Quote, Houston, we have a problem, unquote. It
is, without a doubt, the most famous sentence
ever spoken in space. Oh, absolutely. It's the
ultimate catchphrase. Like, you burn the toast
in the morning, you say, Houston, we have a problem.
Your Wi -Fi goes down during a Zoom call. Exactly.
It is this universal shorthand for, you know,
something has gone terribly wrong and I need
help right now. It's calm, it's cool, and instantly
recognizable. It is incredibly iconic. It's totally
universal. And if we are being strictly accurate
about the history here, it is also a complete
fabrication. See, I had a feeling you were going
to say that. I set up this dramatic intro. I'm
channeling my inner Tom Hanks over here. And
you immediately come in with a red pen to mark
up the script. I have to. I mean, this is one
of those fascinating instances where our collective
memory, the things that you and I and everyone
listening think we know about history, it's been
entirely overwritten by pop culture. Overwritten
how? That phrase, exactly the way you just said
it, it was actually never spoken during the Apollo
13 mission. Not even once. Okay, let's unpack
this. Because we are going on a deep dive today.
And I can hear the voice in my head. I can literally
see the movie scene. It is just so ingrained
in our culture. What are you telling me? Is this
some sort of Mandela effect situation? Or did
Hollywood just pull a fast one on all of us?
It's a little bit of both, but mostly it's Hollywood.
The astronauts on board the Odyssey Command Module
back in... April of 1970, they said something
different. And the difference, while it might
just seem like a minor grammar nitpick at first
glance, it actually changes the entire psychological
context of that specific moment in space. All
right. I am fully ready for this. Let's do a
forensic audit. One of the most famous moments
in spaceflight history. Let's do it. We got the
actual flight journals today. We have the movie
script to look at. And perhaps most importantly,
we have the actual technical specs of the ship
itself. Yeah. Because I really want to understand
not just what they actually said, but why they
said it that particular way. Right. Well, to
do that, we really have to set the scene for
you. And the scene wasn't exactly what you might
expect it to be. What do you mean? Well, if I
asked you to describe the general mood on Apollo
13 right before the accident happened, what would
you say? Tension. High stakes. I mean, they are
flying through the void of space to the moon.
Actually, it was extreme boredom. Boredom. You're
kidding. No, extreme boredom. You have to remember
the context of the era. This was the third lunar
landing attempt. Apollo 11 was the huge one.
Right. Neil Armstrong. Giant leap for mankind.
Exactly. And then Apollo 12 proved they could
do it again, but with pinpoint precision. So
by the time Apollo 13 came around in 1970, the
American public had largely just lost interest.
Wow. Yeah, the major television networks didn't
even air the crew's primetime broadcasts. Ouch.
That is, imagine broadcasting live from deep
space and you get... Preempted by a rerun of
I Love Lucy or something. That is basically what
happened. Marilyn Lovell, who was the mission
commander's wife, she was actually sitting in
the VIP viewing room down at Mission Control,
and they couldn't even find the live broadcast
on the monitors in there. You're joking. I'm
not. The vice president at the time, Spiro Agnew,
had just left the room. The control room itself
was running on a skeleton crew. For all intents
and purposes, this was considered a totally routine
flight. Which is usually exactly when things
go horribly wrong in the movies. And in real
life, as it turns out. So let's look at the timeline.
We are exactly 55 hours into the mission. They
are roughly 200 ,000 miles away from Earth. Okay.
They've just finished that television broadcast
that practically nobody watched. And mission
control radios up and asks them to do a routine
quote -unquote cruise. A cryo -ster. A cryo -ster,
which honestly sounds like a fancy cocktail.
I wish it was a cocktail. It's actually a vital
maintenance procedure for the ship's cryogenics.
They had these massive tanks of liquid hydrogen
and liquid oxygen on board. Right. And to keep
the quantity readings accurate, they periodically
had to turn on these internal fans inside the
tanks to mix up the super cold slush. Otherwise,
the liquid stratifies and the sensors give bad
readings. Okay, so they're just stirring the
oxygen tank. That sounds incredibly routine.
It was completely supposed to be. So Jack Swigert,
who is the command... module pilot he floats
over and flips the switch for the fans in oxygen
tank number two and moments later the bang a
massive bang the entire ship violently shudders
now before we get to what they actually said
on the radio i really want to understand what
happened physically in that moment because if
you watch the 1995 movie it looks like a bomb
went off inside the ship a bomb effectively did
go off. And this is where the engineering history
gets incredibly tragic. Yeah, it turns out this
specific oxygen tank had been dropped slightly
during its factory installation years prior.
Just dropped. Dropped just a couple of inches,
but it damaged a drain tube. So to fix a draining
issue during a ground test just weeks before
the actual launch, the ground crew had turned
on the internal heaters in that tank for a really
long period to just boil off the excess oxygen.
Okay, that seems like a standard workaround.
It would have been, except for one tiny fatal
detail. The thermostat switches inside the tank.
were rated for the command module's standard
28 -volt DC power. Right. But during this specific
ground test, they were plugged into the launch
pad's 65 -volt power supply. Oh, no, I see exactly
where this is going. An electrical overload.
A massive overload. The switches essentially
welded shut. They failed to click off when the
heater got too hot, so the temperature inside
the tank unknowingly spiked to over 1 ,000 degrees
Fahrenheit. 1 ,000 degrees? Inside an oxygen
tank? Yes. It literally melted the tank. Teflon
insulation right off the electrical wires inside
the tank. So for the entire flight up to that
point, for 55 solid hours in space, they were
flying around with bare exposed wires sitting
inside a pressurized tank of pure liquid oxygen.
Exactly. It was a literal bomb just waiting for
a single spark. And when Swigert flipped that
fan switch to do the routine stir at 55 hours
in, the exposed wires shorted out and the spark
jumped. And boom. Boom. The resulting overpressure
blew the entire side. panel off the service module.
It physically severed the plumbing lines to the
other oxygen tank. It was a catastrophic structural
failure. So there is utter chaos on the ship.
Alarm lights are flashing everywhere. Master
alarms are blaring. This is the moment. Who speaks
first? Because in my head, it's Tom Hanks playing
the commander looking totally steely eyed. In
the movie, yes. Tom Hanks, playing Jim Lovell,
keys the mic and delivers the famous line. But
in the real timeline, if we look directly at
the actual flight transcripts, Jim Lovell wasn't
the first person to report the explosion. Wait,
it wasn't the commander? No. It was the command
module pilot. It was Jack Swigert, the guy who
physically flipped the switch. Okay, so Jack
Swigert gets on the comms. What is the exact
timestamp in the flight journal? We are at 55
hours, 55 minutes, and 19 seconds into the mission.
Swigert keys his mic. And he says, quote, OK,
Houston, we've had a problem here, unquote. Wait,
say that again. We've had a problem. We've had,
past tense, or if we are being technical linguists,
present perfect tense. That feels really strange
to hear. We have a problem feels immediate and
terrifying. Yeah. We've had a problem. Sounds
almost like, I don't know, hey, we had a little
glitch a minute ago, but we're checking it out
now. Precisely. And that grammatical nuance is
huge. It implies an event that is already. occurred
and concluded a singular past incident right
saying we've had a problem suggests something
happened a bang occurred and now we are dealing
with the aftermath of it it does not necessarily
scream ongoing, life -threatening emergency.
It's almost shockingly casual given that half
their ship just blew up. It is so casual that
Mission Control didn't even understand him the
first time. Seriously. They missed it. They completely
missed the urgency. Jack R. Luzma was the capsule
communicator, the Capcom, down in Houston. You
have to imagine his perspective. The telemetry
data on his screens is suddenly going completely
haywire, but the voice loop in his headset is
totally calm. He hears Swigert say it, but it
just doesn't register as a mayday call. Luzma
actually replies this is Houston say again please
again please the spacecraft is literally venting
its vital oxygen into the vacuum of space and
the guy on the ground is asking for a repeat
that is baffling it took about 16 seconds of
pure confusion on the ground Then, at timestamp
055 -5535, Jim Lovell, the mission commander,
finally jumps onto the radio loop to clarify
for Houston. Okay, what does he say? And he repeats
the exact same grammar. Lovell says, ah, Houston,
we've had a problem. So they both use the past
tense. We've had. They both did. And then Lovell
follows up immediately with the dry technical
readout. He says, we've had a main B -bus undervolt.
Main B -bus undervolt. Okay, I've seen that specific
phrase in the transcripts you shared, but I've
never really grasped the actual gravity of it.
It's dense engineering jargon. Yeah, because
to the average listener, an undervolt just sounds
like a flashlight battery running a bit low.
Why is it the very first thing he reported to
Houston? That is a great point, and it's critical
to understanding why they were in so much immediate
danger. The Apollo spacecraft didn't use standard
batteries for its main power. It used fuel cells.
Right, which work by mixing hydrogen and oxygen.
Exactly. You mix liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen,
and a chemical reaction gives you two things,
electricity and water. The crew drinks the water,
and the ship runs on the electricity. Now the
main bus is essentially the primary spinal cord
of the ship's electrical system. So when Commander
Lovell looks at his gauges and sees a main B
bus under volt. It means the heart of the ship
is stopping. It means one of the primary power
grids is completely dying. And because those
fuel cells absolutely need oxygen to generate
power and their main oxygen tank just violently
exploded, they aren't just losing the cabin lights.
They're losing everything. Everything. They are
losing the ability to power the navigation computer,
the thrusters, the life support systems. And
because the fuel cells make the water, they are
also rapidly losing their drinking water supply.
So saying undervolt is actually just test pilot
engineer speak for we are rapidly dying. Essentially,
yes. But notice the incredible discipline in
that moment. They didn't scream explosion or
fire into the mic. They looked at the instrument
panel, read the gauges, and reported the specific
data. Main B bus undervolt. This brings me right
back to the phrasing they used. We've had a problem.
It feels like the ultimate example of ironic
understatement. It truly is. And it stems from
this very specific, deeply ingrained pilot culture.
Most of these guys came from test pilot and military
aviation backgrounds. Right. The right stuff.
Exactly. There is a deeply held belief in that
community that panic will kill you much faster
than any mechanical failure ever could. If you
scream, your heart rate instantly goes up, your
breathing gets shallow, you consume more oxygen
and you stop thinking clearly. So the language
they choose to use actually becomes a tool for
emotional control. 100%. By deliberately using
the past tense, we've had a problem. And by sticking
to dry technical terms like undervolt, they are
psychologically containing the terrifying event.
They are actively framing it in their own minds
as a technical puzzle that needs to be solved
rather than a fatal catastrophe to be feared.
That makes so much sense. It really reminds me
of that famous story about the British Airways
flight that accidentally flew right into a cloud
of volcanic ash. Oh, I know the one. Yeah. All
four engines completely stopped mid -flight.
And the captain got on the passenger intercom
and just casually said, ladies and gentlemen,
we have a small problem. All four engines have
stopped. We are doing our damnedest to get them
going again. I trust you are not in too much
distress. I trust you are not in too much distress.
It is the exact same energy. Right. It's polite,
it's measured, it's calm. And it is incredibly
effective at keeping everyone, including the
pilot, totally focused on the solution instead
of the danger. Okay, so that establishes the
historical reality of the flight deck. Jack Swigert
said it first, Jim Lovell confirmed it, they
both definitely used the past tense, and they
were cool as cucumbers. So who messed up the
quote? Who exactly changed we've had to we have?
Enter the Hollywood screenwriters William Broyles
Jr. and Al Reinhart. They are the ones who wrote
the screenplay for the 1995 film Apollo 13. And
honestly, as writers, they had a major problem
of their own to solve. Which was what? The fact
that reality is often just really bad storytelling.
Fair point. They looked at the actual NASA transcripts.
They saw Jack Swigert saying, OK, Houston, we've
had a problem here. And they realize it drags.
It lacks punch. It is a bit clunky for a movie
script, isn't it? It's very soft. It is. Broyles
and a linguist named Naomi S. Barron actually
analyzed this exact linguistic shift later on.
They noted that the actual historical line simply
wasn't considered dramatic enough for a high
-stakes suspense movie. You really have to think
about the audience sitting in that dark movie
theater back in 1995. Well, the audience already
knew the ending. Spoiler alert for anyone listening,
they survive and make it home. Exactly. For the
moviegoer, there is zero actual suspense about
the ultimate outcome of the mission. So as a
director or writer, how do you keep the audience
on the edge of their seat when they know the
ending? You have to maximize the tension of the
immediate moment. So they changed the tense of
the verb? They changed we've had to we have.
Present tense. Houston, we have a problem. It
just sounds so much more active and dangerous.
It is highly active. It signals an ongoing, unresolved
state of emergency. It basically tells the theater
audience the danger is here, right now, in this
second, and it is not resolved yet. It puts you
right there in the cramped cockpit with them,
facing a crisis that is currently unfolding.
It's honestly amazing that just cutting two letters,
getting rid of the D in had, can totally shift
the entire weight of a scene. It shifted the
weight of the scene and ultimately it shifted
our entire culture. That misquote became so unbelievably
powerful that in 2005, the American Film Institute,
the AFI, officially ranked it. I saw this in
the notes. Number 50 on the list of the 100 greatest
movie quotes of all time. Right. But think about
the deep implication of that for a second. It
is a quote unquote movie quote list. But because
Apollo 13 is a historical biopic. Because it's
heavily marketed as a quote unquote true story.
The general public completely conflated the movie
script with the historical flight transcript.
The movie version basically cannibalized reality.
Exactly. The fiction replaced the fact. It's
like the movie became the official historical
record. I guarantee if you ask a random person
on the street today, they will bet their house
that Tom Hanks exact line is what was really
said in space. And honestly, can you really blame
them? The movie. perfectly portrays the emotional
truth of the situation, even if it slightly fudges
the factual truth. That's a good way to look
at it. The true emotion in that tiny capsule
was, we have a problem. The historical fact was,
we've had a problem. That is a really interesting
distinction to make. The screenwriters explicitly
prioritized the visceral feeling of the danger
over the dry accuracy of the radio log. They
did. And on top of changing the grammar, they
gave the famous line to the commander, Tom Hanks
playing Jim Lovell, instead of the pilot, Jack
Swigert. Why do you think they did that? Was
it just Hollywood politics because Tom Hanks
was the big A -list star? Partly, yes. You give
the best lines to your leading man. But also,
narratively speaking, the commander is the definitive
father figure of the mission. It feels much heavier
and more authoritative coming from him. But because
of that, poor Jack Swigert really gets the short
end of the stick in popular history. He really
does. He's the one who actually sat in the seat,
physically saw the master warning light illuminate,
understood the failing electrical systems, and
made the brave call to Houston. But Jim Lovell
gets all the glory in the movie. It is tough
being the command module pilot. You're basically
the designated bus driver while everyone else
gets to go walk on the moon. And in this specific
case, you're the guy who bravely reported the
deadly explosion, but the other guy gets the
famous T -shirt slogan. You know, digging into
this technical side, the fuel cells, the welded
heater switches, the melting Teflon. It makes
the absolute calmness of the real transcript,
quote, even more impressive to me. It really
is staggering. I mean, Swigert and Lovell must
have known deep down. looking at those primary
voltage readings rapidly dropping to zero, that
this wasn't just some sensor glitch. They definitely
suspected it was catastrophic very early on.
Lovell actually later wrote in a book, Apollo
Expeditions to the Moon, that when he finally
looked out the small window and physically saw
the vital oxygen gas visibly venting out into
space. Which happened, what, about 15 minutes
after the bang? Yeah, about 15 minutes later,
Lovell wrote that seeing that gas venting is
when the, quote, not in a stomach. really tightened.
That is the exact moment he knew for sure the
problem wasn't an instrument glitch. It was a
fatal catastrophe. But by the time he looked
out the window, the famous radio call had already
been made. Right. And that is exactly what makes
the real transcript so uniquely fascinating to
read. It captures that very specific, terrifying
limbo period. Those few confusing minutes between
the initial bang and the undeniable realization
of their doom, we've had a problem, perfectly
reflects that initial uncertainty. They were
actively troubleshooting. They were working the
problem step by step. It's a master class in
crisis management, really. Assess the panel,
report the data, verify the issue. Don't panic
until you actually know what you're panicking
about. And even then, as we discussed, don't
panic because panic uses up your oxygen and you
suddenly don't have any left. That is a terrifyingly
practical point. Just chilling. So looking at
all of this, do you think the movie ruined the
true history or did it somehow save it? That
is the big philosophical question of this whole
deep dive, isn't it? I mean, on one hand, I am
a total stickler for historical accuracy. It
genuinely annoys me that we as a society are
quoting a Hollywood screenwriter instead of an
American astronaut. But on the other hand. If
Tom Hanks had looked at the camera and said,
OK, Houston, we've had a problem here and delivered
it with that super dry test pilot casualness.
It definitely wouldn't be on the AFI top 100
list. It wouldn't be a worldwide meme. It wouldn't
be printed on a million coffee mugs and T -shirts.
So you could strongly argue that by sexing up
the quote, by making it punchier and more dramatic.
The screenwriters actually ensured that the Apollo
13 mission itself stayed relevant to the public
consciousness for decades. Exactly. It is a classic
example of the Luke, I am your father effect.
Oh, right. Which is actually, no, I am your father.
See, we do this all the time with pop culture.
We collectively polish up history to make it
fit a better narrative arc. We naturally crave
those clear, dramatic beats. The real world is
often messy, it's filled with radio static, and
it's frequently grammatically passive. we've
had, but stories. Stories are active. We have.
And humans always prefer the better story. It's
endlessly fascinating to me that we feel the
need to artificially heighten reality to make
it feel real to an audience. The actual literal
explosion of a spacecraft halfway to the moon
wasn't quite dramatic enough on its own. We needed
to fix the verb tense to make people sitting
in a theater truly feel it. It speaks volumes
about how we process historical trauma and memory.
We need our heroes to sound exactly like heroes.
We need them to speak in bold, declarative sentences.
We don't want our brave astronauts saying, Houston
looks like a minor voltage drop on the B bus.
We want them looking death in the eye and saying,
we have a problem. It really is the difference
between a technician. and a warrior that is a
beautiful way to summarize it the raw flight
transcript shows us brilliant technicians the
hollywood movie shows us mythic warriors both
versions are true just in their different ways
so if you're listening to this we've taken a
close look at the sheer boredom right before
the bang the horrifying mechanics of a faulty
heater switch turning an oxygen tank into a bomb
and the subtle linguistic shift that went on
to define an entire generation's memory It is
a whole lot more than just a simple misquote.
It really is. It's an incredible glimpse into
just how fragile these complex machines actually
are and how remarkably resilient the human beings
inside them have to be to survive. And also just
how incredibly powerful a good screenwriter can
be. Never underestimate a writer armed with a
red pen. Well, before we sign off today, I want
to leave everyone listening with a final thought
to mull over on your own time. We have firmly
established that the movie version is the quote
everyone knows and loves. It is undeniably better
storytelling. But here is the question for you
to think about. If Broyles and Reinhardt hadn't
changed those two little letters, if they had
stayed 100 % faithful to the dry passive transcript,
would Apollo 13 be so widely remembered today
as NASA's great successful failure? Or would
it have slowly faded away into the dense history
books, just like Apollo 12 or 14? Does our lasting
memory of history depend on the actual monumental
event? Or does it entirely depend on how catchy
the catchphrase is? That is the ultimate question.
Are we really remembering the quiet bravery of
Jack Swigert, or are we just remembering the
screen charisma of Tom Hanks? Something to think
deeply about the next time you burn your morning
toast and find yourself calling Houston. Thanks
for joining me on this deep dive. It was an absolute
blast. Poor choice of words given the topic,
but you know what I mean. A pleasure as always.
We will catch you all on the next deep dive.
Stay curious.