I made the two-hour ride out to the test facility on four hours of sleep. I had stayed in the office late completing the climate change speech, which I promised would be done by that day. Though it was largely a cut-and-paste exercise, I didn’t want it to look that way. So, I put in a few extra hours to make it something I felt good about.
The faint glow of dawn was just beginning to illuminate the landscape. The road twisted and turned up and down the sloping terrain of the desert. A building finally appeared on the horizon directly ahead. As I drew closer, I saw that it was surrounded by a fence topped with barbed coil. It was an old Air Force facility that had been mothballed for years before being sold to Starblazer eighteen months earlier.
The gate was open and I eased my Taurus through the opening onto the gravel driveway. There was an area where about two dozen vehicles were parked. The building was a low one-story bunker with windows on one side facing away from the gate entrance.
My attention was drawn to a spot at least a thousand feet out into the desert. From what I could make out from that distance, smoke or steam was puffing from an oblong piece of machinery, which I recognized as a rocket engine. Hoses ran from the stand with the engine to two trucks that I assumed would feed the necessary fuel and oxidizer to the engine during the test. There were at least a half-dozen men at work around it.
No one paid much attention to my approach as I parked the car, and made my way toward the building. When I was nearly at the bunker a man of medium build emerged, whom I recognized at once as Evan Phillips. He had a full mustache, graying brown hair and a broad toothy smile.
“John from Grant’s office?” he asked expectantly. When I nodded, he added, “Glad you could make it.” As we met, he barely slowed his stride to shake hands and gestured me to walk with him.
“It’s almost time, so our chat will have to wait. You just stick by my side. I think you’ll find this interesting,” he said with a grin.
We walked over to a Jeep, got in and drove directly for the test stand. We didn’t speak for most of the ride as Phillips was continuously on the walkie-talkie or in focused thought on what was about to take place.
At one point Phillips turned his attention to me. “Know what you’re looking at, John?”
“I assume it’s a rocket engine,” I responded. Then added, “I presume you’re conducting a test.”
“Exactly,” he said approvingly. “That’s the first stage engine that will take my launch vehicle, the OmegaStar, into orbit. Today is my final test of the rocket engine before our maiden launch six months from now, if all goes well.”
Three engineers met our Jeep as we pulled up to the test stand. The rocket was much larger than I could tell from the bunker. With a close-up look I made out details such as the exhaust nozzle and the gnarl of piping, tanks and wiring attached to it. The engine was securely bolted to the stand. Two video cameras twenty feet away were aimed at it.
“Well?” Phillips asked one engineer after scanning the area.
“I think we’re ready to go,” he replied confidently. The other engineers nodded in agreement.
Holding out a clip board for Phillips to review, the engineer said, “Everything is right where we need it to be.”
Phillips studied the checklist. He looked into the eyes of each engineer. He approached the rocket, and made a slow walk around the entire structure, looking for the slightest flaw, frequently referring to the checklist. He walked back over to the engineers, head down massaging his chin, still searching the clipboard and his thoughts for anything he might have missed. After a long pause he finally looked up and said, “All right boys, let’s light this sucker!” And with that his face broke into a broad smile once again. The engineers responded enthusiastically and dashed in different directions to make final preparations.
I rode back to the bunker with Phillips and his principal engineer, taking the back seat. What struck me most about Phillips was how absolutely calm he was when everyone else was understandably tense with anticipation. The tension he had exhibited on the way out to the stand was gone. If not for the buzz of activity swarming around him, you would not be able to tell he was moments away from a critical multi-million dollar test on which the future of his company depended.
I followed him into the bunker, a cramped space knotted with wires and equipment. TV monitors showed live video of the engine. The windows in the cinderblock structure were long and narrow and made of thick glass. A portable air conditioner helped to manage the heat that would have otherwise built up in the enclosed space. A team of about eight engineers manned the monitoring equipment. Other employees and friends expectantly stood by waiting for the show to begin.
“Here, you may want to use these,” Phillips thrust a pair of binoculars and ear plugs at me.
“We’re coming up on five minutes,” announced an engineer, his eyes fixed on his instrument. The room became very quiet, punctuated by occasional status checks about fuel pressure or internal temperature.
Eying Phillips’ calm demeanor again, I couldn’t resist asking, “Mr. Phillips, you seem…awfully relaxed with all this going on. Aren’t you at all…nervous?”
Without taking his eyes off his binoculars he said, “Well, it’s at times like this I remember what Chuck Yeager once told me. With any big event, the person in charge is like a general going to battle. You do all you can do to plan for victory in advance, but once the battle has begun, there is nothing more you can do, so you may as well sit back and enjoy the ride.”
“Sixty seconds.”
Phillips stood casually peering through his binoculars. Then there was the final countdown from ten, and I hastily stuffed the plugs in my ears and pulled up my binoculars, “…three, two, one, ignition.”
At first there was nothing from the engine stand. Then a spark, and a bit of smoke. Then suddenly, a column of flame rushed out of the nozzle. A fraction of a second later, I felt, more than heard, the engine roar. The vibration was alarming.
In a few moments my ears, aided by the plugs, adjusted to the crackling rumble of the lit engine. Even from that distance, the exhaust etched momentary bright spots in my cornea.
“Engine’s at ninety-five percent,” came the barely audible voice of an engineer. The engine was at near maximum thrust. This part of the burn lasted for sixty seconds. I looked at the video monitor that captured close-ups of the engine. A strip recorder swung its arms back and forth, etching the vibration onto paper. The guests were all captivated, some wincing and covering their ears from the noise. Engineers were immovable from their stations.
Then the engine flame diminished a little. “Down to eighty-five percent.” The engine was gradually reducing thrust to simulate reduced demand for power as the rocket burned off its massive propellant load, rising into the atmosphere. The engineer announced each percentage threshold in increments of five.
After two-and-a-half-minutes, when the thrust was down to sixty-five percent, Phillips finally said, “Alright, let’s open’er up all the way.” With that command, the engine exhaust flame expanded, burning more intensely than it had at any previous time during the test. “A hundred and ten percent.” After twenty seconds at that power level Phillips gave the signal to cut the engine.
Following a beat of ringing silence, the room erupted in applause, hand shaking, and back slapping. Phillips limited his outburst to a broad grin. The moment was gripping and I found myself caught up in the excitement.
The celebration was quickly replaced by a giddy buzz of activity to analyze the results of the test firing. Overall, they were all pleased with the engine’s performance, despite a few areas of minor concern. Occasionally, Phillips would shoot a glance in my direction.
Finally, Phillips announced, “Okay, let’s go have a look at ‘er.” He motioned me to come with him.
We walked to the Jeep again, just the two of us.
“I think you can tell, this is a good day for Starblazer,” he chuckled, his satisfaction still in full bloom. “I’ve seen everything I need to see to convince me we’re on target, and ready for a full-up suborbital launch.
“So now, John, did our little engine test help answer your questions?”
His shift in attention to the reason for my visit caught me off guard.
“Well,…it certainly does on an emotional level. Now if I can only describe that feeling in words…”
He chuckled at that.
I wanted to know more about his rocket, and asked, “How long did it take you to develop that engine?”
He looked at me quizzically, “Develop it?” as though I had asked a dumb question. “I would say it took us exactly… zero days.” He laughed again, and then explained, “I didn’t develop anything. This was strictly off the shelf hardware, my friend. That’s an Aerojet LR-87 engine. It’s been pushing military and civilian rockets into space, and who knows where else, for years. The Defense Department spent $1.8 billion to develop it. And I’m glad they did… so I didn’t have to.
“But, the test, and…”
“…Standard integration testing is all. God, what do you think I am, some kind of inventor? The last thing I want to do is invent from scratch – I’m a Builder, John.”
We arrived at the rocket stand, putting our conversation on hold. Phillips spent forty-five minutes with his team examining how well the hardware had endured the test. I was becoming anxious. The morning was getting on, and I began calculating and recalculating approximately when I would make it back to Mr. Grant’s district office.
Perhaps sensing my impatience, Phillips finally came over and motioned me to walk with him again. This time we walked away from the stand out into the open desert, the cracked lakebed surface crunching under our shoes.
I brought the conversation back to where we had left off. “You said you weren’t an inventor. That you are a builder. What did you mean by that?”
He mulled this for a minute, “In my opinion, the Inventor is overrated. The Builder is the one who takes the inventions and puts them into common use. What good is an invention if it is not widely adopted? It takes visionaries like me, in all modesty, to replicate invention for the benefit of the masses. The Builder finds out what works, and keeps doing it.”
“Are you saying the Builder is one of the Endowments – the fourth Endowment?”
He gave me a look that said he knew what I was talking about. “I suppose you can say the ability to replicate good ideas is a critical human Endowment.”
We had walked about fifty yards into the desert with the engine stand between us and the bunker. The landscape was barren and majestic. The air was warming up as the sun rose at the horizon but still comfortable. The only sound was the occasional shout from an engineer at the test stand, or the clank of metal on metal.
“Replication and application of invention is the very engine of civilization. By themselves, inventions are nothing more than one time novelties that maybe provide some utility to the Inventor and his neighbors, but in the end a one-off device or process leads nowhere. Without the Builder we’d literally still be living in caves, except for the occasional guy or gal that would invent a hut.” He laughed at this.
“Of course, we can’t even imagine such a thing. We are such good imitators that the thought of not being able to use what has come before, and copy it, is a ridiculous notion. The Builder and Inventor work together to advance civilization. The Builder copying what the Inventor creates. The Inventor improving on all that the Builder disseminates throughout society. This partnership has created a dynamic spiral of upward technological and social progress throughout human history, from the first caveman tools to supercomputers and Saturn V rockets. Inventors and Builders depend on each other.” He paused looking for my reaction. “Pretty interesting stuff, huh?”
Noting my attentiveness, he went on, “But let me clarify the definition of the Builder a little more, as an Endowment. The Builder Endowment, more broadly speaking, is our capacity to learn or be educated and express what we have learned in some fashion. Some of us take what we learn and invent new things, but most of us are perfectly happy with living in the realm of what is already known. The best of those individuals we call experts, artisans, scholars, craftsmen and business managers—the people who take great pride in doing a good job. For example, we want the electrician we hire to really know the right way to wire a house. We don’t want him to be an inventor. We don’t want him to tinker with what already works—especially not in our fuse box. A little inventiveness is great, but we want and need people who can get very specific predetermined jobs done well. Professions in this category include librarians, truck drivers, nurses, firefighters, as well as bricklayers, steel workers, and carpenters—all these people perform the critical functions that keep society humming. They are all the Builders in our culture.
“The business world, of course, is dominated by Builders who can take products and services that are known and proven and market them to the population. As I said before, I have no interest in inventing a new kind of rocket engine. I’m excited about taking what has already been developed by people much smarter than me and making copies – lots of copies – and selling them for as much as the market will bear. And yes, I would like to get rich on selling rockets, but ultimately money is not what the Builder is really after. The true satisfaction will always come in the building itself.”
We had strolled making a wide circle looping out from the test stand. The sun was getting higher in the cloudless sky. Its heat prickled my exposed skin.
After a pause in our discussion, I said, “But I don’t see how you could have come as far as you have without being something of an inventor. I mean, you invented your company and a model for how to make money with these off-the-shelf rockets.”
“Good point, John.” Phillips thought this over for a few moments. “Though I consider myself a Builder at the core, I am also an Inventor to a degree…There is some Inventor in me, maybe a lot, and I suppose that’s what gives me an edge against the competition. I suspect every successful Builder has some Inventor in him. Henry Ford, my inspiration, would fall into that category.
“And every successful Inventor has some Builder Endowment in him. Thomas Edison is an example of someone who was both a towering Inventor and a shrewd Builder. The Inventor will likely dream about his inventions being adopted by the masses, but it is the Builder who will ultimately make that dream come true. If the Inventor is also a Builder, he or she will reap the financial rewards of his or her inventions. If the Builder endowment is not strong in the Inventor, others will take his worthy creations and make their fortunes from it, leaving the Inventor with little financial reward to show for their genius.”
He paused, took a deep breath. Smiling, he said, “Now, are you getting what you need?”
Although the conversation was fascinating, I realized I needed more clarification relating to my central question.
“Well,…I think I understand the logic of what you’re saying about the Inventor and the Builders. But, this logic seems to be true for all of civilization. How does this relate specifically to your interest, or passion, for space development?”
He thought for minute, looking up. “Space and space travel have a pull like nothing else. For me, the development of space requires the fullest and best application of our collective technological ability. To be part of making it easier and more affordable to get into space, to my mind, is to be part of an unbelievably important period of human history. But without the Builders like me, we’ll have nothing to show for our efforts in space except flags and footprints on the moon. The Inventors have been tinkering around up there for too damn long, and the Builders are chomping at the bit to get a piece of the action. Space can’t be the exclusive realm of scientists. Of course, there are some bright spots on the horizon. With communication satellites and remote sensing satellites, we’re starting to see the emergence of a commercially viable space business model independent of federal government contracts. And I intend to be right in the mix offering superior cheap launch services.”
He paused again, gazing in the direction of a distant mountain range. “But satellites, and even my launch business, are just the very beginning, John. The Builders who feel a sense of urgency about space have their sights set on building new civilizations beyond Earth. We’re itching to build the space colonies that will allow humanity to begin a whole new chapter of existence.” With that he turned to me, smiling. He sensed my surprise at his mention of space colonies, and broke off in a fit of laughter. The engineers at the test stand looked in our direction to see what had set Phillips off.
“I like shooting off rockets as much as anyone likes a good fireworks show. But putting a few dozen satellites into orbit—even a few hundred or few thousand—only goes so far. The real action begins when people—regular people like you and me—start making the trip into space, up to a space station and eventually to space colonies.”
Maybe I should have expected it, but Philips’ proclamation about space colonies still caught me by surprise. For him to be passionate about space colonization seemed out of character.
I finally responded, “It’s interesting to hear you speak about space colonies. I would have guessed such ideas would have seemed to you to be…impractical.”
“Space colonies are completely impractical…today. I’d love to open a hotel on the moon tomorrow—but I know that can’t happen. Therefore, I’m looking at what I can reasonably do right now to help move us in that direction—and right now the name of the game is cheap access: driving down the cost of getting to orbit as much as possible.
“But the barriers to human settlement of space go beyond the price of a launch. We currently have a global culture that has yet to even consider the possibility. Despite the best efforts of Gene Roddenberry and George Lucas, most people can’t comprehend a human settlement on the moon or Mars any time in the next two hundred years. And NASA and the government are staying as far away as they can from any mention of space colonies.
“What this has created is an imbalance in the Inventor/Builder relationship when it comes to human space activity. The invention of the means to enable people to live and work in space has not been followed by the building or replicating of those means so that all who wish can do the same. Once we can bridge the gap between the Inventor and Builder, we will see an explosion of human expansion throughout the solar system.
I asked tentatively, “Do you see this happening in your lifetime?”
“It doesn’t matter to me if it happens in my lifetime or not. All I can do is conduct myself in a manner that assumes it will.”
Just then Phillips was hailed by one of his engineers, and I knew our talk was over. I caught a ride back to my car with one of his team who spoke of Phillips as a devotee would of his guru. I could see the appeal. If anyone was going to build a new civilization in space, it could very well be Evan Phillips.
***
I arrived back at the district office a little before noon. I could sense a heightened energy level, and when I spotted Mr. Grant among a cluster of staff, I realized he was the source.
As I approached the group, Mr. Grant broke from his conversation, saying as he pointed at me, “Him. John. John will drive me.” The other staff, Dotty among them, seemed just as taken aback as I was by this outburst. Mr. Grant was in town for a planned trip, which included appearances at a series of local events. On the agenda that day was a luncheon presentation to a Kiwanis Club, and apparently I was to be the chauffeur.
It was not clear whether Mr. Grant preferred my company, or if it was the company of other more demanding staff he wished to avoid. He marched to the door and said, “Let’s go.” A flustered and clearly annoyed Dotty Rodriguez thrust a folder in my hand and told me that I’d better get going. The folder contained his speech and a sheet of meeting logistics.
“You drive.” He tossed me the keys as I approached his Buick Skylark. Despite the suddenness of the situation, I knew this assignment created an opportunity for me to discuss my experiences with Judith Falk and Evan Phillips. After the incredible morning at the rocket test facility, I was bursting to share the details with Mr. Grant. I attempted to open the discussion as soon as we pulled onto the road. He just smiled and patted my arm saying, “There’ll be plenty of time. At the moment, however, we are late, and we need to concentrate on getting where we need to be.” Mr. Grant did not say anything more except to occasionally bark directions to the Kiwanis hall.
Once inside, Mr. Grant became his jovial self, glad handing and joking with his old buddies while sipping a scotch on the rocks. It was his element. I sat at the head table, mostly listening to the conversation dominated by humorous anecdotes by Mr. Grant to everyone’s enjoyment. Just before he stood up to make his way to the podium I tried to hand him the folder with the speech, but he waved me off.
In the next thirty minutes, I witnessed a masterful off-the-cuff speech that entertained, informed, and inspired the crowd. Most people even stood up during the applause. Mr. Grant knew his audience, and they loved their congressman.
***
It was after 2:30 when we left the hall. Mr. Grant settled into the passenger seat satisfied by how the event had gone. “Do you feel like taking a little ride?” he asked. “I’d like to hear about your time with Dr. Falk and Evan Phillips.” I was thankful that he wished to engage in that subject. The luncheon had not dampened my desire to speak with him about the Endowments.
“Of course…where to?”
“I’ll show you. Go straight to the second light and make a left.” Within a mile or so, the road narrowed and we passed fewer houses. “Turn here,” Mr. Grant commanded just as I made out a sign that read “Box Springs Mountain Park.” It was a large park with recreational areas and hiking trails. As I followed the twists and turns according to Mr. Grant’s instruction I felt the increasing elevation. Finally he had me pull into one of the available spots in a gravel parking area.
We hiked along a short inclined path that opened to a grassy plateau. There were benches and picnic tables scattered around the clearing. The opposite end of the field was a cliff’s edge that provided a magnificent overlook of the valley below and views of the mountains in the distance. There was no one else there. We sat on a bench overlooking the cliff. The silence was disturbed only by a light breeze blowing through the trees and the occasional bird call.
After a minute or two of taking in the surroundings, Mr. Grant began, “So, what do you think of the Endowments so far? Is the picture starting to come together?”
“What’s becoming clear is that there are distinct reasons why people are passionate about space travel. Each reason is linked to an endowment, and the desire for space travel manifests differently depending on which endowment it is springing from.”
“And what can you conclude from that?”
“Uh…that human interest, or passion, for space travel is an expression of certain basic human traits,… the Endowments.”
“Mmm…that’s pretty close, considering you don’t have the full story yet.” His less than enthusiastic reaction took the wind out of my sail. I thought I was doing pretty well. He chuckled. “Don’t worry about that for the moment. It will become clear later. What you should begin to understand about the Endowments are two things. First, that the second two endowments are evolved versions of the first two. Second, the Endowments are pairs with masculine and feminine characteristics. With the first two Endowments, the Wanderer is masculine and the Settler is feminine. The Wanderer is the tendency to strike outward in an aggressive archetypically manly way. The Settler is feminine; she wants to make a safe place for herself and her offspring. It’s related to the nesting instinct. Please don’t confuse these with gender roles of man and woman. You’ll only get yourself into trouble if you do.”
He paused, turning his head away from the view to look directly at me. “Now we move onto the Inventor and the Builder. The Inventor, a masculine Endowment is an evolved version of the Wanderer. You see?”
I interjected, “Yes, Dr. Falk talked about the relationship between the Wanderer and the Inventor. She said how the Inventor wanders in the confines of his own mind to solve problems and create innovation.”
“That’s right. And similarly, the Builder, a feminine endowment, is the evolved version of the Settler.” Though there was nothing feminine about Evan Phillips, I understood the point Mr. Grant was making.
“The Builder builds cities, as Evan Phillips no doubt told you. In a sense they are seeking to achieve the same safety and comfort for the population that the Settler wants to achieve. Both the masculine and feminine are needed for balance and survival.”
I was reminded of what Phillips had said about there being an imbalance in human space development. “Evan Phillips said that there was a great deal of focus on the Invention aspects of space travel, but at the same time, the ability of the Builder to participate was severely restricted.”
“That’s a very interesting point. There is a verse in the Tao Te Ching, the ancient book of philosophy, that says, ‘All things stand with their backs to the feminine, facing the masculine. When male and female combine all things achieve harmony.’ Phillips recognizes that our space program is seriously out of balance.”
He paused at this. I was beginning to see the larger context and pattern of the Endowments. There seemed to be a principled link between them.
“Now, what does all of this mean for the next pairs of Endowments: The Visionary and the Protector?”
“The Visionary and the Protector?” I absently repeated it to Mr. Grant’s gleaming smile.
“Yes. So, based on what I have said, what can we expect about the final pair of Endowments?”
“…That they are evolved versions of earlier Endowments: one will be feminine in quality and one will be masculine? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I think you’re starting to understand.”
As strange as it seemed to me, the pieces were coming together, though I still had the sense that I was only seeing one corner of a much larger picture.
“So, the next Endowments…Who will I learn about those from?”
“The Visionary, I’m afraid, will have to be a surprise.” He exaggerated the statement with raised eyebrows, and laughed at my blank expression. The rumble of his amusement echoed off nearby rocks and out into the valley below.