That’s one small strand for man.
A retired physics professor in the Midwest is planning to have his DNA launched to the southern pole of the moon when he dies, so it may be used for cloning one day — and he’s not alone.
Ken Ohm, 86, of Bazaar, Kansas, told the New York Times last week that the possibilities for his bizarre death wish are endless.
He pontificates that his contribution could eventually play a crucial 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 having a thousand versions of himself cloned — and perhaps a million more on the way.
Even if none of that comes to fruition, the thought that generations from now one of his descendants might look at the moon and pause to realize, “Old Ken has his DNA up there,” is enough of an inspiration.
Ohm — who taught for 50 years and penned several books about the moon and Midwestern life — is reaching for the sky with Celestis, which specializes in sending Earthling remains and ashes on a rocket flight to space at “surprisingly affordable” rates beginning at $2,495.
A trip to the lunar surface or deep space is about $13,000 — slightly over the average New York funeral cost of about $10,000.
Ohm isn’t the only one craving a Spock sendoff, either.
Astronauts, civilians and even professional baseball players alike have committed to an orbital end with Celestis, which was established in 1994 and has since launched 17 “memorial” spaceflights.
The company’s next lunar flight leaves from Cape Canaveral on Christmas Eve to land on the moon’s northeastern end with remains and DNA.
When FDNY Battalion Chief Daniel Conlisk dies, he intends to have his remains sent into space along with those of his wife Kathy, who passed away last year.
It was her wish to have “our ashes mixed together and sent into space,” Conlisk, 76, explained.
While many final wishes upon the stars 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 always fantasized about being a NASA astronaut during the Apollo program’s heyday, in the 1960s.
He blames his rejection on being too tall at 6’2″.
“I did everything I was supposed to, except shrink,” he lamented.
Ohm’s eternal aspirations come as final frontier pioneers look to experiment with conception in outer space.
A Dutch entrepreneur recently revealed his company is seeking to develop a human embryo in space.