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THE ROCKET INTO PLANETARY SPACE by William Barton * * * * “Magazines are the soul of science fiction, and the place where it first began. Hundreds of novels are published every year, but only a few magazines exist at any one time, and only a few of those last for any length of time. Asimov’s is one of those that have lasted, becoming the literary heart of science fiction in the eighties, nineties, and beyond. Happy birthday, Asimov’s! I’m grateful to have been a part of it all.” —William Barton Over the past thirty-five years, William Barton has written numerous science fiction stories, including the award-winning novel Acts of Conscience (Warner Aspect, 1997) and several stories for Asimov’s, most recently, “Down to the Earth Below” October/ November 2006). Regarding “The Rocket into Planetary Space,” he says, “I am, as the clever comedian once said, The Luckiest Boy in the World! I was seven years old when Sputnik 1 orbited the Earth, and only ten when Yuri Gagarin flew. I was fourteen when Mariner IV sent back those first magical photos of Mars, eighteen when Apollo 8 orbited the Moon and still eighteen when Eagle set down on the Sea of Tranquility. I was twenty-five when Viking 1 landed on Mars and twenty-seven when the two Voyagers left for the stars. When I was thirty, I stood just three miles from the launch pad and watched STS-1 Columbia climb heavenward on a column of fiery smoke. What followed was Challenger exploding when I was thirty-five, then the Endless Space Station of my forties, then my own Columbia falling to pieces over Texas when I was fifty-two, and I began to feel cheated. Cheated out of the universe Asimov, Heinlein, and all the others promised me when I was that little boy, breathless in front of the TV news. This story is about why I changed my mind, and why I feel so very lucky to have lived here and now, after all.” * * * * This is the way things turned out for Burke the Jerk. If things can turn out this way for someone like me, there’s hope for us all. And I always did believe an elephant can fly... On September 7, 2016, just three weeks before my sixty-sixth birthday, when I should’ve been retired and tucked safely away in a
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