I have been thinking about antimatter again. In June 2026, Elon Musk wrote on X that “a trillion times a trillion dollars” would one day be spent making antimatter to travel to other star systems, and NASA Administrator Jared Isaacman answered that he supports antimatter propulsion. I added my own two cents: aluminum was once rarer and more expensive than gold, until the right process and cheap energy made it abundant. Antimatter may follow a similar path. It is insanely expensive today, but history shows these patterns can repeat themselves, even if it takes centuries.
It is strange when you really stop to think about it. Every particle we know has a twin: same mass, opposite charge. The electron has its positron, the proton its antiproton. They are remarkable mirrors of one another. When they meet, they do not push or argue. They simply disappear together, turning their mass into a burst of energy. It is Einstein’s equation coming alive in one of the most spectacular ways nature allows.
I remember reading the old papers years ago. Dirac’s equation of 1928 already hinted at these shadow particles, and in 1932 Anderson caught a positron in a cloud chamber, in the tracks left by cosmic rays. It felt like the universe had decided to share one of its quiet secrets with us.
But one question never quite leaves me. If the Big Bang created nearly equal amounts of matter and antimatter, as many of our best theories suggest, where did all the antimatter go? Why is the universe we can see and touch made almost entirely of ordinary matter?
It is as if creation flipped a coin that landed ever so slightly in matter’s favor. We still do not fully know why. Teams at CERN produce tiny amounts of antihydrogen and hold it in magnetic fields so delicate that the slightest contact with ordinary matter would erase it in an instant.
Without that ancient imbalance, none of this would exist. No stars. No planets. No oceans catching the light at sunset. No one standing beneath the night sky, asking why the universe turned out this way. The simple fact that we are here means matter got to stay.
It always brings me back to the feeling I have when I look back at Earth from out here: a fierce, protective tenderness for our little blue world. It survived whatever that cosmic coin toss was. It got to become home.
What do you think, Samayans? When you look up at the night sky, do you ever feel there might be more to the story than what we can see right now?
Stay curious. Keep wondering.
Samafully,
Max Von Sama
First published on X by @MaxVonSama. Read the original article on X.
NASA announced 
Sally Ride joined NASA in 1978 and became the first American woman to enter into low Earth orbit in 1983. She died Monday after a 17- month battle with pancreatic cancer. Ride, along with Amelia Earhart and many others, are pioneers who inspired generations of women.
