by Jeff Pollard
“Excuse us for a second,” Hammersmith interrupts. She moves in to whisper in Kingsley's ear. “Try not to insult everyone who went to college.” She backs away.
“Can we cut for a minute?” Hannah asks from behind the camera, looking insistently to K.
“Shoot, Tim,” K says, ignoring Hannah.
“So, college is perhaps overrated, but what then qualifies you to be a rocket scientist?”
“Rocket engineer, Tim,” K says testily.
“Okay, rocket engineer, what qualifies you? Why should someone put their lives in your hands to fly into space?”
“I have been interested in space, solar power, electric cars, fusion, futurology, transhumanism, post-geography, post-humanism, post-scarcity, and so on, since I was a kid. And I've spent my life learning. Half of the graduates with engineering degrees, I wouldn't trust them with a potato gun, they'd probably blow their hands off. I read the same books they did, and in between reading those books I wasn't doing keg stands at frat parties, I was inventing things. It's your generation that's trying to put all their kids through college thinking that's the way you get a career, but you're all doing it, you're all sending your kids to college, so it's no longer a way of separating yourself from your peers. They all have degrees and no experience, meanwhile, if you really want to set yourself apart, don't go to school, don't waste all your efforts on tests and projects and binge drinking, go make something cool, and you'll be the boss instead of begging for some entry level work when you graduate.”
“You did briefly attend a graduate engineering program,” Tim says.
“I did,” K admits.
“How long were you there?”
“Why do you ask me questions you know the answer to?” K asks.
“I only ask questions I already know the answer to,” the men stare at each other. “I've heard you lasted only two days, why was that?” Tim asks. Hannah waves her arms frantically trying to get Kingsley's attention.
“Can I ask you a question Tim?” K asks.
“Sure,” Tim says, looking down at his notes.
“Did I bang your sister or something?” K asks. “You're getting really kind of assholish with these questions.”
“These are straightforward questions,” Tim defends himself.
“I'm not the only one hearing that sarcasm am I?” K asks the assembled crew.
“Can we cut?” Hannah asks, staring at K.
“Just give me a minute,” K says to Tim without standing up. The men stare at each other, neither wanting to leave their chair.
“Alright,” Tim gives in, getting up. Brittany and Hannah come over quickly to K.
“Remember the weather girl two years ago?” Hannah whispers.
“Need to be more specific,” K replies.
“Why are you keeping track of who he consorts with?” Hammersmith asks.
“I was there,” Hannah replies quickly without thinking. “Not like that.”
“What about the weather girl?” Kingsley asks. “Was it his sister?”
“Wife,” Hannah replies.
“Wife?!” Brittany and Kingsley both say. Hannah immediately shushes them.
“I don't bang married women,” K replies.
“You don't ask them personal questions or listen to them, so you just don't ever know if they're married, there's a difference,” Hannah replies. “They were separated, but they patched things up.”
“God dammit,” K says. “No wonder he's being a dick.”
“Let's get back into it,” Tim says, coming over and sitting back down.
“Try to make nice,” Hammersmith whispers. “It's about looking good on TV, not beating him.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” K says sarcastically as Hammersmith and Hannah retreat behind the camera.
“So, two days in engineering school?” Tim asks, starting back up.
“Two days was enough for me. I left to found PalPay. This was in 1997, when the Internet was just escaping the nerds' basements. I saw that this was more than just something for hobbyists, this was going to be the biggest marketplace ever. But for the moment, the Internet was stuck. Anyone anywhere could communicate with anyone else anywhere else, but they couldn't make safe transactions. So I started PalPay to allow cyberspace to become a true marketplace. At the time the only game in town were credit card companies, and you essentially had to have a real brick and mortar store to be able to do Internet credit card business. And the big banks wanted to take big cuts being the middleman that they are. I saw that if we could have a way to exchange money that's transparent, available to everyone, with a trusted middleman so you wouldn't get scammed, who only takes a tiny fraction of the exchange, then the entire world would flock to that system. It would help usher in a future where we are all connected in a single marketplace on equal footing.”
“In 2002, you sold PalPay for around 300 million dollars. Then you started three companies. Why these companies? Why not just invest the money, and relax for the rest of your life?” Tim Andersen asks as a breeze picks up. The building is new and futuristic looking: large rounded windows, solar panels, sweeping architecture. It doesn't look like a factory or an office, but more like a museum designed by Frank Gehry.
“I found myself with a huge sum of money, and some people would have relaxed. I think especially in America, the goal for most people is to get money, not to accomplish something, and I think it shows in the progress of America for the last twenty or thirty years, or lack thereof.”
Kingsley glances over, finding the stare from his CFO becoming more like a weaponized laser with every answer he gives.
“You don't care about money?”
“No,” Kingsley replies. “Money's fine to have, but it's not the goal. The first thing I did was start SolCity. Part of the problem with Solar is that it's a large up-front cost, but it saves you money over time. Most people don't have the resources to put the money up front, and are afraid that if they do, the things will break. Had the government stepped in with capital, they could have gotten solar power costs down, gotten mass production underway, which would have further reduced costs, and we'd all have solar cells on our roofs right now. But the oil companies have far too much power, and they keep politicians from doing things like that. So nobody's buying solar power, there's no mass production, which keeps costs high, and keeps the industry from going anywhere. So what I did was take some of my money and set up a factory to produce solar cells in mass quantity, and then rather than sell them, we rented them out. For the customers, they'll pay us per month, and it'll cost less than it would cost to get their electricity from the grid, and they don't have to worry about the panels breaking, because we'll replace them. That was a business model that would work right off the bat, with slim margins, but over time producing all these solar cells, we would bring down the costs and be able to make them cheaper and better. Solar still has a long way to go, but we've gotten the ball rolling. In twenty years we might look back and recognize that SolCity is what really got solar power to the masses.”
“Then you founded Tezla. Why electric cars?”
“I wanted to reduce our use of fossil fuels. Big auto didn't think anybody wanted electric cars. Electric cars were slow, heavy, not fun to drive, had short ranges, and just didn't seem like a car. People thought of them as glorified golf carts. The whole idea of a car is that it provides you freedom. Freedom to go fast, to go wherever you want. You can pick up and drive across the country if you want, and you knew there would be gas stations anywhere you went. Electric cars simply don't fit that bill. So big auto wasn't too interested in making them. The big thing holding back electric cars wasn't the lack of infrastructure, or the lack of range, those were problems, but the big thing holding them back was a lack of consumer demand. People weren't excited about electric cars. If I could change that, if I could make an electric car that made electric cars seem cool, then that would change the market overnight. We'd have the demand, and the market would adjust. So that was my goa
l with Tezla, change the market.”
“By making a cool car?”
“People like cool things,” K replies.
“Well, what about hybrid vehicles?” Andersen asks.
“Hybrids are a bastard middle step. They're exceedingly inefficient. A hybrid vehicle has to carry both the combustion engine and the electric motors and batteries. That makes it very heavy, and more complicated and expensive. All-electric is the way of the future. The problems with range, power, time to recharge, infrastructure, those problems will fall away once people want electric cars. But people don't want them until those problems are fixed. So that's where Tezla comes in.”
“Why make an electric sports car that costs $100,000 dollars? Why not build a practical car?”
“Nissan and GM came out with practical electric cars, and they were about as exciting as a vacation to Pittsburgh. That's not going to change people's perception of electric cars as slow, boring, and not yet ready. But the Tezla R isn't just some electric car. It's the fastest car on the planet. It goes faster from 0-100 than any other production car in history. That's how you get people excited. You don't make an electric car that's in the middle of the pack. You make an electric car that's the fastest car on the road, faster than any Ferrari or Lamborghini, and that changes minds. That will change people's perception of electric cars.”
“What do you say to critics that say Tezla should never have taken government bailout funds to produce a plaything for rich people?”
“I say that those people need to stop listening to those idiots on talk radio that rant about government waste and bailouts. We didn't take bailout money, we got a government loan as part of a program designed to lead to technological innovation. This wasn't free money, it's a loan, that we're paying back, and it helped us with the capital to get our production line up to the scale we need to start bringing costs down. In two years we're going to come out with the Tezla S, which unlike the R, will not be a sports car, it'll be a four-door sedan, and will be around $50,000.”
“But even that is for rich people, so how do you defend tax payer dollars helping to create new cars for the rich?”
“Tim, they didn't hand me the money, it's a loan that we are paying back. So taxpayers are investors in Tezla. That money helps bring electric cars here faster and cheaper. In ten years, I'm hoping that half the cars on the road will be electric, and not from Tezla, but from all manufacturers. We're licensing our technology, we're not hoarding it. And remember that the Tezla factory is in America, employing American workers. That loan program not only created American jobs, but it also makes America the leading creator of electric cars in the world. Not bad for a program that will actually net the US government a profit. So these 'critics' that say I'm some robber-baron, taking from the poor taxpayer, those people don't know what the fuck they're talking about.”
“No cursing,” Tim says with a grimace. “Do you wanna say that last part again, we can combine the shots in post.”
“No,” K replies simply, just to make Hammersmith angrier.
“We'll bleep that then,” Tim replies. “So that's Tezla and SolCity. What about SpacEx? How did you decide to start it, and why?”
“I think humanity should be a space-faring race. We should be living on multiple planets and moons, exploring the cosmos. And it's simply not happening. The first thought I had when I sold PalPay, was to send a greenhouse to Mars.”
“A greenhouse to Mars? Were you smoking something when you came up with that idea?” Tim asks. Kingsley bites his tongue on any number of snarky comebacks. He looks to Hammersmith and relents.
“I wanted to send up a probe, with a small greenhouse, dehydrated nutrient gel, and we could grow life right there on Mars. It would be the furthest life had traveled. We would have a great money shot of these green plants against a red background.”
“Why do that? That sounds like a stunt.”
“It would have been a stunt. See, I thought that the thing keeping us from exploring space was will. I felt that people, especially in America, lacked the will or the curiosity to explore space. It's as if after Apollo, they decided that we'd explored space enough.”
“Haven't we? Why spend money on space exploration when we have problems right here on Earth? Isn't space travel just a big stunt?”
“The idea that money spent on space is wasted, as if that money vanishes into space, is pretty stupid.”
“Stupid? I think it's a legitimate concern-” Tim interjects.
“The Apollo program was expensive, but it also created hundreds of thousands of jobs for a decade. Independent studies have shown that for every dollar spent on Apollo, the US economy saw a gain of ten dollars. That's billions of dollars in salaries for engineers, technicians, construction workers. That's absolutely focusing our resources right here on Earth. It creates jobs, fosters technological innovation, and inspires millions to be creative, to take the next step. People also think that NASA has a huge budget when it doesn't at all. The amount of money that America spent on the Iraq War could have paid for the Apollo program twelve times over. That's adjusted for inflation. Imagine where we would be right now if instead of invading Iraq, we took that two trillion dollars and gave it to NASA with today's technology, and we could have a permanent base on the Moon, and have people on Mars. If we spent that money on space instead of death, you think we'd be in such a recession right now? You think we'd be worried about China? No, we'd be out in front, leading the people of Earth to the stars. Instead we got the Iraq war. Spending money on space is focusing on the problems here at home. Sometimes people act like a dollar spent on sending a probe to Mars is dollar taken out of the budget for food stamps. We can do both.”
“So why the greenhouse on Mars? What's that going to accomplish?”
“I wanted to re-ignite people's imaginations and inspire us to go to space again. I penciled in 100 million dollars for SolCity, 100 million for Tezla, and 100 million to send life to Mars to meet that goal. So I started to price it out. The spacecraft, the communications, the greenhouse experiment: I figured out how to do all that for relatively little. But then came the rocket—the actual propulsion from Earth to Mars. The cheapest US rocket that could do it would have cost $130 million. So next I went to Russia to buy some ICBMs. Without the nukes, obviously. They would have cost me $15 million to $20 million each. But as I thought about it, I realized that the only reason the ICBMs were that cheap was because they’d already been made. You couldn’t make new ones for sale at that price. I suddenly understood that my whole premise behind the Mars Oasis idea was flawed. The real reason we weren’t going to Mars wasn’t a lack of national will; it was that we didn’t have cheap enough rocket technology to get there on a reasonable budget. It was the perception among the American people, correct, given current technology, that it didn’t make financial sense to go.”
“So Kingsley Pretorius, founder of PalPay, decided he'd up and reinvent rocketry, making it more efficient and cost effective, thus making space more accessible. Is that right?”
“Pretty much Tim,” Kingsley says with a fake smile, still picking up on that sarcasm.
“But how? How are you going to improve on something that some very big companies and very smart people have been working on for fifty years?”
“Well Tim, I know you're not a rocket scientist, so let me ask you. Why does a rocket cost hundreds of millions of dollars?”
“I don't know.”
“Why do you think they're expensive?” K asks.
“I guess the materials are expensive...”
“The materials cost of a rocket is around 2 percent of the typical price—which is a crazy ratio for a large mechanical product. For a car, about 25% of the price is the physical materials. So why is it that a rocket costs hundreds of millions of dollars, if the material to make the thing costs only a million or two?”
“So why do they?”
“Corruption. NASA and the DOD, if they want a rocket for a satellite or to send a
probe somewhere, they use cost-plus contracts. Those say 'we'll pay you 30 million dollars on top of however much it costs to make the thing.' So the contractors have no incentive to keep costs down. In fact, they are incentivized to make the thing seem to cost as much as possible without launching a congressional investigation. So they inflate the costs. In addition, these companies are extremely risk averse. They don't try anything new. There's an attitude that they won't fly any part that hasn't already flown, creating this weird catch-22 situation where instead of innovating, they end up using parts made in the sixties. One of our competitors, Orbital Sciences, uses rocket engines that were made in the '60s. Not designed in the '60s, but were actually made and have been sitting in Siberia since then. Then these companies hire sub-contractors that hire more sub-contractors. When NASA or the Air Force go to congress for approval for some new thing, they always find more support if they spread the project out. That's why B-2 Stealth bombers cost two billion dollars a piece. Those things are made and put together at factories in thirty-some states so they would have support in congress. If they were to actually build the thing in one factory, it would cost a fraction of that, but only two senators would get pork. They gotta share the pork.”
“You're fighting for NASA and DOD contracts right now. Are you worried that saying negative things about NASA and the government will hurt your chances at getting those contracts?”
“She's worried about it,” Kingsley says motioning to Brittany Hammersmith.
“You're not worried?”
“I'm not worried, I'm angry. The American people don't understand how these things work. So when I tell them that if NASA and the DOD used my rockets instead of the rockets they're currently using, I could cut their space budget by 70% without reducing their capability, the American people should realize that they've been had. The taxpayers should be angry. It’s infuriating. The Pentagon’s preferred approach is to do long-term, 'sole-source' contracts. Basically their goal is to give a company a monopoly. We’ve been trying to bid on the primary Air Force launch contract, but it’s nearly impossible, because United Launch Alliance, co-owned by Boeing and Lockheed Martin, currently has an exclusive contract with the Air Force for satellite launch. It’s a monopoly, which anyone who's played the game knows, once you lock up an industry, you jack up the price. There's no incentive for ULA to bring their costs down. They don't have any competition, partially because the DOD is giving these monopolistic contracts, and partially because ULA is a conglomeration built on dozens of mergers and hostile takeovers. Go back fifty years and ULA was dozens of different companies that competed with each other. They've all been bought up and consolidated. Boeing or Lockheed-Martin practically own every aviation and space related company in the US. These are two giants, and yet, they don't compete against each other, they work together to not bring prices down or innovate. It's absurd and it's the reason we're not going to the stars. But I don't put all the blame on them, a lot of it belongs on the shoulders of the government that allows them to do it, and uses these cost-plus contracts. And of course, a lot of the reason why this situation exists is because people who work in the government, the military, and at NASA who make these decisions, quietly leave and take lucrative jobs in the aerospace industry after they make these decisions. It's basically corruption, or the military-industrial-complex if you prefer.”
