Arthur C. Clarke is at first glance usually seen as a 'hard' science fiction writer, generally concerned with technology and scientific extrapolation, as well as being commercially motivated. This conventional image has no doubt been strengthened by his early links to the SF magazines of the 1930s and his use of the traditional SF themes commonly found in what C.S. Lewis called Engineers' Stories¹. Yet his works also have an intellectual seriousness stemming from the British tradition laid down by H.G. Wells and Olaf Stapledon, and constantly uses elements borrowed from the speculative and eschatological nature of 'soft' SF. Clarke's best works, like many other SF ones, fall somewhere in between science and fantasy, between the empirical and the purely imaginative - a battle, and a balance, between 'agnostic materialism and mystical idealism'².

This battle-balance scenario is most profoundly demonstrated in Clarke's most constant and far-reaching preoccupation, 'an ancient and never-answered question: "Where do we go from here?"'. The quote is taken from Childhood's End (1954), generally considered one the classics of the SF canon. Its central theme is the evolution and future of humanity and its place in the universe. While this concern is best played out in Childhood's End, it runs throughout many of Clarke's works both preceeding and following it: Against the Fall of Night (1946), later revised as The City and the Stars (1956), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Rendezvous with Rama (1973), Imperial Earth (1975) and The Fountains of Paradise (1979), as well as in a number of his short stories.

Clarke's commitment to hard, scientific extrapolation is not to be doubted. Darko Suvin's theory of science fiction as the literature of cognitive estrangement can easily be applied to Clarke's works in a manner impossible with, say, C.S. Lewis' Cosmic Trilogy, where the SF effect is merely draped onto what is in actuality a Christian-mythology fantasy set in space. In terms of generic demarcation there is seldom a need to pause and ask in which category Clarke's works belong, whether science fiction or fantasy. Clarke's reputation as a hard SF writer is buttressed by his academic background (he studied physics and mathematics) and his continued championship of space exploration (his efforts won him the UNESCO-Kalinga Prize in 1962). He has been credited with originating the idea of a communications satellite, and in many cases his extrapolations have become fulfilled prophecy: examples include oral contraception and DNA testing (from Childhood's End), moon landings and space exploration (2001: A Space Odyssey) and cloning (Imperial Earth). Clarke's works abound in lavish, detailed description of technology and science, of how a totally self-contained city, Diaspar, might function in sterile world in The City and the Stars, the effect of Einstein's theory of relativity on the time dilation of Jan Rodricks' flight to the Overlords' homeworld in Childhood's End, life and work aboard the space-shuttle 'Discovery' on the way to Saturn in 2001: A Space Odyssey, the mysteries of the alien craft Rama in Rendezvous with Rama, the conditions of life for the colonists of Titan in Imperial Earth and the difficulties and challenges in building a 'space elevator' in The Fountains of Paradise. These instances, along with Clarke's generally factual, even prosaic manner of writing, establish him as a 'hard' science extrapolator.

However, this strong presence of rational and logical extrapolation in Clarke's fiction is balanced in equal measure by a propensity towards mysticism. First of all, it has to be made clear that Clarke's mysticism is not that of orthodox religiosity. Indeed it is the total opposite, for he never misses an opportunity to debunk conventional religious myths if he can - in the story "The Star" (1955), a Jesuit astrophysicist discovers, to his anguish and the jeopardy of his faith, that an entire civilisation was destroyed in the supernova that turns out the be the Star of Bethlehem. In The City and the Stars we are told that religious mania is a 'disease', 'an incurable malady which...attacked only homo sapiens among all the intelligent races of the universe' (C&S,³13) . In Childhood's End, the Overlords lend the humans a machine that allows them to see into the past, into 'the true beginnings of all the world's great faiths', and under this 'fierce and passionless light of truth, faiths that had sustained millions for twice a thousand years vanished like morning dew' (C&S, 6). The attack on religion is most sustained in The Fountains of Paradise. The arrival of the interstellar spaceprobe 'Starglider' demolishes everthing from Saint Thomas Aquinas to God, putting 'an end to the billions of words of pious gibberish with which apparently intelligent men had addled their minds for centuries' (FP, 16). For Clarke, humanity can only be said to have achieved maturity when they cease to believe or need the concept of God as put forth by orthodox religions.

'God' exists in Clarke's streak of mysticism in a different way; it is to be found in 'the awe...reverence and humility, which all intelligent beings felt as they contemplated the stupendous universe in which they found themselves' (C&S, 13). 'Stupendous universe' is the key phrase here when one attempts to understand the tension between the mystical and the extrapolated, the alien and the mundane, the psyche and the material body, and finally, what John Huntington divides into 'transcendent evolution' and 'rational technological progress', in Clarke's 'myth of progress'⁴.

Despite the disclaimer published in the early printings of Childhood's End that "The opinions expressed in this book are not those of the author", there is a horrible truth in Karellen's analogy that in attempting to challenge the 'immensity of space', mankind 'would be like ants attempting to label and classify all the grains of sand in all the deserts of the world' - in short, 'the stars are not for Man' (CE, 14). But, as it turns out, the stars are not for the Overlords either, whose minds 'were ten - perhaps a hundred - times as powerful as men's. It made no difference in the final reckoning. They were equally helpless, equally overwhelmed by the unimaginable complexity of a galaxy of a hundred thousand million suns, and a cosmos of a hundred thousand million galaxies' (CE, 23), which, to make matters worse, are inexorably rushing apart. The stars can only 'belong' to an entities like the Overmind, the Star Child in 2001: A Space Odyssey, or Vanamonde, a 'pure mentality' in The City and Stars - entities that are free of the 'tyranny of matter' (CE, 20) and the shackles of time, free to roam the cosmos and in possession of the powers to be aware, and comprehend, without the mechanisms of empirical proofs. Alternately the stars could also 'belong' to the mysterious Ramans in Rendezvous with Rama, who represent a scaled-down version of the universe seen through the perspective of man: a constant puzzle, 'for every aspect of Rama that man comes to understand, others emerge that lead to larger questions'⁵. The fact that Rama ignores, or perhaps fails to communicate, with the humans who investigate it, is a telling sign of man's unfitness and infinitesimal position in the universe.

Clarke's disclaimer in Childhood's End points to an ambivalence in his eschatological beliefs regarding the "where do we go from here?" philosophical question. As Alan B. Howes notes, while Clarke says in The Exploration of Space (1951), a nonficition work, that "I have tried to base all my speculations firmly upon facts, or at least upon probabilities", he also says "I have...not been afraid to use my imagination where I thought fit"⁶. These two methods are demonstrated in Childhood's End, The City and the Stars and 2001: A Space Odyssey; they start off within cognitive limits, and finish in the realm of the metaphysical or quasi-mystical. Clarke's apocalyptic visions of evolution in these works are clearly within the realm of the imaginative - there is no acceptable scientific explanation for the 'other' universe in which the Empire disappears into in The City and the Stars, or for David Bowman's transformation at the conclusion of 2001: A Space Odyssey, or even for the 'Total Breakthrough' of children in Childhood's End. They break free from the empirical and the material and leap into a transcendent, disembodied collective consciousness.

The concept of a unified mind, free from matter, is an idea that dominates Clarke's works. It is an idea linked to the sense of 'cosmic loneliness' - that 'humanity's loneliness in the universe will be remedied by contact with other-world living beings', that 'living things are not really seperated by space but by consciousness'⁷. The basic dream, and the ultimate evolutionary destiny of mankind ("where do we go from here?") is when 'man will...become an active participant in the galactic community'⁸ and be able to cope with the vastness of the universe. In Clarke's most consistent vision, this cannot be achieved through technological progress alone. Technological progress leads to a kind of stasis, if not decline, like the eternal but non-progressive city of Diaspar in The City and the Stars, where its citizens are totally dependent on the ommipotent Central Computer, but have forgotten the skills and drive that went into the making of it, demonstrating 'the paradox that is inherent in the very notion of technological progress: the more successful such progress is, the less need will there be for more of it'⁹. This paradox can also be found in the New Athens colony and in the behaviour of the Overlords themselves in Childhood's End; what both the colonists and the Overlords seek is 'the development of the individual to his or her highest potential' which will lead to the 'inevitable end of Western scientific Man. Such a direction ignores the one factor that leads the species, not the individual, out of the maze: the unity of minds not materials, in one transcendent mind'¹⁰.

Transcendence involves the loss of self, both symbolically and literally, and means immersion in the mystical. The Overlords maintain the distinction betwen the "I" and the "You", and their pure logic condemns mysticism as 'the prime aberration of the human mind' (CE, 9). Thus they can only extrapolate about the nature of the Overmind, and not be part of collective consciousness. Similarly, once David Bowman understands that perception through human technology is 'dead and static' while that of the universal 'gigantic mind' transcends 'life itself' (2001, 45), he metamorphoses into a baby; a Star Child who is no longer 'he' but 'it'. Transcendence can occur collectively, as with the children's Total Breakthrough or when the Empire 'smashed through the heart of the universe' (C&S, 24) into a different one, or it can occur through the heroic act of an individual - after all, it is not just the technological utopia that has led to the evolutionary dead-end of Diaspar, but the fear of its people to take the transcendent step when offered the chance - the fear of the unknown, the mystical, of going beyond the 'the little circle of light cast by the lamp of Science' (CE, 16) and hence the bounds of extrapolation. It takes the efforts of Alvin the bring the people of Diaspar, and those of the pastoral retreat Lys, out into open to finish the process of transcendence that humanity once started but did not finish.

Individual heroism for the betterment of the collective also plays a part in the self-transcendence of Duncan Makenzie in Imperial Earth, when he decides to clone his dead (and childless) friend Karl Helmer instead of himself, not just from affection, but from the realisation that Karl (and hence his genes) offers more in the way to the advancement of mankind with his visionary idea of bringing 'mankind into communication with extraterrestrial intelligence' and therefore 'closer to its destiny'¹¹. Duncan is unsure whether this destiny will be 'beneficent' as 'all knowledge was a two-edged sword, and it might well be that any messages from the stars would not be to the liking of the human race', but he is willing to chance it, having 'experienced that indescribable shock a man many know only once in a life-time, when he is in the presence of the transcendental and feels the sure foundations of his world and his philosophy trembling beneath his feet' (IE, 37). Duncan comes to understand, not in the sense of logical comprehension but through a kind mystical revelation, that rational logic is not sufficient to take mankind to his ultimate destiny, that it needs Karl's 'power of intuition', the 'mind's mysterious ability to go beyond the available facts and short-circuit the processes of logic' (IE, 7). Similarly, in Rendezvous with Rama, scientific extrapolation is incapable of making any sense about the nature and purpose of Rama. When Captain Norton has to make a decision whether to disable the bomb dispatched by the Hermians to destroy Rama, he realises 'it was no use relying any further on logical arguments and the endless mapping of alternative futures. That way, one could go round and round in circles forever. The time had come to listen to his inner voices' (RR, 28). 'Going round in circles forever' in remniscent of the Overlords' being trapped in an evolutionary cul-de-sac, trapped because they lack intuition and inner voices. It is also significant that the one certainty about Rama is realised by Dr. Carlisle Perera after he wakes up from a 'restless sleep with the message from his subconscious [my italics] still echoing in his brain: The Ramans do everything in threes' (RR, 45).

In keeping with the mystical, the ending of Rendezvous with Rama is 'open', a format that is repeated in all the other novels and is antithetical to the sense of closure usually found in 'hard' SF works. It symbolises Clarke's vision of humanity's progress: ever open to new possibilities and not limited to the bleak picture put forth by Darwin. It is a semi-compromise that creates the tension between extrapolation and mysticism - Clarke realises that the position that Darwin's theory puts humanity in is a kind of reductive fatalism, subject to chances and accidents, something that cannot be escaped from via technological means. And so he reaches out to the mystical for new roads for humanity to travel on. But what about the bridge between the 'abyss' (CE, 20) of extrapolation and mysticism? Does one even exist?

Humans learn from Starglider in The Fountains of Paradise that the Starholmers 'had managed a rough classification of cultures according to their standards of technology', basically '1. Stone tools. 2. Metals, fire 3. Writing, handicrafts, ships. 4. Steam power, basic science. 5. Atomic energy, space travel'; humans fall under category Five, and the Starholmers are in category Six, 'characterized by the ability to convert matter completely into energy, and to transmute all elements on an industrial scale' (FP, 16). We learn that there is a category Seven, but Starglider is 'not allowed to describe the technology of a higher grade culture to a lower one' (FP, 16). While this is a convenient artistic device, it characterises Clarke's problem of reconciling transcendent evolution with technological progress (for if one takes Clarke's dominant vision, whatever lies beyond class Seven will no doubt be the transcendence into collective consciousness). What comes before the transcendence and after the technology? We cannot be sure, this in-between stage is never quite articulated by Clarke. In 2001: A Space Odyssey, technology is simply discarded once Bowman enters the Star Gate. There can be no communication between the parents and their transformed children in Childhood's End, or between the Empire and its former universe-home in The City and the Stars. In all cases the transcendent leap is achieved by humans with the help of an alien entity, who also evolved from the same origin, 'the warm slime of a vanished sea' (2001, 38). Although the process of the entity's evolution from matter into energy is assumed to be in the linear sequence put forth by Starglider, humans are not suffered to undergo the same process but are allowed to jump the sequence and helped to a short-cut.

One of the reasons for this could be put down to Clarke being a 'commercial' writer' - the jump to the mystical creates suitably dramatic denouements, an essential 'selling' point. But there are surely deeper reasons for this unresolved dichotomy between the possibilities of rational, technological progress and transcendental evolution in Clarke's fiction. The middle-ground option of humanity's gradual evolution and progress in intellect and technology till it can somehow see, travel and understand the entire and ever-expanding cosmos, while retaining some semblance of its physical form, or become disembodied consciousness without the help of an alien being is not articulated by Clarke perhaps because he finds genuine difficulty in coming to terms with such a scenario, a dilemma that produces itself in the disclaimer put forth in Childhood's End. He cannot really reconcile the idea of technological progress with transcendental evolution in humanity; but he can suggest it as a possibility and uses the alien entity as a demonstration of it. But whatever problems Clarke has in visualing the method of mankind's route to transcendence and unity with the universal mind, there is never any doubt that such a transcendence is the highest achievement and ultimate evolutionary pinnacle it can aspire to. As Jan Rodricks watches the children unify with the Overmind he feels the sweep of 'a great wave of emotion...a sense of fulfilment, achievement' (CE, 24), although he has no part in it. Clarke's own answer to the question "where do we go from here?" is there, among the stars, and the vast and infinite wonders of the cosmos. And it is Clarke's awareness that to be able to get there technological progress is not sufficient, that transcendence is needed to form the bridge to the stars, yet all the while being unable to draw a satisfactory resolution between the two stages that produces the tension between extrapolation and mysticism in his work.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Primary texts

Arthur C. Clarke

1. Childhood's End (London: Pan Books, 1954, 1990)

2. 2001: A Space Odyssey (London: Legend, 1968)

3. Imperial Earth (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd., 1975)

4. The Fountains of Paradise (London: Pan Books, 1979)

5. Four Great Novels: The City and the Stars, The Deep Range, A Fall of Moondust, Rendezvous with Rama (London: Book Club Associates, 1978)

6. The Other Side of the Sky (London: The Science Fiction Book Club, 1962)

7. Tales of Ten Worlds (London: The Science Fiction Book Club, 1964)

Secondary texts

1. Arthur C. Clarke, edited by Joseph. D. Olander and Martin Harry Greenberg (Edinburgh: Paul Harris Publishing, 1977)

2. Patrick Parrinder, Science Fiction: Its Criticism and Teaching (London and New York: Methuen, 1980)

3. Edward James, Science Fiction in the 20th Century (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1994)

4. Science Fiction: A Collection of Critical Essays, edited by Mark Rose (New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1976)

5. Science Fiction: A Critical Guide, edited by Patrick Parrinder (London and New York: Longman, 1979)

6. Science Fiction Roots and Branches: Contemporary Critical Approaches, edited by Rhys Garnett and R.J. Ellis (Houndsmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire and London: Macmillan, 1990)

7. Darko Suvin, Metamorphoses of Science Fiction: On the Poetics and History of a Literary Genre (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996)

© Hannah Pok