rpk (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} rpk) wrote,@ 2008-03-19 09:56:00 |
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Sir Arthur C. Clarke dead at 90.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/19/b
When I was maybe ten years old or so, I'd started watching _Star Trek_ and figured maybe I'd enjoy reading this science fiction stuff. One of the paperbacks in one of my school's classrooms was a collection of short stories; I remember rthe cover as being blue with a painting of a space station on the cover. The shortest story in the bunch was titled "History Lesson," so I read that.
The story described a scientific meeting of Venusians who were reviewing the latest materials found on their expedition to the dead planet Earth. They'd found this artifact, a strip of images wound on a spool, and they'd worked out that it had photographically recorded motion. So, they watched the only existing record of everyday life on the planet Earth. The film concluded with a portrait of the Earthian and four words, which would form the basis of whole schools of study in this far-future Venus.
The words were: "A Walt Disney Production."
That was the moment, everyone. Not just because I was a severe Disney fan at that age. BANG. Irony, on a scale legitimately called "cosmic." I'll never forget that sensation that my _brain had opened_, and that it was _really really funny_. I looked around the room, and realized that, but for some odd accident or two in the distant past, the classroom might've been populated by intelligent lizards. Or that holy writings might have started out as dirty jokes, or that some far-future religion might be based on McDonald's burger wrappers. It was _deelightful_. All it took was a little shift in perspective. Change your point of view from that of, say, a ten-year-old human boy, to that of some interplanetary observer watching one species study another and getting it _wrong_...
Hey, Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett built whole careers on these things.
I took note of the author's name-- Arthur C. Clarke-- and wondered if he'd written anything else like this. Trips to the library found me several anthologies of delightful short stories. And maybe a year later, MGM rereleased _2001: A Space Odyssey_, and...
Jesus, what can anyone say about Arthur Clarke? He was one of the pillars of science fiction. He co-wrote one of the greatest and most influential films of any kind ever made. His work inspired thousands of men and women to follow science not just as a career, but a _calling_ to lift humanity into some new and wonderful realm.
There aren't many left like him. If we'd found some means of prolonging human life into the centuries-- maybe keeping consciousness alive and active in some quantum-computing diamond lattice running in absolute zero off Europa, or something _really_ strange and powerful that Clarke might have imagined-- he'd have been the first man I'd have nominated for the honor. (And we'd make sure that that particular cyberspace ahd excellent scuba-diving simulations.)
If you want to mourn, just think of the wonders, the possible achievements of humankind, that only Arthur Clarke could have imagined... and which we won't get to hear about anymore. Mourn ourselves, for the loss of an inspiring man.
But think of the thousands of people whom he inspired. We all hope for better things... but thanks to Clarke, there are thousands who are working to _find_ and _build_ better things.
His testament? Hey, damn near anything great about our future.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/19/b
When I was maybe ten years old or so, I'd started watching _Star Trek_ and figured maybe I'd enjoy reading this science fiction stuff. One of the paperbacks in one of my school's classrooms was a collection of short stories; I remember rthe cover as being blue with a painting of a space station on the cover. The shortest story in the bunch was titled "History Lesson," so I read that.
The story described a scientific meeting of Venusians who were reviewing the latest materials found on their expedition to the dead planet Earth. They'd found this artifact, a strip of images wound on a spool, and they'd worked out that it had photographically recorded motion. So, they watched the only existing record of everyday life on the planet Earth. The film concluded with a portrait of the Earthian and four words, which would form the basis of whole schools of study in this far-future Venus.
The words were: "A Walt Disney Production."
That was the moment, everyone. Not just because I was a severe Disney fan at that age. BANG. Irony, on a scale legitimately called "cosmic." I'll never forget that sensation that my _brain had opened_, and that it was _really really funny_. I looked around the room, and realized that, but for some odd accident or two in the distant past, the classroom might've been populated by intelligent lizards. Or that holy writings might have started out as dirty jokes, or that some far-future religion might be based on McDonald's burger wrappers. It was _deelightful_. All it took was a little shift in perspective. Change your point of view from that of, say, a ten-year-old human boy, to that of some interplanetary observer watching one species study another and getting it _wrong_...
Hey, Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett built whole careers on these things.
I took note of the author's name-- Arthur C. Clarke-- and wondered if he'd written anything else like this. Trips to the library found me several anthologies of delightful short stories. And maybe a year later, MGM rereleased _2001: A Space Odyssey_, and...
Jesus, what can anyone say about Arthur Clarke? He was one of the pillars of science fiction. He co-wrote one of the greatest and most influential films of any kind ever made. His work inspired thousands of men and women to follow science not just as a career, but a _calling_ to lift humanity into some new and wonderful realm.
There aren't many left like him. If we'd found some means of prolonging human life into the centuries-- maybe keeping consciousness alive and active in some quantum-computing diamond lattice running in absolute zero off Europa, or something _really_ strange and powerful that Clarke might have imagined-- he'd have been the first man I'd have nominated for the honor. (And we'd make sure that that particular cyberspace ahd excellent scuba-diving simulations.)
If you want to mourn, just think of the wonders, the possible achievements of humankind, that only Arthur Clarke could have imagined... and which we won't get to hear about anymore. Mourn ourselves, for the loss of an inspiring man.
But think of the thousands of people whom he inspired. We all hope for better things... but thanks to Clarke, there are thousands who are working to _find_ and _build_ better things.
His testament? Hey, damn near anything great about our future.
