I am heartbroken to learn of Paul's death. He dreamed of democratizing space science by making orbital spaceflight affordable, accessible and commonplace for researchers and adventurers alike. Unlike so many others who have shared his dream Paul actually did something about it. A molecular biologist completely at home in the world of the very small, Dr. Dear put up his own money to create the world's smallest orbital spaceflight competition, the wonderfully whimsical N-Prize.
Of course Paul's challenge “to launch an impossibly small satellite into orbit on a ludicrously small budget, for a pitifully small cash prize,” was never about the money. Crackpots, boffins and gadgeteers around the world were inspired to dream big by thinking small. The riddle that is the N-prize has proven to be far more difficult than even our Chief Optimist imagined, but the work will continue. The challenge will be met. The heavens themselves will blaze forth with the fulfillment of your dream and we all will win. Thanks to you, Paul.
He died as he lived, with incorrigible sardonic wit. Please visit the Halfbakery.
https://www.halfbakery.com/idea/A_20sli ... 20farewell
If you pray, please keep Paul's wife Denise and his daughter Felicity in your prayers. If you think, please keep them in your thoughts. If you smoke and you wish to do something in honor of Paul's memory, quit. Now.
The launch budget under the official rules for the N-prize was £999.99. The purse for winning the N-Prize was £9,999.99. Dr. Dear’s peculiar partiality for the numeral 9 remains unexplained to this day. (I did, however, encourage him to seek professional help;) He died on 3/11/2020. The numerals of that date add up to nine. I'm assuming this was deliberate. It's exactly the sort of thing Paul would do just to get a laugh.
Jay (UpStart)