A Visitor to the Future - 140 - Mars
The Infranet was full of useful articles about the planets of the solar system. They came highly recommended for those visiting them, after all, stepping onto a world without knowing a little about what it takes to survive there generally wasn't a good idea. The articles on Mars stated things plainly - Mars was not naturally a hospitable planet for human life. Surface temperatures were cold, ranging from lows of around minus eighty degrees celsius to highs - if they could be called that - of seven degrees celsius. The atmosphere, composed mostly of carbon dioxide, was thin, with atmospheric pressure below one percent of that of Earth.
To stand on Mars without protection was near-instant death for a baseline human. That was as true today as it had been in my time, a thousand years ago.
Despite this, many humans still chose to live on Mars. It had been the home territory of the Union of Mars, and the initial territory of the Consortium after it. It was where Constructed Intelligences had been first deployed, born out of the unethical research on human brain scans of that Deimos-based institute, and where both humans and CIs had led a revolt which granted them full rights as individuals. Ringed by labyrinthine orbital stations and infastructure far more dense and populated than that of Earth, from a distance Mars glittered like sand tossed into a sunbeam, individual specks of light marking each station. Giant, flower-like solar panels and forking radiator arrays bridged the gaps between them, giving the impression that the planet was in bloom. The largest of the installations was Eru Ilúvatar, the Consortium's unofficial capital, its gargantuan structure looming over Mars. It was large enough to cast a shadow onto the surface of Mars below, if you magnified your view enough to see it.
The sight of the planet from our place in orbit, stationary in the window of the Boiling Point, was surreal. It had taken months to get here, and I'd seen it grow larger as we approached, true - but what struck me right now was that of all the people I'd known in the twenty-first century, it was me who got to see it like this. There were scientists who would have yearned to sift the dirt of Mars, explorers who itched for the ability to walk its terrain, and artists who could have captured the shades of an another world with delicate brushwork.
Instead, they got me - who at this point was mostly looking forward to getting off the Boiling Point. It was a nice ship, but I had become a little restless as of late, couped up within its walls. It was time to disembark, which meant saying goodbye to Gatecrash. That in turn meant hugs all around.
"Well then," said Gatecrash, releasing me from their grip, "Don't forget to write. I'm looking forward to reading your updates!"
"You could join us, you know," responded Sarkona, "No harm in delaying your Kesslerite expedition for a few weeks."
Gatecrash seemed to consider it, but shook their head firmly, "No, I think I've waited long enough. If the planets are aligned, I will stop by and visit on my way back to Earth, if that's okay?"
"Depends on how long you intend to stay out there!" said Anode, "You might find that myself and Tungsten are the only ones here when you return - unless we can make a convert of Nat. You might find you want to stay."
"We'll see how good of an impression Mars makes on me," I said, "But I've already got plans back on Earth. I don't think I'll be staying indefinitely."
"I am also planning on returning to Earth long before that," said Regolith to Gatecrash, "But I do hope you'll visit me there. I have enjoyed your company."
"High praise!" said Gatecrash with a full grin. Their expression tempered quickly as they continued, "I hope you find what you're looking for here, Regolith."
Tungsten looked a little concerned, and was the last to float over the airlock threshold. "Gatecrash," he said, "Are you sure you'll be alright on your own? It's such a long trip to do in isolation."
Gatecrash smiled, "Ah, you're a credit to your generation, young Tungsten. That's the beauty of being as old as I am - time flies. Some peace and quiet will do me good, I think. Now go! I'll miss you all, but I'll also see you all again soon!"
The airlock closed, Gatecrash waving happily to us as it slid shut. We moved through it into the blue zone of the space elevator station, and turned to watch as a short time after the Boiling Point disengaged from the station. We all looked on in silence as its maneuvering thrusters fired noiselessly, followed by a strong kick from its main engines. Our home for the last few months quickly vanished, taking our friend along with it.
Sarkona broke the silence first. "Time to get going! Everyone still good with heading to Mars? We could always head to Eru first."
"I've had quite enough of space for the time being," said Tungsten, "I long for home, give me plains, caverns, and tunnels!"
"That was almost poetic, dear," said Anode, hugging him from behind, "Do me a favor and taxi me."
Tungsten sighed, and it became obvious that the purpose of Anode's hug was to hitch a ride on Tungsten as he used his limbs and inbuilt fan to move across the microgravity space. Sarkona and I shared a bemused look and pushed off the wall, Regolith following after.
"It's true that Eru is nice at this time of year," said Anode as we moved, "But you could spend years up in orbit alone. If Nat wants to get the full 'first time on Mars' experience, it'd be nice to see different styles. Argyre might be nice for the modern approach."
"What about Kathdown for the traditional?" asked Tungsten.
Anode looked at Tungsten in surprise, "There are other traditional settlements, Tungsten. Going back could be stressful."
Tungsten's tone was unusually determined in response. "I may be censored, but I have as much right to visit as anyone. It's also one of the best examples of traditional conservation. The Org that runs it has been doing so in the same way"
"That same Org is responsible for implementing backward rules - like censoring you. Maybe take some time to think about it," said Anode, "We don't have to go today."
Tungsten just nodded, the matter seeming to weigh on his mind.
"I am making my way to Aster," said Regolith, "I will be heading there for some personal business. If you would like to come with me, its architecture is an example of the post-cap style."
"I've never heard of it," said Sarkona, "Where is it?"
"Approximately fifty kilometers west of Kasei Valles."
Sarkona seemed pleased by the suggestion. "That works out well. Nat - would you like to see the old Martian capital and the museums there?"
"That sounds great," I said, "Could we head there first and get settled?"
It was at this point that we floated past a large window which framed one of the ships outside. I couldn't help but stop for a moment to stare. It wasn't docked to the station, instead placed in a stable orbit many kilometers away, though its mass was still large enough to fill the blue-rimmed window. I still found judging sizes of craft difficult without a point of reference or assistance from the Consortium, but if I had to guess it would have been the largest spacecraft I'd seen so far. It was unusually bulky, with a central tube-like section abruptly ending in an empty void - there was no engine array behind it. Its sensor antennae appeared to be folded away.
There was an embossed silver panel to one side, emblazoned with a mission crest and descriptive text.
Centauri Awaits
The Centauri Project was designed to push the limits of what humans and CIs consider possible, and holds the record for the furthest distance successfully traveled by any vessel known to the Consortium. Following the conclusion of the Project, the iconic vessel has been converted into a museum, while its drive section is under analysis near Ceres. Visitors are welcome.
"Nat?" called Sarkona from a nearby archway, "The next elevator is descending soon. We should keep moving."
From there we moved to await our ride down on the space elevator. The orbital station here was similar to the one drifting above Anchor on Earth, though it seemed to be far busier. The corridors and waiting spaces were larger, designed to accommodate a higher number of people. According to Regolith, we'd arrived at the same time as a cycler from Jupiter, meaning that the station was almost at capacity. It reminded me of a busy airport - though thankfully without all the baggage woes. That was not something which I had any sense of nostalgia for.
Descending from Mars orbit was far less dramatic than descending from Earth orbit. For one thing, the gravity was weaker. The entire second half of our trip had been an exercise in acclimatising to 0.3G, for Mars was a much smaller planet than Earth. Walking had been a little more challenging at first, but after a few weeks on a treadmill I had adapted - though I had no doubt I would look clumsy in comparison to Mars-born natives. The slower gait felt like walking through long, damp grass sometimes - it was simply the case that walking anywhere on Mars took longer.
The sky changed gradually, becoming a washed-out sort of red haze. Dust was a constant of life on Mars, a fact which extended to the atmosphere. Even now, I saw Tungsten checking his seals.
"Anode," I asked, as we continued our descent, "Does dust ever get caught in your cables?"
"In general?" Anode asked, confused, before making the connection, "Wait, I see - you're asking if I go outside with these? My body isn't rated for Mars surface exposure. I have a custom EV suit that I usually wear when I'm out of pressurized areas. You should see the variant I came up with for spacewalks."
"In other words," said Tungsten, "If you thought her mobility was excellent in microgravity, you should see what happens when you add copious amounts of propellant."
Anode nudged Tungsten, "Fun! Fun is what happens!"
Tungsten shook his head. "I, on the other hand, am rated for outside exposure. But given that regolith - which is the proper word for that dust in English - tends to get everywhere, I also tend to wear an EV suit."
"So why, if you don't mind me asking, were you checking your seals just now?"
Tungsten laughed, "Just because I don't go outside without a suit, it doesn't mean that regolith can't get to me. Unless you're willing to spend half an hour decontaminating every time you go outside, trust me, after a few weeks on Mars I guarantee you'll find regolith in unexpected places."
"Be careful about rubbing your eyes after leaving airlocks," said Sarkona, "You can trust me that if you make that mistake once, you won't make it again."
"Noted," I said, suddenly very conscious of where my hands were.
"Himme!," said Anode suddenly, pointing out of the window, "That's a good omen."
I looked out of the window to see that Anode was pointing at a cloud. It was tenuous, barely capable of being called a cloud, but the wispy mass was at our eye-level, growing smaller as we descended.
"Himme?" I asked, not knowing the word.
"Martian tradition!" explained Anode, "If you spy your first cloud of the year, you're supposed to point at it and say himme. It's Verrin!"
"Heaven," said Regolith, "That is what that word used to mean. A loanword. It is more associated with the tradition presently."
"How does something like that start?" I asked.
"Himme likely originated as an exercise in training children to scan the horizon for dust storms," Regolith stated plainly, "Clouds typically appear at the equator at the coldest time of the year."
"This cloud is off season," said Anode, "Which is why it's a good omen."
"Are dust storms something I need to worry about?" I asked, "The Infranet articles I've read say that winds aren't strong enough to endanger people on the surface."
"The wind isn't what you should worry about," answered Tungsten, "The true worry is the dust. It gets everywhere - coats solar panels, obstructs vision, clogs up machinery. However, I don't think you should actually worry about either - the Consortium has very accurate storm reporting now. And you're off season for global dust storms - those cover the surface every three Mars years. Thankfully, the last one passed a year ago."
"Oh, but I do love Dust Festivals," said Anode, "Makes sense - if you can't see the sun, sky, or anything else due to dust, have a festival to cheer everyone up."
"Can the Consortium fly drones during a dust storm?" I asked.
"It can," answered Regolith, "Though it typically does not. Local reserves and rail networks are maintained for those scenarios. It is as a former commanding officer of mine used to state - it is the lack of preparedness and planning that kills, not the calamity. That is advice to live by on Mars."
Sarkona nodded. "You'll find that most Orgs and habitats on Mars have documented emergency procedures, Nat. It's a good idea to read them after you arrive in any given place. I'm not aware of any significant system failures that have happened within my lifetime - between the Consortium's marsquake and weather predictions, constant structural analysis, and the ceaseless work of auditors, there's a very large safety net."
"Didn't you once mention getting plucked off the surface during a marsquake by the Consortium?" I asked Sarkona.
"And that plucking - great word, by the way - was part of that safety net. That being said, no activity in life is risk-free. If you let caution become paranoia, you'll never do anything interesting!"
The rest of our descent proceeded smoothly, and any fanciful notions I'd had about donning an EV suit and stepping off the elevator onto the surface of Mars were dismissed as the elevator car descended into a subsurface structure through an airlock, the hazy, red, and unbreathable atmosphere behind us safely sealed away.
"It's good to be home," said Tungsten, "Ah, I can smell the traces of regolith already."
He was right. As I stepped into the terminal there was a very faint scent of sulphur and other elements I couldn't identify. It wasn't exactly nice, but not unbearable either, like the scent of distant fireworks during a celebration, with a hint of rotten eggs. I wrinkled my nose in response.
"Don't worry," said Sarkona, doing the same, "You'll get used to it in a few weeks. That's just how Mars smells. Or most of it, at least! You do get a few habitats and Orgs that are fanatical in policing their airlocks. All it takes is for someone to track some regolith inside any space, and this is the result."
"I will say, it's no petrichor," said Tungsten, "But it's homely nonetheless. Ah, and true 0.3G. Something about it is so much more real than spin gravity, wouldn't you agree?"
He was, once again, right. Despite the bio-dev work that had been done to prepare me for the trip, I'd still felt a little nausea on the trip down. Thankfully, it had quickly faded.
I looked out over the crowd of people in the terminal - as we'd disembarked, so had all the other passengers. One thing was more obvious than before - some people were a lot taller than I'd initially realised, now that we were standing on the same floor. It hadn't been as noticable boarding the elevator in microgravity. There was a significant range, but the vast majority of people varied from just under six to just over seven feet tall. This was something that I'd read about - Mars-born humans tended to be taller than those born on Earth. It was some combination of the reduced gravity and genetic traits passed down through the generations of natives. Apparently, the first generation of Mars-born had been even taller, before lessons learned and medical breakthroughs had led to a reduction of the trait in exchange for better overall health. Bio-dev now meant that now anyone could be whatever height they wished - it just so happened that the cultural norm for Mars was a little higher than that of Earth.
The interior of the structure we were in was color-coded in the same way that spaces in the vacuum of space were. Right next to the elevator and the surface, the terminal structure was coded blue. We stepped through an airlock into a long, grey corridor with a large escalator, joining the throng of people making their way out of the space elevator and descending deeper below the surface of Mars.
Tungsten took the long ride as a chance to explain the layout. "This terminal, and the attached settlement, is a fairly typical underground design. Take your hand, like this," he said, placing his two-thumbed hand facing palm-down, "And then invert it, so that your fingers and thumbs are facing upward in an inverted claw. The entry and exit points of the settlement are at the tips of your fingers, near the surface. You also have your mandatory surface structures there, like solar panels, radiators, exterior vents, and the like. The bulk of the settlement sits within your palm, insulated from the temperatures outside and protected against atmospheric breaches. You'll notice that we pass into a green zone, and then through another airlock. There will be some green signs near the entrance and exit points indicating that we're in a green zone, but the rest of the interior itself won't be color-coded - labeling an entire settlement is a bit much, don't you think? Open-plan settlements like these aren't like space, where you're constantly passing through airlocks and therefore need to be more conscious of such things."
Sure enough, stepping off the elevator we passed through two further airlocks before emerging into the interior of the settlement proper. A bottle-shaped corridor opened up into a dome-like, cavernous space with buildings that rose up from the ground, each of them following a different architectural style. Pillars stood side-by-side with glass, steel, and brown stone. The floor was likewise bowl-shaped, so that a walk to the center of the settlement was a case of walking downhill. As a result, you could see over the tops of the various buildings, invoking the image of an amphitheater crowded with people.
Four central support pillars stretched from the ceiling to the floor, with some kind of creeping plant growing up them. At the very top of the dome a mostly transparent structure hung, suspended - some kind of viewing platform, I guessed. I focused my eyes and saw that a small stream of water fell from its base, all the way down to a twisting and irregular spire-like fountain at the very center of the settlement, dashing itself across its surface and spraying off at various angles.
You would expect such a place to be dark and urban-looking, without access to the sun - but in its place, four large panels were placed equidistantly around the walls. It was an odd feeling - the lighting level was similar to that of daylight, but the rays or light had none of the usual heat. There was, however, a comfortable breeze. To my left, a potted and squat tree with ash-grey bark fluttered in it. My attention drawn, I looked around for more plants, spying rooftop gardens, hedges, and a nearby window box full of purple flowers I didn't recognize. I got the feeling that Antonia would be at home here.
The sky - if it could be called that, was blue. It was an impure blue, tainted in places by iridescent streaks that rippled across its surface - they were either the product of projections, or the whole thing must have been some sort of screen.
"Mizcur", said Sarkona, "It's been a while! It's a sort of commuter town for those who need easy access to the space elevator. It's a nice place to spend a few hours, but most of this is just residences."
"The buildings are great," commented Anode, "I've never liked artificial skies like this though. It feels like you're living in a simulation. I like skylights, bare rock, or textured ceilings."
"I am able to tell you some of the historical details, if you wish," said Regolith, to nods from the rest of the group, "The choice of ceiling was a concession from when Mizcur was rebuilt several hundred years ago. It mirrors the intent of the original settlement - an experiment in aiding human circadian rhythm through exposure to Earth-like light. The original settlement was much smaller."
"Do you prefer the old or new design?" asked Sarkona.
"The old design was cramped, but very convenient. In my youth I spent much time in the prancebars. The new ones don't capture the same feelings."
"Hah," laughed Sarkona, "I know how you feel. I often can't figure out whether it's me or the places that have changed. I do have to say I have a hard time imagining you at a prancebar."
"It was not a rare occurrence. To quote a friend of mine, it was the duty of those serving to work hard and play harder. Our old base was only thirty kilometers from here, so it was a convenient place to access when on leave. To return to the subject, the old Mizcur was a key port long before the space elevator was here, and served as a water distribution point to nearby settlements, with regular incoming shipments of water ice. If you are willing to excavate, the old concrete landing pads and water tanks are still there, just below the surface dust. As for this new Mizcur, I know little beyond what Sarkona has stated."
Sarkona rubbed their chin, thinking, "The most currently relevant information I know is that there's a park just downhill from here. It might be nice to sit there for a bit - I have missed greenery."
"In that case, I will leave you for the time being," said Regolith, "And I will see you in Aster in the near future." With that, he nodded at us formally and walked off in the direction of a dronecraft hub.
The park was nothing particularly groundbreaking. Flowers and vines climbed rocks sourced from the surface, water features trickled over carved depictions of various subjects, and trees, hedges and a few well-placed mirrors screened the park from the rest of the settlement. We sat on a bench and chatted about nothing in particular for a few hours as the artificial light shifted through its simulated day, stopping only to grab something to eat from a nearby sushi restaurant, which boasted new varieties of old favorites which I ate far too much of. It was very similar to how we might have spent an afternoon on Earth - but it was impossible to forget where we were. If you were to compare Earth to a painting, it would be rendered in oils. Mars was its own beast, pastel-like and with its own surprises. I was very much looking forward to getting to understand it better.
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