Today, there's some cadet, sitting in his academy dorm room decorated to look like his mothers basement who's only wish is to be a space geek. With his thick glasses perched on his pale nose, he is going to hammer out a letter on his Doritos stained keyboard to Captain Sandecker telling him that, as a cadet, he is ready to sit in and be a satellite jockey. He was a member of the rocket club, has his HAM radio license, and is well versed in all things Dungeons and Dragons. Captain Sandecker, reflecting on the reply from one each Mr. Toro, will answer this young, ambitious basement dweller that the Satellite Operations facility is no place for an amateur, radio operator or otherwise, hazards like hot coffee or tipping over vending machines abound. Discussions of Kirk vs Picard would probably not be understood by just a cadet. Staring at computer screens is for professionals so stop calling, texting, #leaveusthefuckalone. So, the dreams of a lowly cadet get crushed because of a prior Toro Fox 2 to the face (nice shot!) of an earlier wannabe.