EXCERPT
Nostalgia for the Future
Introduction by Henry Gee
Whatever the future may hold for
Nature, its past — indeed, its very existence — owes much to religious and political discontent. In the nineteenth century, academics at the old universities of Oxford and Cambridge were required to belong to the conventional Church of England. Those barred from these institutions for reasons of religion or politics — Catholics, Jews, atheists and dissenters of every stripe — washed up, perhaps inevitably, in London, where, in 1828, University College was founded.
It was a group of such London-based academics, centered on Thomas Henry Huxley — an early champion of Darwinian evolution — who found themselves with nothing to read. The group, known as the X Club (Ladies' Night was known as the XYves) had been devotees of a periodical called
The Reader. But when that folded, the X Club persuaded Scottish publisher Alexander MacMillan to underwrite a scientific magazine. And so, on 4 November 1869,
Nature was born, and the MacMillan family has published it ever since. Its rise to eminence was steady but inexorable: Many, perhaps most of the scientific discoveries that have shaped the world (and the minds of science-fiction authors) first appeared as research papers in
Nature's pages: the structure of DNA, the principles of the laser, the discovery of the neutron, and many more.
It could be that the atmosphere of cheerful sedition in which
Nature was founded has allowed it to take risks, to venture into near-uncharted publishing territory — simply because it can, or perhaps just for the fun of it. And also, perhaps, because one of
Nature's regular contributors, at the turn of the 20th century, was the Shakespeare of science fiction, H. G. Wells himself. As long ago as 1902,
Nature published a startling, Wellsian vision of the future course of science, including elements that were, incidentally, precursors of psychohistory — Isaac Asimov's fictitious application of statistical mechanics to human history — and even "posthumanity", one of science fiction's current preoccupations.
So it seemed entirely natural for
Nature to mark the approaching third millennium with a series of SF vignettes.
Futures kicked off on 4 November 1999 (the magazine's 130th birthday) with an intense burst of vintage apocalypse from Sir Arthur C. Clarke, the only SF author whom, we thought, the general reader of
Nature might have heard of.
It could be that we underestimated our audience. Many scientists — if not most of them — grew up reading science fiction, and many readers became fans of the weekly column, if only, perhaps, as a kind of guilty pleasure. We also underestimated the reverence with which
Nature is held in the SF community. Clarke, despite a mountain of other pressing matters, sent his piece by return, and many well-known SF authors were keen to contribute. Several of the stories were anthologized by David Hartwell in
Best SF 6. Initially slated for a six-month run, the first series of
Futures ran for more than a year, closing in December 2000.
But the itch still remained to be scratched. So when a page fell vacant at the beginning of 2005, the
Futures series was ready, starting an arguably even more glorious run, finishing at the end of 2006 (some of these, too, are collected in
Best SF 11). By that time we realized that many scientists, as well as being avid SF readers, were also very good writers. After having considered pieces on a strictly commission-only basis, we opened our doors to all comers, in the hope of discovering gems from unknown authors, perhaps trying out fiction for the very first time. So, as well as publishing pieces from venerable sages in the field (I shall not embarrass them by naming names) we were able to print a piece from Ashley Pellegrino, daughter of a research scientist, and only 11 years old at the time. This vibrancy prompted the European Science Fiction Society to award
Nature the accolade of Best Science Fiction Publisher in 2005. Now, nobody has come up to our face and said that everything
Nature publishes is science fiction.
Nature's stock in trade is, and remains, the publication of serious, cutting-edge research, some of which will appear, at first sight, to be wonderful if not literally incredible, but we feel that our founders would have approved.
Although
Futures in
Nature has come to an end, this is au revoir, and not good-bye. The column continues in 2007 in
Nature's monthly sister-title,
Nature Physics, and it's not entirely unreasonable to suggest that
Nature itself might not go back to the future.
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