fifty years ago today the first manmade object reached orbit. Science fiction fans everywhere thought it would be the start of mankind’s thriumphant conquest of space, even if it was the Russkies who did it, but it didn’t quite work out that way. While we’re using satellites for all kinds of important stuff, that whole idea that humanity had to leave its cradle behind seemed a lot less attractive in reality than science fiction had made it seem — quite a lot harder as well. We’re struggling to get a space station capable of keeping half a dozen astronauts living there for a month or two up and running, let alone that we can get the million inhabitants L5 colonies O’Neill dreams up going. For now, the future seems to be Earth orbit satellites and unmanned probes to the rest of the Solar System, plus the occasional hype of a new Moon or Mars programme
Should we be disappointed with this? That we have no giant space colonies, no Moonbase, no exploration of Mars, no interstellar expeditions? Or should we be happy instead with the things we do have: a Solar System far more interesting and odd than anybody had ever imagined, Earthbound telescopes powerful enough to detect planets around other stars, extrasolar planets where nobody would’ve believed planets could exist, an universe fastly more wonderful than any science fiction writer ever imagined?
Me, I’d rather go for wonder than for disappointment; I just wish much of science fiction would do the same and embrace the universe we live in rather than the universe we wished we lived in. Too much modern science fiction wallows in nostalgia or tries to refit the real universe into the old cliches.