Welcome to Aaron Manke's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of iHeartRadio and Grimm and Mild. Our world is full of the unexplainable, and if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities. History books love to discuss space exploration in nationalistic terms. This is an unsurprising tendency. After all, the space race is one of the most famous chapters in the history
of the Cold War. In nineteen sixty two, President John F. Kennedy famously declared that America would put a man on the Moon. It was, in his speech, a way of bringing the pioneer spirit of America into the future. The speech, of course, came over a year after the Soviet Union had successfully sent the first man into space, and later one of the more iconic images associated with the space
race would be the American flag planted on the Moon. However, we can't forget that the realm of space exploration is now one of global collaboration. The most famous spacecraft is still the International Space Station, which is maintained by five separate space agencies, each belonging to a different country. The hostile environment of space is not as easily divided as an island or a land mass here on Earth. Like the ships that set sails centuries ago, spacecraft are cobbled
together from different pieces. Only, instead of a mast and sales that are constructed at different ports, we have entire engineering systems that require rigorous testing to perfect. In the early nineteen seventies, NASA was in the early stages of their Shuttle program. Its purpose was to create a spacecraft that could be reused in multiple trips out of the atmosphere, a space truck which could ferry cargo. The eventual design of the Shuttle would include a large cargo hold that
opened outward. It was an efficient system, allowing NASA to make the most of the shuttle's interior. However, a cargo hole that opens outward into space requires someone or something on the outside to receive it. They needed some sort of robotic arm to unload and deposit supplies and gear. The eventual solution to this need would be developed by a team of engineers working for the Canadian Space Agency.
NASA's technical requirements were very specific. The thing needed to function in microgravity and operate with a fraction of the Space Shuttle's electrical supply. It had to be resistant to the extreme heat of the sun and the extreme cold of night in space. The Shuttle Remote Manipulator System or SRMs, would be deployed for the first time in nineteen eighty one aboard the Space Shuttle Columbia, emblazon with the Canadian flag.
It was a resounding success. It could lift up the two hundred and sixty six kilograms of weight in zero gravity, all while using no more electricity than a tea kettle. The SRMs would remain in use for over thirty years, and its function was not only limited to hauling cargo. It could lift and deposit astronauts themselves onto different parts of the Shuttle, deploy satellites, and once they even put a pair of Imax cameras on the end of it
to capture the astronauts at work. July of twenty eleven was the last time this particular SRMs was used in space, although iterations of the design have been employed since. Its two successors were designed specifically to interface with the International Space Station and Lunar Gateway, which means that original team of Canadian scientists invented one of the most enduring pieces of space technology, and the device itself would earn an
official name that more properly recognized its origin. Shuttle Remote Manipulator System is a practical name, but it's a mouthful for most of us. To the public at large, the SRMs is known simply as the Canada arm. Its successors would be Canada ARM two, developed in two thousand and one, and Canada ARM three, developed in twenty twenty four. So if the thought of the space race fills you with
national pride, you're not the only one. The final frontier is one of many flags, many nations, and a whole lot of empty space. When you travel beyond the bounds of our little blue planet, it's best not to go there alone. Give us salute to Canada for making greater flexibility in space possible, and thanks to those engineers and their robotic arm our, spacecraft are a little more handy.
In his groundbreaking pop science book Pale Blue Dot, the famed astronomer, TV personality and science communicator Carl Sagan reflected on the Moon's constant presence in our skies. It was there when our ancestors first descend from the trees into the savannahs, he said, when we learned to walk upright, when we first devised stone tools, when we domesticated fire, when we invented agriculture and built cities and set out
to subdue the earth. For the past four point five billion years, the moon has been our nightly companion, watching over us from the heavens. But that doesn't guarantee that it will always be there or never change. In fact, not too long ago, the US military came within a hair trigger of blowing it up. It was the late nineteen fifties, the height of the Cold War, and America was embroiled in a space race with the Soviet Union. Both countries top scientists were hell bent on one upping
the other, and the United States was losing. In nineteen fifty eight, the Soviets launched Sputnik, the first artificial satellite into orbit. Americans were desperate for a rebuttal something big, bold and visible. More satellites would feel like old news, and the technology to put a man on the Moon was still years away. That's when the Air Force settled on a plan with significantly more oomph. We would nuke the Moon as they saw detonating in nuclear warhead on
the Moon would achieve two things. First, it would demonstrate American military might and control over space, and second, it would create a massive explosion visible from Earth, proving US dominance to the world and more importantly, to the Soviets. This proposal, internally known as Project A one nineteen, called for a nuclear warhead roughly the size of the one dropped on Hiroshima, to be launched at the Moon's surface.
The Air Force was particularly interested in detonating on the dark side of the Moon, where the flash would be the brightest. Ideally, the mushroom cloud could be back lit by the sun, creating a spectacular show. It sounds like something out of a cheesy sci fi movie, but the military was dead serious. They even hired some of the country's top astronomers and physicists to work out the details.
Many of those scientists balked at what they'd been asked to do, fearing that nuclear radiation would permanently contaminate the la lunar environment, which had been untouched for billions of years. It would never be possible to study samples of the Moon before it was bombed, and landing on the surface
would be riskier in the decades to come. There were also fears that radioactive debris would fall back on the Earth, or that the explosion might affect the Moon's orbit, but the science suggested that both of these were unlikely, so the military wasn't concerned. No, they were far more focused on the pr angle. Specifically, they worried that the explosion would damage the man in the moon, the faint impressions
that people have long interpreted as a human face. Ultimately, though, the project was scrapped for an even more shallow reason. The scientists working on the project convinced military brass that the visual demonstration wouldn't be nearly as impressive as they'd hoped for. The Moon doesn't have an atmosphere, so there would be no dramatic fireball or shockwave, just a silent burst of light followed by a lot of dust, a far cry from the breathtaking show of might that the
US Air Force was hoping for. Soh the project was canceled and the US focused on a less violent lunar goal. When Apollo eleven landed on the Moon in nineteen sixty nine, America won the space race without blowing up any celestial bodies, and no one was more relieved than the scientists who worked on Project A one nineteen. One of those men
was a recent college grad named Carl Sagan. The young astronomer would eventually become one of the most recognizable scientists of the twentieth century, hosting the show Cosmos, writing influential books, and helping popularize space science. And we can speculate that he may have gained his deep appreciation for our lunar partner while working on that top secret Project A one nineteen. After all, he was one of the few people on Earth who knew just how close we came to blowing
up the Moon. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. This show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the Worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.