You're Going to Mars!

by Rob Dircks

  “Some reason? Don’t play coy, Larson. I’m on to you. You’ve cursed me!”

  Avery’s Likes start rising like crazy. She hears the ticking, looks up at the board and cringes, holding back the tsunami of tears waiting behind her eyes. “Come on, Larson, say it. You’ve cursed me.”

  “I have not cursed you, my dear Avery. I’ll admit that your… misadventures haven’t exactly been detrimental to our ratings, but I wish no ill upon you, of course, and look forward to having you aboard High Heaven. Negative ten points for Yellow Team. Anyone else?”

  Albert buzzes in. “Athlete’s foot.”

  “Very good, Albert! Tinea pedis is, in fact, athlete’s foot. Ten points for Green Team. Now, for two extra points, Albert, can you tell me: if athletes get athlete’s foot, what do astronauts get?”

  Albert furrows his brow, boy this is one serious question, until Larson turns to the crowd with an inviting wave and they shout, in unison, “Mistletoe!”

  Larson laughs. “Hey! I said no cheating!” But his wink tells them not to pay him any mind.

  “All right, Albert. Your board.”

  “Chemistry for ten.”

  “Excellent choice. Name two liquid hydrocarbons.”

  Avery slams her hand down. Again. And again. Her “dog feces” act goes on for a few more questions, until her buzzer mysteriously malfunctions, and she’s left continuously slamming the poor thing with both palms. No longer able to hold back the weeks of tears, she blubbers into her hands, then covers her ears to stop hearing the chatter of infinite Likes being added to her name.

  Suddenly, Larson does the unexpected (yes, somehow he can still surprise): he stops the show. A single spotlight shines on him, and a second shines on Avery, and the rest is blackness and silence. Larson whispers, “Avery… can you tell me what you want? Your wildest dream? It’s not going to Mars, is it?”

  She looks up, embarrassed and red and blotchy, eye makeup smearing all over her face. Shakes her head.

  “Then, what is it?”

  She shakes her head again.

  “Come, come, Avery. I want to know.”

  “Kittens. And puppies. Okay? I’ve always wanted to own a pet shop. Are you satisfied?”

  “Would you be surprised, Avery, if I had already guessed that?” And instantly the lights return, and the set is swarming with kittens and puppies, coming in from all directions, each with a yellow bow to match Avery’s training suit. The crowd is stunned for just a moment, and then ooohs and aaaahs and cheers erupt from them as they pick up the animals and cuddle them, and the entire arena dissolves into good-natured chaos. Larson himself reaches down and gently cups a kitten and a puppy in each hand, walks over to Avery, and offers them to her.

  She sniffs. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes.”

  Now she can’t say anything, the tears are really gushing, mixing with snot and a little drool, but it’s happy snot and drool, and she nods and accepts the gift, steps from behind her podium and embraces Larson and her new little animal friends, and all is forgiven.

  “Yes, Avery. We’ve rented you a storefront back in Seattle, and have you all ready for business. We’ve even come up with a name: Take Me To Your Owner. Get it? Like aliens?” The crowd groans as he holds up the sign Ted just handed him, showing a UFO with puppies bounding down the gang plank into their new owners’ arms. “Now. I would like you to stay. At least through tonight’s game. Do you think you could do that for me?”

  Avery nods enthusiastically, and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Can I keep these little guys here?”

  “Certainly. As for the rest, Ted, won’t you please corral them all up and get them over to the incinerator?”

  Avery sputters. I think she swallowed her tongue.

  “I’m kidding, kidding! No, of course they’ll all be waiting for you when you get home. Now where was I? Oh yes, Medical for thirty: the parasite Cryptosporidiosis may be found in what common substance?”

  We all stare at Larson. Huh? We never covered this.

  “Avery, perhaps?” And he winks at her.

  She gingerly buzzes in, clearly afraid Larson may be pulling the rug out from under her, damning her with another curse, she’s totally unsure, but the twinkle in his eye gives her the courage to say it:

  “Dog feces?”

  “That is correct, Avery!” And the crowd erupts in laughter and cheers again, and we all wonder at Zach Larson’s ability to pull moments like this out of his ass on the fly. It’s simply amazing.

  The rest of the show isn’t quite as chaotic, but the extremely close score does have the audience here and around the world on the edge of their seats. Red, Green, and Yellow are all within ten points of each other, and the last question allows us to bet our total if we want.

  Larson grins. “Very good, very good, contestants! You’ve clearly done your homework. And congratulations to our Team Leaders for getting some of this to sink in!” A spotlight shines on the five High Heaven astronauts, with ever-stoic-looking Daniels nodding politely and folding his arms, and the rest waving like they just can’t wait to end this lunacy and get to the actual mission.

  “All right. The final question. All teams bet up to their full point balance upon hearing the category, then answer when I call on you. This is for all the marbles, my friends. One team will go home. The rest of you? Stage Four: Launch. And here is the category: Minerals. Place your wager now.”

  Benji, Claire, and Mike whip their heads around to me. “Well?”

  I hesitate. Seconds pass. “Hey, why only me on this?”

  Blank stares. Claire actually laughs. “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

  “Okay. Whatever. Bet the house, Benji. All of it. We have to assume both teams are going to get it right and bet it all, so it’s the only way to stay in the game. Don’t worry. I got this.”

  Larson interrupts the teams’ murmuring. “All right, friends, please put your stylus down. Now the question: What Martian mineral is needed for the magnetite-wustite redox cycle for an alternative method of producing oxygen?”

  The countdown music starts. And… oh my God. I’m blank. Nothing. We didn’t cover this. Or if we did, I was daydreaming about Angel, or about launching into space aboard the High Heaven, or walking across the landscape of Mars, the crunch of crystals beneath my fee- wait. Crystals. Oh yes. I’ve got this. I grin and nod to my teammates.

  The countdown stops, and Larson raises his arms. “Please put your tablets down. Now first, Yellow Team, you’re bringing up the rear with two hundred forty-five points. Your answer?”

  Tanner taps Yellow Team’s tablet, and their answer appears on the big board:

  Dog Feces.

  Even Larson can’t control himself and laughs. “Well, I suppose if you weren’t confident in the category, there was only one way to go. Bravo, Yellow Team. Now, how much did you wager?”

  Tanner taps again: Zero.

  “Smart. Very smart. You’ve retained your score of two-forty-five. Now, Green Team? You’re behind Red Team by just five points with two-fifty.”

  Marina taps her tablet, and shouts, “Issa hematite.”

  Oh my God.

  She’s right. I know it. Before Larson even nods his head.

  And I was wrong.

  “And we betta all two hundred fifty points.”

  They blew us out of the water. And Yellow bet zero. And we have the wrong answer. And we bet everything.

  It’s over.

  We’re going home.

  Benji reluctantly taps the tablet with our answer: “Tridymite.”

  “Oooh. I’m sorry, Red Team. Oh dear. Your wager?”

  I grab Benji’s hand to stop him from tapping. Is there any way I can undo this? Like if we don’t show our answer, we don’t lose? I contemplate taking the tablet and breaking it in two. Please. It can’t be true. It can’t be true. We came so close. I thought I was right, I was certain, and I wound up being wrong. Again.

  I let go
of Benji’s hand, and close my eyes, and hang my head.

  And hear cheering.

  Huh?

  I open one eye. People are on their feet, roaring their approval. I open my other eye and turn to Benji. He’s grinning wryly at me. “I had a hunch. You flinched. And you’re welcome.”

  Larson claps. “You bet nine points! That lowers your total to two hundred forty-six, but it’s still enough to stay in second place. Green Team and Red Team, you’re proceeding to Stage Four!”

  I reach up and kiss Benji on the cheek. “Thanks for not listening to me.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Wise ass.” I punch him in the shoulder, and we hug, and we all hug, all three teams, even Yellow Team, through their tears. I think through all the craziness, we did get to like each other, maybe even become some weird, dysfunctional family-like thing. I hug Tanner, who mentions something about an organic farm, although honestly I tune him out as soon as I hear the word “beet.” And Suzie Q, who will somehow have to live without her obsession Albert while we take a trip into orbit for the next three weeks. I even give a fist bump to Quinn Keller, who’s going home with the least Likes, and who I honestly don’t remember saying a single word to this whole time. And of course, last but not least, I hug Avery.

  “Well, Paper. I guess you won’t miss me.”

  “I will.”

  “Come on.”

  “No seriously, Avery, I don’t know. I will. I never had a lot of…”

  We share a smile and she says, “Friends.”

  “Yeah. And back home, you’d fit right in.”

  Aurora walks over. “Avery, Avery. I’d shake your hand but I don’t want to pull your fingers off.”

  Avery lowers her gaze and walks away. I kick her foot. “Aurora, you have such a way with people.”

  “Whatever. I just came over here to congratulate you.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  “No. I actually wanted to gloat. I beat you. Na nana na na na.”

  “Yup. That’s more like it.”

  We fist bump, and Larson taps his microphone. “Contestants. I hate to interrupt your heartfelt goodbyes, but we need to take our places.”

  “Take our places? For what?”

  Larson motions for Mike Horner and Marina Delacosta to approach him. “For the wedding, of course.”

  53

  Yes, There is a Wedding.

  Yes, there is a wedding after the game show. At the launch pad of the largest rocket ever built.

  And as bizarre as it sounds, it really is so sweet.

  The sun is setting, it couldn’t be any more flawless really, and Larson bends down so Ted can place a robe over his suit. Zach Larson, now Justice of The Peace and Wedding Presider. I think we’re all done being surprised.

  Mike has changed as well, into an all-too-perfect tuxedo, and we all wait, as is customary, for the bride to appear, knowing full well that Larson has gone over the top once again, and we’re not disappointed when Marina parades back out, in a gown with a train long enough to reach all the way back to Los Angeles, and a veil with tiny lights flickering in it, like a constellation of stars in the heavens. The women in the audience sigh collectively, and I’ve never seen so many camera flashes. It’s like a royal wedding. I’m not kidding.

  Zach walks them through the mini service, and they exchange rings, and Marina now has an even bigger ring on her finger than she used to, you can probably see it from space, I imagine them closing the mine this diamond came from, knowing it couldn’t possibly offer up a single karat more after this giant rock emerged from it.

  “Now. Do you, Mike Horner, take Marina Delacosta to be your wife, to have and to hold, from this moment forward, through time and space, until you pass to the great beyond?”

  Mike smiles a smile that breaks a billion hearts. “I do.”

  “And do you, Marina, take Mike to be your husband, for all time and through all trials, from the top of each mountain to the depth of each valley, for as long as the universe itself breathes life?”

  She beams, and a tear threatens to ruin her perfect eye makeup. “I do.”

  And they kiss, THE kiss, the kiss that weakens knees around the world, the kiss that will be written about for years, and of course – not a soul on Earth is caught off-guard at this – Larson nods to Ted, and fireworks fill the sky behind the High Heaven.

  And for a moment, sincerely and with no exaggeration, I can feel the entire planet, each and every soul, sigh just a little, and smile, and let a little romantic love sweep them off their feet, and believe just for that moment that this is what it all comes down to, isn’t it? The moment we give ourselves to someone, fully, leaving nothing of ourselves, and we find that somehow we’re even more for that gift.

  Aurora puts her arm around me. “Stop crying, Farris. You’re embarrassing.”

  “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

  “Whatever. Hold my champagne.”

  And she swaggers over to the newlyweds, bows, then turns to face the audience, and grabs a mic from Ted. “I’d like to say these two are my friends, but as you know folks, they’re my sworn mortal enemies.” Laughs ripple through the audience. “But look at them. Cute overload. Cuteness Threat Level Eleven. So yeah, I had to write them a little something.” The music starts, and Aurora sings:

  Cuore, Il mio cuore,

  My heart is yours,

  Il tuo é mio,

  Together we start,

  Nessuno puó separare,

  Forever, sempre, my love, mi amore.

  I have no idea what half of it means, but it’s beautiful, and as Aurora leads a chant of the last “mi amore,” over and over with the swaying crowd, Marina’s parents rush down from their dais and embrace her, and then embrace Mike and Marina, and it’s not hard to imagine Signore Delacosta writing a check for a cajillion dollars to Larson for giving his daughter the wedding of the millennium.

  Once the music has faded, the crowd calmed, and all the tears shed, Larson whispers to us, “My friends, the vote on the Off-World Biocontamination Act is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. We really should get some sleep to get an early start, to avoid a surprise visit from friendly federal agents.”

  Mike takes Marina’s hand. “Zach. We’re not coming.”

  “Oh dear. But… Mars…”

  “Mars is a big deal. Yes. But this,” he looks into Marina’s eyes, “it’s bigger.”

  I think my heart just exploded. Can you imagine someone saying something like that to you?

  Marina kisses Larson on both cheeks. “Goodbye, Zach darling. Mike issa right. I don’t need Mars no longer. I have found something better. My own strength.” She pulls Mike into an embrace. “And my love.”

  54

  The Biggest Day

  In just a few hours, the sun will rise on the biggest day of my life.

  A day that marks the beginning of mankind’s rebirth into something new. A species that someday will count Earth as just one of its homes.

  Zach has given me permission to walk here, alone, around the base of the massive High Heaven rocket, in the wee hours before our flight. The launch pad is mind-bogglingly large, the size of six football fields, it seems even larger now that the stage and bleachers are gone. Now I can see, beyond the pad, brush and trees thriving, even in the face of the occasional five thousand degree flames of liftoff.

  I walk to them, along a double chain-link, barbed-wire fence, to get beyond the harsh lights on the launch pad and see some stars.

  There. Almost directly overhead, Polaris. Below it, Ursa Minor and Ursa Major. They’ve always been there for me, permanent and comforting, and tonight, something different: I feel like they’re inviting me. They can’t wait to greet me.

  I remember teaching, or trying to teach anyway, the stars and constellations to Rock and Scissors, late at night, when the Fill was quiet except for the hiss of the methane lamps. We were born in September, Rock just before midnight on the twenty-third, so she was a Virgo, and th
en myself and Scissors just after midnight on the twenty-fourth, both of us being Libras, and I used to show them both constellations whenever the haze parted with a midnight breeze. According to the serious-but-ridiculous astrology book we found, our astrological signs meant Rock was “modest and shy” – totally wrong – and “overcritical and harsh,” which was spot on (although she was harshly critical of that description). And that meant Scissors and I, as Libras, were “diplomatic and urbane,” whatever that meant, and “idealistic.” I liked that last one. Yes. Idealistic. Not Scissors so much, but me definitely. I always liked to look to an ideal future, I don’t know why, to dream about what a future might look like, with people on other planets, exploring space, not just stewing here on Earth, no, we could escape the gravity of this life, and reach our potential. I really believed it. I still do. Scissors just liked the idea that “libra” translated to “book” in Albanian, and of course books are made out of paper, which she found funny. I preferred the Zulu translation of libra: “free.” That had a nice ring to it.

  Thinking of them, all of them, and looking up at the little points of light, inviting me but so very far away, suddenly I feel very alone.

  “Pssst.”

  I jump out of my skin. “Who the hell is that?!”

  “Angel.”

  “Angel?! What the-?”

  “Shhh! I’m sorry. But I had to see you.”

  He climbs the first ten foot fence, draping a cloak over the barbed wire, then on to the second. Drops to the ground, dusting himself off, and faces me.

  “How…?!”

  “I’ve been following you. On the show, and…” He points to his armpit, “…that thing your mother implanted-”

  “Oh my God! My mother! Is she-?”

  “Shhh. They’re okay. I snuck your Mom out, we picked up Voomvoom, and we’re in hiding. We’re safe.”

  “Then… my family…!”

  “Shhh! Don’t worry. Gene and Pops are spooked. Even with me AWOL and your Mom gone, that Dead Body thing and the strike has them spooked, and the Fillers are back to work, so your family will be safe for a little while. I’m working on a longer-term fix, too. I came here because I just had to… I had to say goodbye.”