I take a break to grab tea from the kitchenette before the meeting. I’m adding honey when a man I’ve only ever seen in the hallways reaches past me for a mug. He adds it to a collection of notebooks, figurines, and office supplies in a cardboard box. That doesn’t look good.
I head over to the conference room and find a few people already sitting around a table. Behind the glass windows on the far side of the wall are the San Gabriel Mountains. This view from NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory never gets old. As a leader in robotic space exploration, JPL is the place where we work on spacecrafts that study atmospheric carbon dioxide and send and receive data from spacecrafts traveling beyond the moon. We run planetary defense missions and keep an eye on asteroids hurtling toward our planet. To me, this is the most magical place on earth. Here, we literally work every day to make far-fetched dreams a reality.
The mountains are brightly lit against the summer sun, the green and brown serving as camouflage. As though they hide in plain sight.
“Jackson, hello. Nice to see you again,” says Kenneth Lopez, the director of the newly reinstated Artist-in-Residence program. He stands to shake my hand. Kenneth was one of the people who interviewed me for this role. Last time I saw him, he was wearing a Jupiter-patterned tie. Today his tie is covered in paintbrushes.
“Nice to see you again, Kenneth,” I say, returning his handshake.
“As you may remember, this is Margie Kim and Nick Watson. They’re on our Office of Communications team doing community outreach and public affairs. We’ll loop in the internal communications and social media folks in future meetings. We’re all looking forward to working with you as the mission liaison for this program.”
“I’m looking forward to it, as well,” I say, setting my tea in frontof me and taking a seat opposite Margie. The ends of her brown hair are dyed pink.
“We heard you’re the one who named the mission,” Nick says, sounding impressed. He has a tattoo of Saturn on his forearm.
I nod and open my notebook.
“The Fuel Atomized Technology Equipment,” Margie adds. “It’s catchy.”
“FATE has been a years-in-progress mission, with many more to go,” I explain, “but recently we were able to move out of code name status.”
When I don’t elaborate, Kenneth nods quickly. “Okay. Well, great!”
I make a note to work on how to better explain that to the artist.
Kenneth offers me a thick packet stapled too close to the edge. Under the title page are printed-out slides of a presentation I’m sure I’ll see soon.
“The board thoroughly reviewed the various missions happening, and we think FATE is an exciting one that will resonate with the public,” he explains. “FATE is a critical component of NASA putting boots on Mars in the next few years. Your equipment helps make the process more efficient.”
“I’m happy to hear it will be getting some spotlight,” I say. “It’s not the most glamorous mission.”
Kenneth chuckles. “You’re right. FATE itself isn’t, but Mars is, and for our social channels and events, we’ve learned that this project in particular is something the public continues to ask about. Though the artist will be representing NASA and will have the freedom to create anything they want related to what they learn during their time here, you being the mission liaison will help get more eyes on FATE.”
I can’t disagree there. It’s a mission I’ve most enjoyed working on so far. And there has been a lot of interest.
“If you remember from our initial discussion, in 1962, four years after NASA was established, an art program was created,” Kenneth continues. “NASA Administrator James Webb commissioned portraits of every NASA astronaut. He had a vision of combining art and science. He figured that artists like Andy Warhol, Norman Rockwell, and Annie Leibovitz could capture the work we were doing here in a visual way.”
Nick jumps into the conversation. “What we do here may seem abstract to the public, and it can be challenging to get through to people and make them care,” he says. “Who better than artists to capture the abstract and turn it into something tangible, visual, and understandable?”
I remove Rooney’s red pen from my button-down placket and pop the cap on and off. After writing out the Fate Tests on the menu, I forgot to give it back. Now I’m glad I didn’t so I can have proof that the night was real—that she was real—and not just a figment of my imagination. I jot down notes on the front page of the packet, the red reminding me too much of her. I really should find a pen with black ink and no trace of Rooney.
I try to refocus on Kenneth talking. “We’ve had to scale that back over the years because of funding cuts,” he says. “Recently, though, we secured grants that allow us to once again merge art and science together in a way that’ll bring more attention to the missions we’re working on. Artist-in-Residence program 2.0. The reinstatement of this program is a highly visible project. We’re not paid, of course, and the artist wouldn’t be paid very much, unfortunately, but it’s a lot of exposure for the artist and NASA.”
“It’s hard enough to get funding for missions,” I say. “We want as many people on our side as possible.”
“Exactly. You’ll be working closely with the artist and managing their relationships and logistics,” Kenneth explains. “You’ll teachthem about how NASA operates, as well as the various projects and missions being worked on. You’ll also join them on suit-ups. It’s important that the artist gets a holistic look at JPL and NASA, and you can field the press’s questions about the nuances of FATE.”
Me. Mission liaison for a real human artist. For an important NASA program. With millions of eyes watching what we do. Future grants and artist residencies rest on the success of this one.
What was I thinking? There’s money on the line. The reputation of the art program is at stake. I’m in this role for the science part, not the art part. I take a sip of my honey tea to ease the rising tickle in the back of my throat.
“Sounds educational,” I say, attempting to exude confidence. I turn away and sneeze into the crook of my elbow. “Excuse me.”
“Bless you! Now let’s move into the fun part!” Nick says, grabbing the remote to turn on the projector attached to the ceiling. “The agenda for today, in addition to officially kicking off this program, is to decide on an artist. The one you recommended as part of your application looks very interesting.”
Margie taps a button on her laptop’s keyboard. A cover slide for their presentation appears on the screen at the front of the conference room. “Because it’s important that this program is a success,” she says, “and because you’ll be working directly with the artist, we thought it imperative to include you in the decision-making process.”
“Me?” I ask. “Like I said, I don’t know much about art. I was happy to recommend an artist. I’m not sure I’m qualified enough to help decide, though.”
