The useless debris that floats around our planet exists and there's not much to be done about it. It floats around us and bothers us. It reminds us we've been here in space before. When we're in space, we float since there's no gravity. There's no up and down. There's really no top and bottom. We can call the walls of the shuttle a wall, a ceiling and a floor, but it can't be called that when we change our orientation, the ceiling now becomes the floor. We float aimlessly even though we have a certain goal in mind. As we discover more about the universe, we realize we don't know much about humans in space, in anomie, and in normlessness. We have a drive that makes us search for an answer, but what the hell is the question? Does the answer and that goal even matter? When we ask this, that goal in mind, is it just space junk?