Now You Know It's A Thing

      Human space exploration has reached the point of having its own archaeologists.  No, really; that flavor of archaeology that studies how people lived and worked through the artifacts they left behind, and where those artifacts are found in relation to one another and to structures and material resources is remarkably well-adapted to studying how people live and work in space.  (FWIW, NASA has a history of looking slightly side-eyed at the softer sciences like anthropology and psych.  Archaeology is "harder," studying and measuring things instead of feelings and attitudes.  This is easier to quantify -- and easier to explain to Congress at budget time.)

      We've got lots of first-person accounts, video recordings and after-mission reports, but they suffer from unconscious bias, subjectivity and that impulse that has you running the vacuum cleaner, hiding the scruffier dog toys and generally cleaning and tidying before visitors come over.  And one other problem: how much attention to you pay to where and how you store, say, your toothbrush or clean socks?  You made some decision about it, probably a long time ago, and you stick to it, but it doesn't really come up, even if someone asks how you begin your day.

      To get around this and have a more objective look at life aboard ISS, the researchers identified a number of one meter square areas that were frequently used.  They had the astronauts mark the corners with bits of tape and snap high-resolution digital photos at regular, frequent intervals.  It's an experiment that doesn't need any extra resources; there's tape and cameras (and a color-reference chart to stick in the corner of each shot) already on board and data storage space is effectively unlimited.

      There's a lot to be learned from such research -- things as basic as what foods or condiments are popular and which ones the astronauts are just smiling and pushing around on their plates, or how you set up to read a book while lunching when gravity won't hold things where you put them.  Velcro or bungee cords or double-sided tape?  A well-chewed blob of gum?  And so on, for a wide array of activities.

      And, in a sign of good things to come, there's now a consulting firm for just those kinds of issues, working with companies planning to set up commercial stations.  They're named for the ur-space station, Edward Everett Hale's Brick Moon, which first thrilled readers in 1870.

     (ETA: I have fixed a string of weird typos, caused by Holden the cat trying to chew on my right hand as I was typing.)