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Mother of Mars (Whispers of A Planet Book 1)

Page 9

by Sean Clark


  Cecil bends down to quickly tie the laces on his boots that are sitting loosely around his feet. He stands and the old man takes him silently out of the room and through the hallways. Cecil smells the faint smell of food as Agrippa leads him to the dining hall. The two get their trays filled, the commotion of the mess hall ringing in Cecil’s ears. Agrippa grabs him and they wander to the back corner of the room.

  Cecil listens as Agrippa’s utensils scrape at the bottom of the metal tray. He pushes around the soft lumps of food with his own spoon, before slowly bringing some to his mouth. Slivers of vegetables among the bland sauce are soft and flavorless, and tasted strongly of salt. The room echoes slightly with the voices of others, along with the sound of them devouring their own meals. Somewhere in the back, Cecil can smell the faint odor of something starting to burn.

  “Cecil?” Agrippa’s voice comes through to him. “Are you listening?”

  Cecil mumbles back weakly, unaware that the old man had been talking at him. “Huh?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing important. How are you feeling?”

  Cecil shakes his head. “This place is… loud. I… can’t even hear myself think.”

  “Is it that bad?” Agrippa scrapes his empty tray a bit more, causing Ceil to flinch. “We could have eaten elsewhere, I apologize.”

  “No… no.” Cecil pushes the tray away from him, still laden with food. “It’s here… the station. There’s too much going on. I can’t seem to focus.”

  “I think I know what you mean. Back down there, it’s a little quieter, isn’t it?”

  “That’s what it feels like.” Cecil nods.

  “Okay then…” Agrippa pauses. “I’ll pull some strings to see if we can’t head back over there today. I mean, I should be over there too, as well. I’ll go on ahead- can you make it back to the hangar on your own?”

  “Sure.”

  Agrippa picks up his tray and stands up, jostling the table ever so slightly. “Eat up as best you can… you know what you have to look forward to down over there after all.” He pats Cecil on the back quickly before wandering off. Cecil pulls the tray back towards him and starts to slowly consume more of the food.

  After finishing half of the tray, Cecil steps out of the hall, leaving the remainder behind. As he heads out towards the hangar, the commotion of the mess hall is replaced by the familiar sound of the station’s electric buzzing. The smell of oil and Martian dirt enters his nostrils as he passes through to the next bloc of the structure and into the hangar. As soon as he’s through the doors, he hears Agrippa call out to him. Shortly after, the two are supplied with another rover, Cecil sitting at the rear as usual. The vehicle rumbles on, and they make their way out through the airlock.

  Rumbling over the rocky landscape, the comforting sound of radio static plays in Cecil’s ears. Agrippa speaks up. “How… how do you feel about all this?” He hesitates.

  “It’s been hard to process all of this, Agrippa.” Cecil sighs, leaning over the front seat. “I know that I can’t stand that place… the station. It’s unbearable. Without my sight, it feels as if my other senses are in overdrive, and I can’t block anything out. Secundus is quiet… serine.”

  “Don’t try to ignore that fact that we’re headed back to that… thing, though.” Agrippa hums.

  “Even if I could ignore it, I don’t think would want to. Now that I know what I might be dealing with… I don’t know. It’s comforting.”

  “How so?” Agrippa asks.

  “The people at the station… well, I felt like I couldn’t bear to face them anymore.” Cecil reminisces. “I’m afraid that when people talk to me, all they see is someone to feel bad for. Tulia said so as well. I feel like I can hear the pity in their voice. Sometimes I feel like I’m just confirming their expectations because all I can do is regurgitate their sentiments.”

  “I don’t believe that Cecil. They may be looking out for you, but this isn’t a place where we nurture pity.”

  “I know that… but you can’t just deny human nature. It’s like finding a baby bird that’s fallen out of its nest. People will want to bring it back to its mother, even if touching it will end up doing more harm than good. That thing… it doesn’t judge me. It tries to understand, rather than just endlessly doting. I still don’t know what to make of it, but it’s some solace.”

  “Just promise me you won’t lose yourself though, Cecil.” Agrippa trails off, leaving the rest of the ride silent.

  Mother

  Cecil wanders out of the sleeping quarters once again. After they had arrived back down in Secundus, Cecil dozed off, stomach still full from before. He had been awoken by the men returning from the day’s work, and decided to step out before they could question where he had been. “Just radio me if you need help getting back.” Agrippa had warned him just before leaving, and the words echo in his mind. Cecil fumbles with the radio in his hands, twisting the volume knob on the device until it clicks off.

  The hallway leading out to the chamber is cool. Cecil shivers lightly. Somewhere in the distance he can hear the sound of machinery pounding and whirring lively before dying out in the distance. Carefully placing his steps, he brings himself to the familiar spot by the railing, somewhere in the center of the path. Cecil sits down once again with legs crossed. He waits.

  Cecil.

  “Hello?” Cecil speaks, unsure of how to respond.

  I feel you.

  “I feel you too… in a way. I now know more about you, what you’re doing, I think. Tell me, what do I call you?”

  I don’t understand.

  “Some word to identify you by.”

  There is a word.

  “What word is that?”

  When I first contacted you, you called out something. That word seemed to hold a great weight… you said it as if you were expecting something.

  “…Mother.”

  Mother.

  Cecil’s heart sinks at the mention of it. “Mother.” He repeats.

  Cecil.

  “It feels different when I hear it from you. But you probably don’t understand, do you? Yet... you are able to communicate with me in my language.”

  I had to learn how to do so. When you first came into contact with me, I tried to reciprocate in the same way. Perhaps it was a test? It was not suitable. I listened, learned the way that you speak, as a group.

  “I’m surprised.”

  I don’t understand.

  “I, well… I still don’t understand what’s going on myself. We… as humans, communicate using words, like you’ve learned, but… the way you speak to me is still… strange.”

  I still lack understanding of humans. Tell me, you are not from here. Earth… is your home. I want to understand Earth.

  “What’s there to understand about Earth? Earth… is, well, beautiful. It’s like it was made for us. It has the right temperature, air we can breathe, things we can eat, and water we can drink. Of course, all of these obtained after reasonable effort.”

  Does Mars also have these things?

  “Unfortunately, no… it’s what we call inhospitable, at least to us humans. At some point, we are trying to give it all the things the Earth has, though.”

  It is not made for you, yet you wish to make it yours, correct?

  “When you say it like that… Earth is no longer as rich in such things as it once was. Rather, the Earth is unable to produce sufficient resources for all of the people it holds.”

  How many humans are on Earth?

  “There are about 8 billion of us. The number has been fluctuating over the last few decades. Simply put, there are more of us than the world can handle. Pollution has caused it to become hotter, make the water undrinkable, and the air unfit for breathing. On top of that, we wage wars with each other… we kill each other. Over human history, people have tried to predict an event that might end all life on Earth. As it turns out, the end is something we’ve slowly created ourselves.”

  Cecil sighs and continues on. “Th
at’s why we’re here. They say we only have about 500 more years until the Earth starts being uninhabitable. Polar ice caps are slowly melting and the oceans are rising bit by bit. Coastal regions will eventually be submerged. There are already areas where people are packed in just about as tight as they can be, and it will only get worse. Not to mention those areas are the most polluted by far. Somehow, we’re still holding on to our reserves of fossil fuels and coal, which are clouding our skies with toxic particles. People can technically live under these circumstances, but it’s in no way healthy. There’s only so much we can do to provide ourselves with bubbles of fresh air and water that has been cleansed of trash and chemicals. It’s a race against time. We’re here trying to eventually make this planet livable for us. We have the best scientific minds trying to grow food and generate oxygen on a scale large enough for, well… humanity. Right now, though, we can just barely sustain ourselves.”

  I think I understand. Your role here as individuals for the betterment of so many other people is of interest to me. Scientists like yourself must be highly respected on Earth for such actions.

  “You would think so. I’m afraid that not a lot of people at home realize just how close we are, or that there are people up here trying to make a difference. Besides… I’m no scientist… just an engineer. I’m good with my hands, not with my brain. At least, not like them. I’ve been injured too, I just can’t do things like I should now.”

  Useless…

  “That’s not the word I want to hear right now.”

  Some have used that word, talking about you.

  “Don’t tell me that.”

  If you have no use, will you go back to Earth?

  “They wanted me to, but things… came up. I found a niche where I can still be useful. I’m hanging onto that like the Earth to life.”

  You would have died on Earth, no?

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean. They planned to send me home for medical treatment to begin with… to make me better again.”

  Yes, but in 500 years, what happens then?

  Cecil pauses for a moment to process the words. “I’ll be dead long before then. The average human lifespan isn’t even half that time.”

  …

  If all humans alive now will be gone before 500 years passes, why do they worry about what will happen?

  “I understand what you’re getting at, but it’s different. It’s not for us. It’s for our children and our children’s children. I remember when I was little… in school, they would teach us that as individuals, we could make the world a little better, and have something to leave behind for the people after us. Unfortunately, a ‘little better’ didn’t counteract the damage we had already done as a collective. People ignored the warning signs and they went on for too long. Now we have to find a new way to allow for humanity to live on.”

  Do humans choose to act differently when they are a part of a group rather than by themselves?

  “It’s hard to say. I suppose they do. In fact, I don’t think there’s any choice in the matter. For example, those of us here on Mars have a collective mission of creating a new home. However, my sole objective right now is to prove my usefulness… if I can call it that. I’m not ignoring my group objective… rather I’m contributing to it by making sure I’m still around. However, no matter how hard you try as individual it’s nearly impossible to surpass the collective… especially if they’re working against you.”

  A collective is powerful because it has a common goal, is it not? Yet, I cannot believe humanity had the intention to destroy the Earth, correct?

  “No. I don’t know if I could ever call humanity a collective either. Humanity has been fighting amongst itself ever since we could think for ourselves. It’s as if there are a maximum number of people you can get to work together before it turns into chaos.

  People who did try to help… to make the Earth a better place… were pushed aside by people who just wanted everything for themselves, or simply those who didn’t care. In the end, the people who cared could only slow down the process of destruction. Most people ignored the real problems that were already there, that actively needed fixing. They may have prevented one mess from forming, but ignored the other messes that were present and growing.”

  I cannot understand why humans must fight amongst one another. Should they not all have the same goal? Perhaps life, or fulfillment?

  “Sometimes some people are just an obstruction for others who just want to get their own way.”

  I’m still not sure I understand humans.

  Cecil sits quietly thinking of a response. His eyes feel heavy. Somewhere in the back of his throat he feels a yawn starting to form. He shifts to the side, allowing himself to stretch out. The big boxy radio in his pocket digs into his thigh. His legs prickle, but he rises to his feet, blocking out the feeling.

  “No, humans are certainly hard to understand… even being one myself. I think I’ll go now. Goodnight… Mother.”

  Self

  Cecil awakes. The cot squeaks under his weight as he lifts his head up, shifting to the side. “Good morning, sleepy head.” Comes a voice from nearby.

  Cecil sits up and stretches. He feels more rested than the previous days.

  “Good morning.” Cecil responds to the voice. “How are things, Martin?”

  “Things are going together smoothly now, though it would be nice if you came and joined us. By the time you wake up, we’re already taking breaks. You must be up late, right? I wake up some nights and see your cot empty. Is everything… all right?”

  “I just… can’t sleep sometimes.” Cecil lies, changing the subject. “I just like hanging out in the cool air, pacing around until I get tired.”

  “Geniuses like yourself go through internal struggles all the time, especially after what you’ve been through. Don’t be afraid to talk with one of us if you need it.”

  “Don’t call me a genius. I don’t deserve such praise. Is Agrippa here anywhere?” Cecil shifts his head around to try to listen for his voice.

  “He’s with the comms equipment, trying to contact station control. You know, we’re almost ready to move onto the next step of development… getting the grid set up.” Martin sounds hopeful. “He’s finalizing plans with Cassius, I think.”

  “I like the sound of that. I’m going to see if I can catch him.” Cecil says, standing up and stretching his legs before heading out of the room. Outside the quarters, Cecil follows the same hallway he had become accustomed to, counting the number of beams he walks over, feeling the temperature drop. The cold tunnel is as plain as day to him.

  Down the hall, he detects the buzz of radio static and a voice that continued to increase in volume, repeating the same words over and over. “Reestablish contact at 1800 hours, do you copy?” Agrippa’s voice announces loudly, battling the droning radio static that produces intermittent blips of what could be a voice. The old man sighs, distraught, loudly flipping a switch. The static dies off, leaving the room silent.

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to fix whatever problem you’ve got with that, now.” Cecil speaks up.

  “Oh! Cecil, you surprised me.” Agrippa says with a start. “No, no. We’re having a dust storm above, it’s cut off our communications for the foreseeable future. We were just about to get clearance turn on the system too. Now… we just get to sit and twiddle our thumbs.”

  “That’s nothing new to me, I’m afraid,” Cecil sighs.

  “Yes, but you’ve earned time off. Have you eaten yet?” Agrippa dotes. Cecil shakes his head. “Let’s head back then.” Agrippa urges.

  Agrippa lightly puts his hand on Cecil’s shoulder to push him along. Cecil walks confidently ahead, ignoring the interaction and keeping the same pace. Back inside the sleeping quarters there is a light commotion of workers now gathered to relax. Agrippa leads Cecil through the sea of voices, back to a corner where he sits him down on an aluminum crate with a slight touch of force.

  “So
… what’s new?” Agrippa says to him quietly.

  “Things.” Cecil said through a yawn. “Can I get a bite to eat, first?”

  “Fine… sorry.” Agrippa apologizes. “I’ve just been so caught up in the rush of things. But now we have time to focus on you… and that.”

  Cecil is handed a foil-packed bar, that he begins to unwrap noisily. The contents are chewy and slightly sweet. Cecil feels content. As he finishes the last bite, Agrippa sighs expectantly.

  “That thing… it’s still there… still intent on communication.” Says Cecil plainly, crinkling up the wrapper in his hand.

  He feels Agrippa lean close to talk to him quietly. “What type of feeling do you get from it? What do you think it wants?”

  “I don’t know how to describe it.” Cecil shakes his head. “It has almost a primal desire to learn things, and ask about them. It listens and learns, but it says it can’t understand. Maybe that’s why it’s using me.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that… using you.”

  “I don’t mean it like that…” Cecil retracts.

  “I know, I know.” Agrippa stops him. “Do you think… it can pick up on what we’re doing right now? Somehow it feels creepy.”

  “If you were to feel it like I do, I think you would disagree Agrippa. It’s a mixture of childlike wonder… innocent, along with a parent’s watchful eye.”

  “Cecil, both of those things are dangerous… a child that doesn’t know better, an adult that thinks it does know better? What have you been telling it?”

  “About humanity… how the Earth is deteriorating, how we got here… and what we’re doing. I’m not telling it how to manipulate us, just sating its curiosity. I don’t think it has the capacity for anything dangerous, whether that be physical or mental.”

  “That’s fine I suppose.” Agrippa’s tone changes. “You seemed to sleep well today.”

  “Yeah, for once.”

  “So, I suppose that your communication with that… thing is going well?” The old man questions him.

  “It’s amazing, unique. Thought provoking.” Cecil says, undoubtingly. “It’s almost comforting too… like it shares the same concerns with me. Perhaps it was destiny that we were able to connect.”

 

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