And people will -- if the response to Aldrin's international appearances is any indication. Circling the globe on a grueling schedule, Aldrin pitches his vision at any venue that will have him. The month before our meeting, he'd made two speaking trips to Europe; a few weeks after, he was the featured guest at the National Press Club in Washington.

Unfortunately, wishing on a star -- even at the National Press Club -- doesn't make something so. Aldrin's ideas are compelling, and his science is robust -- but the obstacles he faces are daunting. To begin with, there's the matter of investment. If private companies aren't ready to design LFBBs individually, they're unlikely to hand Aldrin the money to do it. And though he's personally approached a handful of venture capitalists, Aldrin finds himself trapped in a time-worn Catch-22: Everyone wants to know who else is investing before they put up their own ante. At present, StarBooster's bottom line is decidedly sub-orbital.

Finally, the sad fact remains: The majority of citizens are quite content to "explore strange new worlds" simply by turning on their televisions. Though opinion polls show large public enthusiasm for the space program, only a small minority of voters favor its expansion. In recent polls, only 8 percent said they would increase funding for space exploration. Faced with other choices -- like social programs -- most Americans put space exploration on their list of budgetary cuts.

Call it ignorance -- or a lack of imagination -- but political will depends a lot on public support. No matter how good the prospects for space tourism are, NASA's desire to build new boosters and space shuttles is sure to be an uphill battle.

As we return to Aldrin's suite, the gibbous moon hangs over Wilshire Boulevard. He appears not to notice. I ask if the significance of the moon landings -- an 11-year effort akin to building the pyramids -- has changed over the years.

"I think the lunar landing has mellowed with time," he says. "It's grown into peoples' minds, as history. Like when I'm talking to someone, and I realize I'm describing something that happened before they were born.

"But Bucky Fuller acknowledged that there was a difference between the people who grew up before Apollo, and those who grew up afterwards. Before, we lived in a world that had restrictions, limitations. The people who grew up afterward have a sense that almost anything -- even something as bizarre as going to the moon -- is possible."

But his own memories of the Apollo era remain bittersweet.

"Going to the moon is not a remembrance filled with great happiness," Aldrin admits. "It was a traumatic period of my life. We succeeded in what we were doing -- but there were some rough edges."

"So looking up at the moon isn't like seeing a picture of the Eiffel Tower and longing for Paris?" I ask.

"That's what the people think I should think. But I've got to balance the romantic image with being honest. There's not a longing; there's an identification. When I look at the moon now, it's no longer a stranger. It's a friend. I've seen it up close, in different, discrete phases. Of course it's still beautiful, and I appreciate it as much as anybody. But we've got experiments up there. It's dirtied our boots."

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