I have been standing in cosmonautics museums again, filling a notebook with orbital modules and life-support diagrams like a student who wandered into the wrong degree. The exhibits are generous with hardware: descent capsules you can walk around, docking assemblies in cutaway, the beautiful brutal plumbing of keeping a human alive where nothing wants them alive.
What the exhibits do not answer is what I actually came for. The placards give thrust figures and mission dates. They do not say what the flight surgeons worried about at three in the morning, or what the medical files recorded when a body came back changed, or who exactly ran the experiments that never made it onto a placard at all. The gap between the machine and the medicine is where my questions live, and the museum politely pretends it is not there.
So the notebook has two kinds of pages now: diagrams copied from the displays, and lists of questions the displays refused. The second kind is longer. I suspect the second kind is the book.
Related: Secret Dawn - Among the Stars