Dear Science, it's time to reconsider how you discuss "near-earth" asteroids. Many people are unaware of what this term truly signifies, and its frequent usage can be misleading.

I have a deep appreciation for science, but I often wish it would tone down its alarmist rhetoric. The public is becoming overwhelmed with dire warnings, leading many to simply shrug and think, "As long as I can binge-watch my favorite shows, everything is fine."

Take the term "near-earth" asteroids, for example. Some of these celestial bodies are a million miles away or even further.

In January, a significant asteroid made its closest pass to Earth, approximately one million miles away. While this sounds alarming, we need to break down what "near" actually means.

Let's start with the dictionary. The word "near" is straightforward, yet many people use it without understanding its full implications.

Consider this definition:

• Near:
  • Adverb: at or to a short distance away; adjacent.
  • Adjective: located a short distance away.

However, none of this specifies "a million miles away." That distance is mind-boggling for most people. A million miles translates to around 40 trips around the Earth, or nearly two round trips to the moon.

You might argue that "nearness" is relative, depending on the size of the objects in question. Fair point. The Earth's diameter is about 7,917.5 miles. If we consider the average human diameter to be around 18 inches, how far would someone need to be to feel "near"?

Research suggests that four feet is the typical "personal boundary" for most individuals. Therefore, if we apply this concept to the Earth, we find that a distance of 21,108 miles is required to feel minimally "far" from it. This is still significantly less than a million miles.

The asteroids that scientists label as "near" are relatively small compared to Earth. If they were larger, they would not be referred to as asteroids but rather as "planetoids" or "minor planets." In reality, they are more like tiny bullets zipping by in the vastness of space.

Now, imagine if gunfire erupted nearby while you were out shopping. How close would you need to be for the bullets to feel "near"? If we set that distance at 100 feet, we find that the equivalent "personal boundary" for bullets would still be far less than a million miles.

Ultimately, calling something a "million miles away" is unlikely to stir the public into action. Most people will simply think, "That's too far to worry about."

If scientists want the public to pay attention to potential threats, they need to communicate these dangers in relatable terms. The current approach of presenting complex data often falls on deaf ears, as many struggle to grasp the implications of the science.

To truly engage the public, scientists must simplify their language and make their warnings more accessible. This shift could mean the difference between apathy and action.

In conclusion, if the scientific community genuinely wishes to foster understanding and motivate change, it must abandon its elitist tendencies. The challenge lies in effectively conveying the urgency of our collective situation so that everyone, regardless of their background, can grasp the stakes involved.

So, science, let’s start communicating in a way that resonates with the masses. It's time to break down the barriers and ensure that everyone understands the critical issues at hand.