That kind of talk begs the question: do we go into space for the thrill of the journey, or the destination, which, besides offereing the deep satisfaction of making it there, may provide a kind of new reality? For the Apollo project, perhaps it's the former. The Moon is not what we'd call an intellectual wonder, in comparison to what else is out there. The Moon says that a 500 degree difference between sunlight and shadow is a hurdle that the curve of evolution can vanquish. What about a world that gives us enough satisfaction, on its own completely unique terms?
To many, the answer is easy: Mars. For years, the question has been asked: is it the Red Planet of Percival Lowell, of canals and intricate civilizations; or the Mars of Mariner 4, the world that does not appeal to the human imagination?
And there's other subjects open to speculation: can we alter the planet's atmosphere by way of carbon dioxide reserves, creating a new living environment? Or do we live with Mars as a tool for curiosity, as a disparate entity? After all, putting aside the moral implications of conquering each new frontier, the key rationale is not just to add to human experience. There should be uniqueness involved in each frontier we decide to conquer.
Anyway, when we look at Mars the possibility of liquid water will be a crucial step to understanding. It will, first of all, lead us to understanding if one can live on this enigmatic planet for months or years at a time. We will know the resources are there; it's again a matter of whether or not the evolutionary standard, the status quo, can be broken. Can a human being live in reduced gravity for a significant portion of their lives? Water on Mars will be a telltale sign in the quest for human civilization.
If we get to talking about the past, then that, too, is where liquid water can come into play: it can tell us about the past. Maybe, if we terraform Mars we are simply returning it to what it used to be; a warm, wet planet and an abode for life.
Making contact will synthesize our spirits of knowledge with the ideal that there is never a set measure for knowledge. After all, finding evidence of life on Mars is only likely to come in bacterial form. It will tell us that life is probably replete in the universe, for fluke chances cannot happen twice, but where will that search lead? Is it a sign of optimism, or a sign of sheer negativity.
That kind of eye-opening potential lies just ahead as two humans orbit the Earth and robots are left to the real search for answers. It's been said many times that the exploration of space has an unclear role in society that is severed ever further by disasters like the one that claimed Columbia. The problem, of course, is that what's going on today can not be a stand-alone means to understanding the universe. Foresight is one of the hardest concepts in an age of such complexity.
Even so, statistical data has shown a significant part of America is willing to give foresight a chance. The people deemed "informed" about the space program in polls also stand out as being very literate in science when compared to other "informed" statistical groups. They're exceptionally well educated among United States groups in general. (Source: Zubrin, Robert. The Case For Mars).
It's already possible to foresee, in a very rational sense, jet-skiing on an ocean of natural gas, riding a geyser of liquid hydrogen. The reason it's a rational thought is that the imagination aspect gave way over time to sound investigation. Is it a worthy transition?
