Queasy stuck his head through the doorway and into the room, which the crew had dubbed the “Atrium”. It was a well-lit, spherical area. The inner shell of the sphere housed rows of plants. The crew considered it Lennon’s area, as she conducted experiments daily, although Parker also worked in the Atrium. There was a small section in the wall where a glass was mounted. The tank housed several rats, which Lennon had taken on the trip so she could study reproduction in microgravity. The Atrium was probably the most interesting place, visually, on the ship.
She had argued for pictures or artwork, to give the astronauts a reminder of home, throughout the ship. They denied her request; however, the spacecraft designers had provided a large screen and placed it opposite of the rat tank in the Atrium. Anyone could program the screen to display a slideshow of various images, a link to an outside camera, or looping videos, so the screen simulated a window. In ‘window’ mode, views of the mountains, snow, beaches, and various other things—including a lit fireplace—would show on the screen, giving the viewer the illusion of looking out of a window. It was the reward for a hard-fought battle by Lennon, and it had paid off. The crew enjoyed the Atrium very much, finding it to be a place to relax and think about things other than work—particularly, to think about home, family, and friends.
Satisfied with his survey of the area, Col Quesen pulled himself into the Atrium and floated next to Lennon. The video screen was to the left of her, and it was currently displaying a beach. The scene was so relaxing, so real, that it was almost painful to watch, for the longing it created to be at the beach. On the screen, waves lapped at the shore and two palm trees towered on the left. The leaves of the palm trees gently moved in the breeze. Various sounds of the ocean drifted from speakers on the side of the monitor.
“I miss that,” said Queasy, sadly. He reached up with his right hand and began picking at imaginary strings on his blue shirt. It would be surprising if he found any; the shirt was made of paper-like material, not cloth fiber. He had strong hands, hands that were familiar with work, and his skin was still tan from the time he spent outdoors. Lennon could easily picture him in his backyard. He would be comfortable with a rake or shovel, happily tending the yard and garden. He was an avid bicycle rider, although Lennon could tell with a quick glance that he was starting to lose some of the muscle mass in his thighs. Should she tell him to exercise more?
“Me too,” Lennon answered wistfully, turning to watch the scene on the display.
“Listen,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure, Colonel, go ahead.”
“It’s the crew. We’ve practically just started our journey, but it’s been twenty-two days. I’m sure you know, but everyone is missing family. It’s starting to sink in, I think, how long we are going to be gone.”
Lennon said nothing. It was true. She had felt it herself, staring at the screen in the Atrium, and dreaming of Earth.
He continued, “I want you to do mental health screenings as part of your normal physical examination.”
“Sir, I already do. Is there something additional you would like me to do?”
He ran his hand through his dark hair and stopped with his hand on the top of his head. “I don’t know. You’re right. I know you already do. I guess… Just don’t cut them short, you know? Take them serious.” He sighed. “That doesn’t sound right. I know you are doing your job. I’m just worried about the crew, and I want to make sure that this trip goes well.”
She smiled at him. “Sir, I will pay special attention to any mental health issues that may come up, including depression, anger, or moodiness. If there are any issues, any at all, I will let you know, to the fullest extent possible, without violating patient privacy—except under emergency situations, of course.” Her training was extensive, and he knew it. He simply needed to be reassured.
“Thanks, Lennon. I really appreciate it.” He gave her a nod and floated out of the Atrium.
Day Twenty-Four
The crew assembled in the room dubbed the “ChowBucket”. This section of the spacecraft contained a freezer, food storage, and a fold-down table, which had attachment points so the crew could “sit” around the table without floating away. Although it seems silly to have a table—nothing could rest on it due to the lack of gravity—The Mission Psychologists’ Panel had recommended one because eating around a table was a “humanizing” event. In short, it could bring a sense of normalcy to the crew.
The table had a metal veneer so crewmembers could use magnets to attach various objects to the table without worrying about them floating away. This was especially useful for silverware. Today, however, Abrams had attached a device with small crab-like arms, which could hold small electronic parts together so that human hands could be free to do work on the parts without having to holding them together. Today, the device was not actually holding electronic parts. Instead, it kept a stack of cards from floating away, so the crew could indulge in a game of rummy.
“Twenty four days out,” Dish stated flatly, looking over three cards in his right hand. His nails were starting to get long—although not distractingly so—and his hair had grown from a shadow to a thin furry coating that encased his head.
“Yep,” replied Abrams, scanning the played cards, which remained in place with the help of the mechanical hands on the table. He stroked his beard thoughtfully.
It was silent for a moment, other than the constant buzzing of fans, which never turned off. Gravity is a significant player in what makes different densities of material separate. Gas has density, just like solids or liquids, and different types of gas have different densities. Without gravity to separate the different densities of gas, exhaled air does not dissipate, rise, or sink in space. This provides a dangerous reminder of gravity’s strong role in seemingly normal activities. Instead of behaving as it would on Earth, exhaled air simply forms a “cloud” around the breather. When awake, this is not as big of a concern, because movement is constantly occurring, but during sleep, the situation can lead to oxygen deprivation or even death. Fans are required to move air around, so that fresh air is always available. This is why fans can never turn off while astronauts are aboard a spacecraft in space. Eventually, most astronauts adjust to the noise and no longer hear it. Others wear earplugs at night so it is easier to sleep.
The ship had shot past the Moon on the first day. They were close to it, relatively speaking, but the crew had not seen much. The Moon was not their mission anyway.
The “bigness” of space was always daunting to Lennon, where “relatively speaking” could mean fifty thousand miles or fifty light-years, which is a considerably larger distance despite the seemingly smaller numerical value. It is a misnomer, but a light-year is not a time but a distance—how far light can travel during one Earth year. Since light travels about one hundred and eighty six thousand miles a second, a light year is about six trillion miles. Lennon recalled one celestial object, whose picture was hanging on the walls at NASA, which spanned forty thousand light-years from one end to the other. Thinking about something that size in relation to her five-foot-three (and a half, she always reminded others) inch body her made her head hurt.
“There’s nothing out there,” said Parker, floating on the other side of the room. She wore her hair back today, but some of it had escaped the restraint of the hair band and floated free. A particularly large strand floated in front of her face. She did not attempt to move it out of the way. She was not looking towards any of the crewmembers, but instead she had her back to the table. Lennon could see the side of her face, and her brown eyes were wide and seemed to water slightly. This was prevalent; the moving air from the fans was an irritant to some people’s eyes.
Parker and Matthews were not playing cards. Each had stayed near the table, presumably to engage in conversation, even though they were not part of the game. Parker was transfixed with a six-inch viewport, one of only two on the entire craft. Windows cause structural issues, the engineers had said. Th
e crew fought long and hard to have them installed regardless. As part of a compromise, the engineers’ design included only two viewports, but they modified the screen in the Atrium to act as a window when linked with various outside cameras. The Mars Lander had windows, but they had could not be used during most of the trip because the Mars Lander capped the front of the flight deck, and the windows were sealed over by the Lander’s heat shield and part of the Seeker 3. Once they were in orbit around Mars, the Lander would separate from the Seeker 3 and would descend to the surface. The astronauts would not have access to the windows of the Lander until just before the craft landed, when the pilots jettisoned the heat shielding.
As often happens during card games, idle talk began. “I wonder how people will evolve differently on Mars—if they continue to live there, that is,” said Matthews. “I bet they have long necks.”
“Long necks?” asked Quesen.
“Yeah, like giraffes.”
“Why not long legs?”
Matthews shrugged.
“What do you think, doc?” Dish asked.
Ugh, Lennon thought. Idle talk always led to politics or religion. She could tell where this was going. She diverted. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” she suggested.
“Come on,” prodded Dish, “just tell us what you think.”
She sighed. She was going to have to answer, and she never could lie very well. “Ah… neither,” she replied. “I don’t believe in evolution. At least, not the kind that changes species.” There it was. She did not want to discuss personal beliefs. Most of the time, there would be a disagreement and neither side would be willing to listen to the other; instead, both sides would end up trying to pursue a fruitless effort to convince the other side of the errors in their beliefs. In this case, evolutionists would think of creationists as ignorant fools who could not see facts, while creationists would think of evolutionists as “Flat-Earthers” who blindly followed whatever theories the majority accepted as science.
“I thought you were a doctor. Didn’t you go to Harvard or somethin’?”
She wished the conversation would change. “No, Dish, I went to Johns Hopkins University.”
“They don’t teach you science out there?”
“It’s not science. To prove something scientifically, someone has to observe it. We can never observe macroevolution because of the time it takes to occur.”
“Well I’m sure thousands of scientists would disagree with ya.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that evolution is a belief system about the origins of humanity. Because we can’t observe it happening—due to the requirement of multiple mutations and the millions of years it takes for a single mutation—we have to decide if evolution is true based on evidence that we find, which may support the probability of evolution. Because we can’t observe the process happening, we must have faith in our conclusions about the evidence we see. That makes it a religion.”
“There is too much order in the universe to believe in traditional evolution,” Queasy interjected.
“What, you too?” asked Dish.
“Actually, I believe in evolution. I just don’t think that it is possible without intelligent design. I think God used evolution when he created the Earth.”
“Whatever. At least you have a little sense.” Dish looked back to Lennon. “What are you going to do when you find life on Mars—or somewhere else in the universe? Because we will. You can’t be so arrogant to believe that we are the only intelligent life in a universe this big.”
“If the traditional theory of evolution is true,” she glanced at Col Quesen, “Sorry Queasy—your theory is a completely different argument— and if I find life on Mars, it should have evolved on a completely independent track. If I find life that is significantly different from life on Earth, I will admit that I could be wrong. But I don’t think that God used evolution.”
“Why not?” asked Queasy.
“Well, because evolution has no answer for the soul. When did the soul evolve?”
“I thought we weren’t s’posed to talk about religion,” Parker said quietly.
“Parker, we are gonna be here for almost three years,” Dish said. “We’re gonna talk about religion sometimes.”
Col Quesen cut in. “Parker, is this offending you? I’m being serious. If it is, we’ll end the conversation.”
“There is no life,” she said, sadly.
“What?” several heads turned and looked at her. Lennon—possibly the only one with a view of her face—observed a dull, empty expression. Parker’s beautiful features seemed almost doll-like, devoid of emotion, lacking the subtle indicators that reveal inner feelings and show one to be human.
“You mean on Mars?” asked Matthews.
She turned to face them and smiled. It was a warm grin, and it had a meek innocence to it. “No, it’s not offending me,” she said, as if her earlier statement had never happened. “I’m sorry. Keep going.”
Dish just stared at her. Queasy’s mouth was open. He shut it and furrowed his brow. Mathews cleared his throat. “What do you believe, Parker?”
“Me?” she asked. “I think if God were truly merciful, then everyone would go to heaven. I don’t think humans should need salvation.”
“I don’t believe in a soul,” Dish said, looking at Lennon. “That’s how I answer your question, Lennon. There ain’t a soul. Evolution makes perfect sense.”
“Dish, if I didn’t believe in a soul I would probably believe in evolution too.”
He smiled and slapped the table. “I am really enjoyin’ this, ya know? Eatin’ it up.” He grinned at the crew around him. Who says we can’t talk about religion, Parker? We are going to Mars, y’all. We are going to be remembered forever for this.”
“That we are,” said Matthews. “That we are.”
Thirty Months Prior
The brightness of the full moon, mixed with the emerging chill of the evening, brought Lennon back from her racing thoughts. She propped herself up on the porch swing, and it was immediately clear that she must have fallen asleep and had only just come awake.
She stared at the great orb of the Moon, hovering in the sky above the mountains. A bright speck in the sky, just to the side of the moon, caught her eyes and drew them to it.
Mars. It was nearly as bright as the moon, although much smaller in appearance, and to the casual observer it probably just looked like another star in the sky. Lennon knew better. As she stared, she could see the reddish tint of the planet as it hovered silently. Because of the full moon, she knew that the sun was behind her, blocked by the Earth. This meant that Mars could be relatively close in orbit, which explained the brightness. Still, the closest Mars could possibly be was about thirty-four and a half million miles away. At its farthest, it was over two hundred and forty million miles away.
She could hear it calling. Through the cold of space, its voice rang true in her ear, a siren song that she could not deny.
She reached her hand out and pretended to touch it. She wondered what it would be like to stand on its dusty red landscape, to see the pale sky, perhaps to see the great Olympus Mons. To hold the red soil in her hands. To feel it sifting between her fingers, to pass it through human hands for the first time. To go to a place, where in recorded history, no human had ever gone.
She hugged her knees and smiled. She did not know how it would all come together, but as she looked at that far-away planet, she realized there was nothing that could keep her away from the mysterious sphere that refused to give up, refused to stop calling, until her soul united with it.
Day Twenty-Four
The Atrium was the most well lit room on the spacecraft, and it was equipped with full-spectrum lighting for the plants. Lennon had big hopes for her “garden”, and was optimistic that the species that she had chosen would fare well in microgravity, possibly even providing a small supplement to the astronaut’s issued food.
In microgravity, taste buds do not work as efficiently
and most astronauts will notice a dulling of the sensation of taste. Because of this, many astronauts prefer spicy food. Lennon had enjoyed the privilege of choosing which plants to bring, and two that she had chosen were pepper plants. They had grown considerably. There were fifty plants in all, including the peppers, in the Atrium. Many more seeds waited in storage. Most of the plants were small varieties. History had shown that it was not likely that plants would actually produce fruit, but Lennon would not let the odds daunt her.
Eating food has always been a problem in microgravity, because without gravity, food and liquid will wander if it is not contained. Crumbs or liquid can get into equipment or they can be difficult to collect, and this can create an unsanitary environment. In the early days of space travel, astronauts had to either suck food through a straw or take food packaged in bite-sized chunks to avoid this problem. During the Gemini mission, the mission engineers had those chunks coated in gelatin to reduce crumbs even more. In the Apollo missions, new packaging techniques allowed special food, which astronauts could reconstitute with water while the meal was still inside the package. The crew could then open the package and eat dinner with a spoon.
Food choice had increased greatly since then, although because of storage size issues on Seeker 3, the crew would still have to use water to reconstitute most of it. Water supply was not a serious issue, unless the recycler broke. Water was recycled from everything, even urine. The process to restore water for use was fascinating and efficient. In tests, astronauts were not able to taste a difference between normal water and water recycled from urine. After machines extracted all water from solid waste, the dregs were stored in a compartment at the bottom of the spacecraft. The crew intended to eject the garbage and burn it in the atmosphere of Mars. This fact, of course, was not a subject of public discussion.
Lennon felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. It was Parker. “Can we talk?” she asked. Parker held her hands up in front of her, and the natural fetal resting position made her look a little bit like a squirrel. She seemed to notice Lennon’s glance at her pose and adjusted her position.
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