描述
开 本: 大32开纸 张: 胶版纸包 装: 平装-胶订是否套装: 否国际标准书号ISBN: 9787535792259
★亚马逊畅销书《福布斯》杂志/Slate杂志年度*图书。
宇宙空间毫不留情，残酷异常。地球上的生命也不容易。哈德菲尔德上校真诚地告诉我们，如何在这两个迥然不同的地方成长。他凭借险境求生的丰富经验，给读者上了一堂生动鲜活的宇航员必修課
★小题大作，凡事做*坏打算。
★运用负面思考的力量，克服恐惧。
★把演演当真，才是真的演练。
★帮助组员，等于救自己一命。
★別让自己的美梦成为家人的噩梦。
看过之后，你不仅能学会宇航员的思考方式，也会彻底改变你对地球生活──特別是你自己的生活的看法，让你生活得更好、更幸福。
克里斯·哈德菲尔德为了成为一名宇航员进行了几十年的训练，其太空逗留时间几乎达到4000小时。他曾带着一把瑞士军刀闯进了空间站，也曾在驾驶飞机时处置过一条活蛇，并且在紧贴着轨道飞行器的外部时暂时失明。
在《宇航员地球生活指南》中，哈德菲尔德讲述了他多年的训练和太空探索经历，展示给我们如何把不可能的事情变成可能。他讲述的故事内容生动，读来让我们大开眼界，同时又教给我们如何像宇航员一样思考。
他的故事将永远改变我们看待地球上的生活的方式——特别是每个人自己的生活方式。
致谢–
引言不可能完成的任务–
1. 付出一生的旅行–
2. 个人姿态–
3. 负面思考的力量–
4. 为小事担心–
5. 世界上后的一群人–
6. 下一个会让我送命的事情是什么？–
7. 哈萨克斯坦静海基地–
8. 如何被颠得七零八落（并在第二天感觉良好）–
9. 做个普通人–
10. 离开地球的日子–
11. 方形的宇航员，圆形的出舱口–
12. 软着陆–
13. 回归平凡–
“面对纯净世界的充满人性的一瞥。”
——华尔街日报
“扣人心弦……哈德菲尔德给我们讲述了前往太空并在太空生活中的趣事，借此分享了他对于如何在地球上生活的洞见。”
——菲·普雷特，SLATE杂志
“哈德菲尔德不止一次进入太空，他是一位集技术专家、科学家于一身的天才。”
——莫琳·卡拉汉，《纽约邮报》
“书里叙述了各种经验教训，读来令人振奋，很难决定要告诉你哪一个。”
——安德里亚·凯，《今日美国》
“哈德菲尔德证明自己不仅是一个积极的宇宙探险家，而且是一个对人类境况进行深刻思考的人，他能用简单但深刻的语言表达人类*普遍的探寻……精彩绝伦。”
——玛利亚·波波娃
BRAIN
PICKING作者
1. 付出一生的旅行
ONE MORNING A STRANGE THOUGHT
occurs to me shortly after waking: the socks I am about to put on are the ones
I’ll wear to leave Earth. That prospect feels real yet surreal, the way a
particularly vivid dream does. The feeling intensifies at breakfast, when
reporters jostle each other to get a good photo, as though I’m a condemned man
and this is my last meal. Similarly, a little later on, when the technicians
help me into my custom-made spacesuit for pressure checks, the joviality feels
forced. It’s the moment of truth. The suit needs to function perfectly—it is
what will keep me alive and able to breathe if the spacecraft depressurizes in
the vacuum of space—because this isn’t a run-through.
一天早上，在我醒来后不久，一个奇怪的想法出现在我的脑子里：我要穿上的袜子，将陪伴我离开地球。这样的前景让人感到既真实又超现实，就好像是做了一个特别生动的梦一样。早餐的时候，记者们争抢着拍我，就好像我是个犯人，而这是我的后一餐似的。他们的这通忙活，让我恍如做梦般的感觉加剧了。同样，过了一会儿，当技术人员帮我穿上太空服进行压力检测时，愉快的感觉变得不自然了。这是一个关键的时刻。太空服不能出丝毫差错——一旦航天器在真空中发生减压，这就是能让我继续呼吸保住性命的东西——因为这不是演习。
I am actually leaving the
planet today.
今天我真的要离开这个星球了。
Or not, I remind myself. There
are still hours to go, hours when anything could go wrong and the launch could
be scrubbed. That thought, combined with the fact that I’m now wearing a diaper
just in case we get stuck on the launch pad for a very long time, steers my
interior monologue away from the portentous and toward the practical. There’s a
lot to remember. Focus.
或许又不是——我提醒自己。离发射还有几个小时，在这几个小时里什么问题都有可能发生，导致发射被迫取消。这样一种想法，再加上我正穿着尿不湿（这是防止我们在发射架上被困太久，实在需要小便），让我的内心独白从那些不祥的事情上转到了现实之中。有很多东西要铭记在心。全神贯注。
Once everyone in the crew is
suited up, we all get into the elevator in crew quarters to ride down to the
ground and out to our rocket ship. It’s one of those space-age moments I
dreamed about as a little kid, except for the slow—really slow—elevator.
Descent from the third floor takes only slightly less time than it does to boil
an egg. When we finally head outside to walk toward the big silver Astro van
that will take us to the launch pad, it’s that moment everyone knows: flashbulbs
pop in the pre-dawn darkness, the crowd cheers, we wave and smile. In the van,
we can see the rocket in the distance, lit up and shining, an obelisk. In
reality, of course, it’s a 4.5-megaton bomb loaded with explosive fuel, which
is why everyone else is driving away from it.
当所有乘员都穿好太空服后，我们乘坐专为宇航员预备的电梯降到地面，走向飞船。这是我从童年时代就一直曾梦想的情景，惟一没有梦到的是那个慢吞吞的电梯——真的是太慢了。从三楼降下来所花的时间，跟煮熟一个鸡蛋所需的时间差不多。当我们终于从电梯里出来，走向那辆将搭载我们前往发射架的巨大银白色太空车的时候，当时的场景就是众所周知的了：在黎明前的黑暗中，闪光灯频频闪烁，人群沸腾，我们挥手微笑。在车里，我们能看到远处的火箭，在灯光下熠熠闪光，仿佛一座巨大的方尖碑。当然了，那其实是一个装满了易爆燃料的450万吨级的炸弹，也正因如此，其他的人都要躲得远远的。
At the launch pad, we ride the
elevator up—this one moves at a good clip—and one by one we crawl into the
vehicle on our hands and knees. Then the closeout crew helps strap me tightly
into my tiny seat, and one of them hands me a note from Helene, telling me she
loves me. I’m not exactly comfortable—the spacesuit is bulky and hot, the cabin
is cramped, a distinctly un-cushion-like parachute and survival kit is wedged
awkwardly behind my back—and I’m going to be stuck in this position for a few
hours, minimum. But I can’t imagine any place else I’d rather be.
抵达发射架后，我们乘坐电梯上升——这个电梯速度还挺快——之后我们要一个接着一个手膝并用爬进飞船。负责收尾的工作人员帮着把我紧紧地固定在我的小座位上，其中一个人还递给了我一张伊莲写的便条，告诉我她爱我。在太空舱里一点也不舒服——太空服又重又热，太空舱极其促狭，一个明显不像靠垫的降落伞和逃生工具包别别扭扭地塞在我身后——而且，我要在这种环境下困上几个小时，至少也得几小时。但是，这里却是我爱的地方，我想不出我除此以外还会愿意待在什么别的地方。
After the ground crew checks
the cockpit one last time, says goodbye and closes the hatch, it’s time for
pressure checks of the cabin. Banter ebbs: everyone is hyper-focused. This is
all about increasing our chances of staying alive. Yet there’s still a whiff of
make-believe to the exercise because any number of things could still happen—a
fault in the wiring, a problem with a fuel tank—to downgrade this to just
another elaborate dress rehearsal.
地勤人员后一次检查了驾驶舱，和我们道别，并关上了舱门，这时，就该进行太空舱的压力测试了。一切玩笑此刻都停止了：每个人都高度紧张。所有的这一切都是为了增加我们存活的几率。但是这一切仍有一丝伪装的气息，因为很多事依旧可能发生——线路故障，燃料箱问题——使这次发射变成又一场精心准备的演习。
But as every second passes, the
odds improve that we’re going to space today. As we work through huge
checklists—reviewing and clearing all caution and warning alarms, making sure
the multiple frequencies used to communicate with Launch Control and Mission
Control are all functional—the vehicle rumbles to life: systems power up, the
engine bells chime for launch. When the auxiliary power units fire up, the
rocket’s vibration becomes more insistent. In my earpiece, I hear the final
checks from the key console positions, and my crewmates’ breathing, then a
heartfelt farewell from the Launch Director. I go through my checklist a quick
hundred times or so to make sure I remember all the critical things that are
about to happen, what my role will be and what I’ll do if things start going
wrong.
但随着时间一秒一秒地流逝，我们当天的确要进入太空的可能性越来越大。我们在舱内也要执行一份长长的检查清单——检查并清理所有的注意事项和警报，确保用来和发射指挥中心以及任务控制中心沟通的多个频段工作正常——此时飞船隆隆的启动了：系统加电，引擎警报响了起来，预示要发射了。当辅助动力系统也点火之后，火箭的震动变得更加剧烈了。在我的耳机里，我听到主控制台的终确认，以及同伴的呼吸声，之后就是来自发射指挥的真诚道别。我快速浏览了几百次我的检查清单，以确保我记住了有可能发生的所有关键事情：一旦情况出现变故，我将承担什么角色，以及我该怎么做。
And now there are just 30
seconds left and the rocket stirs like a living thing with a will of its own
and I permit myself to move past hoping to knowing: we are going to lift off.
Even if we have to abort the mission after a few minutes in the air, leaving
this launch pad is a sure thing.
现在只剩30秒了，火箭就像是一个有自己的意志的生物震动着，此刻我才让自己从期冀状态转向认知状态：我们马上就要起飞了。即使飞船升空几分钟后我们仍可能不得不中止任务，但是离开发射架已经是板上钉钉的事了。
Six seconds to go. The engines
start to light, and we sway forward as this huge new force bends the vehicle,
which lurches sideways then twangs back to vertical. And at that moment there’s
an enormous, violent vibration and rattle. It feels as though we’re being
shaken in a huge dog’s jaws, then seized by its giant, unseen master and hurled
straight up into the sky, away from Earth. It feels like magic, like winning,
like a dream.
还有六秒钟。引擎开始点火，随着这股巨大的新的力量撼动着飞船，我们被向前甩去，整艘飞船倾斜了一下，然后又回到垂直状态。就在这时，传来了一阵巨大而猛烈的震动和轰鸣声。这种感觉就好像我们被一只大狗咬在嘴里，摇来摇去，然后被它巨大的看不见的主人夺走，径直地扔上天空，甩出地球。那感觉充满魔力，像是充满了胜利的喜悦，又像是一场梦。
It also feels as though a huge
truck going at top speed just smashed into the side of us. Perfectly normal,
apparently, and we’d been warned to expect it. So I just keep “hawking it,”
flipping through my tables and checklists and staring at the buttons and lights
over my head, scanning the computers for signs of trouble, trying not to blink.
The launch tower is long gone and we’re roaring upward, pinned down
increasingly emphatically in our seats as the vehicle burns fuel, gets lighter
and, 45 seconds later, pushes past the speed of sound. Thirty seconds after
that, we’re flying higher and faster than the Concorde ever did: Mach 2 and
still revving up. It’s like being in a dragster, just flooring it. Two minutes
after liftoff we’re hurtling along at six times the speed of sound when the
solid rocket boosters explode off the vehicle and we surge forward again. I’m
still completely focused on my checklist, but out of the corner of my eye, I
register that the color of the sky has gone from light blue to dark blue to
black.
那感觉还好像一辆疾驰的大卡车一下子撞上我们侧面。很显然，这些感觉都完全正常，我们之前得到过提醒，知道会有这样的感觉。所以我只能是“像鹰一样”机警地观察着，翻阅着我的表格和检查清单，盯着头上的按钮和指示灯，审视着电脑看有没有出问题的迹象，连眼睛都不敢眨一下。发射塔早已不见了踪影，我们在急速攀升，身体被紧紧地束缚在座位上，随着燃料逐渐消耗，飞船越来越轻，在45秒钟后，我们就超过了音速。又过了30秒，我们比协和飞机飞得更高更快了：两倍音速，并且仍在加速。这就好像是坐在赛车里，把油门一脚踩到底。升空两分钟后，我们以六倍音速疾飞，固体火箭助推器通过爆破与船体分离，我们再一次被向前猛推。我仍旧全神贯注查看我的检查清单，但通过眼角的余光我注意到，天空的颜色从浅蓝色逐渐变成深蓝后变成了黑色。
And then, suddenly, calm: we
reach Mach 25, orbital speed, the engines wind down, and I notice little motes
of dust floating lazily upward. Upward. Experimentally, I let go of my
checklist for a few seconds and watch it hover, then drift off serenely,
instead of thumping to the ground. I feel like a little kid, like a sorcerer,
like the luckiest person alive. I am in space, weightless, and getting here
only took 8 minutes and 42 seconds.
然后，突然之间，一切安静了下来：我们的速度达到了25马赫的轨道速度，引擎逐渐平静下来，我注意到尘埃正缓慢的向上漂浮。向上。我尝试着放开手里的检查清单，看它漂浮了起来，然后静静地向远处飘去，而不是重重地落向地面。我感觉自己就像个小孩子，像一位魔术师，像全世界幸运的人。我处在太空，处于失重状态，而到达这里只用了8分42秒。
Give or take a few thousand
days of training.
当然还有几千个日夜的训练。
* *
*
That was my first launch, on
Space Shuttle Atlantis, years ago now: November 12, 1995. But the
experience still feels so vivid and immediate that it seems inaccurate,
somehow, to describe it in the past tense. Launch is overwhelming on a sensory
level: all that speed and all that power, then abruptly, the violence of
momentum gives way to the gentle dreaminess of floating on an invisible cushion
of air.
那是我次进入太空，乘坐的是亚特兰蒂斯号航天飞机，至今已经过去许多年了：1995年11月12日。但是，那次经历至今回想起来依旧无比的生动，仿佛就在近前，以至于我一说起来，还觉得它就发生在昨日。从感官上，发射升空让人觉得无比震撼：如此高的速度，如此巨大的力量，然后突然之间，向前推进的强大力量一下子消失了，取而代之的是漂浮在隐形的空气垫中那种朦胧的感觉。
I don’t think it would be
possible to grow accustomed to such an intense experience or be blasé about it.
On that first mission, the most seasoned astronaut on board was Jerry Ross, a
frequent flyer on the Shuttle. It was his fifth space flight (he subsequently
flew twice more, and is one of only two astronauts who’ve ever launched to
space seven times, the other being Franklin Ramón Chang Díaz). Jerry is quietly
competent and immensely calm and controlled, the embodiment of the trustworthy,
loyal, courteous and brave astronaut archetype. Throughout our training,
whenever I was unsure what to do I’d look over to see what he was doing. On Atlantis,
five minutes before liftoff I noticed he was doing something I’d never seen him
do before: his right knee was bouncing up and down slightly. I remember
thinking, “Wow, something really incredible must be about to happen if Jerry’s
knee is bouncing!”
我觉得，一个人永远不会对那种强烈的体验感到习以为常，更不会觉得厌倦。在我的那次首飞中，有经验的宇航员是杰瑞•罗斯（Jerry Ross），他已经多次随航天飞机执行飞行任务。那一次已经是他第5次太空飞行——后来他又飞行了两次，成为仅有的两位7次进入太空的宇航员之一，另一位是张福林（Franklin Ramón
Chang Díaz，1950年4月5日—）。杰瑞能力出众，十分的冷静沉着，是值得信赖、忠诚、谦恭、勇敢的宇航员原型的化身。在我们的整个训练过程中，每当我不确定应该做什么的时候，我就会看看他是怎么做的。在亚特兰蒂斯号上，发射前5分钟我注意到他在做一件此前我从未见过他做的事：他的右膝盖在轻微的颤动。我记得当时自己在想：“天呐，如果杰瑞的膝盖颤动那一定会有什么不可思议的事情发生！”
I doubt he was conscious of his
own physical reactions. I sure wasn’t. I was far too focused on the novelty of
what was going on around me to be looking inward. In fact, during ascent, I was
checking tables, doing my job, tracking everything I was supposed to track when
I suddenly became aware that my face hurt. Then I realized: I’d been smiling so
much, without even being aware of it, that my cheeks were cramping up.
我怀疑他恐怕没意识到自己的生理反应。我确定他没有。我当时全身心都在关注着周遭发生的事情，根本无暇顾及自己的内心世界。事实上，在上升期间，我一直在检查各种表格，做我的工作，追踪一切我应该追踪的事情，就在这时，我突然感到自己的脸很疼。之后我意识到：我笑的太多，而我自己却没有意识到，结果我的脸颊抽筋了。
More than a quarter-century
after I’d stood in a clearing on Stag Island and gazed up at the night sky, I was
finally up there myself, orbiting Earth as a mission specialist on STS-74. Our
main objective: to construct a docking module on the Russian space station Mir.
The plan was use the Shuttle’s robot arm to move a newly built docking module
up out of its nest in Atlantis’s payload bay; install the module on top
of the Shuttle; then rendezvous and dock it and Atlantis with the
station so that future Shuttle flights would have a safer, easier way to get on
board Mir than we did.
曾经，我站在雄鹿岛的一片空地上凝望夜空，四分之一个世纪之后，我终于让自己进入了太空，作为STS—74太空任务的任务专家环绕地球飞行。我们的主要目标：在俄罗斯和平号空间站安装对接舱。我们计划利用航天飞机的机械臂，将一个新建造的接驳模组从亚特兰蒂斯号的载荷舱中取出；再把对接舱放置在航天飞机的上方，然后利用其将航天飞机与空间站对接，这样以后的航天飞机再来造访和平号空间站，相比于我们就有了一种更安全、更便捷的登站方式。
It was an enormously
complicated challenge and we had no way of knowing whether the plan would even
work. No one had ever tried to do such a thing before. As it happened, our
eight-day mission didn’t come off without a hitch. In fact, key equipment
failed at a critical moment and nothing proceeded exactly as planned. Yet we
managed to construct that docking module anyway, and leaving the station I
felt—the whole crew felt—a sense of satisfaction bordering on jubilation. We’d
done something difficult and done it well. Mission accomplished. Dream realized.
那是一个巨大而又复杂的挑战，我们不知道计划是否能奏效。以前从未有人做过这种事。事实情况是，我们八天的任务完成得并不轻松。有个关键设备在关键时刻失灵了，一切都未能按原计划进行。但是，不管怎样，我们还是成功地安装了对接舱，在离开太空站的时候，我感到——所有宇航员都感到——一种近乎喜悦的满足感。我们做成了一项困难的事，而且做得很好。任务完成。梦想实现。
Only, it hadn’t been, not fully
anyway. In one sense I felt at peace: I’d been to space at last and it had been
even more fulfilling than I’d imagined. But I hadn’t been given a lot of
responsibility up there—no one is on the first flight—nor had I contributed as
much as I would have liked. The difference between Jerry Ross and me, in terms
of what we could contribute, was huge. Training in Houston, I hadn’t been able
to separate out the vital from the trivial, to differentiate between what was
going to keep me alive in an emergency and what was esoteric and interesting
but not crucial. There had been so much to learn, I’d just been trying to cram
it all into my brain. During the mission, too, I was in receive mode: tell
me everything, keep teaching me, I’m going to soak up every last drop.
只是，还没有，还没有完全实现。一方面我感到很平静：我终于进入太空，而且比我想象的更尽如人意。但是，我在那次任务中，却没有承担太多的责任——没人会在次飞行任务中就担当重任——我也没有做出我希望能做出的贡献。就个人的贡献来说，我和杰瑞•罗斯之间的差距是巨大的。在休斯敦训练时，我一直无法从琐碎的事情中找出哪些是关键所在，无法在紧急情况下区分出哪些事情能让我活命，而哪些事情只是棘手且有趣，但并不重要。有太多的东西要学习，我只能尽量把它们塞进我的脑子里。在任务期间也是一样，我也处于一种接收状态：把一切都告诉我，教给我，而我会把这一切都记下来。
So despite having traveled 3.4
million miles, I didn’t feel I’d arrived at my destination. An astronaut was
something I was still in the process of becoming.
所以尽管旅行了340万英里（约547万千米），我仍没觉得抵达了自己的目的地。在成为一名真正宇航员的路上我仍在前行。
Space flight alone doesn’t do
the trick. These days, anyone who has deep enough pockets and good enough
health can go to space. Space flight participants, commonly known as space
tourists, pay between $20 and $40 million each to leave Earth for 10 days or so
and go to the International Space Station (ISS) via Soyuz, the compact Russian
rocket that is now the only way for humans to get to the ISS. It’s not as
simple as getting on a plane; they have to complete about six months of basic
safety training. But being a space flight participant is not really the same as
being an astronaut.
单纯飞向太空并不能使我一下子成为真正的宇航员。现在，只要有钱并且身体健康，任何人都可以进入太空。这种人可以叫“太空飞行参与者”，通常也被称为“太空游客”，人均花费2000万至4000万美元就可以离开地球大约10天，乘坐联盟号宇宙飞船抵达国际空间站——现在，这种紧凑型的俄罗斯火箭是人们能够抵达国际空间站的惟一方式。这并不像登上飞机一样简单；他们需要完成半年的基础安全训练。但是成为一名太空游客和成为一名宇航员确实不一样。
An astronaut is someone who’s
able to make good decisions quickly, with incomplete information, when the
consequences really matter. I didn’t miraculously become one either, after just
eight days in space. But I did get in touch with the fact that I didn’t even
know what I didn’t know. I still had a lot to learn, and I’d have to learn it
the same place everyone learns to be an astronaut: right here on Earth.
当后果至关重要的时候，一名宇航员可以在信息不足的情况下快速做出正确的决定。仅仅八天的太空之旅并没有奇迹般地让我变成一名真正的宇航员。但我确实触及了一个事实，那就是我甚至不知道我不知道什么。我仍有许多东西要学，我会和所有想要成为宇航员的人们一样，在同一个地方学习：就在地球上。
* *
*
Sometimes when people find out
I’m an astronaut, they ask, “So what do you do when you’re not flying in
space?” They have the impression that between launches, we pretty much sit
around in a waiting room in Houston trying to catch our breath before the next
liftoff. Since you usually only hear about astronauts when they’re in space, or
about to be, this is not an unreasonable assumption. I always feel I’m
disappointing people when I tell them the truth: we are earthbound, training,
most of our working lives.
有时，当人们知道我是名宇航员的时候他们会问：“那么，你不在太空飞行的时候都会做什么呢？”他们有着这样一种印象，那就是在发射的间歇我们其实就在休斯敦的休息室里坐着，在下次起飞前调整好呼吸。鉴于大家听说有关宇航员的事情时，他们不是在太空中就是在去太空的路上，这也并非是不合理的猜测。每当我告诉人们真相时，我总觉得我让他们失望了：我们就在地球上，训练，我们大部分的工作生涯都在训练。
Fundamentally, astronauts are
in the service profession: we’re public servants, government employees who are
tasked with doing something difficult on behalf of the people of our country.
It’s a responsibility we can’t help but take seriously; millions of dollars are
invested in our training, and we’re entrusted with equipment that’s worth
billions. The job description is not to experience yee-haw personal thrills in
space, but to help make space exploration safer and more scientifically
productive—not for ourselves but for others. So although we learn the key
skills we will need to know if we go to space, like spacewalking, we spend a
lot of our time troubleshooting for other astronauts, helping to work through
technical problems that colleagues are experiencing on orbit and also trying to
develop new tools and procedures to be used in the future. Most days, we train
and take classes—lots of them—and exams. In the evenings and on weekends, we
study. On top of that we have ground jobs, supporting other astronauts’
missions, and these are crucially important for developing our own skills, too.
从根本上讲，宇航员从事的是服务业：我们是公众的服务员，政府的员工，我们会代表我们国家的人民去做一些困难的工作，那是一份我们必须严肃对待的责任。我们的训练花费了上百万美元，我们所操作仪器的价值更是数以亿计。这份工作的本质并不是在太空中寻求个人刺激，而是使对太空的探索更安全，获得更多科学成果——不是为了我们自己而是为了其他人。所以，虽然为了进入太空，我们需要学习所需的关键技术，比如太空行走等，但是我们也会花大量时间帮其他宇航员解决问题，帮助那些在空间轨道上做实验的同事攻克技术难题，并竭尽所能创造新的工具和方法以供未来使用。大多数时间，我们训练、上课——特别多的课——还要考试。在晚上和周末我们也要学习。除此之外我们还有地面工作，支持其他宇航员的任务，这对提高我们自己的能力也很重要。
Over the years I’ve had a lot
of different roles, from sitting on committees to serving as Chief of
International Space Station Operations in Houston. The ground job I held the
longest and where I felt I contributed the most, though, was CAPCOM, or capsule
communicator. The CAPCOM is the main conduit of information between Mission
Control and astronauts on orbit, and the job is an endless challenge, like a
crossword puzzle that expands as fast as you can fill it in.
这些年，我扮演了许多不同的角色，从太空飞行委员会成员到休斯敦的国际空间站的运行主任都当过。做的时间长同时也让我自己觉得贡献多的地面工作是CAPCOM，也就是“宇航中心地面通讯主任”。地面通讯主任是飞行任务控制中心和在轨宇航员进行信息沟通的主要渠道，这项工作是个无尽的挑战，像一个你永远也填不完的填字游戏。
Mission Control Center (MCC) at
the Johnson Space Center (JSC) has got to be one of the most formidable and
intellectually stimulating classrooms in the world. Everyone in the room has
hard-won expertise in a particular technical area, and they are like spiders,
exquisitely sensitive to any vibration in their webs, ready to pounce on
problems and efficiently dispose of them. The CAPCOM never has anything close
to the same depth of technical knowledge but, rather, is the voice of
operational reason. I started in 1996 and quickly discovered that having flown
even once gave me insight into what it made sense to ask a crew to do in space,
and equally important, when. If one of the experts at Mission Control suggested
the crew do X, I would be aware of some of the logistical difficulties that
someone who’d never been up there might not consider; similarly, the crew knew
I could empathize with and understand their needs and challenges because I’d
been to space myself. The CAPCOM is less a middleman, though, than an
interpreter who is constantly analyzing all changing inputs and factors, making
countless quick small judgments and decisions, then passing them on to the crew
and the ground team in Houston. It’s like being coach, quarterback, water boy
and cheerleader, all in one.
坐落于约翰逊航天中心（JSC）的飞行任务控制中心（MCC）是世界上强大也是刺激智慧萌发的课堂之一。那里的每个人在特定的技术领域都有来之不易的专业知识，他们就像蜘蛛，对于他们的网中的任何震动都极其敏感，随时准备着扑向问题并高效地将它们解决掉。地面通讯主任从不会接触那种深度的专业知识，但是他们却是操作理性的发声器。我从1996年开始从事这项工作，并迅速发现，虽然只有一次飞行经历，但它却给了我一种洞察力，让我知道应该让在空间作业的宇航员做什么，以及同样重要的，何时去做。如果飞行任务控制中心的某个专家建议宇航员去做X，我就会意识到一些那些从没去过太空的人根本不会考虑到的困难；同样，宇航员们也知道我能感同身受，理解他们的需求和挑战，因为我自己也曾去过太空。地面通讯主任与其说是一个中间人不如说是一名翻译，不断地分析所有变化的输入和因素，做出无数快速的小判断和决定，然后把它们传给宇航员和在休斯顿的地面团队。这种工作就像一个教练、四分卫、送水的小孩和拉拉队员的结合体。
Within about a year, I was
Chief CAPCOM, and in total worked 25 Shuttle flights. The job had only one
drawback: when a launch was delayed, as they often were at Cape Canaveral
because of the weather, it could wreak havoc with family vacation plans. Sadly,
CAPCOMS cannot telecommute. Other than that, however, I viewed it as a plum
assignment, one learning opportunity after another. I learned how to summarize
and distill the acronym-charged, technical discussions that were going on over
the internal voice loops in Mission Control in order to relay the essential
information to the crew with clarity and, I hoped, good humor. When not on
console at JSC, I trained with crews to see firsthand how the astronauts
interacted and what their individual strengths and weaknesses were, which
helped ensure that I could advocate effectively for them when they were in
space—and also that I stayed up-to-date in terms of both training and using
complex equipment and hardware. I loved the job, not least because I could
feel, see and remember my direct contribution to every mission. After each
landing, as that crew’s plaque was hung on the wall at MCC, I could look up and
see not just a colorful symbol of collective accomplishment, but a personal
symbol of challenges overcome, complexity mastered, the near-impossible
achieved.
一年之内，我就成了地面通讯主任，总共参与了25次航天飞行的协同工作。这项工作只有一个缺点：一旦发射延迟——卡纳维拉尔角的天气状况确实经常造成发射延迟的情况——家庭旅行的计划就会泡汤。不幸的是，地面通讯主任不能远程办公。除此以外，不管怎样，我认为这是个美差，学习的机会一个接一个。我学会了如何总结并提取飞行任务控制中心那些充满首字母缩略词的内部技术讨论的核心意思，好让太空中的宇航员清楚无误地获得重要信息，同时还要不乏幽默感。不在约翰逊航天中心的控制台时，我就会和宇航员一起训练，亲身体会他们之间如何相互影响，以及他们每个人的优势和劣势是什么，这样在他们进入太空时我就可以为他们提供有效的建议——同时我也可以在训练和使用复杂仪器和硬件方面跟上时代的步伐。我爱这项工作，尤其是我可以感到、看到并记住我对每一项任务的直接贡献。每次着陆之后，全体宇航员的名字都会被刻在一块牌子上，悬挂在任务控制中心的墙上，在我看来，那不仅是集体成就的标志，也是个人战胜挑战，克服困难，完成几乎不可能任务的功勋榜。
When I went to space again on
STS-100 in April 2001, it was with a much deeper understanding of the whole
puzzle of space flight, not just my own small piece of it. I’m not going to
pretend that I wouldn’t have welcomed the chance to go to space earlier
(American astronauts were, understandably, at the front of the line for Shuttle
assignments—the vehicle was made in the U.S.A. and owned by the U.S.
government). But without question, being on the ground for six years between my
first and second flights made me a much better astronaut and one who had more
to contribute both on Earth and off it.
当我在2001年4月再次进入太空去完成STS-100号任务时，我对整个复杂的宇宙飞行有了更深的理解，而不再仅仅是我自己的那点工作。我不否认自己希望能有机会更早地进入太空（美国的宇航员可以优先进入航天计划，这一点大家都能理解，因为飞船是美国造的，并且由美国政府拥有）。但是毫无疑问，在我的次和第二次太空飞行之间，整整间隔了六年，这使我成为了一名更优秀的宇航员，无论在地球或是在太空，都可以对太空任务有更多贡献。
I began training for STS-100 a
full four years before we were scheduled to blast off. Our destination, the
International Space Station, did not even exist yet; the first pieces of the
Station were sent up in 1998. Our main objective was to take up and install
Canadarm2, a huge, external robotic arm for capturing satellites and
spaceships, moving supplies and people around and, most important, assembling
the rest of the ISS. The Shuttle would continue to bring up modules and labs,
and Canadarm2 would help place them where they were supposed to go. It was the
world’s most expensive and sophisticated construction tool, and getting it up
and working would require not one EVA (extra vehicular activity, or spacewalk)
but two—and I was EV1, lead spacewalker, though I’d never been outside a
spaceship in my life.
在我们计划升空前，我为STS—100任务训练了整整四年。开始训练的时候，我们的目的地，即国际空间站，甚至还不存在；空间站初的几个部分是在1998年被送入太空的。我们的主要任务是搭载并安装加拿大臂二号，这是一个巨大的机械臂，用来抓住卫星和宇宙飞船，运送物资和人员，另外重要的是，它可以用来组装国际空间站的剩余部分。飞船将继续运送功能舱室和实验室，加拿大臂二号将协助把它们放到指定的位置。那是世界上贵重也是复杂的建筑工具，把它搬上去并使其工作需要不止一次舱外活动（EVA，即extra
vehicular activity，也称“太空行走”），而是两次——而且我是EV１号，主要的太空行走者，虽然在这之前，我从没出过太空舱。
Spacewalking is like rock
climbing, weightlifting, repairing a small engine and performing an intricate
pas de deux—simultaneously, while encased in a bulky suit that’s scraping your
knuckles, fingertips and collarbone raw. In zero gravity, many easy tasks
become incredibly difficult. Just turning a wrench to loosen a bolt can be like
trying to change a tire while wearing ice skates and goalie mitts. Each
spacewalk, therefore, is a highly choreographed multi-year effort involving
hundreds of people and a lot of unrecognized, dogged work to ensure that all
the details—and all the contingencies—have been thought through. Hyper-planning
is necessary because any EVA is dangerous. You’re venturing out into a vacuum
that is entirely hostile to life. If you get into trouble, you can’t just
hightail it back inside the spaceship.
太空行走就像是同时进行攀岩、举重、维修一个小型的引擎，并表演复杂的双人芭蕾舞——同时还要穿着笨重的太空服，拿东西时不时摩擦着你的关节、手指和锁骨。在失重环境下，很多简单的工作变得异常困难。仅仅是用扳手拧开一个螺栓，就像是穿着滑冰鞋，戴着冰球守门员手套去换轮胎一样的困难。因此，每次太空行走都需要数年的精心准备，包括数百名工作人员以及许多不为人知、坚持不懈的工作来确保所有细节——以及所有突发状况——都被考虑在内。超级周密的计划十分重要，因为每一次太空行走都很危险。你要冒险进入一个完全不适合生存的真空环境。要是遇到了麻烦，你根本就无法立刻逃回飞船内部。
I practiced spacewalking in the
Neutral Buoyancy Lab, which is essentially a giant pool at JSC, for years.
Literally. My experience both during my first flight and at Mission Control had
taught me how to prioritize better, how to figure out what was actually
important as opposed to just nice-to-know. The key things to understand were
what the outside of the ISS would be like, how to move around out there without
damaging anything and how to make repairs and adjustments in real time. My goal
in the pool was to practice each step and action I would take until it became
second nature.
我在中性浮力实验室练习了多年的太空行走。这个实验室实质上就是个在建约翰逊航天中心的一个大池子。好大的水池子。我的次太空飞行经历，以及在飞行任务控制中心的经历，教会了我如何才能更好地分清轻重缓急，如何区分什么才是真正重要的，而什么是稍加了解就可以的。对于舱外活动来说，关键是要明白空间站外面是什么情况，怎样在外面移动又不会破坏任何东西，以及如何实时地进行维修和调整。我在那个大池子里进行训练的目的，就是练习我要走的每一步和我要做的每一个动作，直到这些动作其变成我的第二本能。
I’m glad I did that, because I
ran into some unanticipated problems during the spacewalk, ones I probably
couldn’t have worked through if my preparation had been slapdash. Ultimately,
STS-100 was a complete success: we returned home on Space Shuttle Endeavour
tired but proud of what we’d accomplished. Helping to install Canadarm2 and
playing a part in building this permanent human habitat off our planet—which is
all the more remarkable because it has required the participation and
cooperation of 15 nations—made me feel like a contributing, competent astronaut.
我很庆幸我那样做了，因为在太空行走的过程中我遇到了一些预料之外的问题，假如我准备不足的话，我可能就无法将其解决。终，STS—100任务成功完成，我们乘坐奋进号航天飞机返回地球．虽然疲惫不堪，但也对自己的成就感到无比骄傲。由于我参与协助安装了加拿大臂二号，并参与建造了地球之外的人类的这个永久居住地——后者更是一个举世瞩目的成就，因为它是15个国家参与并合作的成果——让我觉得自己是一个有贡献，有能力的宇航员。
That feeling didn’t diminish
even slightly when I proceeded to spend the next 11 years on Earth. I hoped to
go back to space, yes, but I wasn’t sitting around in space explorers’
purgatory, doing nothing. In Star City, where Yuri Gagarin trained, I worked as
NASA’s Director of Operations in Russia from 2001 to 2003, and I learned to
live the local life, really embrace it, in order to understand the people I
worked with and be more effective in the role. That experience came in handy
when, a decade later, I wound up living and working closely with Russian
cosmonauts. Not only did I speak their language, but I knew something about
myself: it takes me longer to understand when the culture is not my own, so I
have to consciously resist the urge to hurry things along and push my own
expectations on others.
即使后来的十一个年头我都是在地球上度过的，那种自豪感也没有丝毫的减退。我希望能重返太空，这一点没错，但是我并没有坐在太空探索者的炼狱里无所事事。从2001年到2003年，我作为美国宇航局的运行主任被派驻到俄罗斯工作，地点是在俄罗斯星城，也就是尤里•加加林（Yuri
Gagarin）曾经训练的地方。在这段时间里，我试着像当地人一样生活，真正地融入其中，以了解和我一起工作的人们，并让我的工作更高效。10年后，当我和俄罗斯宇航员紧张的工作和生活在一起时，那时的工作经历派上了用场。我不仅能说他们的语言，而且我还更深地了解了我自己：由于我面对的是不同的文化，我不得不有意识地控制自己的冲动，不去把自己的期望强加于人。
From Star City I moved back to
Houston to become Chief of Robotics for the NASA Astronaut Office during one of
the lowest points in NASA’s history. It was 2003, right after the Columbia
disaster; the Shuttle was grounded, construction on the ISS had therefore
ceased, and many Americans were grimly questioning why tax dollars were being
spent on such a dangerous endeavor as space exploration in the first place. It
seemed possible that while we might overcome the technical hurdles and make the
Shuttle a much safer vehicle, we might not be able to roll back the tide of
public opinion. Yet we managed to do both, a good reminder of how important it
is to retain a strong sense of purpose and optimism even when a goal seems
impossible to achieve.
星城的工作结束后，我回到了休斯敦，在美国宇航局处于历史点的时候，担任了美国宇航局宇航员办公室的机器人部门主管。那是2003年，哥伦比亚航天飞机刚刚失事；航天飞机被停止飞行，国际空间站的建设也因此搁浅，而且许多美国人都在质问，当初为什么要把纳税人的钱用在如此危险的空间探索项目上。我们也许可以克服技术障碍，使航天飞机变得更安全，但我们可能没法改变公众的整体观点，但是我们终却把两件事都解决了。那次经历不断地提醒我，在面对几乎不可能完成的任务面前，拥有明确的目标和积极的心态是多么重要。
Impossible was, frankly, what a
third space flight was starting to look like for me. But just as I had back in
college, I decided it made sense to be as ready as I could be, just in case.
And so from 2006 to 2008, I was Chief of International Space Station Operations
in the NASA Astronaut Office, responsible for everything to do with selection,
training, certification, support, recovery, rehab and reintegration of all ISS
crew members. Interacting with space agencies in other countries and focusing
so intensively on the ISS turned out to be good preparation. I got the nod for
another mission: this time, a long-duration expedition.
坦白地说，真正不可能做到的，是想象第三次太空飞行对我来说会是什么样的。但是就像我上大学时那样，我决定尽我的努力做好准备，以防万一。所以从2006年至2008年我在美国宇航局的宇航员办公室担任国际空间站的运行主任，负责所有和选拔、训练、认证、支持、恢复、修复以及重新整合所有国际空间站乘员相关的事。和其它国家的航天机构打交道，并且密切关注国际空间站的事务，使我做好了充足的准备。我获得了另一项任务的许可：这次，是一项长期的探险。
On December 19, 2012, I went
back to space for the third time, via the Russian Soyuz, along with NASA
astronaut Tom Marshburn and Russian cosmonaut Roman Romanenko. Crews on the ISS
overlap so newcomers have a few months to learn from old-timers; we joined
Expedition 34, which was commanded by Kevin Ford. When his crew left in early
March 2013, Expedition 35 began with a new commander: me. It was what I’d been
working toward my whole life, really, to be capable and competent to assume
responsibility for both the crew—which numbered six again in late March, when
another Soyuz arrived—and the ISS itself. It was reality, yet hard to believe.
在2012年12月19日，我和美国宇航局的宇航员汤姆·马什本（Tom
Marshburn）以及俄罗斯宇航员罗曼•罗曼年科（Roman Romanenko）乘坐俄罗斯联盟号飞船第三次返回太空。国际空间站的人员交接的时候是重叠的，所以新来的人有几个月的时间向前辈们学习；我们参与了由凯文•福特（Kevin Ford）指挥的第34号远征（Expedition 34）。当他的队员在2013年3月初离开后，第35号远征换上了一名新的指挥官：我。那是我一生都在为之奋斗的事情，那就是要有能力对两批次的宇航员团队负责——当联盟号飞船在3月底再次抵达后，人数又重新变成了6个，同时也要对国际空间站本身负责。这都是真的，却难以置信。
* *
*
As I got ready for my third
flight, it struck me: I was one of the most senior astronauts in the office.
This was not my favorite revelation of all time, given that I didn’t—still
don’t—think of myself as that old. On the plus side, however, people listened
to what I had to say and respected my opinion; I had influence over the
training and flight design process and could help make it more practical and
relevant. Twenty years after I got that phone call from Mac Evans, asking if I
wanted to join the CSA, I was an éminence grise at JSC—I’d only been in space
20 days, yet I had turned myself into an astronaut. Or to be more accurate, I’d
been turned into an astronaut; NASA and the CSA had seen to that, by providing
the right education and experiences.
当我准备好第三次太空飞行时，我突然意识到：我已经是办公室里的年长的宇航员之一了。我一直不太喜欢意识到这一点，因为我当时没有——现在也没有——把我自己想得那么老。年长的好处是，不管怎样，人们会倾听我说的话并尊重我的观点；我可以影响训练和飞行的设计过程并帮助把它变得更实际更中肯。在接到麦克•埃文斯（Mac Evans）问我是否想加入加拿大太空局电话的20年后，我成了约翰逊航天中心的大人物——我在太空只待了20天，但我已经把我自己变成了一名真正的宇航员。或者更准确的说，我被变成了一名真正的宇航员；美国宇航局和加拿大太空署通过为我提供正确的教育和经验，保证了我的成长。
That third mission, of course,
greatly expanded my experience. I didn’t just visit space: I got to live
there. By the time our crew landed, after 146 days in space, we’d orbited Earth
2,336 times and traveled almost 62 million miles. We’d also completed a record
amount of science on the ISS. Expedition 34/35 was the pinnacle of my career,
and the culmination of years of training—not just training to develop specific
job-related skills, like piloting a Soyuz, but training to develop new
instincts, new ways of thinking, new habits. And that journey, even more than
the ones I’ve taken in rocket ships, transformed me in ways I could not have
imagined when I was a 9-year-old boy looking up at the night sky, transfixed by
wonder.
当然，第三次的任务极大地丰富了我的经验。我不仅仅是参观太空——我要还住在那里。当我们返回地球着陆时，我们在太空待了146天，而且已经围绕地球转了2336圈，飞行里程超过6200万英里（约9978万千米）。我们也打破了国际空间站上完成的科学实验的记录。第34和35号远征是我职业生涯的，也是多年训练的顶点——不仅是通过训练建立特定的工作技能，比如驾驶联盟号飞船等技能，而且也是通过训练建立新的直觉、新的思考方式，以及新的习惯。那次旅行带给我的改变，甚至比乘坐火箭飞船的那次还要大。曾经的那个望着夜空沉浸在幻想中的九岁小男孩，怎么也不会想到，太空任务会带给我如此巨大的改变。
See, a funny thing happened on
the way to space: I learned how to live better and more happily here on Earth.
Over time, I learned how to anticipate problems in order to prevent them, and
how to respond effectively in critical situations. I learned how to neutralize
fear, how to stay focused and how to succeed.
知道吗，在去太空的路上还发生了一件有趣的事：我学会了如何在地球上生活得更好、更幸福。随着时间的流逝，我学会了未雨绸缪，以及在关键时刻如何有效地做出应对。我学会了如何化解恐惧，如何全神贯注以及如何获取成功。
And many of the techniques I learned
were fairly simple though counterintuitive—crisp inversions of snappy
aphorisms, in some cases. Astronauts are taught that the best way to reduce
stress is to sweat the small stuff. We’re trained to look on the dark side and
to imagine the worst things that could possibly happen. In fact, in simulators,
one of the most common questions we learn to ask ourselves is, “Okay, what’s
the next thing that will kill me?” We also learn that acting like an astronaut
means helping one another’s families at launch—by taking their food orders,
running their errands, holding their purses and dashing out to buy diapers. Of
course, much of what we learn is technically complex, but some of it is
surprisingly down-to-earth. Every astronaut can fix a busted toilet—we have to
do it all the time in space—and we all know how to pack meticulously, the way
we have to in the Soyuz, where every last item must be strapped down just so or
the weight and balance get thrown off.
我学到的许多技术都比较简单，只不过有些违反直觉——在某些情况下，跟大家耳熟能详的的一些精炼的格言所给的教诲恰恰相反。宇航员们反复得到告诫，说好的减压方式是把小事做到极致。通过训练，我们学会了注意事物的阴暗面，并想象可能发生的坏结果。事实上，在模拟训练中，我们学会自问的常见的问题是：“好的，下一个会使我丧命的事是什么？”我们也明白了，作为一名宇航员就意味着在别人进入太空时要照顾他们的家庭——为他们订餐，帮他们办事，帮他们提包以及跑出去买尿布。当然，我们学到的东西中，有大量的在技术上都很复杂，但有些事也确实简单到家了。每位宇航员都能修理坏马桶——我们在太空经常要这么做；另外我们都知道怎样精心地打包，在联盟号宇宙飞船上我们就必须这么做，每一件东西都必须绑好，否则就会让飞船失去平衡。
The upshot of all this is that
we become competent, which is the most important quality to have if you’re an
astronaut—or, frankly, anyone, anywhere, who is striving to succeed at anything
at all. Competence means keeping your head in a crisis, sticking with a task
even when it seems hopeless, and improvising good solutions to tough problems
when every second counts. It encompasses ingenuity, determination and being
prepared for anything.
这一切的结果就是我们变得很有能力，这对于一名宇航员来说是重要的品质——或者，坦白地讲，对任何人，在任何地方，只要想成功就必须具备这种品质。有能力就意味着要时刻保持危机意识，即使看起来毫无希望也要坚持不懈，在每分每秒都性命攸关的时刻，面对棘手问题要懂得随机应变。这种能力包含了机灵劲儿、意志力，以及随时应对任何事的心理准备。
Astronauts have these qualities
not because we’re smarter than everyone else (though let’s face it, you do need
a certain amount of intellectual horsepower to be able to fix a toilet). It’s
because we are taught to view the world—and ourselves—differently. My shorthand
for it is “thinking like an astronaut.” But you don’t have to go to space to
learn to do that.
宇航员拥有这些品质的原因并不是我们比其他人聪明（虽然，我们得承认，想修好马桶确实需要非同一般的智力），而是因为我们被教导去以不同的方式来看待这个世界以及我们自己。用我的话来说就是：“像宇航员一样去思考。”但是你不必非要到太空才能学到这些。
It’s mostly a matter of
changing your perspective.
很大程度上，你只需要改变自己的视角。
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