The silent, joyful tears turned to screams, and then all of the adults quickly left the room. My fellow students and I were left alone to ponder the meaning of these events as the footage of the explosion was played over and over. Flaming bits of something trailed off in different directions, every direction it seemed except up.
That was the day I closed the door on my dream, the day I fell out of love with space - real space. In my space you don't blow up before you even get there. In my space, O-rings always work.
***
"The Empire is on the verge of success. Soon, peace and order will be restored throughout the galaxy. Even now our capable forces, led by Darth Vader, are striking back at the Rebel insurgents."
- Star Wars: TIE Fighter
I bought a computer, my first computer, in the summer of 1994. I'd saved up for months. I brought it home in a huge box, and before I'd even unpacked it, went back to the store to buy two more items: a joystick and a copy of TIE Fighter.
I unpacked the computer, set up my desk with the joystick directly in front of me, the keyboard slightly to the left, a few drink coasters to the right, and small statue of Isis - for luck. Then I flew a space ship for the first time in almost a decade.
Over the years I'd learned even more about space. I learned how the lack of gravity in space can make your bones weak; how artificial gravity is a pipe dream; and that even little things, like brushing your teeth, are almost impossible. I watched astronauts struggling to use basic tools with their bulky suits, assembling a space station more than 200 miles above the planet. I learned that even a minor flaw in a giant mirror could render billions of dollars worth of astronomical equipment useless. And that math errors could crash a probe.
The more I learned about space, the less I missed the dream of going there. To real space, anyway. And, conversely, the more I wanted to be back in my space. TIE Fighter took me there, but it was only the first. A succession of space games followed - Descent, Wing Commander and Privateer - each putting me in the cockpit of my own machine, each giving me a window on my dream of space, not as it is, but as it should be.
Then I played Mechwarrior 2, and at the helm of a new kind of machine, a robotic, world crushing tank, battling enemy mechs on the surface of the moon, I saw a sight I'd never thought I'd see: the Earth from space. As Neil Armstrong and his fellows could probably tell you, it's a sight that never gets old, even in digital form. That was more than 10 years ago. Just last fall I saw it again, piloting a machine over a ridge on the lunar surface in a game called Mass Effect, and it was just as astonishing as I remembered, better even, in HD.
I'll never have space as the astronauts know it, but I'll always have my space - my own private outer space - the space that exists only in my mind, kept alive by people like Roddenberry, Lucas, Whedon and the makers of all those fantastic games. And in my space, the launch is just the beginning, and there is no "The End."
Russ Pitts is Acquisitions and Production Manager of The Escapist. His blog can be found at www.falsegravity.com.
