Love On Mars

by Iván Hernández (actualmente retirado)

  “Exactly,” hissed Angie. “Don’t ask stupid questions to try and look smart... Mr Stafford, over there... is that a palm-tree?”

  “And we have the Nobel Prize for the obvious,” muttered Mary under her helmet.

  James smiled and nodded confirmation to Angie’s question.

  “By the way, you can take off your helmets. You can breathe here.”

  Angie did so in a hurry – but not without difficulty. She turned around and around, and then pulled up hard. She exhaled with a sigh and looked immediately at James, painting a smile across her face as if taking off a space-suit helmet was something that she did every day. James looked at her out of the corner of his eye, knowing that she was looking at him with desire. Angie shook her hair out in the wind with an attractive turn of her neck to get his attention. Finally, he turned around and caught her waist in his gaze. He walked towards her with firm steps. His hands travelled to her neck.

  “Let me help you take off the rest of your suit.”

  A few steps away, Mary fought with her helmet, dancing around, pulling up and down, shouting, moaning and silently complaining about how difficult it was to take that diabolic fishbowl off her head.

  “Who on earth tightened this?” she exclaimed, sobbing.

  James stopped his pedantic flirting and went over to Mary, leaving an indignant Angie grumbling to herself.

  “Calm down, calm down,” he said as he stopped her possessed head with his hands. “Stay still.”

  “No, I have it. It’s just...”

  “I said ‘stay still’!” James held her by the shoulders this time.

  She stayed still, feeling those strong hands holding her body like someone about to crumple an empty can. Then, James gave the base of the helmet a quick, hard twist and pulled it towards him. The helmet came off and James lifted it very, very slowly.

  Mary, shy as a rose at dawn, was revealed before him - her cheeks covered with dew and glowing. Her eyes blinked a few times before getting used to the light without the helmet’s solar protection: they were green, or grey, or blue. All of these colours exploded in her iris like fireworks at night. Her lips were incapable of saying anything, even though they were half-open, overcome with emotion.

  James used his words sparingly.

  “Better now?”

  They looked at each other and she was only capable of giving a slight nod in response.

  “Your hair...” said James, thoughtfully.

  “My hair? What’s wrong with it?”

  “It reminds me of Mount Olympus.”

  Mary watched his lips as he said these words – besotted. James turned and walked off along the paths through the artificial jungle. Angie, furious, didn’t take long to come over.

  “I hope that wasn’t a compliment, honey.”

  And she turned impetuously, running to catch up with James. Mary, however, waited a few moments to digest the nicest words anyone had ever said to her in her life.

  Just before starting the journey, she had read up on the red planet. Mount Olympus was the biggest volcano in the whole solar system. And she didn’t know whether that had been a compliment or not, but she supposed it had – because from the blush on her cheeks, you could see that she was nearly about to erupt.

  Chapter 11

  After the guided visit through the Stafford Research greenhouses, they headed for the company’s head offices. In fact, this was the family mansion. His office probably doubled as his bedroom. Angie was anxious to find out.

  The house-staff was almost completely made up of women – and they were all very attractive. They greeted their master and the new visitors with respect but Mary noticed that they looked at him with a trace of something else – she wasn’t sure if it was resentment or desire.

  The walls of the mansion were full of scenes that recalled Earth landscapes: beautiful images of the life their family had left behind a long time ago now.

  “Nice pictures, Mr Stafford,” commented Angie.

  “My parents bought them before coming here. They were never art-lovers: for them, they’re expensive oil-painted photographs. Look, here it is.”

  James pushed a high door open and they went in, leaving the murmurs of the maids behind them.

  “My office.”

  A large window dressed the naked walls with light. A desk, a couple of chairs, a holographic computer and a coat-stand. Only a half-open door led to more questions.

  “Does that door go to the waiting-room – a reception-room for meeting people who come to see you?” asked Angie, as Mary remained silent.

  “Oh, no,” laughed James. “That’s my room.”

  James opened the door a little more and they could see an unmade bed in the distance. Suddenly, he realised that the sheets were moving and he carefully closed the door, although both of them had seen that James didn’t usually sleep alone. But neither of them dared to say anything, pretending to be deaf, dumb and blind.

  “I think that that’s the end of our visit for now,” he said, walking over to the window.

  Mary couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

  “Mr Stafford, you’ve shown us everything but you’ve barely explained my duties. I don’t take being Director of Farming Resources lightly. I’ll need information, dates, projects... I don’t know: something. We’ve gone over your lands as if we were on safari: that’s all.”

  James turned, surprised at the spontaneous outburst from that woman. He looked at her through tightened lips, and put his hands into his pockets.

  “Miss Ackerson, what you have seen is only ten percent of our company. I’d need several days to show you all of it. And don’t worry about your duties and your work. We’re better organised than you think. We are not a group of mindless idiots.”

  “I didn’t mean to say...” she apologised.

  Angie smiled with her head bent. James raised a hand, accepting the apology. Then, he took a key out of his pocket and threw it to Mary.

  “This is for my car. It has a digital map of the livestock farm, other greenhouses, employees’ houses... You know how to drive, don’t you?”

  Mary nodded.

  “Perfect. We’re not expecting a storm until nightfall.”

  “Does it rain?” she asked, surprised.

  “No, dust storms. We have sensors all over the surface. We try to check when they are coming. If you hear a loud beep, I advise you to find shelter as soon as you can in any of the outbuildings. Understood?”

  Mary began to feel a little scared again.

  “Those storms are dangerous,” explained James, coming over to her. “Listen to me and you won’t be in any danger.”

  Their eyes aligned like the sun and the moon, eclipsing Angie’s presence.

  “I’ll listen to you, Mr Stafford. Thank you for the advice,” she answered falteringly.

  James inhaled before continuing.

  “Good, good. Now it’s your turn, Miss Dickinson.”

  Angie looked coldly at Mary, who understood that it was time for her to go.

  Once they were alone, James knocked twice on his bedroom door and the maid hurried out, trailing a few words behind her:

  “Good morning, Mr Stafford.”

  “Clarisse...”

  James’ gaze followed her quick walk to the door, as he remembered the previous night. Angie took good note of Mr Stafford’s lustful eyes. She knew that that was his Achille’s heel – and her arrow had been aiming at it since they met.

  “Miss Dickinson, they will soon bring new furniture so that you can work. In the meantime, take a seat and sit beside me. I’ll tell you exactly what it is you’ll be doing in the office.”

  “I’ll be delighted to do whatever satisfies you most.”

  James narrowed his eyes and smiled.

  “As basic as the rest of them,” she thought.

  “Mr Stafford, may I ask a question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You see, I know that this is the uniform that we were asked to wear o
n the mothership, but...”

  “Relax: I don’t like it either. Your new clothes will arrive soon.”

  “Perfect.”

  Meanwhile, Mary put her helmet back on – a little more easily now. She got into the car and started it. The holographic map lit up on the dashboard. But she turned it off; she wanted to roam around the area at her free will. In fact, she wanted to take advantage and think about everything that had happened. She made a mental list:

  Point one: Mars is disgusting.

  Point two: Angie is a little devil and I’d twist her neck if she had feathers.

  Point three: James Stafford is a womaniser – no doubt about that.

  Point four: Forget about him.

  Point five: I told you to forget about him.

  Point six: I can’t!

  Mary thought that it would have been better to leave her heart behind on Earth. It hadn’t been a good idea to bring it along as a travel companion because – even if she wanted to avoid it – it was beating harder and harder for Mr Stafford. But she didn’t know why. She had always been repulsed by men who were only after carnal pleasure. She couldn’t stand them looking at her like a sex object and rapidly identified beings of that species. That’s to say: all of them. But James had looked at her differently: his half-closed eyes had scratched the armour that protected her from love.

  “He does that to everyone,” she thought, trying to convince herself.

  Then she shook her head repeatedly.

  “No, no, no, no... Not to everyone. He only did it to you, Mary,” she said dreamily. “And that Dickinson wench had better watch herself because, if she doesn’t... But Mary, what are you saying? You’re speaking like the rest of them! If Samuel heard you, he wouldn’t recognise you...”

  So she swallowed her sudden bout of jealousy and accelerated, closing her eyes very tightly, spitting torrid scenes of James and Angie on the office desk from her imagination. She groaned on her way to nowhere.

  Chapter 12

  The Martian plains calmed her rage a few minutes later.

  “This looks like Arizona,” she thought.

  Indeed, there was little there besides a cold, desert landscape stretching to the horizon. Only a few buildings sprinkled along the track, with their metallic shimmer and their enormous solar panels. She saw a group of cows in the distance. She slowed down and approached them. They seemed tame so she decided to get out of the car to take a closer look at them.

  “You’re really weird. How can you like eating that?” she asked as the cows earnestly licked at the rocks. “And us crying on Earth because it never rained. With cows like you, we would have had a goldmine.”

  Then she examined them all over. She realised that they even had udders.

  “May I?” Mary asked one of the animals that looked relaxed.

  Mary put her hand on one of the udders and pressed. A stream of milk squirted out and Mary burst out laughing.

  “Milk! I’m sure it’s enriched with iron!” she laughed out loud in surprise.

  The cow got a fright and moved away, and the whole herd followed it.

  “Hey, don’t go!”

  Mary moved closer again.

  “Sorry,” she apologised. “I didn’t mean to annoy you. By the way, do you have names?”

  The young woman looked for a tag with a name or an ID code on it.

  “It doesn’t look like it. Of course, I don’t know what I’m doing talking to cows that only have sparks coming out of their mouths. One thing: do you know Mr Stafford? Yes, James - James Stafford.”

  Sparks flew out of one of the cows’ noses.

  “Yes? And what’s he like? Nice?”

  The whole herd joined in mooing.

  “Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?”

  Then they all went quiet again and got on with their own business.

  “You’re not helping me here. Anyway, I just want to let you know that I’m going to be your boss from now on, so you can go on sucking stones and doing... whatever it is you usually do. Go on. Be good.”

  Mary returned to the car and drove off. Far away, she saw a little mountain that rose up from the ground.

  “I’ll see everything better from there,” she thought, accelerating.

  As no visible roads existed there (just ones on the vehicle’s holographic map), she decided to take a shortcut and go up the mountain on the steepest side. Suddenly, halfway up, the wheels got stuck between rocks and, for all she tried putting her foot down on the accelerator, putting the car into reverse or twisting the wheel, she couldn’t move. So she finally stopped the car and got out to see what was wrong.

  Problems. The wheels were bogged down in the gravelly sand that had been created by the weight of the car and the turning wheels breaking down the rocks. Nervously, she began digging to try and free the wheels and get out of there. She seemed to be managing it, when suddenly someone spoke behind her:

  “Can I help you?”

  Mary jumped with fright before turning around.

  “Relax!” exclaimed the man who had appeared so unexpectedly.

  “Oh! You frightened me! I thought I was alone...”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know there was a woman under that helmet,” he said, recognising that from her voice. “You’ve just arrived, haven’t you?”

  Mary calmed down and came closer. She could barely see his eyes behind the helmet.

  “Yes, I’m Mary Ackerson...”

  No sooner had she taken a step forward to shake his hand, than the car began to slide downhill. Mary turned and tried to run after it and stop it... but she couldn’t. The car turned over once, twice, three – even four times.

  “God, I’m going to get in trouble!”

  “That was James’ favourite car,” he said.

  “Really?” she asked – a complete bundle of nerves by now.

  “No. James is more a horseman.”

  Mary sighed, more than a little relieved.

  “But how am I going to get back? He told me to get to shelter if I heard an alarm. Do you have a car?”

  “I don’t like them,” he said. “I prefer walking.”

  “Walking? But... where to? This is enormous. You could walk for hours without finding shelter.”

  “Well, that way I have more time to think. Mars is pretty, isn’t it?”

  Mary couldn’t lie.

  “Not really.”

  “You’ve only been here a short while. You’ll soon fall in love with its silence and its impetuous storms, its freezing cold and its gentle summers. Come with me.”

  They both walked to the top of the mountain. There was a little easel waiting there with a canvas covered in brushstrokes: simple outlines for a future picture.

  “Are you a painter?”

  “I am... You seemed surprised.”

  “I didn’t expect to meet... someone like you on the way.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “What is it?” asked Mary, looking at the tense cloth.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re the artist.”

  “Yes, but I won’t know what it’ll be until I finish it.”

  “I’m still lost... They look like people...”

  “They might be. Look, I’ll be honest with you: I paint things... that are going to happen.”

  “What? Are you a visionary or something like that?”

  “Visionary?” he laughed. “My brother, James, wouldn’t have been as subtle as you.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Yes, James is my brother, although I sometimes doubt it. Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself: My name is Andrew and I’m... the odd one out of the family.”

  “The odd one out?”

  “Well, for them, any man of my age who doesn’t spend his time digging his spurs into a horse’s flanks or rummaging around under a woman’s skirt is a bit odd. In other words: anyone who isn’t like James.”

  “I see.”

  “I imagine that he
’s already tried to seduce you...”

  Mary was embarrassed and didn’t know what to say.

  “Your silence is eloquent... but don’t worry: I’m not going to ask for the finer details. Just be careful with him. I’ve seen him break a lot of hearts since we got here.”

  Andrew came closer to her; she remained silent.

  “Would you like to see one of my recent works?”

  Then he put his hand on Mary’s shoulder, inviting her to turn around. And she saw something totally unexpected...

  “It’s a... cemetery?”

  Thousands of white sticks in the shapes of crosses covered some nearby land down below on the plain. Then Andrew turned back to his folder and took out a sketch similar to what Mary was looking at.

  “Did you draw it before it happened?”

  “Yes. A few months beforehand.”

  “Who are they?”

  “The ones you’ve come to replace.”

  “What?” she asked, afraid. “But... what happened to them?”

  “Ask James. They and their damn exploration for red oil and Martian minerals know very well.”

  Then Andrew began to gather up his stuff.

  “We have a long way to go. Come with me. I know the way and you’ll be safe by my side.”

  While they walked down and began their journey to where she did not know, Mary wondered what had happened to cause such a huge disaster. As soon as she spoke to Andrew to try and get more answers, he stopped her:

  “I suggest that you don’t talk much on the way: there’s limited oxygen, you know.”

  And so, in silence, they continued their journey towards a destination that Andrew hadn’t deigned to disclose.

  Chapter 13

  A metallic igloo protected them. It was big enough to hold a small pictorial museum inside.

  “Are they all yours?” Mary asked him after skilfully removing her helmet.

  Andrew nodded, turning a wheel to lock the door. Mary looked at them carefully. In all of them, the predominant colours were ochres and coppers: a perennial autumn.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ve been in the Stafford mansion and I don’t think I’ve seen any like these, and the halls were full of paintings.”