OFF: Arthur C. Clarke reflects on his life and times

[Karen Kusic]

TIME ASIA
WEB-ONLY EXCLUSIVE
Millennium Man
Arthur C. Clarke reflects on his life and times
By MICHAEL FATHERS
December 28, 2000
http://www.time.com/time/asia/features/interviews/2000/12/28/clarke.html

At times he calls it his trophy room. Other times
it's his ego room. Wherever you turn there are
plaques recording all the momentous events in
man's brief exploration of space, autographed
photographs of him with all the leading space and scientific
players, not to mention Presidents, Prime Ministers and film stars.
There's even a photograph taken with the Pope (although he says he hates
religion and despises Christianity).

There are brightly colored satellite and space probe photographs of the
planets, and a molded relief map of the section of the moon where man's
first landing took place. And on one wall -- from floor to ceiling -- is
a bookshelf
with all his published works.

At one end of the room is an enormous flat screen TV set where he gets
his regular fix of world news. At the other end is Sir Arthur C. Clarke,
self-entitled science Fact and Fiction Writer, futurologist, stargazer,
impish questioner of
established scientific wisdom and probably the world's best known space
addict.

The celebrated coauthor of Hollywood's famous
and influential 1968 sci-fi movie -- 2001: A Space
Odyssey -- sits in a wheelchair, dressed in a
sarong and a brightly patterned cotton shirt
covered with whales. Close to his chest under the
folds of his shirt rests his pet, a guinea pig- sized
Chihuahua called Pepsi, surprisingly calm amid
the surrounding disturbance.

Clarke is agitated, rustling through papers on his
desk, looking for copies of letters and e-mails,
articles he has written, and calling with frustration
for one of his absent secretaries. He wheezes and
stops to breath deeply, blowing out hard to try to
keep calm. He puts his difficulties down to
post-Polio Syndrome, the disease that has left him
crippled in the legs since the 1980s.

He is cantankerous and apologizes for being
inhospitable. For the past month Clarke has been
giving interview after interview to the world's media.
They have come to his home in central Colombo,
Sri Lanka, to find the future -- or at least a hint of it
- from the one human being whose name is
synonymous with the year 2001 and the Third
Millennium. He also happens to believe that the
millennium begins on January 1, 2001 -- and not
January 1, 2000 as the rest of the world did when it
sat goggle-eyed through 24 hours of global
countdown a year ago. "The idea of the millennium
at 2000 is one of the most stupid things I've ever
heard," he says. "The western calendar starts with
Year One and not Year Zero. We had only 99
years of this century by Jan. 1, 2000; we have to
wait until Dec. 31 for the full hundred."

As you ask your questions Clarke snaps back:
I've dealt with them all over the past two weeks
and I'm not answering them again. I'll get my
secretary to give you the answers." Thank you, Sir
Arthur, you feel like saying and walking out the
door for a bit of fresh air never to set eyes on him
again. But then an alarm goes off in the room.
"Ah!" he sparkles, "I must get my news fix." He
rolls out from behind his desk to watch the big
screen and the morning's BBC World Service
News.

Clarke is a man of moods. Once he is into his
routine -- his news fix, the morning cup of tea, a
secretary at hand, attentive listeners with him in
his tropical garden (populated with a concrete
dinosaur and couple of prehistoric cement lizards)
- he opens up. He might get fed up having to
answer the same questions, but he thrives on
publicity and attention. He even hands you a
detailed list of everything he is working on. At the
top under "Completed" is: Future Technology
White House memo requested for the President).
amid the 17 "Action Needed" items is: Arthur C.
Clarke Day (Smithsonian, Feb 7) and a webcast in
March with actor Leonardo di Caprio to raise
money for a fund to save the gorilla.

Darting like a child in a toy shop, Clarke races
from topic to topic, names, places, incidents and
ideas tumbling from him in a stream of
consciousness that would leave James Joyce and
probably HAL, the talking computer he invented to
fly the spaceship Discovery in 2001, gasping.

Clarke has a mischievous sense of humor and you
are not sure whether he is pulling your leg. He said
to me that one of the most spectacular
developments of the new millennium would be
dehydrated water. It would open up all the world's
arid regions to cultivation and ensure no one ever
died of thirst. His "executive secretary" said he did
not know whether Sir Arthur was serious or making
a joke. It seemed a contradiction. Clarke has said
all along that there is no difference between magic
and science. With such intellectual and
imaginative missiles being fired at visitors and his
e-mail recipients daily, it is difficult to believe this
icon of science fiction, who believes the human
race has only a 51% chance of surviving, turned 83
on Dec. 16. After a moment's thought to my
question, he says all he wants for a birthday
present is a chocolate cake.

He is not a person to look back, but there is a hint
of bitterness that he was unable to benefit
financially from his most important and memorable
invention -- the concept of the geostationary
communications satellite. He formulated its
principles and published them in 1945 at the age of
28. That satellite band, 42,000km above the earth
is called the Clarke Orbit. Whenever he meets Ted Turner, the founder of
CNN, he asks for his 10%. He says he asks the same from Rupert Murdoch.

When you ask him if he is a rich man -- he has some 600 printed works,
50 million devoted readers, two movies and a virtual Arthur C. Clarke
industry on his PC screen -- he says he doesn't know. "As you can gather
my expenses are rather considerable."

Then the future of the world comes up, he makes a point of saying he
never predicts. "I am an extrapolator not a predictor. Many of the
things I describe I sincerely hope wont happen. And by describing them,
I hope I can prevent them
happening. I don't try to describe the future I try to prevent it," he
says.

And of his own future? "I will go when the candle stops burning." He has
not considered leaving his body or his bodily organs for scientific
research. Too much of a hassle, is the reply. He has lost four hairs
from his near-bald head to
a rich well-wisher who wants to send this DNA sample into outer space
with hair from other prominent humans.

He's not bothered by God. Describing himself as "violently
antireligious," he says religion is the greatest curse ever inflicted on
mankind and will cease to exist in the new millennium.

Already he's been listed over two pages in a new humanists and
freethinkers directory: Who's Who in Hell. There must be something you
will regret? I ask him. "There is. I've left it too late to learn the
piano."


SEE ALSO
Q&A: Greeting the future with Arthur C. Clarke
http://www.time.com/time/asia/magazine/2000/1225/int_clarke.html