Love On Mars

by Iván Hernández (actualmente retirado)

  A female voice gave a warning over the PA system:

  “Please do not unfasten your seatbelts. We will arrive in one hour. Please wait for instructions. Thank you.”

  Mary Ackerson was not as patient as that voice wanted her to be. She looked around her. Everybody was doing what they were told! She couldn’t believe it. She hissed at her friend:

  “Gwyneth... Gwyneth!”

  The young woman heard Mary and tried to turn her head to hear her from where she was sitting.

  “Hi. How’s the journey going?” asked Gwyneth.

  “I’ve ridden horses with more attitude than this tin can.”

  Gwyneth laughed. The two waited in silence for a while. Bored.

  A few minutes later, a voice whispered in Gwyneth’s ear:

  “Hello again...”

  Gwyneth turned in fright.

  “Mary. What are you doing here? You unfastened your belt!”

  “I can’t stand being trapped. There, neither can you - can you?”

  There was a click and Gwyneth’s seatbelts floated away.

  “No, no, no... I’m not coming.”

  “Yes, come on. I know where the guy you shoved is...”

  “Do you? I mean: No, I’m not coming. They’ll put us off.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure they’re going to turn around and bring us back to land. Give me your hand.”

  Gwyneth had no choice but to do so and fly along with her like two soap-bubbles above the heads of the other passengers, who silently admired their rebelliousness.

  “It’s a strange sensation, isn’t it?” said Gwyneth.

  “Yes. I’ve never felt so light... although I’m like a sperm whale and you’re like a dolphin,” laughed Mary.

  They swam a few more feet through the air.

  “Look who we’ve got down there,” murmured Mary.

  It was him. Gwyneth swallowed and tried to move on. However, Mary held her hand tight and made her come down.

  “Excuse me,” Mary said to the woman next to the guy. “Would you mind swapping seats with my friend?”

  “Miss, this is not a plane. We’re not allowed to do that,” answered the middle-aged woman, barely looking at her.

  “Come on. Please. No-one is looking.”

  “Haven’t you seen the cameras?” pointed the woman, staring at one of them.

  “Bah, cameras. Who pays any attention to cameras?”

  “Mary,” said Gwyneth. “Let’s go: it’s not just the cameras looking at us, everyone is!”

  The youth tried to keep himself removed from the scene. He just caught Gwyneth’s eye for a moment and smiled slightly.

  “Well, you know what, Madam? You asked for it,” said Mary threateningly. “Excuse me, sir. Would you mind giving me your seat? It’s not for my friend, it’s for me.”

  The youth felt he was kind of obliged to.

  “Of... of course. No problem.”

  He unfastened his belt and floated up beside Gwyneth.

  “Gwyneth, take him back to my seat... if you want.”

  “Yes, yes, I am,” said Gwyneth very shyly. “Follow me.”

  Meanwhile, Mary had already fastened her belt.

  “Well,” said Mary to the woman. “Let’s get started: I was born on the 7th of August, 2074 – I think it was at a hospital in Houston, although I’d like to have been born at my parents’ farm, which was also my grandparents’ farm, and way back to the times when people were afraid that oil would run out, and... Look! Here we are looking for new ways to exploit Mars. So, anyway, I grew up in a traditional family, where we had bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast and we ate a whole cow for supper, always with mashed potato – and the potatoes came from the Burks, of course. Now, in a while, I’ll tell you about Samuel, the sole descendant of that really lovely family, the Burks. I’ll just let you know that my farm had lots of animals – actually it still does. Well, not really, actually now Samuel has them, and I hope he’ll get married once and for all and settle down and get that puny little Lillie Brewington pregnant so her hips fill out as they should and she won’t fit into those retro bodices she likes to wear to the cattle fairs so much. Hold on, I’m getting side-tracked. Sorry. Let’s explain things in order...”

  The woman sighed, agonising at the idea of having to listen forcibly to this biography of Mary Ackerson, who was giving her speech while, at the same time, watching how Gwyneth started up a conversation with the young man...

  “Gwyneth is a strange name. Do you know where it comes from? What it means?”

  “No, not really. And yours? Thomas?”

  “An apostle. You know: religious stuff.”

  “Are you religious?”

  “I must be: I’m called Thomas and we’re in heaven, aren’t we?”

  Thomas smiled after saying this and Gwyneth swallowed a sigh, or two or three. She loved the shine of his gaze under the artificial white light, and she didn’t need stars because she saw them in the whiteness of his teeth.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “No, no: nothing,” said Gwyneth, shaking her head.

  “You went all thoughtful...”

  “How long do you think is left?” asked Gwyneth, changing the subject.

  “I think a little over half an hour. Hey, can I ask you why you came?”

  “I don’t know. You know, they say that only lunatics and...”

  “...loners. Yes, I’ve been listening to the same old tune since I left the church.”

  “Church? Are you a...?”

  “...priest? No, please. You’ve got it wrong.”

  “I thought that...”

  “I ran away from a wedding – more precisely: my wedding.”

  “Your wedding? You were going to get married?”

  “Yes, but I realised that I didn’t really love her. It’s a long story...”

  At that moment, Thomas’ revelation was interrupted by a voice over the PA system.

  “We would like to please remind you that it is compulsory to sit correctly with your seatbelts fully fastened. Continual breach of this requirement will be penalised by the competent authorities. Stafford Research thanks you for your cooperation.”

  Thomas looked resigned.

  “I don’t mind being penalised but it’s not fair on you. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Okay,” whispered Gwyneth with a dreamy smile.

  They separated, each of them floating back towards their places. Gwyneth’s legs were trembling, and she could scarcely get her seatbelt fastened again. At that moment, Thomas’ hands appeared and firmly but gently pressed Gwyneth’s belt, and she melted under his gaze once again.

  “Is that better?” he asked her.

  “Much better, thank you...” she said, as Thomas flew off towards the seat allocated to Mary, who hadn’t stopped the story of her life with every little detail included.

  The woman, tired of such a long tale, decided to exchange a few words:

  “Fine, and now that I know the names of all your geese, the types of tomatoes Samuel grows in his vegetable garden, and the size of the mosquito bites on your bum, tell me: if your life is so interesting, what on earth are you doing here?”

  Mary sighed and sank into her seat.

  “Yes, of course... And I’d tell you!”

  And the journey continued calmly until a colossal mass of metal, lights and glass came into view: the mothership.

  Chapter 4

  His new lungs worked perfectly. The vast red plain was cold and dusty. But James was happy. Happy to be able to breathe in an unbreathable atmosphere. Happy to be able to admire the horizon without any glass in the way to misshape reality. He galloped along on his bionic horse, with his always half-choked smile and always frowning forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out nearby buildings, from which he knew he was being observed.

  “The dust-storm won’t take long to get here,” the women said to her husband.

  “He knows, Marjorie, he knows. Don’
t worry about him.”

  “I’m not, darling. I was just mentioning it to you. I know that James is responsible and knows just what to do at all times.”

  At that moment, a loud, happy cry rang out around the pastures. The cattle began stampeding towards nowhere in particular. James chased them, laughing arrogantly, touching off their horns with the tips of his fingers.

  “Look at me!” he exclaimed, laughing. “I can breathe like you, damn cows of flesh, metal and rust!”

  They ran down the hill like an avalanche of red snow. Once down, James pulled his horse up tight. The herd followed his trail and then wandered off looking for fodder. They used their long tongues to lick some rocks, which they would soon recognise as a light lunch. James looked ahead with a worried expression. Suddenly, a kind of alarm sounded over the plain. James stared at his wristwatch.

  “I forgot. Damn it! Loja, we’ve got to get home as fast as possible.”

  The cloud could be seen in the background, at the line where midday lived alongside the surface of Mars. It was murderous dust, which was approaching rapidly. The cattle were protected by their shells – but they weren’t.

  “Gallop, Loja!”

  The metal horse digitally whinnied. Its front legs immediately struck out into the air as it crossed the desert in search of shelter. The cattle saw that infernal dusty smoke approaching but they barely turned a hair. James felt like he was being chased by an invisible assassin, and that excited him in a way that was difficult to describe. His muscles tensed, his eyes became sharp and he galloped for his life, fleeing from death.

  “Open the doors, open the doors!” yelled his mother through the intercom as she watched the scene from the safety of her room. “Mr Stafford is heading for loading bay number five!”

  Her husband came over to calm her down, but Marjorie pushed his hands away.

  “Go down to meet James,” she suggested to him.

  The doors closed down as soon as James and Loja came through them. The young man dismounted, exhaling emotion.

  “Wow! That was incredible, Father! Did you see it?”

  Mr Stafford spoke to his son.

  “You shouldn’t take such risks...”

  “What’s the point of staying in here with my new lungs? I want to feel how the argon gives me life. The carbon dioxide metabolises perfectly. It’s the best birthday present ever for someone like me who has everything!”

  “And what do you have to say about Stafford Research? Is that not a good present?”

  “Father,” said James as he handed his horse over to a groom. “It was obvious that I would direct Stafford Research. You know very well that neither my brother nor my sister is capable of it. Andrew is lost in his art and Claudia is always depressed and drugged. Besides, Mother trusts me and I’m not going to let you down.”

  “I know, James, I know.”

  “But, by the way, Father: is there any news on the mothership?”

  “Yes, we’re being kept updated. They’ve just left and they’re on their way. There haven’t been any noteworthy incidents.”

  “I don’t imagine that there won’t be any conflict with a thousand people locked up together for the five months the journey takes. Besides, I understand that they’re...”

  “... loners and lunatics. Don’t mind that: it’s just gossip.”

  “I hope so. I don’t want Stafford Research to turn into a lunatic asylum.”

  Father and son separated in the corridor that connected the rooms of the mansion.

  “I’m going to see Claudia,” said James. “She’ll really enjoy what I’ve just been through.”

  “Don’t make her mad, ok? You know her temper. Just like your mother.”

  “Relax, Father. Maybe it will encourage her to come out...”

  James said goodbye with an arrogant smile and walked off to Claudia’s room. He barely knocked twice. As usual, nobody answered so he just walked right in.

  He found Claudia in bed.

  “Are you sleeping?” asked James, opening the curtains.

  “I was trying to,” she answered drily from her bed.

  “It’s midday. Look what a nice day it is.”

  “Yes, especially for those of us who have lungs that have been adapted...”

  “Breathing the atmosphere of Mars makes you feel... powerful. Above everyone else. I think the servants look at me with more respect if that’s even possible.”

  “I’m not envious: walking on red sand and breathing argon is not something I’m dying to do. And I don’t need anyone to look at me with fear. They’ve enough to do putting up with you.”

  James laughed. Then he looked at the bedside table and saw a half-empty bottle of pills.

  “Are you still taking them?”

  “Every eight hours.”

  “It’s not good for you.”

  “I know, James, but it’s the only thing that’s letting me have this conversation with you.”

  “Do you know what, Claudia? The mothership is on the way.”

  “So? What’s special about that?”

  “People. You’ll see new people.”

  “Great. More lunatics in the house. I don’t think I’ll have enough pills for everyone. Who would be sick enough to want to come here? To do what? There are no green fields or flowering valleys. Just dust, volcanoes and frozen deserts. I think you’re looking forward to seeing who arrives on that ship more than me.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, confused.

  “You’ve just turned thirty and the maids know you too well, and you them. They bore you.”

  “Claudia! How do you know...?”

  Claudia lay on her pillow smiling.

  “What would be strange would be not to know. Although I look half-dead, I still see and hear.”

  “You haven’t said anything to Mother, have you?”

  “Mother... She’s the only one you’re afraid of, isn’t she?”

  “I’m not afraid of Mother. I just don’t want her to think that I put my... carnal desires over my duty, even if I do find the latter much more enticing.”

  “You couldn’t stand for Andrew to get the company, could you?”

  “Andrew? For God’s sake! Andrew?”

  James roared with laughter.

  “I hate that laugh. You think you’re above it all: the tallest, the most handsome. Well, you should know that something may change you one day: something that will be above money and power, something that you won’t be able to control as easily as you control the valves of your new lungs.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Love.”

  James laughed again.

  “Laugh, laugh while you can. But your heartbeat will laugh louder than you and all your swaggering will turn into a butterfly dance in your stomach. A tickle that you won’t be able to escape from.”

  “I think you’ve taken too much medicine today. I’ll ask Dr Monroe to check your dose.”

  “Don’t even think of it!”

  “‘Love’ she says...”

  James walked to the door laughing and left the room. Claudia murmured to herself:

  “Five months more and someone will step down off that ship and make you change, James Stafford. I’m sure of it.”

  Chapter 5

  They were given five electric candles. Just five. One for each month. In the bag, there were also a pair of dark uniforms, some self-adjusting shoes and a little wash bag with items for personal hygiene. Soon, they were taken to their space rooms: tiny living spaces where they could sleep looking at the stars through a small porthole.

  Mary threw the bag into her cell and stood watching in the corridor. She was looking for Gwyneth but she couldn’t see her. She walked along that metallic passage looking attentively at each person. The rooms were single rooms, yes, but the sense of a fugitive community was evident. At last, she found her friend:

  “Hey, Gwyneth! Did you get a suite?”

  “Yep, with a view and a welcome ba
sket of fruit.”

  One of the women believed her and furtively looked into her cabin, which was just as small and dull as the rest of them. She realised this immediately and, looking half disappointed and half angry, went off to her own one. Mary moved to one side so as not be knocked over by her.

  “There’s no turning back, is there?” said Gwyneth dubiously.

  “I don’t think so, gorgeous. This is already happening. By the way, what time do we eat here?”

  At that moment, there was a message over the intercom:

  “Stafford Research welcomes you aboard the Taurus One. You will shortly hear some welcome messages courtesy of the Stafford family. This will take place in thirty minutes. Please make your way to the conference room located in corridor 5 on the second floor as soon as you can.”

  Mary looked at her friend:

  “You heard that: before we eat, we have to pray.”

  “So I see.”

  The message continued:

  “Please wear your new uniforms. You may leave your clothes in the bag that you will find in the drawer of your bedside table. They will be collected by our assistants.”

  Gwyneth seemed a little nervous:

  “Mary, do you not get the impression that we’re in some kind of... prison?”

  “There are a lot of us. It’s normal. I didn’t think this would be a pleasure cruise.”

  “No, I suppose not. But this white light is hateful, the uniforms are cold and serious, and that will mean that...”

  “...young master Thomas won’t be able to see the sweet woman he expects in you.”

  “Mary Ackerson, don’t start with your nonsense. It’s not that.”

  “Yes, it is... Come on.”

  “Like this? We have to change.”

  A few minutes later, the conference room began filling up with grey dots that sat on uncomfortable, white, plastic seats. On the stage, a woman with a laser pointer was walking from side to side. She stood out from the rest because she was wearing a knee-length skirt, had her hair up and wore make-up. She had a sombre expression on her face. There was an enormous screen behind her with nothing on it.

  “Hey, look – there’s Thomas,” said Mary.