Project Hail Mary and Artemis II share more than the stars

Have you ever wondered how many astronauts and scientists got lost in the immense universe?

Not just lost by physical distance, but also emotionally untethered. In the first few minutes of Project Hail Mary, that was one of the questions running through my mind. Were they lonely? Were they starving? How long would it take for someone to accept that that they are alive, yet permanently separated from the people who define that life?

Both Project Hail Mary and NASA’s Artemis II reveal a central truth, and that is survival in space is not purely a matter of intelligence, training, or technology, but of connection.

The fiction of being alone

Project Hail Mary is a film adaptation of the science fiction novel written by Andy Weir. Directed by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, it follows Ryland Grace (played by Ryan Gosling), a science teacher who wakes up aboard a spacecraft with no memory of how he got there. Confused and disoriented, he slowly pieces together his purpose in the mission and the unsettling truth that it is a one-way journey.

A science teacher. Light-years from Earth. With no experience of what it means to exist beyond it. How does someone like him survive… alone?

Well, maybe he wouldn’t. He’s full of self-doubt and doesn’t think he could do it, either. He sees himself as just an ordinary guy– someone whose entire world was small classrooms, skeptical students, and the humble joy of making things make sense. He never signed up to be anyone’s hero. Yet somehow, he has become humanity’s last hope.

This contrast between who he is and what he is forced to become highlights something deeper than the scientific setting itself. Because beneath the scientific premise is something far more human, and that is the fear of having no one while being somewhere you’re not sure how to survive or even navigate.

But his story was never meant to be isolation. Just like real astronauts, he was never meant to face the universe alone. 

In a universe defined by distance and silence, Grace discovers that he is not as alone as he once believed. Through an unexpected encounter, the film introduces the idea that companionship, empathy, and even kindness are not limited by language, form, or origin. They can exist in the most unfamiliar places, far beyond what we understand as “home.”

The reality of human connection

The film resonates even more when viewed alongside the real-world missions, such as the most recent one, NASA’s Artemis II. Unlike Grace’s “almost” alone journey, Artemis II represents a carefully planned mission to ensure that no astronaut faces the vastness of space alone. A full crew consists of Reid Wiseman (Commander), Victor Glover (Pilot), Christina Koch (Mission Specialist), and CSA astronaut Jeremy Hansen (Mission Specialist) traveled together, not just as specialists but as each other’s support systems while completing their 10-day crewed lunar flyby mission.

Years before the launch, they went to simulations that replicate not only technical failures but also the psychological strain of confinement, distance, and uncertainty. They are trained to communicate clearly, resolve conflicts, and maintain emotional stability in environments where even minor tensions can escalate. In this sense, preparation for space is not only about surviving the vacuum outside the spacecraft but also managing the emotional weight inside it.

Beyond the spacecraft they’re in, astronauts are never truly alone, as they have a constant line of communication with mission control. It’s a team that consists of engineers, scientists, and specialists on Earth who monitor, guide, and support them at every stage.

Being the complete opposite of Project Hail Mary, Artemis II is not just merely a mission of exploration. It’s also a model of what the opposite of isolation looks like– connection, compassion, and the assurance of having someone beside you.

The collision of fiction and reality

When placed side by side, the film Project Hail Mary and the Artemis II lunar flyby mission seem like a great example of parallel lines; they are too different to ever intersect, aside from the fact that survival in space is never purely individual. Both of them prove that having a companion is better than being alone. And sometimes, “companion” doesn’t just mean having another human beside you.

And the film pushes that idea even further. It suggests that connection does not have to look familiar to be real. It is not limited to shared language, culture, or even shared humanity. What matters more is the presence of understanding, the willingness to reach out, and to be met halfway.

In both fiction and reality, survival goes beyond the matter of intelligence or preparation, it’s also a matter of connection. Because even in a universe that feels empty, the absence of something near does not mean the absence of it entirely. Sometimes, it is simply farther away than you ever expected. And maybe, that’s the most “Amaze amaze amaze” thing about it.