“Can I ask you to shut down for a minute, I just need to apply some updates.”
“Of course, Prime Minister.”
12. Unsettling
Back on Mars, the general mood had taken a turn for the worse, as presaged by Tiggy.
“Hey Detroit, have you met the latest batch of recruits from Earth? Bunch of nutters!” began Sky, seating himself opposite his friend and clattering his breakfast tray onto the table.
“That’s what they said about us when we arrived,” replied Detroit.
“True. Calmed down a bit haven’t we? Model Mars citizens!” continued Sky.
“Oh yeah, especially Chet and Hamish,” said Detroit with a sarcastic air. “Stevie really didn’t deserve the humiliation they gave him last night. I actually think his playing is coming along.”
“That was a messy business. I hear they’ve found his missing limbs now, well most of them.” Sky toyed with his food unenthusiastically, and then looked up again. “Still, you’ve got to allow folk a bit of fun when off duty.”
“I guess. Everyone’s looking so rough at the moment,” commented Detroit, glancing furtively round the mess hall.
“Drinking home-brew every night tends to have that effect.”
“It’s not just the dodgy booze. We’re effectively running on emergency rations. Did you see the scrum that formed when the last container arrived? I thought it was going to turn into a full-on fist fight.”
“I found it weird though,” reflected Sky, “how quickly Matti and Bob materialised to film it…”
“It’ll make good telly I guess.”
“Perhaps too good, call me cynical. Anywho, I managed to get hold of that contraband I mentioned to you last week.”
“The freeze dried mango slices? Ah man I love that stuff!” enthused Detroit.
“Yep, my mate who works at the depot slipped it onboard, hidden inside a crate of space suit liners,” said Sky smugly.
“What’s the going price?” asked Detroit, leaning in.
It was Sky’s turn to look around furtively. “One slice will set you back five euro sterling.”
“What!” Detroit blurted out, causing several colonists to look round.
“Keep it down, Detroit, don’t want everyone knowing - there’s not enough to go round.”
“Sorry, but that’s ridiculous.”
“Times are hard, my friend. I mean, look what they’ve got you eating.”
Detroit glanced down at the food on his tray, which he had barely touched. This morning it consisted of half a bowl of dry Weetiebits and a salted herring, allegedly left over from an old ISS stockpile. Sky had a point. Surely things will improve though, won’t they? Detroit often tried to tell himself that things will improve, but increasingly, he was difficult to convince.
EURO STERLING
Successive British Governments have felt increasingly smug about the decision not to adopt the Euro Currency back in the 90s, as a result of the disastrous collapse of Sterling in September 1992. Subsequent eurozone financial crises in 2001, 2008, 2010-2015, 2016, 2017, and finally, 2018-2025 eventually forced the UK to move on from a warm and fuzzy feeling of Schadenfreude and actually do something to help out our feckless European neighbours.
The response? Simply to buy all remaining sovereign debt, at the time valued at some 2.7 trillion euros, for the remarkably reasonable price of 1p.
The practical upshot of which was the euro no longer existed as an independent currency, and was merely a rather minor denomination of the Pound Sterling. In order to prevent mass riots, unrest, and, in all probability, a land invasion, Britain, rather cannily, somehow managed to convince the populace of the EU that this was in fact a currency merger, and not an utterly humiliating bale-out after all. Hence the name euro sterling.
However, due to the somewhat asymmetrical nature of this ‘merger’, it was no longer possible for any meaningful trade to take place between the UK and the states formerly known as the eurozone, as in order to purchase, say, even one loaf of Tesco Value bread, your unfortunate European would somehow need to amass more old-style euro banknotes than were ever printed.
As a result, Britain effectively upped-drawbridge and said au revoir once and for all to our friends beyond the channel, diverting all import-export trade elsewhere. After all, it was reasoned, what did the Germans, Spanish or French export that we couldn’t easily produce for ourselves?
Clearly whoever was responsible for this policy hadn’t tasted British wine.
UK Guide to Space, 2025 Edition
After breakfast, Detroit joined Sian and Truth at the finally completed biome, to help plant out seedlings.
“Morning all,” Detroit drawled.
“Oh hi Detroit, thanks for coming down. We need all the help we can get today to get these babies growing,” said Sian, passing Detroit a tray of plants with an excitable twinkle in her eye.
“Yeah, it’s getting urgent, I am not eating any more of that powdered space junk,” said Truth, looking down at the miniature lettuce and tomato plants on her hover-trolley. “If these guys don’t come up with the goods, I’m on the next transport back to Blighty.”
“You wouldn’t leave us, would you Truth?” asked Sian, looking genuinely concerned.
“Yeah, don’t go, we need all the sane people we can get around here,” continued Detroit, “speaking of which, where’s Hamish? I thought he was on gardening duty today.”
“Haven’t you heard? No one has seen him after that little run in at the bar last night,” said Truth, “Rumour has it, he’s done a bunk.”
“What, caught the bus back home? That’s a neat trick.” Detroit chuckled at his own humour.
Truth glared at him and shook her head despairingly, before continuing. “Matti and Bob are filming a special edition about his disappearance.”
“What, already? I find those guys a bit shifty,” muttered Detroit.
“They’re just doing their job. They have to make this dive seem interesting to the punters back home. The TV show is what keeps us afloat,” Sian dryly pointed out.
“I’m just a bit suspicious of their methods. They are very quick to poke their nose in when something goes wrong.”
“True. I’ll be glad when their contract expires at the end of the show. We might get a bit more privacy,” said Truth.
“Okay, that’s the first row done. How are you getting on Detroit?” asked Sian.
“I can’t seem to get the hang of this planting tool. That little trigger, don’t you find it fiddly?”
“Nope, it’s just you!” Sian looked up at Detroit who was flexing his fingers painfully. “Why are your hands shaking?”
“Dunno. It’s been happening for the last week or so.”
“You should get that seen to, it doesn’t look right.”
“I had a mediscan. Looks like it might be symptom of the low gravity, or the air, or something.”
Sian glanced at Truth, who shrugged and carried on with her work.
“Look, Detroit, a couple of us are heading down to the sports module after this. We’ve started doing some extra training to see if that helps. You should come,” suggested Sian.
“To see if it helps with what?”
“You’re not the only one with some unexplained symptoms. Everyone’s suffering one way or the other,” Truth chipped in.
“I guess that’s a good idea. You realise though, the more training you do, the hungrier you’re going to get - they won’t increase your rations you know.”
“I’d be happy to lose a bit of weight,” said Truth, patting her stomach.
“Are you kidding? You ladies are looking way too skinny already. It’s not right.”
“What do you prescribe, Dr Finch? Three pints of Lager-than-Lifetm every night?”
“Works for me!” Detroit grinned.
Meanwhile, Matti and Bob were in the mess hall interviewing some of the colonists about Hamish’s mysterious disappearance. They had managed to persuade Dayzee Hiccup to
be filmed.
“So Dayzee, what can you tell us about the incident last night at the Cantina?” began Bob.
“Well, Chet and Hamish were being a little boisterous. You know, they’d had a couple of drinks…”
“What happened to the android?” Bob interrupted impatiently.
“Stevie? Well, he was playing a rather nice version of Across the Universe, when those guys got up on stage and just started…” Dayzee broke off and started sobbing quietly.
“It’s okay, Dayzee,” said Bob, comfortingly.
“They just took him apart!” Dayzee began wailing uncontrollably.
Bob indicated to Matti that he should follow him to another part of the room.
“Let’s speak to Jenna Sorensen now. Jenna, you were the last person to see Hamish, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so. Chet said he was feeling a bit rough and headed off to the dorm, so I got chatting to Hamish, you know, trying to calm him down.”
“Calm him down?”
“Yeah, he was going on about his medical condition, the lack of proper food, stuff like that. He said he wasn’t sleeping well. He said he had a theory that Flinders was turning off the oxygen recycling system at night. He was just rambling really.”
“What happened next?”
“Well I said I’d walk him back to the dorm, but on the way, he ducked into the airlock and locked it. Through the window I could see him putting on a space suit. I tried to talk him out of it.”
“Out of what?”
“Well, he was in no fit state to go outside, it wasn’t safe. It’s against all regulations if you’ve been drinking. Anyway, he just vanished.”
“And you raised the alarm?”
“Yeah, and they sent an android search party.”
“Really? Why wasn’t a human search party sent?” Bob looked genuinely surprised, although you could never tell how sincere he was.
“After dark, that’s just the protocol. It’s too risky to send folk out, the temperature drops way down and there have been cases of suits failing…” Jenna broke off and started sobbing. In the background, Dayzee could still be heard crying loudly.
“So there we have it. An experienced colonist has disappeared in suspicious circumstances. More complaints about the food, and the general level of health and fitness here on Mars is taking a nose dive. We’re going to take a break now to hear from our sponsors, but we’ll be right back with our handy step-by-step guide to applying for admission onto the Mars training programme!”
Matti flicked off the camera and lowered it from his shoulder. Bob glanced back at Dayzee and Jenna.
“Come on Matti, let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”
Spaceport West Page 9
