We honor the passing of the venerated Arthur C. Clarke, author of "2001: A Space Odyssey." Beyond his inestimable contribution to the world's best science fiction film (arguably its most obscure!) the impact of Clarke cannot be understated, not the least for the telecommunications satellites he conceived that expedite the information age we enjoy. Not only technical accomplishments are his due, but also classic after classic that inspired plan after dream in so many.
No less than NASA says, "Arthur Clarke was a gifted writer of science and science fiction, and an unparalleled visionary of the future, inspiring countless young people throughout the middle and later 20th century with his hopeful vision of how spaceflight would transform societies, economies, and humankind itself." I was once one of those countless young people, with an imagination fired into realms that Clarke had been exploring for decades, though what I remember from 2001 in the theater (as a child) was more excitement for the Howard Johnson's next to the theater, with its movie coordinated paper placemats and kid friendly predictions of ice cream in space.
We still don't have HoJo's in space. We do have a sizeable space station, though it's barely noticeable against the majestic spinning wheels of 2001's Station V. It does however have the impressive handy-robot Dextre after this week's successful installation by the visiting crew of Endeavour. And thankfully interest in the moon rekindles on an international scale, another promise of the film if not also its similarly produced smaller cousin, "Space: 1999."
His famous Clarke's Third Law ("Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic") found sturdier purchase than his first two. (1) "When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right and when he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong," and (2) "The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible."
The Golden Era of Science Fictions Masters is now laid out favorably for history's review. (First Barry Morse, then Gary Gygax, and now Arthur Clarke. The year's not starting out well for nerds, is it?) But in the end there's no getting around it. An distinguished but elderly scientist called the date and either we blew it or he did. We're pushing the limits of the possible, just not as enthusiastically as we could. There's no doubt in my mind that we as a species let him down, not the other way around.