“Look,” he said, showing her the display. “There’s no missed call. There must be some connection problem in here.” It was an Academy Awards performance.
“Because you rejected it!” his mother insisted, who didn’t seem particularly hurt by her son’s action.
Kirsten’s gaze shouted: you’re in trouble now, Bro.
“I’m afraid your cell phone is faulty, my darling. It’s already the second time it’s happened.”
‘She really believes that!’ He was feeling a bit guilty about making a fool of his mother this way. Or was it the opposite?
“But, where have you left Dad?” his sister stepped in, with the evident intention of changing the subject.
“Seriously, I said I called you. Check it out!”
Reluctantly Jan tapped the call history icon. He had to please her and admit she was right; otherwise she wouldn’t drop the subject.
“So, where is Dad?” Kirsten insisted.
“He’s parking.” According to her tone she deemed it irrelevant.
“What would you like?” the waiter asked, hesitating.
Latest received calls. A long list of names appeared on the screen, beside each a small photograph. His mother was at the top.
“Don’t you see I was right?”
But Jan’s gaze had been attracted to the last photograph, a part of which appeared at the bottom of the screen. He became breathless when he saw it. Immediately he scrolled up and tapped the image, which enlarged. Anna’s smile, the one on the day they met for the first time, welcomed his incredulous look. Beside it, her name, her telephone number, her user id, the date and time of her call, and a check indicating it was answered.
“What the …?” he muttered.
Kirsten rushed to his side. She grasped his wrist to get a better view of the screen. “When did she call you?”
“She didn’t,” Jan protested.
“I told you that cell phone is faulty,” his mother commented. She turned to the waiter; “An Orval, thank you.”
“It isn’t faulty …”
Then Jan connected the date and time with the weird sensation he’d had after the quarrel with Milja. It couldn’t have been she who answered the call, could it?
“Jan, call her.” His sister seemed to have regained her composure after her initial surprise. “Now.” She clasped his shoulder, forcing him to listen to her. “Perhaps it isn’t too late.”
At first he didn’t understand what she meant. Anna had left for Mars. She couldn’t answer his call.
“She’ll think I didn’t want to talk to her … Will she have recognised her voice?”
“The launch is today.”
Kirsten’s voice struck home. A sensation of warmth and an urgency to do something. Without pondering, he tapped the calling icon and put his mobile phone to his ear.
Silence. Then a female voice with a strong American accent; “The user you have called isn’t currently reachable. Please try again later.”
Then he saw the TV image that occupied most of the wall at the bottom of the room. The caption read: ‘Live from Cape Canaveral’. He felt a sudden rush of cold blood. He let the phone slip to the table and approached the appliance like a zombie. He barely felt his sister stopping beside him and squeezing his hand. On the screen an enormous rocket had just lifted off and started to gather speed. The cameras followed it as it dived into the blue sky, becoming smaller and smaller.
Only now did he realise why the pub seemed half empty. Most of the customers were crowded in front of the TV set.
“Have a good journey, guys, and say hello to the little green men!” The powerful voice of the bartender filled the room and caused a burst of hilarity among the bystanders.
While everybody joked around and celebrated, Jan let himself drop to his knees, emptied of any strength.
2
How long has passed?
I must have lost consciousness again, for who knows how many hours. I feel relaxed, but at the same time almost euphoric. I’m smiling. It’s ridiculous, I have no reason to smile. Or maybe I have, because I’m alive. Am I alive? I cannot contain a guffaw.
Okay, I must be sensible, I must reason.
I’m not cold anymore. I’m lying in a warm and comfortable place. It’s dark around me. No, I can catch a glimpse of a far light. My eyes accustomed to darkness show me the outline of an unknown place, but yet somehow familiar. It seems there’s nobody here except me.
I rise slowly into a sitting position. A blanket slides from my chest. My muscles are sore, but otherwise I’m all right. I run my hands down my body. I’m still wearing my working clothes, those I had under the suit. My fingers move along my legs. Even my ankle doesn’t hurt so much; I feel it wrapped by something tight. It’s been bandaged.
“Is anybody there?” I call out, regretting it immediately. I don’t know where I am, who or what is in here with me. Maybe it isn’t a good idea to let them know I’m awake. Then I recall a name. “Jack?”
I prick up my ears, awaiting an answer that doesn’t come, though. I get down from the bed with caution. I guess it’s a bed. Everything is so absurd. I was in the canyon, I was dying of exposure and now I’m here. It is a nonsense that here exists. It is nonsense that whatever saved me exists. But it was a nonsense that I travelled hundreds of kilometres from Station Alpha looking for something. But I did, and I think I’ve found that. And I believe I’ve understood what it is. Except that it isn’t possible.
I’m able to walk. It hurts a little, but it’s bearable. There’s a glow, I move towards it with caution. I don’t want to bump into any of these weird objects surrounding me. I have a slight dizzy spell. I’ve stood up too quickly. My pupils dilate, the light is blinding me. I turn my face to avoid it hitting my eyes and, since it is now behind me, I can better distinguish the place where I am. I see some shelves, a bed, a trolley, some medical instruments. It looks like an infirmary, but it’s all so rudimental, so outdated.
At least thirty years old.
It doesn’t make any sense. Nobody could have endured for so long in Mars, without all the necessary equipment. Without water, a lot of water. Perhaps I’m really dying and my brain is offering me this last lucid dream, before switching off. Nonsense. I’m alive and I’m here. Whatever it is, there must be a logic explanation.
I turn to the light again. It’s coming from a small opening. I get closer and reach out. I touch a smooth, plastic surface. As I put my fingers on it, it draws back a bit, widening the glow. It’s a folding door. As I open it, I find an even bigger room, dimly lit by an emergency lamp. There are two large counters, with some bottles scattered on them, along with a sink, flasks, beakers, Bunsen burners, burettes. A small fridge grumbles in a corner. On another piece of furniture is a cylindrical instrument: an old centrifuge. That thing beside it seems to be a mass spectrometer. On the opposite side of the room is a chemical hood. I’ve never seen one like that; perhaps only in some photographs. I’m no doubt in a laboratory. Everything is clean and ordered, as if it’s used every day. A classic periodic table of elements is hanging on the wall. The NASA logo is imprinted on it. If I didn’t know it’s impossible, I would say I’ve travelled back in time. It would be more probable than any other explanation that comes to mind.
At once I feel a slight tremor coming from the floor. The glassware clinks. Then silence again, followed by a strange noise, like a deep puff. On the opposite wall is an airtight door, with a window. In the end this room isn’t so different from my laboratory, with the exception of the obsolete equipment. I can imagine what’s beyond that door.
I get closer to it. It has got a simple handle, but I can’t move it. It must be an emergency opening mechanism, to be used only when the electricity is out. Beside the jamb is a touch panel. Some climate data are on it: temperature, pressure, humidity, oxygen and carbon dioxide concentration. They would be quite normal values, if I were on Earth. I try to see through the window, but the glass is matted and it’s dark on the other side. I brush agains
t the display, which comes to life.
‘Open door’ appears on it. I tap the icon and then I hear a mechanical click, but the door remains closed. In the same instant, I see through the glass that there are lights turning on. Almost without thinking, I pull the handle and the panel starts sliding into the wall.
The sight opening up before my eyes is at the same time unbelievable and stupendous. The lighting reveals the outlines of a huge plastic bubble, which encapsulates a luxuriant garden. Inside, precisely separated, are plants of various sizes, from creepers to proper trees. With my mouth still wide open, I descend the steps one by one and I put my feet on the ground. Yes, it is ground, not a floor. I stoop to pick up a handful of it. It’s dark reddish in colour, but damp, like in my greenhouse. The air is tepid and pleasant to breath. Overhead I hear life support fans buzzing, which prevent the accumulation of the carbon dioxide produced by the plants in the dark hours.
The ground trembles again for a moment. A spade slides along the wall and falls. The puff repeats. This time it is loud. Soon after, I hear that wonderful noise. Since arriving on Mars, I have dreamt of it so many times, in the morning before waking up. I’ve opened my eyes and looked towards the window, hoping to see the glass beaded from the outside by small raindrops, only to remember where I was. But I’m not dreaming now.
Regardless of the strain to which my body is prey, I rush to the origin of the noise. I pass the fruit trees and a dense cloud hits me, warm, humid. The vapour, which condensates as soon as it touches my skin, mixes with the tears of joy now rolling down on my face, while I let myself fall to the ground and I remain there, admiring that wonder.
“Who are you?”
A child’s voice behind me makes me flinch. When I turn around, I see a girl; she must be no more than seven, her face is round, framed by long wavy hair, her eyes are wide, bright. She’s wearing a white top, so long that it could be a gown, or a nightdress, judging from her sleepy expression. In her hands is a wooden object, a toy. She looks at me with suspicion, but she doesn’t seem fearful.
3
“Champagne!” Dennis shouted as he popped the cork.
The others welcomed his gesture, beating their PVC cups on the table. The euphoria reached its maximum. They had entered Station Alpha a little less than half an hour before and they already felt at home. After the long months spent in the confined spaces of the Isis, that place, in comparison, seemed like a royal palace. They had trained for years to live in a perfect replica of that habitat, so they already knew where to go and what to do. In the coming days they’d have to settle in, check that all equipment worked as expected, and start planning their life on Mars. But there was no hurry now. The sole fact they were there, safe and sound, was a success. They had arrived where no other human being could.
“We’ve gone down in history!” Robert exclaimed, and gulped the contents of his cup. After an abstinence that seemed never-ending to him, that little bit of alcohol went straight to his brain and he started shouting for joy.
The rest of the crew replied in a chorus with a loud, “Yeah!”
But then he gestured them to be quiet. He hadn’t finished with his speech. “Brothers and sisters, let’s enjoy this wonder, because it’s the last time we can drink it in our lives!”
A general boo welcomed those last words.
“Well,” Anna stepped in. “Unfortunately we won’t for sure be able to plant vineyards on this planet. At least not for the next … two hundred years.”
Another joking boo.
“But!” she continued, hushing them. “We’ve got some beautiful potato tubers, which are destined for the greenhouse. And we could use a part of the harvest for something different other than simple nutrition.”
“Vodka!” This time Michelle was the one who spoke.
“I love you, Sister,” Robert exclaimed, putting both hands on his chest in a theatrical gesture addressed to Anna.
“I love you too, Brother!”
Rock music was heard coming out from the loudspeakers in the meeting room, followed by Hassan’s serious voice. “I’d like to inform you that for the last two minutes we’ve been transmitting in real time a video to the guys in Houston.” Then his mouth stretched in a smile. “With a little luck, they’ll be already drunk, when they receive us.” He laughed. “I’ve heard they keep aside a lot of strong stuff for these occasions at mission control, so we can let loose.” Right after that he increased the volume.
Michelle knocked her cup back, threw it away, and rushed to the middle of the room, following the rhythm of the music. With a sensual gesture she motioned for her husband to get closer, but Dennis shook his hands to decline the invitation. That made Robert laugh out loud. Their commander was shy around others. But she didn’t get discouraged and turned her attention to Hassan, who didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed her hand and made her spin around. Then he seized her before she fell to the floor, simulating an awkward dip.
Robert watched them, amused. The blonde geologist and the young surgeon were perhaps the worst matched pair in the history of ballroom, but in that very moment they showed such joy and harmony; it was a pleasure to see them having fun.
“You do know, sweetheart, that I’ll be able to blackmail you for life with this video,” Dennis joked. “If you don’t do whatever I order you, I swear I’ll send it to your parents.”
She laughed loudly, but kept on dancing with her partner.
The only one who appeared to have at once stopped having fun was Anna. Her gaze fixed on the two dancers. Robert scrutinised her expression, a mix of annoyance and sadness.
“Wanna dance with me, Sister?”
She started and turned to him, surprised. Maybe she hadn’t heard him approaching because of the loud music. But when their eyes met, she smiled again.
There was a kind of comradeship between him and the other guys, while there was respect and a deep, mutual trust, even affection, with Michelle; Anna was something different. They understood each other with a glance. They covered each other. They were accomplices. He’d wanted them to be something more, but he had soon become her confidant, ending up in the so-called friend zone, and he’d never had the courage to make a pass at her, as he knew she still loved another man. Maybe, with the passing of time, things would change. In the end they had an entire lifetime to spend in that place. He took comfort from that thought, which little by little became stronger in his mind.
But there was a sullen sensation in the bottom of his heart, which bothered him. Something that her previous expression had aroused.
“How can it be they haven’t confirmed the launch date yet?”
Anna’s voice was muffled by anguish. As days, months, many months passed, a snaky sensation of powerlessness had materialised in her thoughts, transforming into something real and oppressive. The dejected gazes of the others seated around the table, mechanically swallowing the umpteenth breakfast, demonstrated she wasn’t the only one to feel like that. Only Dennis tried to keep a semblance of optimism, but over time his acting capabilities had worsened, to say the least.
“Please, refrain from your usual drama,” he implored her.
“Drama?” She stood up. Her appetite was gone. “It’s exactly what they said the last time. Then the launch window closed and we remained here, empty-handed, and with the prospect of waiting another Martian year, before getting to know whether next time they would sent us the equipment we need.” She looked at her colleagues, one by one, before stopping at the commander. “Maybe you haven’t realised that, but we are stuck here. We keep on doing the same things and we find nothing. We must be able to go farther.”
“Anna, you’re being unfair now,” Michelle stepped in, promptly siding with her husband, in her usual protective manner. “We knew full well since the beginning that the chances they’d let another mission be launched after only two years were low, but the political situation has changed now—”
“I don’t give a damn about the political situation
!” Anna had always believed what the officials from NASA used to say, or at least she had forced herself to do that, to avoid admitting she had made the wrong choice, when she decided to leave Earth to start that adventure. But her enthusiasm had lessened by now, and the lack of new incentives had increased her sense that they had been abandoned. “We’ve been in this fucking desert for a thousand days now.”
“Nine hundred and ninety-five sols,” Hassan pointed out distractedly with a full mouth, looking everywhere but at her. He was the only one who didn’t seem perturbed by her scene. As usual, in front of the others, he pretended she didn’t exist at all.
Anna went on with what she was saying. She had learned to ignore him as well. She’d had enough and wasn’t going to let that man humiliate her. “We are sick and tired of listening to the same excuses again and again. We need new equipment, and rovers with a wider range. Other habs need to be put into operation, we need more people joining us to start a real colonisation. If only the five of us remain, do you know what will happen? We’ll end up killing each other. That’s what will happen!”
Dennis snorted.
Robert stood, moved close to his friend and placed a hand gently on her arm. “Come on, Sister, we all understand how you feel. We’ve gotten the same concerns, but shouting at each other does no good. We’re family, do you remember?”
Touched by his words, Anna turned to him. Robert used to be the one who understood her, who knew how to treat her, but this time even he couldn’t make her calm down. She felt trapped. She had built herself a prison with her own hands and left the keys with some people hundreds of million kilometres away. Yet at the beginning the idea of living on the Red Planet had seemed perfect to her. What could she want more than an entire planet to explore, fantastic discoveries to make? But now they were stuck in such a small area, where apparently there was nothing at all. She’d journeyed this far in search of even just a hint that Mars had hosted life in the remote past. She wanted some concrete proof there was life outside of Earth, something to confirm her many years of studies. And maybe that proof was there somewhere, but she couldn’t reach it; perhaps it was just one kilometre beyond the maximum distance she could travel.
People of Mars Page 2
