These Traces 103

May 2

Sometimes, we're astonishing creatures.

A couple of issues ago I linked to an essay about Voyager 1. It was a beautifully written obituary for the little probe that could, stranded in the cold and vast solitude of space, watching our sun recede, dwarfed into another pinprick amongst the stars. At the time, Voyager had lost its ability to communicate, spouting incomprehensible gibberish instead of useful data. Its mission, it seemed, was finally over.

I've had a soft spot for the Voyager probes, for most of my life. They launched in 1977, a transitional year for me, straddling innocence and newfound realities. A time when myths and facts intermingle. Events from this period retain a certain colour, the hues of nostalgia, possibility, excitement. Sorrow as well, from the certainty of what, one day, would be lost.

In 1979, we went to the movies and saw Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Man was that a spectacle. Star Wars had paved the way for blockbuster, special effects, space extravaganzas, but the familiarity of these characters made this one different. I believe it was the first TV/Hollywood crossover too, wasn't it? People applauded on each introduction: Kirk! Spock! Uhura! The biggest cheer reserved for the Enterprise, revealed as it sat in space dock, waiting to be boarded. And at the centre of the story: Vger—a Voyager probe gone rogue, rescued by aliens, and given sentience.

Myths and facts.

...

Two weeks ago a group of NASA scientists repaired Voyager 1. They diagnosed the problem, bypassed a corrupted memory chip, relocated fifty-year old code to new sectors, and made Voyager speak again. They did this from 15 billion miles away, forced to pause between each attempt as they waited for the 45 hours round trip to complete, and confirm their tests.

I despair at humanity on an almost daily basis. It's hard to avoid.
But boy... we truly can be astonishing.