Light Speed

Flying the Millenium Falcon

“Through hyper‑space, that unimaginable region that was neither space nor time, matter nor energy, something nor nothing, one could traverse the length of the Galaxy in the interval between two neighboring instants of time.”

Isaac Asimov Foundation as Gaal Dornick describes his journey to Trantor

I can’t recall precisely when I came to science fiction. I do recall in the mid to late 1950’s “Eagle” comic for boys featuring Dan Dare – Pilot of the Future but most of the adventures of Dan and Co focussed on the solar system. Faster than light travel was not a part of those stories. Indeed, on one series of stories – The “Man from Nowhere” and “Rogue Planet”, Dan and Co travel through interstellar space but not a light speed but in suspended animation.

It was Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series that introduced me to the hyperspace “jump” and ere long that was followed by StarTrek and the USS Enterprise travelling at warp speed and Frank Herbert’s Holtzmann Drive that folded space but could only be navigated by a special class who lived in an atmosphere of spice gas that came from the planet Arrakis otherwise known as Dune which gave its name to the excellent series of books – not to forget Denis Villeneuve’s wonderful imagining in the movies Dune and Dune II

By the 1970’s there were a number SF stories that featured interstellar travel and that got around some of the problems of relativity. Some didn’t. Joe Haldeman’s Future War and the Ender series from Orson Scott Card didn’t try and ignore Einstein’s physics. Ender used Ursula Le Guin’s ansible as well – of which more later.

And then along came Star Wars in 1977.

But although my ventures into the field were rather superficial the fact of the matter was that faster-than-light travel (FTL) had been a staple of the SF genre for some time.

In the early 20th century, the idea of FTL travel emerged more from narrative necessity than scientific plausibility. Space was vast, and writers needed a mechanism to connect solar systems and civilizations without lifetimes of real-time travel. The solution was to handwave the laws of physics, often invoking pseudoscientific explanations.

E.E. "Doc" Smith's Lensman series (1934–1948), one of the earliest and most influential space operas, introduced the “inertialess drive,” allowing ships to travel faster than light without addressing relativistic constraints. This drive was a storytelling tool rather than a scientific proposition, emblematic of the pulp era's focus on spectacle, action, and scale.

Similarly, Edmond Hamilton’s interplanetary adventures used FTL travel liberally. His Captain Future stories (1940s) presented a universe where space travel was as casual as flying across the globe. The mechanics were rarely discussed in depth; the genre had little patience for constraints that might dampen narrative momentum.

With the maturation of science fiction during the Golden Age (1938–1950s), writers began grappling more seriously with the scientific underpinnings of their imagined technologies. Under editors like John W. Campbell at Astounding Science Fiction, FTL travel was often treated with caution or wrapped in speculative theoretical frameworks.

Isaac Asimov, a prominent voice of this era, largely avoided FTL in his Robot and Foundation series. When it appeared, as in the latter, it was through devices like the "Jump Drive," allowing instantaneous travel between points in space. Asimov deliberately avoided detailed explanation, adhering to Clarke’s Third Law: "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

Robert A. Heinlein, in contrast, often acknowledged the implausibility of FTL and treated it as a problem to be solved. In Starman Jones (1953) and Time for the Stars (1956), Heinlein introduced relativistic travel and "torchships," with some works incorporating instantaneous "telepathy" for communication, thereby hinting at quantum entanglement long before it was popularized.

Arthur C. Clarke, though occasionally invoking FTL devices, preferred to write within the constraints of physics. In Childhood’s End (1953), aliens from distant stars arrive after a long voyage, and in Rendezvous with Rama (1973), the mysteries of alien technology unfold without resort to warp drives or hyperspace.

By the 1950s and 1960s, writers developed new theoretical constructs to justify FTL travel without overtly violating Einstein’s relativity. The term "hyperspace" became common, describing an alternate dimension through which ships could move more quickly.

Alfred Bester’s The Stars My Destination (1956) introduced teleportation—termed "jaunting"—as a psychological and physical means of travel, not FTL in the traditional sense, but a fascinating lateral move. James Blish’s Cities in Flight (1955–1962) introduced the "spindizzy" drive, using pseudo-gravitational manipulation to justify FTL capabilities.

Larry Niven’s Known Space series, especially Ringworld (1970), used FTL as a practical tool, but with complications: in his stories, hyperspace was dangerous, and jumps had real risks. His work reflected an increasing interest in the limitations and dangers of such technologies, suggesting that FTL might bring existential or ethical problems along with logistical solutions.

In the 1960s and early 1970s, the New Wave movement brought a more literary and psychological focus to science fiction. Writers like Ursula K. Le Guin, Samuel R. Delany, and Joanna Russ began to use FTL more symbolically, not simply to link planets, but to connect cultures, philosophies, and states of mind.

In Le Guin’s Rocannon’s World (1966) and The Left Hand of Darkness (1969), FTL travel and communication (via the "ansible") serve as metaphors for estrangement and reconciliation. The ansible, coined by Le Guin, was adopted widely in later science fiction to signify instantaneous communication, sidestepping the paradoxes of FTL messaging.

Delany’s Nova (1968) made FTL travel central to a metaphysical and socio-political narrative, where starship voyages mirrored internal and cultural transformations. Rather than handwaving physics, Delany emphasized the poetic, mythic dimensions of interstellar journeys.

Over the years I have read these stories with a growing sense of wonder and that element so necessary when reading (or watching) SF -the will suspension of disbelief

By the time Star Wars debuted in 1977, FTL travel had become so entrenched in the science fiction imagination that it required little justification. George Lucas’s use of “hyperspace” was a visual and narrative shorthand rather than a scientific concept. The Millennium Falcon’s jump to lightspeed was part of the saga’s blend of myth and spectacle—an heir to Flash Gordon serials as much as to Clarke or Heinlein.

Star Wars marked a return to the pulp ethos, but with unprecedented cinematic scale and cultural impact. Its treatment of FTL—visually stunning, unexplained, and mythologized—became the new standard. From then on, hyperspace was no longer just an abstract idea—it had sights, sounds, and a signature aesthetic.

So it is with all of this background that I came to Disneyland where a new section devoted to Star Wars had been developed. It had been in development for some time and one of the rides in Tomorrowland – Star Tours – was licensed by George Lucas. But since then Disney has acquired the Star Wars universe and Star Wars tales feature on Disney + - the Disney subscription streaming channel.

What you need to understand is that rides are a feature of Disneyland and its sister park Californian Adventure. Some of these rides are soft and gentle like Peter Pan’s Flight or Winnie the Pooh’s Hundred Acre Wood Adventure, the Haunted Mansion or the famous Pirates of the Carribean. Others are more “challenging” – roller coaster rides like Thunder Mountain Railroad (a favourite of mine) or Space Mountain – a roller coaster ride in pitch blackness which I have not done.

So the Star Wars section of Disneyland has two rides. One involves the rebel rebellion and the other involves the Millenium Falcon – a smugglers run. The other thing about rides are the lines with waiting times of up to and over an hour. The Millenium Falcon ride had a 15 minute wait time. That’ll do. So join the line.

Through passages and corridors dug into a mountain we head for the launchsite and at the embarkation point we are divided into groups of five. We are told – two of you will be the pilots, two will be the engineers and one will be the gunner. I was nominated for pilot 1. My job was to deal with “horizon” issues – up and down. Pull back on the control – up. Push forwards on the control – down. Just like an aircraft? Just like and aircraft. My co-pilot is responsible for the yaw movement- left and right. And there is a lever that when pulled engages light speed.

Like I said – the willing suspension of disbelief.

Seated. Seat belts on. Countdown begins and we are off. Visuals are amazing although initially we are powering through caves at an amazing speed. There are outcroppings to be avoided, pillars of rock appear like magic and the controls are responsive but not that responsive.

And the roar of the engines. They said of Alien the movie that in space no one can hear you scream and nor can you hear the roar of the engines, but if you are going to ignore Einstein and relativity you can play around with sound in a vacuum.

We are not level. There are times when we are going down, up and yawing to the side. It is a wild ride. And then we breakout and in the expanse of space. And the message comes in to go to light speed. The lever glows green. I pull it. Acceleration thrusts me back into my seat and the sky becomes a pattern of light until we reach destination.

Immediately there are problems. An Imperial cruiser together with squadrons of tie fighters converge and the game is to avoid them while the gunner is to take out as many as possible. I never thought that deep space was so full of obstacles but there were plenty. The cabin rocks and rolls as we avoid, duck and dive and the call is to go to lightspeed again. The lever turns green. Give it a pull. Max acceleration and we burst back to home base. Back into the caves and some sudden ups and downs before the ship comes to a rest and the ride is over.

It was very, very good and it is a wild ride. Not as wild as a roller coaster. But wild, absorbing, amazing, and for that one brief shining moment “real’.

So how do they do it. Frighteningly realistic movies right in front of your eyes, carefully made and co-ordinated with what could be the commercial fun park version of a flight simulator. The thing doesn’t actually move forward although it tips forward and back and yaws from side to side and that, coupled with the visuals fool the senses into thinking more is happening than is actually happening. Or can we be sure. It is easy to explain why the disbelief takes place.

But the fun is suspending disbelief. Entering into the story. Becoming a part of it all and revelling in the secondary world that the Disney artists and engineers have created.

And going to lightspeed. That was something else!