That’s one small strand for man.
A retired physics professor within the Midwest is planning to have his DNA launched to the southern pole of the moon when he dies, so it could be used for cloning at some point — and he’s not alone.
Ken Ohm, 86, of Bazaar, Kansas, told the Latest York Times last week that the probabilities for his bizarre death wish are infinite.
He pontificates that his contribution could eventually play an important role in an intergalactic zoo where his replica is caged as a human specimen.
“I’m living with the uncertainty,” Ohm added.
Ohm also enjoys the prospect, like that of the Republic Army from “Star Wars,” of getting a thousand versions of himself cloned — and maybe 1,000,000 more on the way in which.
Even when none of that involves fruition, the thought that generations from now one in all his descendants might take a look at the moon and pause to understand, “Old Ken has his DNA up there,” is enough of an inspiration.
Ohm — who taught for 50 years and penned several books concerning the moon and Midwestern life — is reaching for the sky with Celestis, which makes a speciality of sending Earthling stays and ashes on a rocket flight to space at “surprisingly reasonably priced” rates starting at $2,495.
A visit to the lunar surface or deep space is about $13,000 — barely over the common Latest York funeral cost of about $10,000.
Ohm isn’t the just one craving a Spock sendoff, either.
Astronauts, civilians and even skilled baseball players alike have committed to an orbital end with Celestis, which was established in 1994 and has since launched 17 “memorial” spaceflights.
The corporate’s next lunar flight leaves from Cape Canaveral on Christmas Eve to land on the moon’s northeastern end with stays and DNA.
When FDNY Battalion Chief Daniel Conlisk dies, he intends to have his stays sent into space together with those of his wife Kathy, who passed away last yr.
It was her want to have “our ashes mixed together and sent into space,” Conlisk, 76, explained.
While many final wishes upon the celebrities are sentimental and thoughtful, few rival the sci-fi dreams of Ohm.
A former baseball player who competed as a javelin thrower until he was 82, Ohm all the time fantasized about being a NASA astronaut in the course of the Apollo program’s heyday, within the Nineteen Sixties.
He blames his rejection on being too tall at 6’2″.
“I did all the things I used to be speculated to, except shrink,” he lamented.
Ohm’s everlasting aspirations come as final frontier pioneers look to experiment with conception in outer space.
A Dutch entrepreneur recently revealed his company is in search of to develop a human embryo in space.
