by Shane Tourtellotte
William Shatner’s brief trip to space encouraged Shane Tourtellotte to speculate on on how someone who was raised a generation ship, completely removed from any planet at all, would react to setting foot on solid ground. His latest short story, “Groundling,” from our [May/June issue, on sale now] explores this question.
“Groundling” is, I’m willing to bet, the first Analog story ever inspired by a 90-year-old astronaut.
Yes, it was a publicity stunt when Jeff Bezos got William Shatner, Captain James T. Kirk himself, onto a New Shepard rocket for a sub-orbital flight into the lower reaches of outer space. It was a come-on to draw more paying customers, a strategy Bezos has since done with other celebrities ranging from Michael Strahan to (prospectively as I write) Katy Perry. Corporate ploy or not, we still watched, many of us hoping fervently that a nonagenarian not noted for the best of physical condition would weather the experience well.
He did. Shatner came out of the capsule more than hale and hearty. He came out exhilarated, and in an on-site interview spoke rhapsodically about the transcendent experience, one that should be shared.
Was there salesmanship? Almost certainly, but salesmanship is not identical with fakery. The best salesman is one who really believes in his product. Even after a more detached and even jaundiced re-evaluation, I was convinced Shatner was sincere.
That, or he was doing a whale of an acting job. Someone that convincing should be in the movies. Television, at least.
Sales pitch or not, it’s a reaction many have had and related before. We humans are fully accustomed to life on Earth: we’re literally made for it. The environment of outer space is profoundly foreign to us. A natural reaction to it would be disorientation, anxiety, and physical revolt. This does sometimes happen, especially the latter as space sickness.
That natural reaction is not the only one, and probably not the dominant one. There are others who have Shatner’s experience, and more. They delight in microgravity; they marvel at the sight of Earth turning beneath them, or hanging in the black sky, small enough to cover with a couple of fingers. The experience is often transformative, making them view life, humanity, and Earth through renewed eyes.
Now, what if the situation were reversed?
Science fiction writing holds numerous examples of generation ships, spaceships making relativistic journeys to other stars, usually as colony vessels. Those stories often speculate about the crew and passengers (presuming they aren’t hibernating) fated to be born, live their lives, and die on such ships, never setting foot on a planet. Their entire life experience would be formed in that environment, just as our entire life experience has been formed living on this planet.
(Except for a few of our readers who have been to space, of course. Still, no humans have ever lived off Earth for anything approaching the majority of their lives.)
So take someone fully formed in that environment: artificial, but felling it is natural because it’s all he’s ever known. Take that person, and send him to the exotic environment of an Earth-like planet. Would his reaction be somewhere between discomfort and terror . . . or would it be elation and wonder?
For different people, it would go either way. Unease might well be the majority reaction. In “Groundling,” I chose the perspective of someone mirroring William Shatner’s response.
Which reaction is “right?” Who can say? The March/April 2022 issue had the novelette “In Transit,” in which writer J.T. Sharrah imagined the reverse reaction. Life on a generation ship produced acute agoraphobia that would be debilitating on a planetary surface, and steps needed to be taken to train the passengers out of it.
“Groundling” was not written in response to that. I originally composed it before “In Transit” was published, though things fell between the cracks and it is only now my story is reaching Analog’s pages. I worried that editor Trevor Quachri might react negatively to what ended up a counter-thesis to Sharrah’s work. I didn’t need to be so anxious. The inadvertent time lapse between the two might have helped my case – or Trevor was just willing to hear both sides, as long as the stories were good. I’d be glad for that to be the case.
Who is right? Who can say? Maybe one of us; maybe both in overlapping parts. Maybe the truth lies closer to a third idea some other writer will soon conjure up for an Analog story. Keep reading if you want to find out.
The Astounding Analog Companion 