Saturday night, I was given the tremendous honor of inducting Gene Roddenberry into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame in Seattle. For the three of you in the back who wandered in from Rob Corddry's column looking for the cash bar, Gene created Star Trek. I was lucky enough to know him, and too young to appreciate it at the time.

I've given plenty of speeches before, in front of crowds as large as 5,000, in places as varied as a Holiday Inn convention hall to the Royal Albert Hall in London, but this speech was the most personally important speech I have ever been asked to give. Not only was I given the privilege of presenting Gene's induction, but it would be accepted by Gene's son, and my friend, Eugene Roddenberry, Junior. Rod, as he is known to his friends, has spent the bulk of his adult life getting to know his father. Gene died when Rod and I were still teenagers, and there was a vast generation gap between Rod and Gene. I've always admired Rod. He could easily sit back and cash checks from Paramount while drinking Courvoisier from the hollowed-out skulls of the vanquished, but instead he has worked tirelessly to honor and preserve Gene's legacy. Rod, like his father, appreciates and embraces the legion of Trekkies around the world who are such an integral part of what Rod calls "The Trek Nation." We are, in many ways, spiritual half-brothers who genuinely like each other, but only cross paths once or twice a year.

I worked on my speech for two weeks, to ensure that I hit each note perfectly. I felt that it was important to honor and remember Gene correctly, and put his accomplishments into the correct context. In some ways, I felt like a Speaker for the Dead, and I wanted to ensure that I earned the distinction.

I went through everything I've ever written about my love of Star Trek and science fiction and about my admiration for and relationship with Gene. It took many late nights of massive rewriting and just a little bit of panic, but I finally ended up with something that I was proud of . . . about three hours before I drove to the airport for my flight to Seattle.

* * *

Neal Stephenson emceed the event. We were all supposed to act like it wasn't a big deal, but my inner geek – no, this time it was My Inner Geek – got the better of me when he said that my blog was "more readable than most blogs out there." Not exactly a ringing endorsement of blogs, granted, but it implied that he not only read a bit of my blog, but thought it didn't suck. I took the stage to polite applause and, before I'd realized it, said, "Wow! Being introduced by one of your idols is great, but when he praises your writing, it's even cooler."

Ah, good one, genius. Good thing you practiced the speech so much so you could get up here and act like a fanboy in front of everyone. Stick to the script, Chachi.

I have no idea why my inner critic speaks with Dennis Miller's voice as performed by Dana Carvey, but it always seems appropriate. I looked back at my notes, and out at the crowd.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Wil Wheaton, and I forgot to pack a tie."

A wave of giggles started at a table in the back and spread out around the room.

See? Now get to it.

I smiled, and began my speech.

"Star Trek: The Next Generation turns twenty this year. If my math is correct, this means that it is almost old enough to get a drink in Ten Forward. Even more shocking to my fellow cast members, it means that I am old enough to run for president in 2008."

Another wave of giggles rippled across the room.

"I have already articulated a strong anti-drug policy which some of you may be familiar with, from the first season episode ‘Symbiosis.' "

I cocked my head to one side, affected a Wesley Crusher voice, and quoted myself from 1987."Escape? How can a chemical substance provide an escape? I'm confused, Tasha."

Real laughter erupted, mostly from a table near the back with some local Star Trek fan club members, all of them in very cool homemade Starfleet dress uniforms.

"To celebrate this milestone, Paramount is releasing the Really Super-Awesome Trust Us You Totally Need To Have This One Even If You've Already Bought All The Other Ones DVD box set."

The audience laughed again, and I realized how important these first few beats in a speech are. While it's good to relax the audience and get them on my side, it's also good for me to spend two paragraphs with what is essentially "throw-away" material while I relax and get out of my own way.

"I'm hosting one of the special features, which looks at the people and places that have been affected by Star Trek: The Next Generation over the last two decades," I said.

I deliberately looked up from the podium. "We are some of those people, and we are gathered tonight in one of those places. When we were here a few weeks ago to shoot footage for our documentary, I discovered that this museum is more than just a collection of cool artifacts from the final frontier and beyond. It is an affirmation of why I, and so many other people around the world, love science fiction, and why science fiction endures – whether created by Jules Verne in 1864, or Gene Roddenberry in 1964, or some hot new stereovision writer in 2064 – with a relevance that transcends generations.

"There are countless examples here of the real power that science fiction has to address current events in a way that's safe and acceptable for most audiences, while speaking very seriously about them to those who look beyond the spaceships and rayguns to the ideas behind the stories. Whether it was written one hundred years ago or just published last month, science fiction can give us warnings about the future, hope for the future, or just blissful escape into the future, visiting fantastic worlds that are light-years away – and as close as our bookshelves and televisions.
"I wasn't even a glimmer in my father's eye in 1966, but a few minutes on the Internet – Gene's 'library computer,' on a scale that would have amazed him – gave me a pretty clear picture of what things were like back then. LBJ announced that American soldiers would stay in Vietnam indefinitely and increased troop levels to 250,000, turning an unpopular foreign war into the worst domestic conflict since the Civil War. Huge demonstrations exploded across the country. Racial and religious tensions were high, and bigotry was common throughout America. John Lennon said The Beatles were more popular than Jesus."

I paused, but there was no laughter. Huh. I thought that was funny. Oh well.

I took a breath and noticed just how dry my mouth and throat were. I wondered if I'd ever reach a point where I can get on stage in front of a bunch of strangers and not feel nervous.

"It wasn't a particularly optimistic period for our nation, and there wasn't all that much going on to feel good about. Then, on September 8, 1966, a new show debuted. The network thought they were buying ‘Wagon Train to the stars,' but just two commercial breaks into the show, it was clear that this was something new and different. As episodes aired over the following weeks and months, it was undeniable that this show, set in the future but reflecting so much of the contemporary world, was breaking new ground each week. Like all great science fiction, it held up a mirror and showed us our failings and triumphs – not by beating us over the head with a message, but by making that message easy enough to discover for those who cared to see it. Star Trek dared to do this during an incredibly turbulent time, when it was risky to even acknowledge that the mirror existed, much less hold it up on network television.

"It has been more than forty years since Kirk and Spock first boldly went where no man has gone before, and twenty years since Picard and some kid boldly went where no one has gone before."

I didn't have to pause this time. The Trekkies laughed, hard, and I looked up for a moment to enjoy it. I love it when a joke goes over with the audience the way I hoped it would when I wrote it.

"Today, many of us still dream of living in the Utopian world Gene envisioned, where we play in holodecks, beam ourselves to work, and embrace the crazy notion that race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation are differences to be celebrated and learned from, not feared and destroyed."

Applause started with the Trekkies, and quickly spread to the entire room. That made me feel really good, because of everything Gene's legacy encompasses. I know his vision of tolerance and equality was the one he wanted to realize more than any other.

"Gene's legacy is also tangible in our world: our cell phones look an awful lot like the original communicators, our Bluetooth headsets work like the Next Generation communicators – though they don't look nearly as cool and go in the wrong place, but there's still time to get it right – and our PDAs are like those little PADD props we used to hide complicated technobabble crib notes on. Engineers, inspired by Scotty or Geordi, find ways of solving problems that no one thought possible – ahead of schedule and under budget. The list of significant achievements inspired by Star Trek – including the MRI – are so long, they've been the subject of enough film documentaries, critical articles, and mass-market books to fill a shelf. And the work continues."

I paused briefly, less than a second, while dozens of images flashed through my mind: playing Star Trek on the playground in elementary school . . . listening to a Star Trek adventure on my portable Sesame Street record player in the sheet-and-broomsticks fort my dad built for me in the back yard . . . the first time I auditioned for The Next Generation.

"Even before I wore the space suit, I loved everything that Star Trek stands for," I said, trying to steady my voice. "When I turn on the television today and see medical drama after crime drama after reality series after intelligence-insulting sitcom, I long for the original Star Trek, or the fourth season of The Next Generation. When I turn on CNN, I wish our world leaders would watch a little more Star Trek and a little less 24."

Massive applause, accompanied by some whistling. I was uncertain about getting even a little political, but if Gene wasn't afraid to do it in the 1960s, why should I be afraid to do it now?

"Star Trek is the most important and significant science fiction franchise in history. It brought science fiction into the mainstream and showed that science fiction can inspire while it entertains. Star Trek got an entire generation thinking about deep space exploration, using humanism and optimism to find peaceful solutions to complex problems. Star Trek has turned millions of potential science fiction fans into "one of us" and helped lay the foundation for the great science fiction on television and in the movies since its debut. Star Trek has showed audiences for 40 years – and counting – that there is real hope for our future, if we're willing to work together to get there.

"Ladies and gentlemen." I stepped back from the podium and held my arms over my head, palms out, toward the giant screen that hung behind and above the stage. "The life and work of Gene Roddenberry."

A film that the museum had put together began to play. For the next five minutes, actors and fans towered over me while they all echoed, in their own way, what I said – and what we all believe – about Gene's legacy. It was a very fitting tribute.

When the film ended, I stood at the podium again. "I am incredibly proud to be part of Gene's legacy, and I am incredibly honored to present this award to his son, and my friend, Eugene Roddenberry."

Rod stood. The audience applauded as he walked to the stage and stood next to me. I reached out to shake his hand, and he pulled me in for a hug – just like his dad always did.

"Now that I have you on stage," I said, "I have something personal I'd like to add to this celebration tonight."

Rod looked puzzled, just as I'd planned it. I turned back to my notes and addressed the audience.

"When Wesley was field-promoted to a real ensign at the end of season 3, Gene wanted to commemorate the occasion." My voice grew thick with emotion, and I swallowed to steady myself. "He came to the bridge set one afternoon, gathered the cast and crew together, kicked out the set photographer, and shut down production for a few minutes to present me with the bars he'd received when he was field-promoted to ensign in the real military."

That day, seventeen years distant on stage eight, flashed through my mind, a series of still images and strong emotions.

"I was too young and immature to fully absorb the magnitude of the gesture, but I remember that Gene shook my hand, pulled me into him for a big hug, and told me that, in many ways, Wesley Crusher was as close as he had come to writing himself into Star Trek as a character, so it seemed only fitting."

I could hear Gene's voice and feel the roughness of his ever-present red sweater vest rub against my face as he hugged me and held me, literally and figuratively, beneath the wing of the Great Bird of the Galaxy. I could hear the applause from the crew. I could see the smiling faces of my friends in the cast. At that point in my life, nobody – not even my own father – had made me feel like they were as proud of me as Gene did in that moment. I wanted to look at Rod, but I was having a hard enough time keeping it together.

"Tonight we honor Gene for creating the Roddenberry legacy. But while I only wore Gene's shoes on the set, this man walks in Gene's shoes every day, and they fit him perfectly."

I reached into my pocket, and removed a small, simple, gray box. Inside were two small brass bars, slightly tarnished with age, affixed to the same narrow strip of thin white cardboard they were on when Gene gave them to me so many years ago.

I looked at Rod. Tears welled up in both of our eyes.

"To commemorate this occasion, therefore, I would like to present Eugene Roddenberry with his father's ensign's bars, because he has done more to earn these bars than I ever could have. More than anyone else today, he continues to honor the legacy his father created, and I know that Gene would want him to have them."

"You don't have to do this," Rod said.

"I know," I said. I opened the box and put it into his hand, just as Gene had done for me on stage eight so long ago. I had honored Gene with my words, and it was time for Rod to do what he has done so well: honor Gene not only with what he does, but (and most importantly) how he does it. I left the stage.

Wil Wheaton dances barefoot.