Science Fiction, Anybody?

Oberths and Spitzers Dream
Oberth's and Spitzer's Dream

Not so very long ago, this orbiting observatory was a twinkle in a science fiction writer’s eye. In the 1920s, German rocket scientist Hermann Oberth wrote a book called Die Rakete zu den Planetraümen, in which he described a telescope attached to a station in geosynchronous orbit. While the Hubble Space Telescope isn’t in geosynchronous orbit, it certainly fits Oberth’s dream of off-planet astronomy observing.

I first found out about this book when I was interviewing another scientist — the late Lyman Spitzer of Princeton University. Dr. Spitzer was also a science fiction fan, and in the course of several pleasant conversations with him, we both shared our favorite book titles. My love for science fiction (which, along with my dad’s habit of taking me out to the see the stars), kindled my interest in astronomy and space science. In high school I read things like Clarke’s Childhood’s End and many of Robert A. Heinlein’s juveniles as if they were treasures. Today I have hundreds of back issues of science fiction magazines in my library and a fair collection of SF books. Periodically I take some old favorite down from the shelf, cuddle up on the sofa, and lose myself in some distant planetary system, exploring with beings that only a writer could imagine.

Yet, there’s a reality that springs from science fiction that we cannot deny. Many of today’s missions — from orbiting shuttle and space station endeavors to flybys of distant planets — once existed as ideas in the realm of science fiction. It took humans a few decades to catch up to some of the SF dreams outlined in this body of literature, but there is much more to accomplish. I would love it if science fiction were a sort of self-fulfilling blueprint for the future of the human race, although I realize that many SF dreams will never come true. But, that body of literature sits there — beckoning us to our future. If we’re on our toes, it’ll keep us moving ever onward and outward.

Danger, Will Robinson!

It has been a month and a half since the space shuttle Columbia plunged to Earth in a fireball. It was a painful reminder that we can’t control everything about human spaceflight. It may turn out that no company or person is to blame for this terrible accident, but that hasn’t stopped the fingerpointing among contractors and posturing among members of Congress and the Senate. I hope that we figure out what happened and I hope that we retain our understanding that these things happen and that space is not a benign environment.

In 1986 we watched as the second big tragedy of American spaceflight occurred — the loss of the Challenger. I was at NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory, watching the launch in Von Karman auditorium along with dozens of Voyager mission scientists and science writers who had gathered for the final press conference of the Voyager 2/Uranus encounter.

It was a searing tragedy, perhaps all the more spectacular because our space program hadn’t been touched by death since the Apollo 1 disaster in 1967.

There have been other losses throughout the decades of our exploration of space. Of course the Russians have lost cosmonauts — learning along with us the price we pay to rise above our planet and look to the stars. What comforts me is that we continue to strive outward from our planet. Indeed, sometimes I think that space exploration is our best and brightest hope for the future of the human race. The tragedies of the past set the bar higher for us in the future — but there’s no doubt we learn from them and keep on going.

So, with that, I salute the space heroes who have fallen during our first tentative steps outward. Sure there’s danger out there. But it’s inherent in any new endeavor. I believe that every one of our lost astronauts and cosmonauts would want us to keep the faith in space exploration as a lasting monument to the price they paid to give humanity a chance to leap for the stars.