One of the most influential scientific writings in human history is Newton’s Principia Mathematica. The book that would define humanity’s future with vital contributions to the Scientific Revolution in mathematics and physics all began when Newton pressed a single dot on a piece of paper: but what if he never continued? Realizing the severity of issues like political turmoil and invasive species destroying croplands, Newton placed his manuscript of theoretical mathematics aside to focus on the real problems plaguing the world. While Newton never stopped at his first dot, leaders today are more willing. The life of humanity may never echo through the halls of space, and our final book of human history will contain but a single dot of an unfinished story.
On a tender beige carpet lay the human sphere known as me at ten years old. Having impressed a crevice in the carpet, I sat watching TV clutching a black rectangle that glimmered with the shine of a movie star’s teeth; it was a sticker book about space, the solar system, and our home Earth. I felt my eyes float about the pastel walls of the living room as the soft, warm sunlight folded itself upon me. There was peace. Then, the TV snarled. I looked up to find a slightly older woman bulging out from the screen, maybe in her 50s, glaring down as if to say I was worth less than the grime on her boot. She wore a posh beige cardigan over a shirt as dark as her soul when she uttered the sentence that ambushed my relaxing afternoon: “Space will waste our money, and [the author] will waste our air.” I may have imagined the last clause, but the message came loud and clear. Now, there was war.

Madame Soulless (as I remember her) argued that we should leave the dots alone because there are more important problems to handle before the dot becomes a word. She argued that my generation must leave our story in space unfinished because climate change deserves our focus. As a child, I understood neither why this woman wanted to bully my space book nor what other problems plagued the world. Now I realize that Madame Soulless had a fair question: how can we expect to fund space research when the planet is about to collapse from climate change?
On the surface, it may seem that NASA sinks all their funding into the chance to colonize Mars because they really, really want it, and they’ll cry super hard if they don’t get it. However, in reality, NASA and other space research organizations improve humanity’s present and future condition. As each organization writes a “book” on the different aspects of space, people steal some sentences for applications here on Earth. For example, NASA developed a robust water filtration system to maximize the water available to astronauts on the ISS. Thus, individuals inspired by NASA’s sentences adapted the original. Years later, corporations helped the earthlings drink healthier, one filter at a time.

In addition, NASA’s research has inspired breakthroughs in fields like entertainment and environmental studies. In other words, NASA writes their metaphorical book, which leads to other scientists writing their figurative books about the subjects they love. After the Space Race introduced the world to satellites, researchers modified the original “writing” to assist scholars who study climate change, students who watch YouTube as the new form of procrastination, and thousands of others who dream of better lives. NASA’s research and funding create a domino effect of breakthroughs in other areas. Space funding not only moves us toward a new space colony but also drives us toward a healthier and more cooperative generation. The effect resembles fans of an author writing fanfictions about the original work. However, in this case, the fanfictions are massive climate change or entertainment content research papers, and the original work is a multi-million dollar space telescope.

It took me years to understand the logical argument for space exploration, but my younger self faced a fearsome opponent with little time for strategy. I gripped my space book and stood. Madame Soulless made her point: I stood up to make mine. My hands brushed open the book. Suddenly, large stickers of the planets burst forth. My hands drew closer. The stickers licked each finger on my right and left and stuck there. I dashed backward, away from the TV, and began placing the stickers all over the house. I set the first in my father’s room—in the outermost reaches of my home.

“Uranus,” I marched through the house steadily.
“Neptune,” I rang cheerfully.
“Saturn, Jupiter,” I grinned mischievously as I placed two gas giants in each bathroom.
“Mercury, Venus.” Two stickers stuck in both my and my brother’s rooms.
“Earth, Mars.” I placed the last two planets and admired my work.

Now, every day, I could travel through space by simply entering another room in my house. In ways only a child could understand, I rebelled against Madame Soulless. I knew I enjoyed space. I knew it deserved our time. I could not stand by as Madame Soulless told me otherwise. I finished that day in peace, relishing my victory.

Space research and exploration push humanity’s pen forward to write our current book of Earth’s history. My younger self did not realize the importance of continuing humanity’s writing past the dot, but he did realize that he had to protect space from all who sought to bully his really shiny space book. If I could, I would tell my younger self that even when people question the value of the next few pages in the human book of history, the pen must and will move. Depending on how fast it moves, I may explain this revelation to him in person.