SpaceX sometimes uses Vandenberg Air Force Base in Southern California to send up these Falcon 9 rockets. Were it not owned by the military, the base would be a resort. The Pacific Ocean runs for miles along its border, and its grounds have wide-open shrubby fields dotted by green hills. Nestled into one hilly spot just at the ocean's edge are a handful of launchpads. On launch days, the white Falcon 9 breaks up the blue and green landscape, pointing skyward and leaving no doubt about its intentions.

The Falcon 9 bas become Spacex's Workhorse. The rocket looks -- let's face it -- like a giant white phallus. It stands 224.4 feet tall, is 12 feet across, and weighs 1.1 million pounds. The rocket is powered by nine engines arranged in an "octaweb" pattern at its base with one engine in the center and eight others encircling it. The engines connect to the first stage, or the main body of the rocket, which bears the blue SpaceX insignia and an American flag. The shorter second stage of the rocket sits on top of the first and is the one that actually ends up doing things in space. It can be outfitted with a rounded container for carrying satellites or a capsule capable of transporting humans. By design, there's nothing particularly flashy about the Falcon 9's outward appearance. It's the spaceship equivalent of an Apple laptop or a Braun kettle -- an elegant, purposeful machine stripped of frivolity and waste.

About four hours before a launch, the Falcon 9 starts getting filled with an immense amount of liquid oxygen and rocket-grade kerosene. Some of the liquid oxygen vents out of the rocket as it awaits launch and is kept so cold that it boils off on contact with the metal and air, forming white plumes that stream down the rocket's sides. This gives the impression of the Falcon 9 huffing and puffing as it limbers up before the journey. The engineers inside of SpaceX's mission control monitor these fuel systems and all manner of other items. They chat back and forth through headsets and begin cycling through their launch checklist, consumed by what people in the business call "go fever" as they move from one approval to the next. Ten minutes before launch, the humans step out of the way and leave the remaining processes up to automated machines. Everything goes quiet, and the tension builds until right before the main event. That's when, out of nowhere, the Falcon 9 breaks the silence by letting out a loud gasp.

A white latticed support structure pulls away from its body. The T-minus-ten-seconds countdown begins. Nothing much happens from ten down to four. At the count of three, however, the engines ignite, and the computers conduct a last, oh-so-rapid, health check. Four enormous metal clamps hold the rocket down, as computing systems evaluate all nine engines and measure if there's sufficient downward force being produced. By the time zero arrives, the rocket has decided that all is well enough to go through with its mission, and the clamps release. The rocket goes to war with inertia, and then, with flames surrounding its base and snow-thick plumes of the liquid oxygen filling the air, it shoots up. Seeing something so large hold so straight and steady while suspended in midair is hard for the brain to register. It is foreign, inexplicable. About twenty seconds after liftoff, the spectators placed safely a few miles away catch the first faceful of the Falcon 9's rumble. It's a distinct sound -- a sort of staccato crackling that arises from chemicals whipped into a violent frenzy. Pant legs vibrate from shock waves produced by a stream of sonic booms coming out of the Falcon 9's exhaust. The white rocket climbs higher and higher with impressive stamina. After about a minute, it's just a red spot in the sky, and then -- poof -- it's gone. Only a cynical dullard could come away from witnessing this feeling anything other than wonder at what man can accomplish.

For Elon Musk, this spectacle has turned into a familiar experience. SpaceX has metamorphosed from the joke of the aeronautics industry into one of its most consistent operators. SpaceX sends a rocket up about once a month, carrying satellites for companies and nations and supplies to the International Space Station. Where the Falcon 1 blasting off from Kwajalein was the work of a start-up, the Falcon 9 taking off from Vandenberg is the work of an aerospace superpower. SpaceX can undercut its U. S. competitors -- Boeing, Lockheed Martin, Orbital Sciences -- on price by a ridiculous margin. It also offers U. S. customers a peace of mind that its rivals can't. Where these competitors rely on Russian and other foreign suppliers, SpaceX makes all of its machines from scratch in the United States. Because of its low costs, SpaceX has once again made the United States a player in the worldwide commercial launch market. Its $60 million per launch cost is much less than what Europe and Japan charge and trumps even the relative bargains offered by the Russians and Chinese, who have the added benefit of decades of sunk government investment into their space programs as well as cheap labor.

The United States continues to take great pride in having Boeing compete against Airbus and other foreign aircraft makers. For some reason, though, government leaders and the public have been willing to concede much of the commercial launch market. It's a disheartening and shortsighted position. The total market for satellites, related services, and the rocket launches needed to carry them to space has exploded over the past decade from about $60 billion per year to more than $200 billion. A number of countries pay to send up their own spy, communication, and weather satellites. Companies then turn to space for television, Internet, radio, weather, navigation, and imaging services. The machines in space supply the fabric of modern life, and they're going to become more capable and interesting at a rapid pace. A whole new breed of satellite makers has just appeared on the scene with the ability to answer Google-like queries about our planet. These satellites can zoom in on Iowa and determine when cornfields are at peak yields and ready to harvest, and they can count cars in Wal-Mart parking lots throughout California to calculate shopping demand during the holiday season. The start-ups making these types of innovative machines must often turn to the Russians to get them into space, but SpaceX intends to change that.

The United States has remained competitive in the most lucrative parts of the space industry, building the actual satellites and complementary systems and services to run them. Each year, the United States makes about one-third of all satellites and takes about 60 percent of the global satellite revenue. The majority of this revenue comes from business done with the U. S. government. China, Europe, and Russia account for almost all of the remaining satellite sales and launches. It's expected that China's role in the space industry will increase, while Russia has vowed to spend $50 billion on revitalizing its space program. This leaves the United States dealing with two of its least-favored nations in space matters and doing so without much leverage. Case in point: the retirement of the space shuttle made the United States totally dependent on the Russians to get astronauts to the ISS. Russia gets to charge $70 million per person for the trip and to cut the United States off as it sees fit during political rifts. At present, SpaceX looks like the best hope of breaking this cycle and giving back to America its ability to take people into space.

SpaceX has become the free radical trying to upend everything about this industry. It doesn't want to handle a few launches per year or to rely on government contracts for survival. Musk's goal is to use manufacturing breakthroughs and launchpad advances to create a drastic drop in the cost of getting things to space. Most significant, he's been testing rockets that can push their payload to space and then return to Earth and land with supreme accuracy on a pad floating at sea or even their original launchpad. Instead of having its rockets break apart after crashing into the sea, SpaceX will use reverse thrusters to lower them down softly and reuse them. Within the next few years, SpaceX expects to cut its price to at least one-tenth that of its rivals. Reusing its rockets will drive the bulk of this reduction and SpaceX's competitive advantage. Imagine one airline that flies the same plane over and over again, competing against others that dispose of their planes after every flight. Through its cost advantages, SpaceX hopes to take over the majority of the world's commercial launches, and there's evidence that the company is on its way toward doing just that. To date, it has flown satellites for Canadian, European, and Asian customers and completed about two dozen launches. Its public launch manifest stretches out for a number of years, and SpaceX has more than fifty flights planned, which are all together worth more than $5 billion. The company remains privately owned with Musk as the largest shareholder alongside outside investors including venture capital firms like the Founders Fund and Draper Fisher Jurvetson, giving it a competitive ethos its rivals lack. Since getting past its near-death experience in 2008, SpaceX has been profitable and is estimated to be worth $12 billion.

Zip2, PayPal, Tesla, SolarCity -- they are all expressions of Musk. SpaceX is Musk. Its foibles emanate directly from him, as do its successes. Part of this comes from Musk's maniacal attention to detail and involvement in every SpaceX endeavor. He's hands-on to a degree that would make Hugh Hefner feel inadequate. Part of it stems from SpaceX being the apotheosis of the Cult of Musk. Employees fear Musk. They adore Musk. The give up their lives for Musk, and they usually do all of this simultaneously.

Musk's demanding management style can only flourish because of the otherworldly -- in a literal sense -- aspirations of the company. While the rest of the aerospace industry has been content to keep sending what look like relics from the 1960s into space, SpaceX has made a point of doing just the opposite. Its reusable rockets and reusable spaceships look like true twenty-first-century machines. The modernization of the equipment is not just for show. It reflects SpaceX's constant push to advance its technology and change the economics of the industry. Musk does not simply want to lower the cost of deploying satellites and resupplying the space station. He wants to lower the cost of launches to the point that it becomes economical and practical to fly thousands upon thousands of supply trips to Mars and start a colony. Musk wants to conquer the solar system, and, as it stands, there's just one company where you can work if that sort of quest gets you out of bed in the morning.

Musk has managed to take these negatives surrounding the aerospace business and turn them into gains for SpaceX. He's presented the company as anything but another aerospace contractor. SpaceX is the hip, forward-thinking place that's brought the perks of Silicon Valley -- namely frozen yogurt, stock options, speedy decision making, and a flat corporate structure -- to a staid industry. People who know Musk well tend to describe him more as a general than a CEO, and this is apt. He's built an engineering army by having the pick of just about anyone in the business that SpaceX wants.

It seems unfathomable, but the rest of the space industry has made space boring. The Russians, who dominate much of the business of sending things and people to space, do so with decades-old equipment. The cramped Soyuz capsule that takes people to the space station has mechanical knobs and computer screens that appear unchanged from its inaugural 1966 flight. Countries new to the space race have mimicked the antiquated Russian and American equipment with maddening accuracy. When young people get into the aerospace industry, they're forced to either laugh or cry at the state of the machines. Nothing sucks the fun out of working on a spaceship like controlling it with mechanisms last seen in a 1960s laundromat. And the actual work environment is as outmoded as the machines. Hotshot college graduates have historically been forced to pick between a variety of slow-moving military contractors and interesting but ineffectual start-ups.

Sometimes these people walked through the front door. Other times, Singh relied on a handful of enterprising techniques to find them. She became famous for trawling through academic papers to find engineers with very specific skills, cold-calling researchers at labs and plucking possessed engineers out of college. At trade shows and conferences, SpaceX recruiters wooed interesting candidates they had spotted with a cloak-and-dagger shtick. They would hand out blank envelopes that contained invitations to meet at a specific time and place, usually a bar or restaurant near the event, for an initial interview. The candidates that showed up would discover they were among only a handful of people who been anointed out of all the conference attendees. They were immediately made to feel special and inspired.

The SpaceX hiring model places some emphasis on getting top marks at top schools. But most of the attention goes toward spotting engineers who have exhibited type A personality traits over the course of their lives. The company's recruiters look for people who might excel at robot-building competitions or who are car-racing hobbyists who have built unusual vehicles. The object is to find individuals who ooze passion, can work well as part of a team, and have real-world experience bending metal. "Even if you're someone who writes code for your job, you need to understand how mechanical things work," said Dolly Singh, who spent five years as the head of talent acquisition at SpaceX. "We were looking for people that had been building things since they were little."

The reward for solving the puzzles, acting clever in interviews, and penning up a good essay is a meeting with Musk. He interviewed almost every one of SpaceX's first one thousand hires, including the janitors and technicians, and has continued to interview the engineers as the company's workforce swelled. Each employee receives a warning before going to meet with Musk. The interview, he or she is told, could last anywhere from thirty seconds to fifteen minutes.

Like many tech companies, SpaceX subjects potential hires to a gauntlet of interviews and tests. Some of the interviews are easygoing chats in which both parties get to feel each other out; others are filled with quizzes that can be quite hard. Engineers tend to face the most rigorous interrogations, although business types and salesmen are made to suffer, too. Coders who expect to pass through standard challenges have rude awakenings. Companies will typically challenge software developers on the spot by asking them to solve problems that require a couple of dozen lines of code. The standard SpaceX problem requires five hundred or more lines of code. All potential employees who make their way to the end of the interview process then handle one more task. They're asked to write an essay for Musk about why they want to work at SpaceX.

From that point, the tales of engineers who have interviewed with Musk run the gamut from torturous experiences to the sublime. He might ask one question or he might ask several. You can be sure, though, that he will roll out the Riddle: "You're standing on the surface of the Earth. You walk one mile south, one mile west, and one mile north. You end up exactly where you started. Where are you?" One answer to that is the North Pole, and most of the engineers get it right away. That's when Musk will follow with "Where else could you be?" The other answer is somewhere close to the South Pole where, if you walk one mile south, the circumference of the Earth becomes one mile. Fewer engineers get this answer, and Musk will happily walk them through that riddle and others and cite any relevant equations during his explanations. He tends to care less about whether or not the person gets the answer than about how they describe the problem and their approach to solving it.

Elon will likely keep on writing e-mails and working during the initial part of the interview and not speak much. Don't panic. That's normal. Eventually, he will turn around in his chair to face you. Even then, though, he might not make actual eye contact with you or fully acknowledge your presence. Don't panic. That's normal. In due course, he will speak to you.

When speaking to potential recruits, Singh tried to energize them and be up front about the demands of SpaceX and of Musk at the same time. "The recruiting pitch was SpaceX is special forces," she said. "If you want as hard as it gets, then great. If not, then you shouldn't come here." Once at SpaceX, the new employees found out very quickly if they were indeed up for the challenge. Many of them would quit within the first few months because of the ninety-plus-hour workweeks. Others quit because they could not handle just how direct Musk and the other executives were during meetings. "Elon doesn't know about you and he hasn't thought through whether or not something is going to hurt your feelings," Singh said. "He just knows what the fuck he wants done. People who did not normalize to his communication style did not do well."

There's an impression that SpaceX suffers from incredibly high turnover, and the company has without question churned through a fair number of bodies. Many of the key executives who helped start the company, however, have hung on for a decade or more. Among the rank-and-file engineers, most people stay on for at least five years to have their stock options vest and to see their projects through. This is typical behavior for any technology company. SpaceX and Musk also seem to inspire an unusual level of loyalty. Musk has managed to conjure up that Steve Jobs-like zeal among his troops. "His vision is so clear," Singh said. "He almost hypnotizes you. He gives you the crazy eye, and it's like, yes, we can get to Mars." Take that a bit further and you arrive at a pleasure-pain, sadomasochistic vibe that comes with working for Musk. Numerous people interviewed for this book decried the work hours, Musk's blunt style, and his sometimes ludicrous expectations. Yet almost every person -- even those who had been fired -- still worshipped Musk and talked about him in terms usually reserved for superheroes or deities.

SpaceX's original headquarters in El Segundo were not quite up to the company's desired image as a place where the cool kids want to work. This is not a problem for SpaceX's new facility in Hawthorne. The building's address is 1 Rocket Road, and it has the Hawthorne Municipal Airport and several tooling and manufacturing companies as neighbors. While the SpaceX building resembles the others in size and shape, its all-white color makes it the obvious outlier. The structure looks like a gargantuan, rectangular glacier that's been planted in the midst of a particularly soulless portion of Los Angeles County's sprawl.

Visitors to SpaceX have to walk past a security guard and through a small executive parking lot where Musk parks his black Model S, which flanks the building's entryway. The front doors are reflective and hide what's on the inside, which is more white. There are white walls in the foyer, a funky white table in the waiting area, and a white check-in desk with a pair of orchids sitting in white pots. After going through the registration process, guests are given a name badge and led into the main SpaceX office space. Musk's cubicle -- a supersize unit -- sits to the right where he has a couple of celebratory Aviation Week magazine covers up on the wall, pictures of his boys, next to a huge flat-screen monitor, and various knickknacks on his desk, including a boomerang, some books, a bottle of wine, and a giant samurai sword named Lady Vivamus, which Musk received when he won the Heinlein Prize, an award given for big achievements in commercial space. Hundreds of other people work in cubicles amid the big, wide-open area, most of them executives, engineers, software developers, and salespeople tapping away on their computers. The conference rooms that surround their desks all have space-themed names like Apollo or Wernher von Braun and little nameplates that explain the label's significance. The largest conference rooms have ultramodern chairs -- high-backed, sleek red jobs that surround large glass tables -- while panoramic photos of a Falcon 1 taking off from Kwaj or the Dragon capsule docking with the ISS hang on the walls in the background.

Take away the rocket swag and the samurai sword and this central part of the SpaceX office looks just like what you might find at your run-of-the-mill Silicon Valley headquarters. The same thing cannot be said for what visitors encounter as they pass through a pair of double doors into the heart of the SpaceX factory.

The 550,000-square-foot factory floor is difficult to process at first glance. It's one continuous space with grayish epoxied floors, white walls, and white support columns. A small city's worth of stuff -- people, machines, noise -- has been piled into this area. Just near the entryway, one of the Dragon capsules that has gone to the ISS and returned to Earth hangs from the ceiling with black burn marks running down its side. Just under the capsule on the ground are a pair of the twenty-five-foot-long landing legs built by SpaceX to let the Falcon rocket come to a gentle rest on the ground after a flight so it can be flown again. To the left side of this entryway area there's a kitchen, and to the right side there's the mission control room. It's a closed-off area with expansive glass windows and fronted by wall-size screens for tracking a rocket's progress. It has four rows of desks with about ten computers each for the mission control staff. Step a bit farther into the factory and there are a handful of industrial work areas separated from each other in the most informal of ways. In some spots there are blue lines on the floor to mark off an area and in other spots blue workbenches have been arranged in squares to cordon off the space. It's a common sight to have one of the Merlin engines raised up in the middle of one of these work areas with a half dozen technicians wiring it up and tuning its bits and pieces.

Just behind these workspaces is a glass-enclosed square big enough to fit two of the Dragon capsules. This is a clean room where people must wear lab coats and hairnets to fiddle with the capsules without contaminating them. About forty feet to the left, there are several Falcon 9 rockets lying next to each other horizontally that have been painted and await transport. There are some areas tucked in between all of this that have blue walls and appear to have been covered by fabric. These are top-secret zones where SpaceX might be working on a fanciful astronaut's outfit or rocket part that it has to hide from visitors and employees not tied to the projects. There's a large area off to the side where SpaceX builds all of its electronics, another area for creating specialized composite materials, and another for making the bus-sized fairings that wrap around the satellites. Hundreds of people move about at the same time through the factory -- a mix of gritty technicians with tattoos and bandanas, and young, white-collar engineers. The sweaty smell of kids who have just come off the playground permeates the building and hints at its nonstop activity.

The factory is a temple devoted to what SpaceX sees as its major weapon in the rocket-building game, in-house manufacturing. SpaceX manufactures between 80 percent and 90 percent of its rockets, engines, electronics, and other parts. It's a strategy that flat-out dumbfounds SpaceX's competitors, like United Launch Alliance, or ULA, which openly brags about depending on more than 1,200 suppliers to make its end products. (ULA, a partnership between Lockheed Martin and Boeing, sees itself as an engine of job creation rather than a model of inefficiency.)

Musk has left his personal touches throughout the factory. There are small things like the data center that has been bathed in blue lights to give it a sci-fi feel. The refrigerator-sized computers under the lights have been labeled with big block letters to make it look like they were made by Cyberdyne Systems, the fictional company from the Terminator movie franchise. Near the elevators, Musk has placed a glowing life-size Iron Man figure. Surely the factory's most Muskian element is the office space that has been built smack-dab in its center. This is a three-story glass structure with meeting rooms and desks that rises up between various welding and construction areas. It looks and feels bizarre to have a see-through office inside this hive of industry. Musk, though, wanted his engineers to watch what was going on with the machines at all times and to make sure they had to walk through the factory and talk to the technicians on the way to their desks.

A typical aerospace company comes up with the list of parts that it needs for a launch system and then hands off their design and specifications to myriad third parties who then actually build the hardware. SpaceX tends to buy as little as possible to save money and because it sees depending on suppliers -- especially foreign ones -- as a weakness. This approach comes off as excessive at first blush. Companies have made things like radios and power distribution units for decades. Reinventing the wheel for every computer and machine on a rocket could introduce more chances for error and, in general, be a waste of time. But for SpaceX, the strategy works. In addition to building its own engines, rocket bodies, and capsules, SpaceX designs its own motherboards and circuits, sensors to detect vibrations, flight computers, and solar panels. Just by streamlining a radio, for instance, SpaceX's engineers have found that they can reduce the weight of the device by about 20 percent. And the cost savings for a homemade radio are dramatic, dropping from between $50,000 to $100,000 for the industrial-grade equipment used by aerospace companies to $5,000 for SpaceX's unit.

It's hard to believe these kinds of price differentials at first, but there are dozens if not hundreds of places where SpaceX has secured such savings. The equipment at SpaceX tends to be built out of readily available consumer electronics as opposed to "space grade" equipment used by others in the industry. SpaceX has had to work for years to prove to NASA that standard electronics have gotten good enough to compete with the more expensive, specialized gear trusted in years past. "Traditional aerospace has been doing things the same way for a very, very long time," said Drew Eldeen, a former SpaceX engineer. "The biggest challenge was convincing NASA to give something new a try and building a paper trail that showed the parts were high enough quality." To prove that it's making the right choice to NASA and itself, SpaceX will sometimes load a rocket with both the standard equipment and prototypes of its own design for testing during flight. Engineers then compare the performance characteristics of the devices. Once a SpaceX design equals or outperforms the commercial products, it becomes the de facto hardware.

There have also been numerous times when SpaceX has done pioneering work on advancing very complex hardware systems. A classic example of this is one of the factory's weirder-looking contraptions, a two-story machine designed to perform what's known as friction stir welding. The machine allows SpaceX to automate the welding process for massive sheets of metal like the ones that make up the bodies of the Falcon rockets. An arm takes one of the rocket's body panels, lines it up against another body panel, and then joins them together with a weld that could run twenty feet or more. Aerospace companies typically try to avoid welds whenever possible because they create weaknesses in the metal, and that's limited the size of metal sheets they can use and forced other design constraints. From the early days of SpaceX, Musk pushed the company to master friction stir welding, in which a spinning head is smashed at high speeds into the join between two pieces of metal in a bid to make their crystalline structures merge. It's as if you heated two sheets of aluminum foil and then joined them by putting your thumb down on the seam and twisting the metal together. This type of welding tends to result in much stronger bonds than traditional welds. Companies had performed friction stir welding before but not on structures as large as a rocket's body or to the degree to which SpaceX has used the technique. As a result of its trials and errors, SpaceX can now join large, thin sheets of metal and shave hundreds of pounds off the weight of the Falcon rockets, as it's able to use lighter-weight alloys and avoid using rivets, fasteners, and other support structures. Musk's competitors in the auto industry might soon need to do the same because SpaceX has transferred some of the equipment and techniques to Tesla. The hope is that Tesla will be able to make lighter, stronger cars.

The technology has proven so valuable that SpaceX's competitors have started to copy it and have tried to poach some of the company's experts in the field. Blue Origin, Jeff Bezos's secretive rocket company, has been particularly aggressive, hiring away Ray Miryekta, one of the world's foremost friction stir welding experts and igniting a major rift with Musk. "Blue Origin does these surgical strikes on specialized talent offering like double their salaries. I think it's unnecessary and a bit rude," Musk said. Within SpaceX, Blue Origin is mockingly referred to as BO and at one point the company created an e-mail filter to detect messages with "blue" and "origin" to block the poaching. The relationship between Musk and Bezos has soured, and they no longer chat about their shared ambition of getting to Mars. "I do think Bezos has an insatiable desire to be King Bezos," Musk said. "He has a relentless work ethic and wants to kill everything in e-commerce. But he's not the most fun guy, honestly."

In the early days of SpaceX, Musk knew little about the machines and amount of grunt work that goes into making rockets. He rebuffed requests to buy specialized tooling equipment, until the engineers could explain in clear terms why they needed certain things and until experience taught him better. Musk also had yet to master some of the management techniques for which he would become both famous and to some degree infamous.

Musk initially relied on textbooks to form the bulk of his rocketry knowledge. But as SpaceX hired one brilliant person after another, Musk realized he could tap into their stores of knowledge. He would trap an engineer in the SpaceX factory and set to work grilling him about a type of valve or specialized material. "I thought at first that he was challenging me to see if I knew my stuff," said Kevin Brogan, one of the early engineers. "Then I realized he was trying to learn things. He would quiz you until he learned ninety percent of what you know."

People who have spent significant time with Musk will attest to his abilities to absorb incredible quantities of information with near-flawless recall. It's one of his most impressive and intimidating skills and seems to work just as well in the present day as it did when he was a child vacuuming books into his brain. After a couple of years running SpaceX, Musk had turned into an aerospace expert on a level that few technology CEOs ever approach in their respective fields. "He was teaching us about the value of time, and we were teaching him about rocketry," Brogan said.

Musk's growth as a CEO and rocket expert occurred alongside SpaceX's maturation as a company. At the start of the Falcon 1 journey, Musk was a forceful software executive trying to learn some basic things about a very different world. At Zip2 and PayPal, he felt comfortable standing up for his positions and directing teams of coders. At SpaceX, he had to pick things up on the job.

In regards to time, Musk may well set more aggressive delivery targets for very difficult-to-make products than any executive in history. Both his employees and the public have found this to be one of the more jarring aspects of Musk's character. "Elon has always been optimistic," Brogan said. "That's the nice word. He can be a downright liar about when things need to get done. He will pick the most aggressive time schedule imaginable assuming everything goes right, and then accelerate it by assuming that everyone can work harder."

Musk has been pilloried by the press for setting and then missing product delivery dates. It's one of the habits that got him in the most trouble as SpaceX and Tesla tried to bring their first products to market. Time and again, Musk found himself making a public appearance where he had to come up with a new batch of excuses for a delay. Reminded about the initial 2003 target date to fly the Falcon 1, Musk acted shocked. "Are you serious?" he said. "We said that? Okay, that's ridiculous. I think I just didn't know what the hell I was talking about. The only thing I had prior experience in was software, and, yeah, you can write a bunch of software and launch a website in a year. No problem. This isn't like software. It doesn't work that way with rockets." Musk simply cannot help himself. He's an optimist by nature, and it can feel like he makes calculations for how long it will take to do something based on the idea that things will progress without flaw at every step and that all the members of his team have Muskian abilities and work ethics. As Brogan joked, Musk might forecast how long a software project will take by timing the amount of seconds needed physically to write a line of code and then extrapolating that out to match however many lines of code he expects the final piece of software to be. It's an imperfect analogy but one that does not seem that far off from Musk's worldview. "Everything he does is fast," Brogan said. "He pees fast. It's like a fire hose -- three seconds and out. He's authentically in a hurry."

I don't assume that it's just like 100 of me or something like that. I mean, in the case of the early SpaceX days, it would have been just the lack of understanding of what it takes to develop a rocket. In that case I was off by, say, 200 percent. I think future programs might be off by anywhere from like 25 percent to 50 percent as opposed to 200 percent.

So, I think generally you do want to have a timeline where, based on everything you know about, the schedule should be X, and you execute towards that, but with the understanding that there will be all sorts of things that you don't know about that you will encounter that will push the date beyond that. It doesn't mean that you shouldn't have tried to aim for that date from the beginning because aiming for something else would have been an arbitrary time increase.

Asked about his approach, Musk said,

I certainly don't try to set impossible goals. I think impossible goals are demotivating. You don't want to tell people to go through a wall by banging their head against it. I don't ever set intentionally impossible goals. But I've certainly always been optimistic on time frames. I'm trying to recalibrate to be a little more realistic.

Dealing with the epically aggressive schedules and Musk's expectations has required SpaceX's engineers to develop a variety of survival techniques. Musk often asks for highly detailed proposals for how projects will be accomplished. The employees have learned never to break the time needed to accomplish something down into months or weeks. Musk wants day-by-day and hour-by-hour forecasts and sometimes even minute-by-minute countdowns, and the fallout from missed schedules is severe. "You had to put in when you would go to the bathroom," Brogan said. "I'm like, 'Elon, sometimes people need to take a long dump.'" SpaceX's top managers work together to, in essence, create fake schedules that they know will please Musk but that are basically impossible to achieve. This would not be such a horrible situation if the targets were kept internal. Musk, however, tends to quote these fake schedules to customers, unintentionally giving them false hope. Typically, it falls to Gwynne Shotwell, SpaceX's president, to clean up the resulting mess. She will either need to ring up a customer to give them a more realistic timeline or concoct a litany of excuses to explain away the inevitable delays. "Poor Gwynne," Brogan said. "Just to hear her on the phone with the customers is agonizing."

It's different to say, "Well, what do you promise people?" Because you want to try to promise people something that includes schedule margin. But in order to achieve the external promised schedule, you've got to have an internal schedule that's more aggressive than that. Sometimes you still miss the external schedule.

SpaceX, by the way, is not alone here. Being late is par for the course in the aerospace industry. It's not a question of if it's late, it's how late will the program be. I don't think an aerospace program has been completed on time since bloody World War II.

There can be no question that Musk has mastered the art of getting the most out of his employees. Interview three dozen SpaceX engineers and each one of them will have picked up on a managerial nuance that Musk has used to get people to meet his deadlines. One example from Brogan: Where a typical manager may set the deadline for the employee, Musk guides his engineers into taking ownership of their own delivery dates. "He doesn't say, 'You have to do this by Friday at two P. M.,'" Brogan said. "He says, 'I need the impossible done by Friday at two P. M. Can you do it?' Then, when you say yes, you are not working hard because he told you to. You're working hard for yourself. It's a distinction you can feel. You have signed up to do your own work." And by recruiting hundreds of bright, self-motivated people, SpaceX has maximized the power of the individual. One person putting in a sixteen-hour day ends up being much more effective than two people working eight-hour days together. The individual doesn't have to hold meetings, reach a consensus, or bring other people up to speed on a project. He just keeps working and working and working. The ideal SpaceX employee is someone like Steve Davis, the director of advanced projects at SpaceX. "He's been working sixteen hours a day every day for years," Brogan said. "He gets more done than eleven people working together."

Davis did his tour of duty on Kwaj and considered it the greatest time of his life. "Every night, you could either sleep by the rocket in this tent shelter where the geckos crawled all over you or take this one-hour boat ride that made you seasick back to the main island," he said. "Every night, you had to pick the pain that you remembered least. You got so hot and exhausted. It was just amazing." After working on the Falcon 1, Davis moved to the Falcon 9 and then Dragon.

To find Davis, Musk called a teaching assistant in Stanford's aeronautics department and asked him if there were any hardworking, bright master's and doctoral candidates who didn't have families. The TA pointed Musk to Davis, who was pursuing a master's degree in aerospace engineering to add to degrees in finance, mechanical engineering, and particle physics. Musk called Davis on a Wednesday and offered him a job the following Friday. Davis was the twenty-second SpaceX hire and has ended up the twelfth most senior person still at the company. He turned thirty-five in 2014.

The Dragon capsule took SpaceX four years to design. It's likely the fastest project of its ilk done in the history of the aerospace industry. The project started with Musk and a handful of engineers, most of them under thirty years old, and peaked at one hundred people. They cribbed from past capsule work and read over every paper published by NASA and other aeronautics bodies around projects like Gemini and Apollo. "If you go search for something like Apollo's reentry guidance algorithm, there are these great databases that will just spit out the answer," Davis said. The engineers at SpaceX then had to figure out how to advance these past efforts and bring the capsule into the modern age. Some of the areas of improvement were obvious and easily accomplished, while others required more ingenuity. Saturn 5 and Apollo had colossal computing bays that produced only a fraction of the computer horsepower that can be achieved today on, say, an iPad. The SpaceX engineers knew they could save a lot of room by cutting out some of the computers while also adding capabilities with their more powerful equipment. The engineers decided that while Dragon would look a lot like Apollo, it would have steeper wall angles, to clear space for gear and for the astronauts that the company hoped to fly. SpaceX also got the recipe for its heat shield material, called PICA, through a deal with NASA. The SpaceX engineers found out how to make the PICA material less expensively and improved the underlying recipe so that Dragon -- from day one -- could withstand the heat of a reentry coming back from Mars. The total cost for Dragon came in at $300 million, which would be on the order of 10 to 30 times less than capsule projects built by other companies. "The metal comes in, we roll it out, weld it, and make things," Davis said. "We build almost everything in-house. That is why the costs have come down."

Davis, like Brogan and plenty of other SpaceX engineers, has had Musk ask for the seemingly impossible. His favorite request dates back to 2004. SpaceX needed an actuator that would trigger the gimbal action used to steer the upper stage of Falcon 1. Davis had never built a piece of hardware before in his life and naturally went out to find some suppliers who could make an electromechanical actuator for him. He got a quote back for $120,000. "Elon laughed," Davis said. "He said, 'That part is no more complicated than a garage door opener. Your budget is five thousand dollars. Go make it work.'" Davis spent nine months building the actuator. At the end of the process, he toiled for three hours writing an e-mail to Musk covering the pros and cons of the device. The e-mail went into gory detail about how Davis had designed the part, why he had made various choices, and what its cost would be. As he pressed send, Davis felt anxiety surge through his body knowing that he'd given his all for almost a year to do something an engineer at another aerospace company would not even attempt. Musk rewarded all of this toil and angst with one of his standard responses. He wrote back, "Ok." The actuator Davis designed ended up costing $3,900 and flew with Falcon 1 into space. "I put every ounce of intellectual capital I had into that e-mail and one minute later got that simple response," Davis said. "Everyone in the company was having that same experience. One of my favorite things about Elon is his ability to make enormous decisions very quickly. That is still how it works today."

Kevin Watson can attest to that. He arrived at SpaceX in 2008 after spending twenty-four years at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory. Watson worked on a wide variety of projects at JPL, including building and testing computing systems that could withstand the harsh conditions of space. JPL would typically buy expensive, specially toughened computers, and this frustrated Watson. He daydreamed about ways to handcraft much cheaper, equally effective computers. While having his job interview with Musk, Watson learned that SpaceX needed just this type of thinking. Musk wanted the bulk of a rocket's computing systems to cost no more than $10,000. It was an insane figure by aerospace industry standards, where the avionics systems for a rocket typically cost well over $10 million. "In traditional aerospace, it would cost you more than ten thousand dollars just for the food at a meeting to discuss the cost of the avionics," Watson said.

During the job interview, Watson promised Musk that he could do the improbable and deliver the $10,000 avionics system. He began working on making the computers for Dragon right after being hired. The first system was called CUCU, pronounced "cuckoo." This communications box would go inside the International Space Station and communicate back with Dragon. A number of people at NASA referred to the SpaceX engineers as "the guys in the garage" and were cynical about the start-up's ability to do much of anything, including building this type of machine. But SpaceX produced the communication computer in record time, and it ended up as the first system of its kind to pass NASA's protocol tests on the first try. NASA officials were forced to say "cuckoo' over and over again during meetings -- a small act of defiance SpaceX had planned all along to torture NASA. As the months went on, Watson and other engineers built out the complete computing systems for Dragon and then adapted the technology for Falcon 9. The result was a fully redundant avionics platform that used a mix of off-the-shelf computing gear and products built in-house by SpaceX. It cost a bit more than $10,000 but came close to meeting Musk's goal.

Elon is brilliant. He's involved in just about everything. He understands everything. If he asks you a question, you learn very quickly not to go give him a gut reaction. He wants answers that get down to the fundamental laws of physics. One thing he understands really well is the physics of the rockets. He understands that like nobody else. The stuff I have seen him do in his head is crazy. He can get in discussions about flying a satellite and whether we can make the right orbit and deliver Dragon at the same time and solve all these equations in real time. It's amazing to watch the amount of knowledge he has accumulated over the years. I don't want to be the person who ever has to compete with Elon. You might as well leave the business and find something else fun to do. He will outmaneuver you, outthink you, and out-execute you.

SpaceX reinvigorated Watson, who had become disenchanted with JPL's acceptance of wasteful spending and bureaucracy. Musk had to sign off on every expenditure over $10,000. "It was his money that we were spending, and he was keeping an eye on it, as he damn well should," Watson said. "He made sure nothing stupid was happening." Decisions were made quickly during weekly meetings, and the entire company bought into them. "It was amazing how fast people would adapt to what came out of those meetings," Watson said. "The entire ship could turn ninety degrees instantly. Lockheed Martin could never do anything like that." Watson continued:

One of Watson's top discoveries at SpaceX was the test bed on the third floor of the Hawthorne factory. SpaceX has test versions of all the hardware and electronics that go into a rocket laid out on metal tables. It has in effect replicated the innards of a rocket end to end in order to run thousands of flight simulations. Someone "launches" the rocket from a computer and then every piece of mechanical and computing hardware is monitored with sensors. An engineer can tell a valve to open, then check to see if it opened, how quickly it opened, and the level of current running to it. This testing apparatus lets SpaceX engineers practice ahead of launches and figure out how they would deal with all manner of anomalies. During the actual flights, SpaceX has people in the test facility who can replicate errors seen on Falcon or Dragon and make adjustments accordingly. SpaceX has made numerous changes on the fly with this system. In one case someone spotted an error in a software file in the hours right before a launch. SpaceX's engineers changed the file, checked how it affected the test hardware, and, when no problems were detected, sent the file to the Falcon 9, waiting on the launchpad, all in less than thirty minutes. "NASA wasn't used to this," Watson said. "If something went wrong with the shuttle, everyone was just resigned to waiting three weeks before they could try and launch again."

From time to time, Musk will send out an e-mail to the entire company to enforce a new policy or let them know about something that's bothering him. One of the more famous e-mails arrived in May 2010 with the subject line: Acronyms Seriously Suck:

That needs to stop immediately or I will take drastic action -- I have given enough warnings over the years. Unless an acronym is approved by me, it should not enter the SpaceX glossary. If there is an existing acronym that cannot reasonably be justified, it should be eliminated, as I have requested in the past.

There is a creeping tendency to use made up acronyms at SpaceX. Excessive use of made up acronyms is a significant impediment to communication and keeping communication good as we grow is incredibly important. Individually, a few acronyms here and there may not seem so bad, but if a thousand people are making these up, over time the result will be a huge glossary that we have to issue to new employees. No one can actually remember all these acronyms and people don't want to seem dumb in a meeting, so they just sit there in ignorance. This is particularly tough on new employees.

This was classic Musk. The e-mail is rough in its tone and yet not really unwarranted for a guy who just wants things done as efficiently as possible. It obsesses over something that other people might find trivial and yet he has a definite point. It's comical in that Musk wants all acronym approvals to run directly through him, but that's entirely in keeping with the hands-on management style that has, mainly, worked well at both SpaceX and Tesla. Employees have since dubbed the acronym policy the ASS Rule.

For example, there should be no "HTS" [horizontal test stand] or "VTS" [vertical test stand] designations for test stands. Those are particularly dumb, as they contain unnecessary words. A "stand" at our test site is obviously a test stand. VTS-3 is four syllables compared with "Tripod," which is two, so the bloody acronym version actually takes longer to say than the name!

The key test for an acronym is to ask whether it helps or hurts communication. An acronym that most engineers outside of SpaceX already know, such as GUI, is fine to use. It is also ok to make up a few acronyms/contractions every now and again, assuming I have approved them, eg MVac and M9 instead of Merlin 1C-Vacuum or Merlin 1C-Sea Level, but those need to be kept to a minimum.

It is jarring for both parties when the SpaceX culture rubs against more bureaucratic bodies like NASA, the U. S. Air Force, and the Federal Aviation Administration. The first inklings of these difficulties appeared on Kwaj, where government officials sometimes questioned what they saw as SpaceX's cavalier approach to the launch process. There were times when SpaceX would want to make a change to its launch procedures and any such change would require a pile of paperwork. SpaceX, for example, would have written down all the steps needed to replace a filter -- put on gloves, wear safety goggles, remove a nut -- and then want to alter this procedure or use a different type of filter. The FAA would need a week to review the new process before SpaceX could actually go about changing the filter on the rocket, a lag that both the engineers and Musk found ridiculous. On one occasion after this type of thing happened, Musk laid into an FAA official while on a conference call with members of the SpaceX team and NASA. "It got hot and heated, and he berated this guy on a personal level for like ten minutes," Brogan said.

The guiding principle at SpaceX is to embrace your work and get stuff done. People who await guidance or detailed instructions languish. The same goes for workers who crave feedback. And the absolute worst thing that someone can do is inform Musk that what he's asking is impossible. An employee could be telling Musk that there's no way to get the cost on something like that actuator down to where he wants it or that there is simply not enough time to build a part by Musk's deadline. "Elon will say, 'Fine. You're off the project, and I am now the CEO of the project. I will do your job and be CEO of two companies at the same time. I will deliver it,'" Brogan said. "What's crazy is that Elon actually does it. Every time he's fired someone and taken their job, he's delivered on whatever the project was."

Musk did not recall this incident but did remember other confrontations with the FAA. One time he compiled a list of things an FAA subordinate had said during a meeting that Musk found silly and sent the list along to the guy's boss. "And then his dingbat manager sent me this long e-mail about how he had been in the shuttle program and in charge of twenty launches or something like that and how dare I say that the other guy was wrong," Musk said. "I told him, 'Not only is he wrong, and let me rearticulate the reasons, but you're wrong, and let me articulate the reasons.' I don't think he sent me another e-mail after that. We're trying to have a really big impact on the space industry. If the rules are such that you can't make progress, then you have to fight the rules.

"There is a fundamental problem with regulators. If a regulator agrees to change a rule and something bad happens, they could easily lose their career. Whereas if they change a rule and something good happens, they don't even get a reward. So, it's very asymmetric. It's then very easy to understand why regulators resist changing the rules. It's because there's a big punishment on one side and no reward on the other. How would any rational person behave in such a scenario?"

In the middle of 2009, SpaceX hired Ken Bowersox, a former astronaut, as its vice president of astronaut safety and mission assurance. Bowersox fit the mold of recruit prized by a classic big aerospace company. He had a degree in aerospace engineering from the U. S. Naval Academy, had been a test pilot in the air force, and flew on the space shuttle a handful of times. Many people within SpaceX saw his arrival at the company as a good thing. He was considered a diligent, dignified sort who would provide a second set of eyes to many of SpaceX's procedures, checking to make sure the company went about things in a safe, standardized manner. Bowersox ended up smack in the middle of the constant pull and push at SpaceX between doing things efficiently and agonizing over traditional procedures. He and Musk were increasingly at odds as the months passed, and Bowersox started to feel as if his opinions were being ignored. During one incident in particular, a part made it all the way to the test stand with a major flaw -- described by one engineer as the equivalent of a coffee cup not having a bottom -- instead of being caught at the factory. According to observers, Bowersox argued that SpaceX should go back and investigate the process that led to the mistake and fix its root cause. Musk had already decided that he knew the basis of the problem and dismissed Bowersox after a couple of years on the job. (Bowersox declined to speak on the record about his time at SpaceX.) A number of people inside SpaceX saw the Bowersox incident as an example of Musk's hard-charging manner undermining some much-needed process. Musk had a totally different take on the situation, casting Bowersox as not being up to the engineering demands at SpaceX.

A handful of high-ranking government officials gave me their candid takes on Musk, albeit without being willing to put their names to the remarks. One found Musk's treatment of air force generals and military men of similar rank appalling. Musk has been known to let even high-ranking officials have it when he thinks they're off base and is not apologetic about this. Another could not believe it when Musk would call very intelligent people idiots. "Imagine the worst possible way that could come out, and it would come out," this person said. "Life with Elon is like being in a very intimate married couple. He can be so gentle and loyal and then really hard on people when it isn't necessary." One former official felt that Musk would need to temper himself better in the years to come if SpaceX was to keep currying favor with the military and government agencies in its bid to defeat the incumbent contractors. "His biggest enemy will be himself and the way he treats people," this person said.

When Musk rubs outsiders the wrong way, Shotwell is often there to try to smooth over the situation. Like Musk, she has a salty tongue and a fiery personality, but Shotwell is willing to play the role of the conciliator. These skills have allowed her to handle the day-to-day operations at SpaceX, leaving Musk to focus on the company's overall strategy, the product designs, marketing, and motivating employees. Like all of Musk's most trusted lieutenants, Shotwell has been willing to stay largely in the background, do her work, and focus on the company's cause.

Shotwell grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, the daughter of an artist (mom) and a neurosurgeon (dad). She played the part of a bright, pretty girl, getting straight A's at school and joining the cheerleading squad. Shotwell had not expressed a major inclination toward the sciences and knew only one version of an engineer -- the guy who drives a train. But there were clues that she was wired a bit different. She was the daughter who mowed the lawn and helped put the family basketball hoop together. In third grade, Shotwell developed a brief interest in car engines, and her mom bought a book detailing how they work. Later, in high school, Shotwell's mom forced her to attend a lecture at the Illinois Institute of Technology on a Saturday afternoon. As Shotwell listened to one of the panels, she grew enamored with a fifty-year-old mechanical engineer. "She had these beautiful clothes, this suit and shoes that I loved," Shotwell said. "She was tall and carried off the heels really well." Shotwell chatted with the engineer after the talk, learning about her job. "That was the day I decided to become a mechanical engineer," she said.

Shotwell went on to receive an undergraduate degree in mechanical engineering and a master's degree in applied mathematics from Northwestern University. Then she took a job at Chrysler. It was a type of management training program meant for hotshot recent graduates who appeared to have leadership potential. Shotwell started out going to auto mechanics school --"I loved that"-- and then from department to department. While working on engines research, Shotwell found that there were two very expensive Cray supercomputers sitting idle because none of the veterans knew how to use them. A short while later, she logged onto the computers and set them up to run computational fluid dynamics, or CFD, operations to simulate the performance of valves and other components. The work kept Shotwell interested, but the environment started to grate on her. There were rules for everything, including lots of union regulations around who could operate certain machines. "I picked up a tool once, and got written up," she said. "Then I opened a bottle of liquid nitrogen and got written up. I started thinking that the job was not what I had anticipated it would be."

Shotwell pulled out of the Chrysler training program, regrouped at home, and then briefly pursued her doctorate in applied mathematics. While back on the Northwestern campus, one of her professors mentioned an opportunity at the Aerospace Corporation. Anything but a household name, Aerospace Corporation has been headquartered in El Segundo since 1960, serving as a kind of neutral, nonprofit organization that advises the air force, NASA, and other federal bodies on space programs. The company has a bureaucratic feel but has proved very useful over the years with its research activities and ability to champion and nix costly endeavors. Shotwell started at Aerospace in October 1988 and worked on a wide range of projects. One job required her to develop a thermal model that depicted how temperature fluctuations in the space shuttle's cargo bay affected the performance of equipment on various payloads. She spent ten years at Aerospace and honed her skills as a systems engineer. By the end, though, Shotwell had become irritated by the pace of the industry. "I didn't understand why it had to take fifteen years to make a military satellite," she said. "You could see my interest was waning."

Through the early years of SpaceX, Shotwell pulled off the miraculous feat of selling something the company did not have. It took SpaceX so much longer than it had planned to have a successful flight. The failures along the way were embarrassing and bad for business. Nonetheless, Shotwell managed to sell about a dozen flights to a mix of government and commercial customers before SpaceX put its first Falcon 1 into orbit. Her deal-making skills extended to negotiating the big-ticket contracts with NASA that kept SpaceX alive during its leanest years, including a $278 million contract in August 2006 to begin work on vehicles that could ferry supplies to the ISS. Shotwell's track record of success turned her into Musk's ultimate confidante at SpaceX, and at the end of 2008, she became president and chief operating officer at the company.

For the next four years, Shotwell worked at Microcosm, a space start-up just down the road from the Aerospace Corporation, and became the head of its space systems division and business development. Boasting a combination of smarts, confidence, direct talk, and good looks, Shotwell developed a reputation as a strong saleswoman. In 2002, one of her coworkers, Hans Koenigsmann, left for SpaceX. Shotwell took Koenigsmann out for a going-away lunch and dropped him off at SpaceX's then rinky-dink headquarters. "Hans told me to go in and meet Elon," Shotwell said. "I did, and that's when I told him, 'You need a good business development person.'" The next day Mary Beth Brown called Shotwell and told her that Musk wanted to interview her for the new vice president of business development position. Shotwell ended up as employee No. 7. "I gave three weeks' notice at Microcosm and remodeled my bathroom because I knew I would not have a life after taking the job," she said.

Part of Shotwell's duties include reinforcing the SpaceX culture as the company grows larger and larger and starts to resemble the traditional aerospace giants that it likes to mock. Shotwell can switch on an easygoing, affable air and address the entire company during a meeting or convince a collection of possible recruits why they should sign up to be worked to the bone. During one such meeting with a group of interns, Shotwell pulled about a hundred people into the corner of the cafeteria. She wore high-heel black boots, skintight jeans, a tan jacket, and a scarf and had big hoop earnings dangling beside her shoulder-length blond hair. Pacing back and forth in front of the group with a microphone in hand, she asked them to announce what school they came from and what project they were working on while at SpaceX. One student went to Cornell and worked on Dragon, another went to USC and did propulsion system design, and another went to the University of Illinois and worked with the aerodynamics group. It took about thirty minutes to make it all the way around the room, and the students were, at least by academic pedigree and bright-eyed enthusiasm, among the most impressive youngsters in the world. The students peppered Shotwell with questions -- her best moment, her advice for being successful, SpaceX's competitive threats -- and she replied with a mix of earnest answers and rah-rah stuff. Shotwell made sure to emphasize the lean, innovative edge SpaceX has over the more traditional aerospace companies. "Our competitors are scared shitless of us," Shotwell told the group. "The behemoths are going to have to figure out how to get it together and compete. And it is our job to have them die."

One of SpaceX's biggest goals, Shotwell said, was to fly as often as possible. The company has never sought to make a fortune off each flight. It would rather make a little on each launch and keep the flights flowing. A Falcon 9 flight costs $60 million, and the company would like to see that figure drop to about $20 million through economies of scale and improvements in launch technology. SpaceX spent $2.5 billion to get four Dragon capsules to the ISS, nine flights with the Falcon 9, and five flights with the Falcon 1. It's a price-per-launch total that the rest of the players in the industry cannot comprehend let alone aspire to. "I don't know what those guys do with their money," Shotwell said. "They are smoking it. I just don't know." As Shotwell saw it, a number of new nations were showing interest in launches, eyeing communications technology as essential to growing their economies and leveling their status with developed nations. Cheaper flights would help SpaceX take the majority of the business from that new customer set. The company also expected to participate in an expanding market for human flights. SpaceX has never had any interest in doing the five-minute tourist flights to low Earth orbit like Virgin Galactic and XCOR. It does, however, have the ability to carry researchers to orbiting habitats being built by Bigelow Aerospace and to orbiting science labs being constructed by various countries. SpaceX will also start making its own satellites, turning the company into a one-stop space shop. All of these plans hinge on SpaceX being able to prove that it can fly on schedule every month and churn through the $5 billion backlog of launches. "Most of our customers signed up early and wanted to be supportive and got good deals on their missions," she said. "We are in a phase now where we need to launch on time and make launching Dragons more efficient."

But it was while discussing SpaceX's grandest missions that Shotwell really came into her own and seemed to inspire the interns. Some of them clearly dreamed of becoming astronauts, and Shotwell said that working at SpaceX was almost certainly their best chance to get to space now that NASA's astronaut corps had dwindled. Musk had made designing cool-looking, "non-Stay Puft" spacesuits a personal priority. "They can't be clunky and nasty," Shotwell said. "You have to do better than that." As for where the astronauts would go: well, there were the space habitats, the moon, and, of course, Mars as options. SpaceX has already started testing a giant rocket, called the Falcon Heavy, that will take it much farther into space than the Falcon 9, and it has another, even larger spaceship on the way. "Our Falcon Heavy rocket will not take a busload of people to Mars," she said. "So, there's something after Heavy. We're working on it." To make something like that vehicle happen, she said, the SpaceX employees needed to be effective and pushy. "Make sure your output is high," Shotwell said. "If we're throwing a bunch of shit in your way, you need to be mouthy about it. That's not a quality that's widely accepted elsewhere, but it is at SpaceX." And, if that sounded harsh, so be it. As Shotwell saw it, the commercial space race was coming down to SpaceX and China and that's it. And in the bigger picture, the race was on to ensure man's survival. "If you hate people and think human extinction is okay, then fuck it," Shotwell said. "Don't go to space. If you think it is worth humans doing some risk management and finding a second place to go live, then you should be focused on this issue and willing to spend some money. I am pretty sure we will be selected by NASA to drop landers and rovers off on Mars. Then the first SpaceX mission will be to drop off a bunch of supplies, so that once people get there, there will be places to live and food to eat and stuff for them to do."

For a short while, the conversation with the interns bogged down. It turned to some of the annoyances of SpaceX's campus. The company leases its facility and has not been able to build things like a massive parking structure that would make life easier for its three-thousand-person workforce. Shotwell promised that more parking, more bathrooms, and more of the freebies that technology start-ups in Silicon Valley offer their employees would be on the way. "I want a day care," she said.

It's talk like this that thrills and amazes people in the aerospace industry, who have long been hoping that some company would come along and truly revolutionize space travel. Aeronautics experts will point out that twenty years after the Wright brothers started their experiments, air travel had become routine. The launch business, by contrast, appears to have frozen. We've been to the moon, sent research vehicles to Mars, and explored the solar system, but all of these things are still immensely expensive one-off projects. "The cost remains extraordinarily high because of the rocket equation," said Carol Stoker, the planetary scientist at NASA. Thanks to military and government contracts from agencies like NASA, the aerospace industry has historically had massive budgets to work with and tried to make the biggest, most reliable machines it could. The business has been tuned to strive for maximum performance, so that the aerospace contractors can say they met their requirements. That strategy makes sense if you're trying to send up a $1 billion military satellite for the U. S. government and simply cannot afford for the payload to blow up. But on the whole, this approach stifles the pursuit of other endeavors. It leads to bloat and excess and a crippling of the commercial space industry.

Outside of SpaceX, the American launch providers are no longer competitive against their peers in other countries. They have limited launch abilities and questionable ambition. SpaceX's main competitor for domestic military satellites and other large payloads is United Launch Alliance (ULA), a joint venture formed in 2006 when Boeing and Lockheed Martin combined forces. The thinking at the time about the union was that the government did not have enough business for two companies and that combining the research and manufacturing work of Boeing and Lockheed would result in cheaper, safer launches. ULA has leaned on decades of work around the Delta (Boeing) and Atlas (Lockheed) launch vehicles and has flown many dozens of rockets successfully, making it a model of reliability. But neither the joint venture nor Boeing nor Lockheed, both of which can offer commercial services on their own, come close to competing on price against SpaceX, the Russians, or the Chinese. "For the most part, the global commercial market is dominated by Arianespace [Europe], Long March [China] or Russian vehicles," said Dave Bearden, the general manager of civil and commercial programs at the Aerospace Corporation. "There are just different labor rates and differences in the way they are built."

To put things more bluntly, ULA has turned into an embarrassment for the United States. In March 2014, ULA's then CEO, Michael Gass, faced off against Musk during a congressional hearing that dealt, in part, with SpaceX's request to take on more of the government's annual launch load. A series of slides were rolled out that showed how the government payments for launches have skyrocketed since Boeing and Lockheed went from a duopoly to a monopoly. According to Musk's math presented at the hearing, ULA charged $380 million per flight, while SpaceX would charge $90 million per flight. (The $90 million figure was higher than SpaceX's standard $60 million because the government has certain additional requirements for particularly sensitive launches.) By simply picking SpaceX as its launch provider, Musk pointed out, the government would save enough money to pay for the satellite going on the rocket. Gass had no real retort. He claimed Musk's figures for the ULA launch price were inaccurate but failed to provide a figure of his own. The hearing also came as tensions between the United States and Russia were running high due to Russia's aggressive actions in Ukraine. Musk rightly noted that the United States could soon be placing sanctions on Russia that could carry over to aerospace equipment. ULA, as it happens, relies on Russian-made engines to send up sensitive U. S. military equipment in its Atlas V rockets. "Our Falcon 9 and Falcon Heavy launch vehicles are truly American," Musk said. "We design and manufacture our rockets in California and Texas." Gass countered that ULA had bought a two-year supply of Russian engines and purchased the blueprints to the machines and had them translated from Russian to English, and he said this with a straight face. (A few months after the hearing, ULA replaced Gass as CEO and signed a deal with Blue Origin to develop American-made rockets.)

Some of the most disheartening moments of the hearing arrived when Senator Richard Shelby of Alabama took the microphone for questioning. ULA has manufacturing facilities in Alabama and close ties to the senator. Shelby felt compelled to play the role of hometown booster by repeatedly pointing out that ULA had enjoyed sixty-eight successful launches and then asking Musk what he made of that accomplishment. The aerospace industry stands as one of Shelby's biggest donors and he's ended up surprisingly pro-bureaucracy and anticompetition when it comes to getting things into space. "Typically competition results in better quality and lower-priced contracts -- but the launch market is not typical," Shelby said. "It is limited demand framed by government-industrial policies." The March hearing in which Shelby made these statements would turn out to be something of a sham. The government had agreed to put fourteen of its sensitive launches up for bid instead of just awarding them directly to ULA. Musk had come to Congress to present his case for why SpaceX made sense as a viable candidate for those and other launches. The day after the hearing, the air force cut the number of launches up for bid from fourteen to between seven and one. One month later, SpaceX filed a lawsuit against the air force asking for a chance to earn its launch business. "SpaceX is not seeking to be awarded contracts for these launches," the company said on its freedomtolaunch. com website. "We are simply seeking the right to compete."

SpaceX's main competitor for ISS resupply missions and commercial satellites in the United States is Orbital Sciences Corporation. Founded in Virginia in 1982, the company started out not unlike SpaceX, as the new kid that raised outside funding and focused on putting smaller satellites into low-Earth orbit. Orbital is more experienced, although it has a limited roster of machine types. Orbital depends on suppliers, including Russian and Ukrainian companies, for its engines and rocket bodies, making it more of an assembler of spacecraft than a true builder like SpaceX. And, also unlike SpaceX, Orbital's capsules cannot withstand the journey back from the ISS to Earth, so it's unable to return experiments and other goods. In October 2014, one of Orbital's rockets blew up on the launchpad. With its ability to launch on hold while it investigated the incident, Orbital reached out to SpaceX for help. It wanted to see if Musk had any extra capacity to take care of some of Orbital's customers. The company also signaled that it would move away from using Russian engines as well.

SpaceX had once looked like it too would be a one-trick pony. The company's original plans were to have the smallish Falcon 1 function as its primary workhorse. At $6 million to $12 million per flight, the Falcon 1 was by far the cheapest means of getting something into orbit, thrilling people in the space industry. When Google announced its Lunar X Prize in 2007—$30 million in awards to people who could land a robot on the moon -- many of the proposals that followed selected the Falcon 1 as their preferred launch vehicle because it seemed like the only reasonably priced option for getting something to the moon. Scientists around the world were equally excited, thinking that for the first time they had a means of placing experiments into orbit in a cost-effective way. But for all the enthusiastic talk about the Falcon 1, the demand never arrived. "It became very clear that there was a huge need for the Falcon 1 but no money for it," said Shotwell. "The market has to be able to sustain a certain amount of vehicles, and three Falcon 1s per year does not make a business." The last Falcon 1 launch took place in July 2009 from Kwajalein, when SpaceX carried a satellite into orbit for the Malaysian government. People in the aerospace industry have been grumbling ever since. "We gave Falcon 1 a hell of a shot," Shotwell said. "I was emotional about it and disappointed. I'd anticipated a flood of orders but, after eight years, they just did not come."

As for getting humans to space, SpaceX and Boeing were the victors in a four-year NASA competition to fly astronauts to the ISS. SpaceX will get $2.6 billion, and Boeing will get $4.2 billion to develop their capsules and ferry people to the ISS by 2017. The companies would, in effect, be replacing the space shuttle and restoring the United States' ability to conduct manned flights. "I actually don't mind that Boeing gets twice as much money for meeting the same NASA requirements as SpaceX with worse technology," Musk said. "Having two companies involved is better for the advancement of human spaceflight."

SpaceX has since expanded its launch capabilities at a remarkable pace and looks like it might be on the verge of getting that $12 million per flight option back. In June 2010, the Falcon 9 flew for the first time and orbited Earth successfully. In December 2010, SpaceX proved that the Falcon 9 could carry the Dragon capsule into space and that the capsule could be recovered safely after an ocean landing. It became the first commercial company ever to pull off this feat. Then, in May 2012, SpaceX went through the most significant moment in the company's history since that first successful launch on Kwajalein.

On May 22, at 3:44 A. M., a Falcon 9 rocket took off from the Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, Florida. The rocket did its yeoman-like work boosting Dragon into space. Then the capsule's solar panels fanned out and Dragon became dependent on its eighteen Draco thrusters, or small rocket engines, to guide its path to the International Space Station. The SpaceX engineers worked in shifts -- some of them sleeping on cots at the factory -- as it took the capsule three days for Dragon to make its journey. They spent most of the time observing Dragon's flight and checking to see that its sensor systems were picking up the ISS. Originally, Dragon planned to dock with the ISS around 4 A. M. on the twenty-fifth, but as the capsule approached the space station, an unexpected glint kept throwing off the calculations of a laser used to measure the distance between Dragon and the ISS. "I remember it being two and a half hours of struggle," Shotwell said. Her outfit of Uggs, a fishnet sweater, and leggings started to feel like pajamas as the night wore on, and the engineers battled this unplanned difficulty.

"I'd been digesting my guts," Shotwell said. "And then I am drinking champagne at six in the morning." About thirty people were in the control room when the docking happened. Over the next couple of hours, workers streamed into the SpaceX factory to soak up the elation of the moment. SpaceX had set another first, as the only private company to dock with the ISS. A couple of months later SpaceX received $440 million from NASA to keep developing Dragon so that it could transport people. "Elon is changing the way aerospace business is done," said NASA's Stoker. "He's managed to keep the safety factor up while cutting costs. He's just taken the best things from the tech industry like the open-floor office plans and having everyone talking and all this human interaction. It's a very different way to most of the aerospace industry, which is designed to produce requirements documents and project reviews."

Fearing all the time that the mission would be aborted, SpaceX decided to upload some new software to the Dragon that would cut the size of the visual frame used by the sensors to eliminate the effect of the sunlight on the machine. Then, just before 7 A. M., Dragon got close enough to the ISS for Don Pettit, an astronaut, to use a fifty-eight-foot robotic arm to reach out and grab the resupply capsule. "Houston, Station, it looks like we've got us a dragon by the tail," Pettit said.

In May 2014, Musk invited the press to SpaceX's headquarters to demonstrate what some of that NASA money had bought. He unveiled the Dragon V2, or version two, spacecraft. Unlike most executives, who like to show their products off at trade shows or daytime events, Musk prefers to hold true Hollywood-style galas in the evenings. People arrived in Hawthorne by the hundreds and snacked on hors d'oeuvres until the 7:30 P. M. showing. Musk appeared wearing a purplish velvet jacket and popping open the capsule's door with a bump of his fist like the Fonz. What he revealed was spectacular. The cramped quarters of past capsules were gone. There were seven thin, sturdy, contoured seats arranged with four seats close to the main console and a row of three seats in the back. Musk walked around in the capsule to show how roomy it was and then plopped down in the central captain's chair. He reached up and unlocked a four-paneled flat-screen console that gracefully slid down right in front of the first row of seats. In the middle of the console was a joystick for flying the aircraft and some physical buttons for essential functions that astronauts could press in case of an emergency or a malfunctioning touch-screen. The inside of the capsule had a bright, metallic finish. Someone had finally built a spaceship worthy of scientist and moviemaker dreams.

There was substance to go with the style. The Dragon 2 will be able to dock with the ISS and other space habitats automatically without needing the intervention of a robotic arm. It will run on a SuperDraco engine -- a thruster made by SpaceX and the first engine ever built completely by a 3-D printer to go into space. This means that a machine guided by a computer formed the engine out of single piece of metal -- in this case the high-strength alloy Inconel -- so that its strength and performance should exceed anything built by humans by welding various parts together. And most mind-boggling of all, Musk revealed that the Dragon 2 will be able to land anywhere on Earth that SpaceX wants by using the SuperDraco engines and thrusters to come to a gentle stop on the ground. No more landings at sea. No more throwing spaceships away. "That is how a twenty-first-century spaceship should land," Musk said. "You can just reload propellant and fly again. So long as we continue to throw away rockets and spacecraft, we will never have true access to space."

The Dragon 2 is just one of the machines that SpaceX continues to develop in parallel. One of the company's next milestones will be the first flight of the Falcon Heavy, which is designed to be the world's most powerful rocket. SpaceX has found a way to combine three Falcon 9s into a single craft with 27 of the Merlin engines and the ability to carry more than 53 metric tons of stuff into orbit. Part of the genius of Musk and Mueller's designs is that SpaceX can reuse the same engine in different configurations -- from the Falcon 1 up to the Falcon Heavy -- saving on cost and time. "We make our main combustion chambers, turbo pump, gas generators, injectors, and main valves," Mueller said. "We have complete control. We have our own test site, while most of the other guys use government test sites. The labor hours are cut in half and so is the work around the materials. Four years ago, we could make two rockets a year and now we can make twenty a year." SpaceX boasts that the Falcon Heavy can take up twice the payload of the nearest competitor -- the Delta IV Heavy from Boeing/ULA -- at one-third the cost. SpaceX is also busy building a spaceport from the ground up. The goal is to be able to launch many rockets an hour from this facility located in Brownsville, Texas, by automating the processes needed to stand a rocket up on the pad, fuel it, and send it off.

Just as it did in the early days, SpaceX continues to experiment with these new vehicles during actual launches in ways that other companies would dare not do. SpaceX will often announce that it's trying out a new engine or its landing legs and place the emphasis on that one upgrade in the marketing material leading up to a launch. It's common, though, for SpaceX to test out a dozen other objectives in secret during a mission. Musk essentially asks employees to do the impossible on top of the impossible. One former SpaceX executive described the working atmosphere as a perpetual-motion machine that runs on a weird mix of dissatisfaction and eternal hope. "It's like he has everyone working on this car that is meant to get from Los Angeles to New York on one tank of gas," this executive said. "They will work on the car for a year and test all of its parts. Then, when they set off for New York after that year, all of the vice presidents think privately that the car will be lucky to get to Las Vegas. What ends up happening is that the car gets to New Mexico -- twice as far as they ever expected -- and Elon is still mad. He gets twice as much as anyone else out of people."

There's a degree to which it's just never enough for Musk, no matter what it is. Case in point: the December 2010 launch in which SpaceX got the Dragon capsule to orbit Earth and return successfully. This had been one of the company's great achievements, and people had worked tirelessly for months, if not years. The launch had taken place on December 8, and SpaceX had a Christmas party on December 16. About ninety minutes before the party started, Musk had called his top executives to SpaceX for a meeting. Six of them, including Mueller, were decked out in party attire and ready to celebrate the holidays and SpaceX's historic achievement around Dragon. Musk laid into them for about an hour because the truss structure for a future rocket was running behind schedule. "Their wives were sitting three cubes over waiting for the berating to end," Brogan said. Other examples of similar behavior have cropped up from time to time. Musk, for example, rewarded a group of thirty employees who had pulled off a tough project for NASA with bonuses that consisted of additional stock option grants. Many of the employees, seeking instant, more tangible gratification, demanded cash. "He chided us for not valuing the stock," Drew Eldeen, a former engineer, said. "He said, 'In the long run, this is worth a lot more than a thousand dollars in cash.' He wasn't screaming or anything like that, but he seemed disappointed in us. It was hard to hear that."

June 7, 2013

The lingering question for many SpaceX employees is when exactly they will see a big reward for all their work. SpaceX's staff is paid well but by no means exorbitantly. Many of them expect to make their money when SpaceX files for an initial public offering. The thing is that Musk does not want to go public anytime soon, and understandably so. It's a bit hard to explain the whole Mars thing to investors, when it's unclear what the business model around starting a colony on another planet will be. When the employees heard Musk say that an IPO was years away and would not occur until the Mars mission looked more secure, they started to grumble, and when Musk found out, he addressed all of SpaceX in an e-mail that is a fantastic window into his thinking and how it differs from almost every other CEO's. (The full e-mail appears in Appendix 3.)

Going Public

Per my recent comments, I am increasingly concerned about SpaceX going public before the Mars transport system is in place. Creating the technology needed to establish life on Mars is and always has been the fundamental goal of SpaceX. If being a public company diminishes that likelihood, then we should not do so until Mars is secure. This is something that I am open to reconsidering, but, given my experiences with Tesla and SolarCity, I am hesitant to foist being public on SpaceX, especially given the long term nature of our mission.

For those who are under the impression that they are so clever that they can outsmart public market investors and would sell SpaceX stock at the "right time," let me relieve you of any such notion. If you really are better than most hedge fund managers, then there is no need to worry about the value of your SpaceX stock, as you can just invest in other public company stocks and make billions of dollars in the market.

Some at SpaceX who have not been through a public company experience may think that being public is desirable. This is not so. Public company stocks, particularly if big step changes in technology are involved, go through extreme volatility, both for reasons of internal execution and for reasons that have nothing to do with anything except the economy. This causes people to be distracted by the manic-depressive nature of the stock instead of creating great products.