Issue 30: Life in Space
By Mr. Atoz, The Librarian

Buried in Space

I’ve never outgrown the boyhood fantasy of being an astronaut. It hasn’t happened, and it never will. I never took my fascination with space very seriously. I was always a little embarrassed by it. In fact, I forgot about it through my adolescence and early college years. I rediscovered it the spring of my junior year in college, when I healed myself from a terrible crush by sticking my nose in my studies for a semester. I hid myself in schoolwork and obsession to prove to myself that I was as smart as some people told me I was. During this period, I would stay up in the late hours of Sunday night reading and doing all kinds of homework. In those days, Channel 4 would show two episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek. Four hours of Star Trek. Hiding in a cave of business and marketing homework and cheesy science fiction TV gave me an incredible amount of comfort. The thing was I didn’t discover my love for space and space television; I simply rediscovered it. Growing up, I was a big fan of Battlestar Galactica and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, although I was way too small to understand the concept of the shows. I even wore a plastic Buck Rogers costume for Halloween when I was about 4. It was way too big for me, but apparently I had my heart set on being Buck Rogers that year.

We learned last week that James Doohan, (better known as Scotty from Star Trek), will have his ashes sent into space in a rocket later this month by a company called Space Services. On a related note, Gene Roddenberry had his ashes sent into orbit by the same company. People talk about having their ashes spread out at sea or somewhere they loved. You never hear about people wanting their ashes taken to space. I’ll probably never do it because I’m not that eccentric, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t given it some thought.

Space, it could be argued, is heaven. Why not have both your soul and your body in the heavens? But outside of that, why space? Space, both in fiction and reality, holds an explicit measure of every concept that I love or value: adventure, mystery, security, and comfort, (I do recognize the oddity of pairing concepts of adventure with security.) The biggest thing, however, may be the concept of possibility. Space is a reminder of how small I am, but what’s more- space is a reminder of how small everyone and everything else is. I’m not in control, and neither is anyone else. Space is a symbol for how little I know, but also how much I can find out. While the Earth is full of trouble and confinement, space is free. Some have argued that the largest statement of the popularity of Star Trek has been its message of hope. I’m completely on board with that. It tells us that “beyond” is a better place.