are building space franchises now. Instead of making photocopies of résumés for minimum wage, he’ll make photocopies of lunar land deeds for minimum oxygen rations. “Honestly,” he says, “it’s exciting to be part of history—to know I’ll be underpaid and under gravity at the same time.”
NASA’s new slogan might as well read: To boldly go where late capitalism has never gone before—but will eventually union-bust anyway. The guy takes a sip, stares off into space, literally and emotionally, and says, “I used to collate paper. Now I collate dust. It’s a lateral move.”
