The rocket does not care much about the gantry or what stands behind it. It is poised to explode into space on the back of its powerful thrusters with transition to warp speed shortly thereafter, no doubt. The universe waits to be discovered and an appreciation for the history and support structure that makes this possible will have to wait a while. For the avoidance of doubt, you are the gantry and your son is the rocket. If you are in this for the credit you might need a backup plan.

   Let’s assume that you are not preoccupied with parental recognition and that you are not trying to live vicariously through your son. Let’s assume that you are not trying to mould him to a particular image that you have in mind, but rather that your pure and steadfast goal is to facilitate the success of his own personal mission in life; whatever that might turn out to be. No parent ever meets these aspirations fully, but I am gratified to observe that so many come so close!

   As the gantry falls away, Mission Control is suddenly reduced to radio communication. Until that moment the launch sequence could be interrupted at any time while all manner of tools and equipment could be applied directly to the rocket. That luxury has now expired. If there is a problem now, the best that Mission Control can do is to provide its advice on how to jury-rig an air purification system from the parts of a zero-gravity toilet. The isolated crew is going to have to do it himself. He needs Houston to calculate a re-entry that doesn’t involve incineration, but he may not realize this until he has been in orbit for a while.

    Planning, training and ground operations are all vital to the success of the mission, but after launch you can’t use your own tools anymore. You should start shifting to radio support as soon as possible.