On June 6, 1924, George Mallory and Andrew Irvine set out to be the first men to reach the top of Mount Everest. They were seen on June 8, but never returned from the last day's climb. It is still an open question as to whether they actually reached the summit and died on the return, and the subject has become of increasing interest following the discovery in 1999 of Mallory's frozen body high on the final slope. The first unquestioned scaling of the mountain was not achieved until 1953.

Between 1969 and 1972, twenty-one humans went to the Moon. A dozen men landed there. One expedition, Apollo 13, came so close to fatal disaster that the trip around the Moon and safe return to Earth is still regarded as a miracle of technology and inspired improvisation. Since 1972, no one has been to the Moon.

The above two paragraphs may seem independent, but I believe they should be coupled. Jump to the end if you can't wait to know how and why; otherwise, keep reading for what may seem at first sight like a third beginning to this column.

In 1968, the movie, "2001: A Space Odyssey," was released. Although the last half-hour was far-out and almost mystical, the general progress of humans into space was as accurate a projection and prediction as the movie's technical consultant and scriptwriter, Arthur Clarke, could provide. It included, you may recall, a large hotel in space on an elegant wheel-shaped space station of vast proportions; a permanent human presence on the Moon; and a manned expedition to the Jupiter system. At the time, and given the rapid progress in the period between 1957 (first artificial satellite) and 1968 (first human flight around the Moon), none of these suggestions seemed out of line for the beginning of the next century.

So here we are, in 2001, and the situation appears to be as far from Clarke's vision as we could get. We have no base on the Moon, no plans to go, and no way to get humans there even if we did have plans. The assembly line for the great Saturn rockets, cornerstone of the Apollo program, was dismantled decades ago. The space shuttle is limited to flights to low Earth orbit. The Soviet program, once the pride of that nation, is a wreck, while the Soviet Union itself has crumbled away. Wernher von Braun, for twenty years the driving force and principal spokesman for advanced U. S. space activities, including a manned Mars mission, died in 1977. Carl Sagan, an equally charismatic spokesman for space exploration, died in 1996. Arthur Clarke alone remains, living in Sri Lanka and still mentally vigorous in his eighties. No younger inspirational figures of matching reputation, here or elsewhere in the world, have emerged to replace these men.

It is tempting to ask, What went wrong?

My answer is, nothing at all went wrong. My evidence for this is a book that came out about a month ago. It is called "Space Access and Utilization Beyond 2000," is published by the American Astronautical Society, and derives from a symposium of the American Association for the Advancement of Science.

Although I am one of the book's three editors, it could hardly be described as popular entertainment and I am not suggesting that you rush out and buy a copy. The reason I mention the text at all is that it describes a diversity of uses of space and explorations of space that were either unthought of or at best embryonic when "2001: A Space Odyssey" appeared on the screen. The path to space is there; it has simply gone along different lines from what was predicted.

We take for granted our daily satellite-acquired images of hurricanes and moving storm systems. It is no surprise when we see images from earth resources satellites that display the green wave of growth moving north with the spring. Our robot spacecraft have sent back so many striking pictures of other planets that we are unimpressed by even more of them from the Hubble space telescope. As for communications satellites (which Arthur Clarke himself predicted, back in 1945) we are more likely to be annoyed with their fraction of a second signal delay, than astonished by the whole-world telecommunications linkage that they provide.

In fact, in one area only does the new book point up a glaring deficiency in space development. There is one and only one reason why no one but real enthusiasts are thinking of a lunar base or a manned Mars mission (no one involved in space work has come up with an acceptable alternative to "manned mission;" a "crewed mission" looks all right on paper, but try saying it).

What we are lacking is an inexpensive way of shipping materials to orbit. It costs as much to launch a pound or a ton today, in inflation-adjusted currency, as it did in 1965. This curses all space applications that require the presence of humans, and it may doom the International Space Station to a merely symbolic role. Technology permits payloads to be miniaturized, hence the success of our robotic missions; but human beings come in fairly standard sizes.

The solution to the problem of human access to space is technically obvious, but politically and socially unacceptable. The cheap road to the rest of the universe makes use of nuclear power. Until we come to terms with that, most of our space odysseys will remain as dreams.

And this is where Mallory and Irvine and the space program converge. The mountaineers of 1924 had oxygen, but the "English air" that the Nepalese native guides mocked came in cylinders that were heavy, temperamental, and unreliable. The climbing gear itself lacked the strength, lightness, and convenience of today's plastics and composites. The ascent of Everest, seventy-five years ago, was a tour de force that stood on the edge of the impossible. It was, for its day, the equivalent of the Apollo program. The ascent of Everest still calls for stamina and determination, but new technology helps enormously. A blind climber and a 64-year-old have conquered the peak. Having the right tools makes a huge difference.

The Apollo program was an anomaly, an undertaking made for political reasons that by good fortune and enormous dedicated effort turned into a technological triumph. However, the space program is, in mountain climber terms, still back in the 1920s. We lack the right tools. With luck, the next twenty years will provide those tools and bring us up to the "2001" of 1968. Beyond that, we can start thinking of our own "2051," or even of "2101."

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