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I asked if they'd miss human beings. Sure, they said, but that's the price of adventure and progress. "A lot of my friends already started crying," said Onaje Abayomi, a 26-year-old barista. "It puts a real strain on a relationship," agreed Sue Ann Pien, a 34-year-old actress with a tattoo of the galaxy on her head, whose girlfriend also cried. When I implied that being a lesbian might be hard on a mission with straight men since she will most likely be constantly begged to recount, yet again, her lesbian sex stories, she told me that she was very flexible in dating. I think she has a 100% chance of being chosen. Especially since Mars One hopes to finance its $6 billion operation in part by airing the training and mission as a reality show.
Eventually we discovered that all of them had parents in the military and none was religious. In fact, Dorn said he'd worry about going to Mars with a religious person. "They can be judgmental about behavior," he said.
"I don't think there will be any sinning opportunities," I said.
"Oh, there will be sinning," said Ben McLain, a 30-year-old comedian.
"With 37% gravity," added Pien.
These truly were optimistic people.
And really likable. They were smart and curious and kind. As they finished lunch, several mentioned how they were inspired as kids by Bill Nye the Science Guy. "I love him. I would have his children in a heartbeat," said McLain, who must have missed Nye's episode on reproduction.
A week later, coincidentally, I met Nye. He had the same exuberance and curiosity as my Marstronaut friends. He thought, however, that they were kind of dumb. Life, he explained, is unsustainable on Mars, and even if it weren't, they would quickly succumb to extreme depression, since even people in far-less-isolated Antarctica lose it after several months. I knew he was right, but I also knew I'd rather live on a planet filled with Mars One applicants than with people like me and Nye. As long as it's this one.