So, here I stand in Epcot’s Future World, about to embark on “Mission: Sickness.” It’s brutally muggy out, in the mid-90’s and about 90% humidity. The thick black clouds hanging overhead will open up in about 15 minutes, dumping liquid sunshine for the next 2 hours. Welcome to Florida in August.
The attraction façade is quite beautiful and imposing, with elegant sweeping lines. The greeter is dressed in a cross between the classic Epcot polyester and the jumpsuits from “Star Trek: Enterprise.” Past the greeter, there is a large relief model of the moon, with markers for landing spots from past missions. Plaques with inspirational quotes from scientists, philosophers, and historical figures line the curved walls. I would have imagined that they’d have some sort of memorial to the astronauts who were lost on the Columbia and Challenger, but if it’s there I haven’t found it.
Entering the Mission: Space attraction
Entering the building itself through the large Mars dome, the first thing you notice is the overhead information board. Fast-pass distribution and return times, and wait times for stand-by and single rider, are updated electronically. On a previous visit I was handed a swipe card used to track wait times. I imagine that they are still fine-tuning these systems. The posted single rider wait time ranged from 10 to 35 minutes during my visit, though my wait was consistently around 15 minutes.
The second thing you notice on entering the dome is the full-size simulator capsule, complete with mannequin rider. The greeter and video loop accompanying the capsule spiel a long list of safety and health warnings, the first of many that guest will receive. Video clips show guests on the ride (are they delighted or terrified? Can’t really tell) and the spinning centrifuge. People with every known malady except psoriasis are advised not to ride. No guest will ever be able to say they were not adequately warned about what this ride can do to them.
Sample capsule at the attraction entrance
What this display does not do is set up a story, or explain why guests are being strapped into a giant Cuisinart. Has NASA run low on qualified astronauts? Is the Earth doomed and we all need to colonize other planets to survive? Are we journeying to a future where space tourism is an everyday occurrence? Who knows? Get in line!
The main standby line begins with an unglamorous extended queue that wraps behind the building. The single-rider and Fastpass line enter the building alongside the main line, so you wont miss any queue themeing by taking those options. The “gravity wheel,” a large spinning display that echoes the space station from “Horizons,” dominates the interior queue. There are also a small number of other plaques and displays, including a moon rover and model spaceship.
Do not look directly at the gravity wheel!
Unfortunately, since the majority of the queue consists of this single room, there is simply not enough there to occupy you during the 30 to 45 minutes you might spend there. There are no video monitors or audio tracks to set up the story or keep you entertained. As a result, people simply stare hypnotically at the gravity wheel, which is a recipe for trouble down the line. The only nod to story is a sign at the start of the queue identifying the “ISTC: International Space Training Center” with a date of 2063. Miss this sign and you could be forgiven for thinking you were entering a museum of space travel history, rather than touring a futuristic training facility.
Once past the gravity wheel you enter a short corridor divided into 3 queue lanes. To your left are a series of plaques commemorating great achievements in space exploration, starting with the 1960s and ending with the “first family in space.” Again, miss this last plaque and you’ve missed the major attempt to establish the story setting. To your right is a glassed-in control room. CMs sit behind banks of blinking control consoles. Overhead, video screens show more guests enduring the ride, and external views of the centrifuge. I assume that these videos are canned loops, since the centrifuge never slows down and no one is ever seen getting on or off. If you weren’t anxious yet, the sight of these hapless guests eternally trapped on the ride might do the trick.
Spacesuits adorn the preshow ready room
Next we come to the loading chamber, a small room with four color-coded doors, each leading to one of the four centrifuge bays. Digital clocks above each door count down until the next loading cycle. Guests are led into their ready room, 10 groups of four at a time. The room is adorned with numbered circles to stand on, a display of space suits, and some very expensive flat-screen monitors.
The doors close, the lights dim, and we are greeted by Gary “you can tend the rabbits George” Sinise on the video screens. I always hear a couple gasps of recognition — “hey, that’s the guy from the thing with the other guy” — but no one seems to know poor Gary’s name. We are told that the ISTC trains astronauts for space flight, and that we will be experiencing a simulation, but the reason why all this is happening remains vague. Gary reassures us that it’s ok to be nervous, saying “even the heroes who went to the moon” were anxious. He then turns us over to his assistant, who proceeds to make us even more anxious by repeating the safety warnings again. We are also told that anyone not wishing to ride can proceed to the “advance training lab” for “mission control training.” I’ll get back to that later.
Actor Gary Sinise, doing his court-ordered community service
for the films “Mission to Mars” and “Imposter.”
At the end of the video we are led by rows to a curving corridor where we stand on yet another set of numbered circles. Another flat-panel TV (do you think they’d notice if I borrowed one?) lights up, and Gary returns to explain the 4 crew positions. Each rider is designated as a pilot, commander, navigator, or engineer. We are told that each crewmember will have specific tasks to accomplish in order to successfully complete the simulation. Then, Gary’s assistant returns with more dire warnings. She emphasizes the need to keep your head firmly against the headrest with eyes focused forward, implying the terrible fate that await the heedless.
Finally, it’s time to board the ride. The centrifuge itself resembles a large high-tech cousin of the “Scrambler” ride popular at county fairs. The capsules themselves are small but not uncomfortable, with large padded overhead restraints and cupping headrests. Each station has a joystick, two lighted buttons used for the interactive portion of the simulation, and a number of other buttons, switches, and knobs. Most of these are dummies, but a few produce noises and lights when flicked.
The capsule door is closed, and the console pivots towards the riders to bring the controls and video screens into position. It’s a tight fit, so all you claustrophobics have been fairly warned. The video screen snaps to life, displaying a clear blue Florida sky, and the capsule tips back to a reclining position. Lying on your back, you stare out the “window” up at the top of the launch tower. The launch countdown begins, and you feel the rumble of the engines below you. The countdown reaches zero, you begin to feel forward acceleration, and the launch tower starts to slide past you.
It’s go time.