"I am NOT an astronaut!" That was me… To NASA. Why, you ask, am I yelling at NASA? I'll get there; hold on to your pants. "I'm a college sophomore with an undecided major, but I have absolutely NO intentions to go into space. None. The extent of my 'outer space' is Star Wars." That got me a fancy NASA eye roll. Isn't it funny that we've made such great strides in feminism and the whole, "No means no" thing, but NASA doesn't seem to get the hint. This was about when they got all "Ms. Brebel, it is an honor to be asked (forced) to join this mission. We've contacted ten of the best medical practitioners around America and nine of them *insert glare* have agreed (been forced) to go along and monitor the hundreds of people in stasis for the journey." Woooaahh. Okay. If you're reading this and have no idea what is going on, the shortened version is that we, humans from the planet Earth, have discovered another habitable planet. Problem is, it's not close. NASA is basically offering some smart people the equivalent of dirt to fly up there with these pods while we age and they don't. It'll be a good ten years before we even see the ground again, so maybe from that point of view, literal dirt as payment wouldn't be bad, but I'm not about to waste ten years watching frozen bodies. Get the idea now? Anyway, yelling at NASA got me nowhere and now I'm strapped into a rocket with a ton of people that are basically dead for the next ten years and twenty two days. Wooo.