I’m not sure when exactly I fell in love with science
fiction and the idea of space exploration. It could have been when, around the
age of ten or so, I’d stay up past my bedtime and curl up next to the ten-inch
television in my bedroom to watch midnight reruns of Star Trek: The Original
Series on WPIX. It could have been when I saw Star Wars for the first time.
Most likely, though, I was no different than every other kid on Earth who
immediately fell in love with space the minute they realized there are people
whose jobs it is to explore the galaxy.
The fact is I’ve been a science fiction fan and galactic
dreamer as long as I can remember, and there have been no shortage of factors
leading to who I am today – a twenty-eight year-old sci-fi nut with a bookshelf
filled with Asimov, Clarke, and Heinlein; a DVD collection dominated by shows
like Star Trek and Battlestar Galactica; and a downright obsessive love for
Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (quick note: while an undergrad I wrote
a forty-page thesis on the movie for a voluntary post-grad film class that didn’t count towards my degree).
Although I don’t have the most complete recollection of my
time in college (go figure), one memory I will never forget is sitting with
friends watching live as the Space Shuttle Columbia disintegrated upon reentry
over Texas. Neither I nor my friends had been to bed yet that early morning
when the news started to break that something had gone horribly wrong with our
latest shuttle mission, and I’ll never forget the sick feeling in my stomach as
we all watched the disaster play out. Even then, watching the events unfold, it
was clear the tragedy of lost human lives would quite possibly be as great as
the potential tragedy of shelving the risky shuttle program after one too many
disasters, or worse, shit-canning manned space travel as a whole. For a sci-fi
nut and NASA enthusiast, those thoughts we nearly as upsetting as the loss of
life.
Flash forward nine and a half years, and I’m lucky enough to
be proudly watching CNN as they cover Curiosity’s safe landing on Mars.
Watching the footage of the room full of NASA men and women celebrate with awkward
high-fives, hugs and tears of joy after holding their breaths for the seven
minutes of radio silence that preceded the first news of Curiosity’s successful
landing, I couldn’t help but think back to that terrible day in 2003 and the
sort of sacrifice and human ingenuity that are both such necessary components
of humanity’s exploration of space. I was proud to be human in that moment, and
among other things, suddenly filled with the desire to reread Warren Ellis and
Colleen Doran’s Orbiter, one of my favorite sci-fi works of all time and a
graphic novel that so beautifully explores the very questions of drama, risk
and sacrifice that were playing out in my head while watching the Curiosity
touch down.
After digging through boxes until I found my copy of
Orbiter, I was floored to rediscover Warren Ellis’ stirring introduction to the
book, which was perhaps even more eerily pertinent to the drama unfolding in
both the halls of NASA and my head that night than the comics’ actual story.
You see, though Ellis and Doran, both space exploration enthusiasts, created
the book in 2001 as a love letter to NASA and a plea for humanity to keep
pushing onward in space, it didn’t see print until after the 2003 Colombia
disaster, when shelving manned space flight suddenly seemed like a viable alternative
to risking more human lives in the name of science. Thus, Ellis’ intro serves
as a haunting instance in which an author must preface a science fiction work
that has already proved tragically prophetic. The introduction is fascinating
enough, but the book is even better.
Those who know my tastes in fiction know Warren Ellis is one
of my favorite modern writers, and arguably my favorite hard sci-fi writer
working in any medium today. Orbiter is perhaps his most
beautiful and inspiring work, and that’s saying a lot coming from this fan.
Drawn in gorgeous fashion by Colleen Doran, the book kicks off with the type of
masterful high-concept hook Ellis delivers so consistently: the space shuttle
Voyager suddenly reappears and crash lands on Earth after disappearing in orbit
ten years prior, a disappearance that caused NASA to abandon space exploration
altogether. Furthermore, Voyager has returned covered in a strange alien
skin-like membrane showing signs it traveled unthinkable distances through the
galaxy, with only one of its seven members accounted for – Pilot John Cost,
who’s deeply psychologically traumatized by his experiences and quite possibly
insane.
The story then follows a team of engineers, biologists and one
dedicated psychiatrist as they try to piece together what happened to the ship
and the implications Voyager’s reappearance might have on man’s place in the
universe. In typical Ellis fashion, a book loaded with hard sci-fi concepts is
just as heavily packed with human emotion, and the character’s quest for
answers all pays off beautifully in the end.
If you ever get misty-eyed thinking about NASA or staring up
at the stars, Orbiter is a book you definitely want to read. Go out, buy it and
read it now while man’s latest victory of space exploration is still fresh on
the mind.
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