The universe is much bigger than anything I can imagine.
For more than two decades, planetary scientist Dante Lauretta has pursued one of humanity's oldest instincts — to understand what moves through the heavens above us and what it might mean for life below. The OSIRIS-REx mission, which successfully retrieved material from asteroid Bennu, represents both a triumph of patient engineering and a reminder that the cosmos is neither indifferent nor entirely knowable. As Lauretta reflects on the mission in a new book, he invites us to sit with a paradox: the same sky that humbles us with its beauty also carries, in its quieter corners, the potential for catastrophic disruption.
- A robotic arm tested in weightless aircraft simulations had to perform flawlessly on an asteroid where gravity is so faint it barely registers — and it did, in October 2020.
- On the same morning in February 2013 that a meteor exploded over Chelyabinsk injuring hundreds, Lauretta was briefing journalists on a different asteroid passing harmlessly by Earth — a collision of timing that sharpened the world's attention on planetary defense.
- Bennu carries a small but real probability of striking Earth in 2182, and if it does, the crater it leaves would be four miles wide — a number that sobers even the scientists who calculated it.
- The loss of Puerto Rico's Arecibo Observatory in 2020 has left a critical blind spot in humanity's ability to track and characterize incoming threats, with no replacement currently planned.
- The OSIRIS-REx spacecraft, its primary mission complete, has been renamed OSIRIS-APEX and redirected toward asteroid Apophis — the work of watching the sky does not pause.
Dante Lauretta spent more than two decades guiding NASA's OSIRIS-REx mission — an effort to fly a spacecraft to asteroid Bennu, collect a piece of it, and bring that piece home. Now, with a new book reflecting on the journey, he's tracing both the engineering audacity and the deeper human stakes of what his team accomplished.
The mission's most critical tool was a robotic arm called TAGSAM, designed to scoop material from Bennu's surface in conditions of near-zero gravity. NASA tested it aboard a modified aircraft that simulates weightlessness through parabolic flight — the so-called 'Vomit Comet' — running more than 25 trials before trusting the device to work 200 million miles away. When TAGSAM finally touched Bennu in October 2020, its gentleness was exactly what the environment demanded. The collected samples are now being cataloged in what the team calls 'pizza trays,' each fragment assigned its own number, its own place in an archive meant to serve scientists not yet born.
The mission's political survival owed something to tragedy. In February 2013, a meteor exploded over Chelyabinsk, Russia, with the force of a nuclear weapon, injuring hundreds and damaging buildings. It happened the same morning Lauretta was briefing journalists on a different asteroid passing safely by Earth. The coincidence was brutal and useful — Congress grasped asteroid danger in a way abstract science rarely achieves. Planetary defense became the mission's second language.
Bennu itself carries a small probability of striking Earth in 2182. A direct hit would carve a crater four miles wide. Lauretta says this doesn't haunt him — it humbles him. The spacecraft, now renamed OSIRIS-APEX, is already en route to asteroid Apophis, continuing the work.
Yet the field faces a serious gap. The Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico — the most powerful instrument for characterizing asteroid orbits, sizes, and rotation — was damaged by a hurricane in 2020 and never rebuilt. Arecibo data was foundational to planning OSIRIS-REx itself. For Lauretta, its absence is not a footnote but a warning: without a replacement, humanity watches the sky with diminished sight.
Dante Lauretta has spent two decades building something NASA had never attempted before: a spacecraft that would fly to an asteroid, grab a piece of it, and bring that piece home. Now, with his new book hitting shelves, he's reflecting on what it took to pull off OSIRIS-REx—and what keeps him thinking about the sky at night.
The mission hinged on a single piece of engineering: a robotic arm called TAGSAM that had to scoop up material from asteroid Bennu without the benefit of gravity to help. To test whether this could work, NASA put the device through more than 25 rounds of trials inside a modified aircraft—the one nicknamed the "Vomit Comet" for the way its parabolic flights make people sick. Lauretta watched the TAGSAM work in that reduced gravity environment and was struck by how alien the physics felt. "It was so gentle," he recalls. "Everything kind of just flipped up in slow motion. It was like a snow globe, but you could tell the physics were different." When the spacecraft finally touched down on Bennu's surface in October 2020, that same gentleness would prove essential. The gravity there is so faint that it barely exists—impossible to truly simulate on any aircraft on Earth.
The samples that TAGSAM collected are now being cataloged in what the team calls "pizza trays," and the work of understanding them will stretch on for years. Each stone that looks interesting gets its own sample number, its own place in the archive. Lauretta describes it as a fractal process: you pull out one sample, and suddenly you're looking at thousands of smaller particles within it. The challenge is deciding what to study now and what to preserve for future scientists who might have better tools, better questions. It's a balance between discovery and stewardship.
But the mission was never just about science. In February 2013, a meteor exploded over Chelyabinsk, Russia, with the force of a nuclear weapon. Hundreds of people were injured. Buildings were damaged. It happened the same morning Lauretta was trying to explain to journalists that an asteroid called Duende would safely pass Earth. The timing was brutal and clarifying. Congress understood asteroid impacts in a way they might never understand the origins of life or the formation of planets. When it came time to justify OSIRIS-REx, Lauretta and his team leaned hard into planetary defense. The mission wasn't just about collecting samples—it was about understanding the threats that live in near-Earth space.
The spacecraft has since been repurposed. It's now called OSIRIS-APEX, and it's heading toward a different asteroid: Apophis. NASA has confirmed that Apophis will miss Earth in both 2029 and 2068, but Bennu itself carries a small possibility of impact in 2182. If it were to strike, it would carve a crater four miles wide and send rocks the size of sixteen-story buildings raining down across the landscape. Does this knowledge haunt Lauretta? He says no. Instead, it makes him feel small in the best way—humbled by forces so much larger than himself. "The universe is such an amazing place to explore," he says. "There are beautiful things, but there are dangerous things. Our place is very precious."
The field of asteroid detection has made real progress in the past twenty years. The Pan-STARRS facility in Hawaii came online and has discovered countless hazardous objects. The Catalina Sky Survey, which Lauretta's team operates at the University of Arizona, continues to improve. But there has also been a significant loss. In 2020, a hurricane damaged the Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico—the most powerful tool scientists had for characterizing asteroids, for measuring their orbits and sizes and shapes and rotation states. Arecibo data was central to planning the OSIRIS-REx mission itself. There is no plan to rebuild it. For Lauretta, this represents a critical gap in humanity's ability to see what's coming. "I think it's critical infrastructure," he says. "We should be talking about a replacement radio telescope." Without it, we're flying a little more blind.
Citações Notáveis
Everything kind of just flipped up in slow motion. It was like a snow globe, but you could tell the physics were different.— Dante Lauretta, describing TAGSAM testing in microgravity
I think it's critical infrastructure. We should be talking about a replacement radio telescope.— Dante Lauretta, on the loss of Arecibo Observatory
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
When you watched TAGSAM work in that aircraft, did you know it would actually work on Bennu?
I knew the physics were right, but microgravity is so foreign to us. You can't develop common sense for it. Seeing it in the Vomit Comet was reassuring, but Bennu's gravity is even lower. There was always that question mark.
The Chelyabinsk explosion happened right as you were trying to sell Congress on this mission. Did that feel like luck or like the universe making a point?
Both, maybe. It was tragic, but it woke people up. Suddenly, asteroid defense wasn't abstract anymore. It was real. It gave us a language Congress could understand.
You're cataloging thousands of stones from Bennu. How do you decide what to study and what to save?
It's agonizing, honestly. You want to look at everything, but you also know that future scientists will have tools we can't imagine. So you characterize carefully, preserve generously, and hope you're making the right calls.
Bennu might hit Earth in 2182. Does that ever feel like a weight?
No. It makes me feel tiny, which is different. Once you really understand how powerful the universe is, you can't help but feel grateful just to be here.
What's the biggest problem facing asteroid science right now?
Arecibo. We lost it, and there's no replacement. That observatory could tell us everything about an asteroid—its orbit, its shape, its surface. Without it, we're working with one hand tied behind our back.