Escape, Hannah Arendt noted in her prologue to The Human Condition, was the surprising theme attending the 1957 launch of Sputnik—the first human-made satellite. Instead of “pride or awe at the tremendousness of human power” that had launched a two-foot metal sphere into space, where it “dwelt and moved in the proximity of the heavenly bodies as though it had been admitted tentatively to their sublime company,” popular commentary instead expressed “relief about the first ‘step toward escape from men’s imprisonment to the earth’” ([1958]1998, 1). Arendt was appalled by this rejection of Earth, the place she considered “the very quintessence of the human condition,” which had once nurtured technological progress and now apparently constituted its past ([1958]1998, 2). “The fulfilment of the wish,” she wrote, “like the fulfilment of wishes in fairy tales, comes at a moment when it can only be self-defeating” ([1958]1998, 4–5). What happens when satellite visions become real and the future finally arrives? Not a glorious climax, but the sad realization that history continues and utopia in practice is anything but utopian.