FTL: A SpaceX Story

Prologue

It was a mild Californian night when the conversation of his grand enterprise had taken place. There were these young men and women, a few of them. The warm breeze at the cottage house relaxed the evening atmosphere; the indistinct chatter accompanied by insects' gleeful chirps and the sleepy aura of the earth. Half empty beer bottles and cans casually strewed upon the wooden bench beside the outdoor patio.

There was once a man who's thought to have done no others could have imagined or conceivably predicted. There was once a man who had made quite a name for himself.

The fact is, that even the young man himself – sometimes – admits that the driving force behind his ambitions had been shaken for more than once. Were his life to conclude, right there in that moment, he would have been remembered as a gifted intellectual, a sharp businessman and to-be billionaire, and foremost a loving husband. And should his name come up during a conversation between ordinary people, they would probably reach an agreement that the man was certainly successful, but not that interesting enough to stop them from moving on about their day.

But this young man knew that his life affairs were far from finished. His soul was so full of contentment and bursting with ambition. Sat down on the lawn chair, adjusted so that he could see both the constellations of the Northern Hemisphere and his party members without significant effort. The young man was watching his friends with a frayed smile, listening in on their conversations interlude with giggles and laughter.

What's that you've gotten there? A feminine voice.

Looks like a paper airplane. A different voice this time.

Are you kidding? It so does not look it. Have you had too much to drink? Or have gone blind? Another comment causing the rest to laugh mirthfully. What have you gotten over there?

It's not a paper airplane. Commented with authority. It's something better. Observe.

He had noticed the object that's now picked up from the picnic table. A strange one, it looks like an origami except the wing area is elongated and swept. The wing surface almost resembles the Concorde airplane, but the slats end abruptly on the edge of a would-be streamlined silhouette.

The protruding fold towards the front augments a set of smaller wings. A horizontal stabilizer, perhaps? The young man remained motionless in his seat, but he was very much intrigued with the mysterious item. The crowd watched intently as they gave test flight to the engineer's odd paper creation.

To the crowd anticipation, the flight conductor launched the paper airplane. It flew and gained altitude like a real plane.

Actually aerodynamic, the young man smirked as he watched, still in his seat.

As the plane reached the highest point of its trajectory, where it is most likely to lose stability; the back-wing piece along the thin but firmly folded stretch supporting the small wings snapped away as a separate assembly.

Beautiful, a two-tiered launch system with automatic staging! The young man was much delighted with the casual and sudden advent of rocket science.

But that wasn't all of it. The small wings, now gaining autonomy, continued to slowly descend and flew so far away that it was hard to see its reflection of the yard lights.

Meanwhile, the large wing assembly had been captured by the night breeze, tilting its direction with sleekish grace, gently landing not far from the launch site. Amazing! He laughed out loud and realized that he's gotten several feet away from his chair without realizing. As with his peers, the young man was thoroughly impressed with the demonstration of this peculiar yet impressive paper rocket and its payload. He was inspired, the scene had struck an accord with his vision. He needed to see this. The night was young and infinitely optimistic.

The year was 2002, 2 months before the foundation of SpaceX.

And the young man's name is Elon Musk.