We’ve been thinking mainly about data in science, with its associated problems of storing, finding, and forgetting. But it’s not just science.

Here’s an article about explosive data growth in government, and how much it’s costing us:

Our nation is drowning in data. At any given time, federal agencies use more electronic storage units than could fill every NFL stadium from Oakland to Foxboro. At last count, the US government owns or leases at least 2100 data centers, and spends about half of its multi-billion dollar IT budget on digital storage. The United States Census Bureau alone maintains about 2560 terabytes of information — more data than is contained in all the academic libraries in America, and the equivalent of about 50 million four-door filing cabinets of text documents. In addition to the federal deluge, tens of thousands of municipal and state facilities maintain data ranging from driver’s-license pics to administrative e-mails — or at least they’re required to.

An interesting point raised by this article is that even as storage burdens become crushing, human beings to help with organizing and finding data are losing their jobs, especially at the state and municipal levels. Data.gov has big press and big ambitions, but much of the stuff lower down in the system is rotting away.

The climate scientist Stephen H. Schneider — my colleague, mentor, and friend for almost 18 years — died unexpectedly on Tuesday while on a flight from Stockholm to London. He was 65. He apparently suffered a deep vein thrombosis and then a heart attack. His wife, Terry Root, said that his doctors had just taken him off of warfarin (an anti-clotting agent) while he was on prednisone, so his death was perhaps preventable.

I last saw Steve at the Copenhagen climate conference this past December. I had dinner with him and Terry twice. We spent some time teaching a mixed group of Stanford and Univ. of Michigan students in the early mornings. I attended a crowded signing for his new book Science as a Contact Sport. As they have for decades, reporters called frequently; he would always answer with a clear, quotable statement — and honest to the bone, as ever. Steve took me to see Al Gore, a longtime personal friend. Even in the shadow of Climategate and the Copenhagen meeting’s failure to deliver a breakthrough treaty, it was a happy time.

Steve was an amazingly energetic and prolific scientist and author, as well as a mentor to hundreds, perhaps even thousands of people like me. His death is a terrible blow to climate science and to the world. Steve was a giant, a brilliant scientist with a monumental personality, yet one suffused with a tremendous generosity, gentleness, and warmth. He lived life to the fullest and took every opportunity to teach anyone willing to listen. Steve did more with his one life than most of us could do in three. I learned more from him than from anyone else I’ve ever worked with.

My book A Vast Machine is dedicated to him. I’m only glad that it was published in time for him to see that dedication before he died. I always thought I’d get a chance to celebrate it with him in person. Now that day will never come. Especially after losing another close colleague, Leigh Star, just this past March, I’ll be reeling from Steve’s death for many months.