I was 12 years old when Spock died. Like everyone else in the cinema that had grown up with Star Trek, it was a shocking moment. Even today, the scene at the end of the Wrath of Khan remains poignant. Despite the ludicrous 1980s-style uniforms with corrugated collars and oversized lapels, when Spock gasps his final breath “live long and prosper,” my eyes still well-up.
Spock’s funeral is almost as powerful. The coffin is levitated along a track and fired from the Starship Enterprise. It is the space-age equivalent of a burial at sea. Of course, in the interests of safeguarding the Star Trek franchise, Spock cannot remain dead. It turns out he took the precaution of preserving his soul in the mind of Doctor McCoy and his body was reborn on the planet it landed on (a sentence which will save you the effort of watching the disappointing third movie, the Search for Spock.
But what was science fiction thirty years ago is now becoming reality. Just like Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry, you too can now be buried in space. Or at least a small part of you.
In the coming months, US company Celestis is due to launch its latest memorial spacecraft. The New Frontier Flight will be packed with lipstick-sized capsules, each containing up to seven grams of the ashes of participants (as Celestis terms them). The spacecraft will remain in orbit around the Earth for years, potentially even decades, eventually burning up in the atmosphere. According to the company: “Your loved one will venture into the final frontier as part of a real space mission”. Interesting, that they also use Star Trek terminology.
Celestis is a pioneer in the memorial spaceflight business and you can track its spacecraft in orbit. As I type this, its Ad Astra flight is passing over Seattle. Occupants include the ashes of a Pennsylvania mother who always wanted to visit the Moon, the remains of a boy born with severe muscular dystrophy and a gram of a geologist from Montana. Together, the participants represent a wide range of backgrounds, achievements and ambitions. But they all have one thing in common: their love of space.
It costs $3000 to put a fraction of a loved one in orbit but there are other, cheaper, options available. A UK company, for instance, offers the chance to incorporate your ashes into a firework display. Another will fly a capsule of your remains on a weather balloon into the upper atmosphere. Alternatively, you could buy a capsule on a sub-orbital rocket, which will take your ashes into space and parachute them back to Earth.
But a few grams fired in a tiny capsule is hardly the same as Spock’s final voyage in a glistening futuristic coffin. So, for the more ambitious, Celestis is currently signing people up to have a gram of their remains delivered to the lunar surface. You could even get on board a planned interstellar voyage and fly alongside another portion of Gene Roddenberry.
I do not doubt the sincerity of the participants and their families who sign up for burial in space. And you cannot help but be moved by the tributes that accompany each mission. Nevertheless, it does seem an odd thing to do. Without wishing to come over all new age, we are all ultimately stardust. All the atoms in our bodies come from the stars and after our dying sun becomes a red giant and the Earth can no longer support life, we will once again end up as stardust. One day, our remains will be back in space. Why would you want them to get there any quicker?