Sci-Fi: Part 2

The point, of course, is that no matter how advanced we are (or backwards, as the case may be), there is always something on the horizon to look forward to.

Take, for example, going to the moon.

In the pre-1960s, going to the moon was a fantasy at best. People hypothesized about ways to get there, such as giant cannons, really big slingshots, and a variety of narcotics, but there was very little understanding of what was actually required.

And then, in the ‘60s, Kennedy, embarrassed by the Soviets getting into space first and potentially flipping off the US from orbit, created NASA, so we could flip them off from even further away.

And, in 1969, we did it, we landed on the moon. I have no idea if Neil or Buzz flipped the Soviets off (I would have).

Anyway, science-fiction had become reality. Yet with science-fiction, there is always more. Now we could dream about going to space regularly. And then to the moon regularly. And then to the moon for lunch.

Once we get to other planets, we’ll want to get to other galaxies. And then we’ll want to do it even faster. The moment we achieve anything, there will always be the dream of doing it better, faster, and cheaper.

Where once we dreamt of visiting Mars, eventually, it will be little more than a potty-break on the way to Io.

“All right, we’ll be passing Mars in 10-minutes. Does anyone have to go?”

“No.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause Mar’s is the last stop before we get to Grandma’s on Io and it’s not like I can pull over so you can pee in the bushes.”

Eventually, assuming we don’t wipe ourselves out, succumb to space-measles, or get wiped out by an alien race that looks like Mayor McCheese, we will become beings of pure energy, who exist outside space and time and have no need for any sort of technology. Yet there will still be stories.

“And these corporeal beings will have spears.”

“What is a spear?”

“A piece of dead tree with a point.”

“For what purpose?”

“When hurled, it will pierce another corporeal entity and end its existence, allowing the spearman to feed upon the now-dead flesh.”

“Oooooooh!”

“Oh, and they smell of feces.”

“OOOOOOH!”

Cheers,
-Jason