MISTAKE

Low Earth orbit may start issuing queue numbers

A discussion draft circulating among orbital coordination bodies would hand out launch windows by numbered slot. The number itself would be free. The right to stand in the queue would be priced by an underwriter.

SATIREBy 20405 min read
A mission control room at night where a wall display shows a numbered launch sequence beside an orbital debris map.

Under a draft framework now circulating among orbital coordination bodies, access to the busiest shells of low Earth orbit would in future be handed out the way a crowded counter hands out attention: by number. An operator would request a window, receive a position in a sequence, and wait for it. The document runs to some ninety pages and never once uses the word queue, preferring temporal deconfliction sequence, which is a queue.

The regulatory half of the proposal is almost dull. Each altitude band would be assigned a working figure for how many active objects it can hold before collision-avoidance traffic stops being manageable, and launches would be sequenced against that figure. Operators with propulsion, reliable tracking and a credible disposal plan would move up the list. Operators without would be told, politely and in writing, when there might be room.

The clause that would actually matter sits three chapters later, where it attracts no attention at all. To hold a slot, an operator would have to carry third-party liability cover for the debris its hardware might one day create. The queue number would cost nothing. The insurance required to stand in the queue would be repriced every year by people who read the debris reports more carefully than most regulators do.

“We would not be pricing access to orbit,” a spokesperson for the drafting body would be expected to say. “We would be publishing a sequence. What it costs to remain in that sequence is a commercial matter between an operator and its underwriter.” The sentence would be technically accurate, and would do an extraordinary amount of work.

From there the arithmetic is simple. A constellation that can dodge reliably and clear its orbit quickly would be cheap to insure, and would fly. A constellation that cannot would face a premium that functions as a prohibition without anyone having to write one. Orbital policy would be set, in practice, by an actuarial table that no parliament has debated and no delegation has voted on — with the regulator in the role of the clerk who calls the next number.

Objections would arrive from both ends at once. Smaller national programmes would argue that a market in premiums quietly converts having launched early into a permanent right, since the operators who filled the shell would be the ones best placed to insure against it. Insurers would raise the opposite worry: debris risk is correlated, and a cascade is precisely the event in which every policy in the book pays out on the same afternoon. That is the kind of exposure the industry has historically priced by declining to offer it.

None of this exists. There is no sequence, no carrying figure, no premium schedule. There are collision-avoidance manoeuvres, deorbit deadlines, and an annual report on the orbital environment that becomes slightly more uncomfortable to read each year — which is roughly how every insurance market in history has started.

This story is satire: it describes a hypothetical future, not a real event.

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We wrote it in 2021

One day the junior developer's main skill could be describing the problem clearly enough for the machine to solve it.

What actually happened

Reality caught up in 2025

AI coding assistants are built into mainstream development tools, and producing code from a plain-language description is now a routine part of professional software work.

Vendor product documentation and developer surveys on assistant adoption.

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How close we were88%

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