I used to love those old, Lowellized, pre-Mariner maps of Mars. I could stare at them for hours, fantasizing about those great circle canals, sometimes in parallel pairs, and their intersection "oases". It was a world of mystery, great beauty, fantastical Greek names: Solis Lacus, Syrtis Major, Libya, Hellas. And always the canals, carrying life-giving water to the parched equator in spring, the dusty lowlands around them exploding into brief lush vegetation. The old von Braun/Ley books explored this world, their graceful winged ships landing on skids on the endless flat Barchan-studded plains, perhaps to greet the wise old inhabitants bravely facing their last stand, the autumn of their ancient civilization bracing for one final infinite cosmic winter. Perhaps we would be able to help them, somehow, or at least, rescue their last legacy.

I was, we all were, dead wrong, of course. But it was a beautiful dream, and I do not regret having it.