You can write underwater, if you are so inclined. And best of all, because of that 45 psi sealed ink cartridge with it's visco-elastic solid-gel ink, this pen writes in the almost perfect vacuum of outer space.
Although I strongly suspect I will never be able to sign a check in near-earth orbit, I love this pen, and really enjoy the memories it gives me of the Space Race. I was about 8 years old when Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon. This wonderful little stainless steel pen reminds me of the excitement of that time, the endurance of the human spirit, and our collective capacity to do just about anything we want, or need to do.
Another thing this Fisher Space Pen does is remind me of a darker side to human endeavors. All of us should remember that darker nature, the one that resides in all of us, saints and sinners.
That's a pretty powerful writing instrument, isn't it? This simple pen, more than just about anything else, personifies the Cold War as few objects or ideas will for me. It reminds me of a time that mixed national pride and national paranoia to heights that are almost mythical in nature. That strange brew worked to produced gifts of priceless value, while at the very same time, improved greatly our already well-honed capacity to kill in mass.
The Cold War, like that Fisher Space Pen, is remarkably flexible, and a slippery thing you may have trouble grasping. This was a time when rockets blazed to the heavens, and riding these mighty ships (the Saturn V, the Redstone booster, the Voskhod) were young travelers with brave smiles and braver dreams. These men and women climbed into tin cans and let themselves be flung outward on the first steps of a long, strange journey, and they knew that, although they could never hope to see the ultimate completion of this journey, they were willing and able to risk their lives to make the beginning happen.
