Before the 1960s we could only imagine what the surface of the moon looked like up close. We, as a species, looking up to the sky and into space used our imagination to illustrate what the surface of other planets might reveal. Some of those illustrations and theories stuck with us for decades until refuted by better technology. Our ability to send remote devices into space as surrogates for earth-bound explorers, and the increasingly rich imagery and data being sent back to us, is nothing short of incredible. Saying that, knowing from the perspective of past history we are only in the very preliminary baby steps of our existence (barely moving our feeble limbs, actually) and there is so much more to come, on the one hand it seems immature to be so amazed. Of course there are interesting planets out there with landscapes, processes, and features completely different from our familiar Terra Firma. Why should we be surprised to see those things given our technology? We should expect it, and we do. If all the other worlds out there looked like Earth there wouldn’t be any reason to explore them. We still would, of course. My point is, we’ve come to take these discoveries and achievements as commonplace, as expected events in the course of our ongoing march of progress. Would people be as apathetic if no discoveries or advances were being made? Would they then complain? Hard to say, I think.
On the other hand, it’s childish wonder and amazement that drives us forward, keeps us interested and engaged, makes us wonder “what if…?” Without curiosity and the will to pursue questions, life and living on Earth would be very, very uninteresting. Why do kids want to be astronauts? It’s the desire and hope to see something new, the adventure of doing something or going somewhere nobody else (or very few) have done or gone before (Sounds familiar, I know, but it’s true).
Early explorers were curious about what was over the next hill. Once that was found out, then it was across the river, then across the ocean, now across space (though we’re still working on ‘in the ocean’). When we were kids, we believed what we were told about the pinpoints of light we saw through a telescope in the backyard; “that’s Venus, that’s Neptune, that’s Mars”. Those pinpoints of identified light sparked our imagination. It wasn’t just any pinpoint in the sky, it was another place we knew about, far away but close to home, visible, but unattainable. What was it like there? Was the sky blue? Were there trees? Was there anyone there? Did the houses have curtains on the windows? Those are the questions (well, maybe not the exact questions) keeping young and older minds looking forward, figuring out how to find the answer, giving them a purpose and something to do. Without curiosity and childish wonder we would certainly give up not long after the question was posed.
I’ve always been fascinated by space and technology. Probably because I grew up in the 1960s and watched the first step on the moon. It was brand new. It was pushing the envelope of what was possible. It was our first really close look at the surface of another world. It was cool.
But can there be too much technology? There’s so much going on now compared with a few decades ago. I imagine that comment echoes the sentiment voiced by generations going back to the beginning of history and presages the same comment that will be stated 3 - 4 decades from now by the current “technologically advanced” generation. We are so much more concerned with events and people so far outside of our personal sphere of influence than we used to be (or needed to be). Throughout history, successive generations have had to deal with the added load technology placed on their lives but, initially, the sphere of technological influence was just around the home; tools that improved hunting or farming. A villager still had to walk to the neighbor’s house to get the local news. At first, these advances were truly beneficial and made life a little easier. Today, we don’t have to leave our bed to see, hear, and interact with a sphere that encircles the globe. There’s so much noise I think it dampens our ability to be amazed, restricts our childish wonder, it makes us jaded toward things we should be staring at open-mouthed.
What does this have to do with Mars?
The tracks of Opportunity in the soil near Victoria Crater
These are images of the Martian surface from NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter (MRO) and the onboard HiRISE (High Resolution Imaging Science Experiment) camera.
If you can dampen the noise, you can still feel the wonder.
(images from NASA. More information about the location and details of each image can be found at http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2009/11/martian_landscapes.html)
