Dreaming of space-flight, and predicting its future, have always been favorite pastimes of science fiction. In my first science column for F&SF, I can't resist the urge to contribute a bit to this grand tradition.

A science-fiction writer in 1991 has a profound advantage over the genre's pioneers. Nowadays, space-exploration has a past as well as a future. "The conquest of space" can be judged today, not just by dreams, but by a real-life track record.

Some people sincerely believe that humanity's destiny lies in the stars, and that humankind evolved from the primordial slime in order to people the galaxy. These are interesting notions: mystical and powerful ideas with an almost religious appeal. They also smack a little of Marxist historical determinism, which is one reason why the Soviets found them particularly attractive.

Americans can appreciate mystical blue-sky rhetoric as well as anybody, but the philosophical glamor of "storming the cosmos" wasn't enough to motivate an American space program all by itself. Instead, the Space Race was a creation of the Cold War -- its course was firmly set in the late '50s and early '60s. Americans went into space *because* the Soviets had gone into space, and because the Soviets were using Sputnik and Yuri Gagarin to make a case that their way of life was superior to capitalism.

The Space Race was a symbolic tournament for the newfangled intercontinental rockets whose primary purpose (up to that point) had been as instruments of war. The Space Race was the harmless, symbolic, touch-football version of World War III. For this reason alone: that it did no harm, and helped avert a worse clash -- in my opinion, the Space Race was worth every cent. But the fact that it was a political competition had certain strange implications.