Musings · Field notes · May 2024, recut Sept 2026

We tried to build a space shield

An honest account of an ambitious proposal, a rejection letter, and a better mission.

A small satellite with layered bumper panels above Earth’s night side, deflecting a micrometeor streak.
Illustration — the little shield that applied.

In early 2024, the studio did something that still sounds improbable out loud: we proposed an experiment to the International Space Station. The concept was an advanced Whipple shield — spacecraft micrometeoroid armor — combining cold-welded titanium (metals bond naturally in vacuum) with self-healing composites designed to close their own microfractures. We submitted it to the ISS National Laboratory's research announcement (NLRA 2024-6), with early field-test assemblies that really did stop high-velocity projectiles.

On May 29, 2024, the answer came back: rejected.

What the reviewers said

The feedback was candid and, in hindsight, correct. The concept lacked sufficient technical detail and a clear rationale for why it required the space environment. The economics weren't demonstrated. No implementation partner had been identified, and the cost estimates were unrealistic. In short: the idea was too ambitious for the stage we were at.

Why we stopped instead of resubmitting

  1. Science requires patience and rigor. The proposal was imaginative but not grounded in the stepwise discipline NASA and CASIS rightly expect.
  2. AI wasn't ready to lead the work. It helped us draft and model — but it cannot carry the scientific method, peer review, or deep engineering judgment. We learned the limit by leaning on it.
  3. Our mission is design that inspires joy. Somewhere between the materials tests and the rejection letter, it became clear the studio's best work happens at human scale — where iteration and imagination matter more than orbital mechanics.

The rejection wasn't the end of an idea. It was the beginning of a more honest one.

What it bought us

We learned how the NLRA process actually works. We learned, precisely, where AI assistance ends and human justification begins — a lesson now written into every step of the studio's process. And we learned to keep failures on the record: this article stays up for the same reason the work ledger keeps its "not implemented" row. A studio that only shows its wins is showing you marketing.

The pivot that followed is the bench you can see today: the consulting practice, the objects headed for the store, and a game about ordinary life — built by the same hands that once tested spacecraft armor in a field, and happier for the trade. Failure, embraced honestly, is how the work gets somewhere worth going.