VISUAL EFFECTS / CH. 11:COUNTDOWN
2P.M. FRIDAY, 10TH JUNE, 2270, INTERNATIONAL NEWS
Alice entered the editor's office. “You wanted to see me, Ed?”
“Yes. How are you doing with those Mars articles?”
“I've got drafts ready. My thought is they're a bit rough in places. You want a look?”
“Please,” Ed said.
She handed him the crystal. “The last one's password protected. You'll see why.”
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MAGAZINE ARTICLE, PUBLICATION DATE: MID JUNE?
Suggested graphics: Mars picture, map of Mars, subject to rights.
Mars the mystery planet. Why don't we hear more news from there? Does nothing news-worthy happen? Don't people care about the brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles that have gone there? Is the communications lag really so bad? Come on my fellow reporters, show an interest! News stories used to get sent by physical mail, not so many years ago, it doesn't take that long to get a message to Mars at any time of our orbits. Are we really so shallow that out of our gravity well, means out of mind? Or why don't we hear more? It's a mystery. The world's governments spent a lot of money setting up that colony. Since then, individuals have mostly paid their own way, taking the big gamble. Some, of course, we've sent at no charge, just to get rid of them. But not many, not may at all, less that one percent, and guess what? The crime rate on Mars is really, really, low. So why do we think of Mars as some kind of nineteenth century penal colony? It's a mystery. The big Mars Corp domes are engineering marvels, providing temperature-controlled accommodation for thousands. But have you looked at the latest Mars Map in detail? There are hundreds of thousands of family domes, clustered in what we might as well call villages and towns. Far more Martians live in family domes than the big Mars Corp ones. Why don't we ever think of them, when we think of people living on Mars? It's a mystery.
Many people have an image of people on the edge of starvation, unsure if their next harvest will fail. But Mars Corp has a massive hydroponics system which provides nutritious food for everyone who's prepared to do a couple of hours a day community service, mostly building domes for the next batch of arrivals. So why do we think people are border-line starving? It's a another mystery, but I think I might know the answer: have you noticed whenever a reporter goes to Mars, it's for a 'quick' tourist trip? How many colonists actually take the tourist trip flights? Well, this year there have been some, trying to guarantee that they arrive before the population hits a million, and so secure themselves a bigger claim. Normally they take a longer trip in the interest of taking more cargo with them. Tourists take their dehydrated food with them, tourists go on excursions to Olympus Mons and various other tourist spots. Between trips, they stay in the university accommodation, while the students are enjoying some time with their families or earning a bit of cash loading and unloading cargo. Some tourists sometimes venture into one of the big domes, and meet people who have decided to stay in the big dome rather than move into a village, or who have not done well enough to do so. So... how many established, successful Martians have my intrepid reporter friends actually met? I asked a couple, their answer was 'not as many as I'd have liked'. Do people on Earth get an accurate view of life on Mars? Not another mystery!
One last topic: where do we get our information, our prejudices, and our assumptions from? Travel reporting which seems to necessarily avoid most people who live on the planet? Rumour? Fictional accounts? Political speeches? Hmm. Do I trust those sources? Do you? When I see this many mysteries, it worries me. Is someone hiding the truth?
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MAGAZINE ARTICLE, PUBLICATION DATE: MID JUNE?
Suggested graphics: Mars map with claim boundaries, claim size bar-chart.
According to the publicly accessible Mars Corp database of claims, Mick E. Mouse owns what looks suspiciously like a ski-slope on Olympus Mons. Curious I. Tee owns a patch of Mars that contains the Pathfinder robot's landing site. Violet King owns a number of places on Mars, where the Viking landers touched down. Hi Vi and Curious, if you're reading this, I respect you for your obvious concern for your planet's history, but won't you or your descendants want to farm your claim sometime? My first reaction to learning this, was that someone is obviously having a joke. So, who's laughing? According to my source, no one really. On Mars, you don't ask someone how big their claim is; it'd be like asking someone how much money is in their bank account. But everyone's claim is recorded, mapped, and on a searchable database. An individual's right to privacy verses openness. Who wins? Well in this case, it was privacy. Firstly, I should say that Mars Corp does not administer claims, it merely keeps a copy of them. Claim administration is a function of the Mars Council, an elected body who serve as the civil service and legislature of Mars, and the definitive record is on paper (actually a type of plastic). Computer records are viewed with suspicion, due to past experience with radiation problems. An individual has the right to register an alias at one office of the Mars Council. A registered alias can then be used to register a claim. A claim may also be exchanged for any identically sized piece of unclaimed Mars, for a nominal administration fee. So, suppose you help solve a crime and are given a reward of five hectares. You could put that claim in your own name, but perhaps you don't want it to be known that you got your neighbour arrested, so you register an alias, let's say Don Duck. You take your newly printed alias certificate to the claims office and they record that Don Duck (alias 897495) owns that land. Then you walk out of the claims office with a claim certificate and keep it safe. If you lose it you can get a new one, as long as you've got your alias certificate. Your alias certificate you keep very very safe, because that's the only link between you and that claim. The aliases office records the names and number of aliases, not who owns them. That only goes on the certificate. Actually, I've over simplified. The alias certificate is in two parts. The part you take to the claims office doesn't say what your name is, that goes on the other part.
Is someone hiding the truth? Clearly. Are there dark and sinister motives? No, just like us, the people of Mars value their freedoms and their privacy.
You might have noticed that I didn't talk about buying or selling claims.
There's a reason for that. Land on Mars is available for sale, from the Mars Council: the going price is ten grams of on-planet gold per hectare. Private sales are required to observe the same fee, to protect people's inheritance. There is no requirement that you be a permanent resident of Mars to buy land, but you must be physically there and physically pass over the gold in the presence of the council. Purchase through a proxy is not permitted, and only individuals can own land: even Mars Corp has no 'claim' on Mars, merely installations.
A question occurred to me, while talking to my source. Why, if everyone gets a claim on arrival based on how they get there, don't tourists get one? The answer is quiet simple, actually. Anyone who is on Mars and has no claim can apply for one, normally that's on landing, with big queues. Settlers think of applying as a high priority, tourists have the right to apply, just most don't.
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MAGAZINE ARTICLE, PUBLICATION DATE: LATE JUNE?
Suggested graphics: Claim size vs date? Maybe overlay with death rates per thousand (include some figures from Earth nations too?).
Last time I mentioned that the claim size depended on the method of arrival.
It's quite complex, actually. Have you been invited? If so, what is the effective date on your invitation certificate? Did you pay for your trip? When did you apply for a claim, what was the population at the end of the day before your claim was submitted? Or have you been sent as a criminal? (I'll deal with the criminal justice system on Mars a little later). Why, you might ask, is there a link between population size and claim size? Risk and reward are the answer. People arriving now are not taking much of a risk at all. There's a functioning society, a lot of things we take for granted on Earth are now available, and so on. It didn't used to be that way at all. Twenty years ago, even, there was local production of plastic sheeting and thread, and what the Martians call paper, but no production of what we'd call cloth. Some people wove the thread — on home-made looms. Some spent a lot of time and effort picking apart garments once they'd deteriorated too far to be patched, in order to re-spin the thread. Now, there's a Mars Corp plant producing acrylic yarn, and another one which is producing polyester cloth. Natural fibre cloth is still in big demand. Standards of living have increased, in other words.
Let me make it clear, there are people on Mars who were deported as criminals, but very few, about a hundred a year at the moment, and it's never been more than five percent of the number of immigrants. A criminal can only live in a Mars Corp dome. A criminal can grow their own crops, but only within the one of the big Mars Corp farming domes, where they maybe get a tenth of a hectare to farm. A criminal who offends on Mars has their sentence increased for minor offences, or their eventual claim reduced, for more serious offences. After ten years of good behaviour, a deported criminal, a crim in local parlance, is deemed to have reformed, and is free to live as any other Martian, albeit with a claim of only ten hectares, far smaller than anyone else.
Mars, where so much of independent life depends on your ability to farm, has a unique system of punishments. For petty offences: fines are usually given as an amount of compost (actual, not virtual), or for more significant crimes (such as interfering with the terraforming process by harvesting the lichen which is just gaining a foothold in some places) someone's topsoil might be confiscated, effectively returning someone to the jit state of life. If they're already a jit, then other penalties might apply. An action that endangers life is usually punished by different levels of 'exposure', which is to say abandonment a set distance from safety, with no safety gear beyond a breather. A twenty kilometer exposure is not usually fatal, but a three hundred kilometer exposure - the prescribed punishment for deliberately breaching a dome or sabotaging someone's safety gear in a visible manner — usually would be. Murder or attempted murder, which is taken to include hard-to-detect sabotage of safety gear, carries a death sentence. The death sentence is administered by the simple process of exposure (at a certain cliff, away from the tourist route, near the foot of Mount Olympus) without a breather. Don't offer to take any Martian to Mount Olympus, it's not a romantic spot, it's a dead, useless place and you're offering to abandon them in their time of greatest need.
So, who decides if someone's guilty? On Mars, there are two deciding bodies: the Council, and the Martians. The council decides in the first instance and in the event of an appeal, Martians — that is to say those who've survived on the planet for more than a year, are not a crim, are not a jit (short for idjit, or idiot) — can vote in a modified referendum on the case. I say modified, because all votes are not equal. In the event that the popular vote is closer than than seventy-thirty either way, then a second ballot is held, in which all claim holders (individuals and aliases) can vote and the size of claims is taken into account. This applies both to determination of guilt and sentencing, and in fact the same rules apply to any referendum on Mars. In this way, the influence of longer-established Martians is taken into account, as laid out in the founding contract. The ten percent of the population who have been on Mars more than forty years hold twenty five percent of the vote, and another twenty five percent of the vote is held by the twenty percent who came or were born in the following ten years.
This is part of life on Mars: if you're new, you're a jit. If you're past the jit stage, maybe you've got something to say, but not as much as people who've been there years. This attitude pervades the Martian culture, it means that a teenage Martian is listened to more than a newly arrived forty-year old. And on that hostile planet, where going somewhere without your safety gear means that you're not only a jit, you might soon be a dead jit, listening to local teenagers makes a lot of sense: they know what they're talking about.
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JUST IN CASE ARTICLE, EST. PUBLICATION DATE: NONE
I left for Mars with three questions firmly in my mind: could I get to the bottom of this story? Could I find people willing to step forward and take the risk of saying Mars Corp has deliberately misled the solar system? I'm sure they have, the evidence is all there, it's just there are too many bits missing to publish it. The third was more personal: could I really make the change, and turn into a Martian? If you're reading this article, I guess that point is irrelevant now.
Let's look at the evidence I was able to dig up before I left. 1. Mars Corp used to display the whole text of the contract with the first colonists, then they cut out the final two clauses, dealing with voting rights on the Mars Corp board and independence for the colony. 2. Mars Corp have never had complete records of the Martian population. Population statistics comes from the Martian Council. 3. Mars Corp informed the U.N. that they have no records of descendants of the first colonists (disingenuous — they have no records of anyone's descendants).
4. Claims to Mars territory, since the establishment of the Martian Council (ten years after founding), cannot be willed to friends, only descendants or spouses. Claims inherited from one spouse cannot be willed to another.
5. Under the contract, the first colonists had initially held their claim in a common pot — the early fatalities meant that the initial claims of the survivors were greater, not that the 500000 Ha of the combined claim of the first colonists was reduced. 6. Death of a claim holder with no heirs invalidates their claim. The combined total area of claims thus invalidated amounts to approximately 2300 Ha.
Alias claim documents cannot be easily invalidated, as there is the potential that no one knows who the owner was, and thus they remain valid for a hundred years after their last revalidation. (They may be revalidated at any time.)
7. At a recent referendum, the turn-out represented 99% of all claims on Mars. The 500000 Ha of the first colonists represents 5% of all claims on Mars. Even if all the 1% of claims not represented in the referendum were alias claims previously registered by the first colonists or their descendants, we must conclude that 80% or more of the first colonist claims are held by live individuals — descendants of the first colonists.
It must be the case then, that the 'forgotten' clauses of the colonisation contract are still valid. According to those clauses, the descendants of the first colonists should now control fifty one percent of votes on the Mars Corp board, and in less than nine years time, Mars Corp loses it's monopoly on trade with a newly independent Mars, which should have a seat at the United Nations, etc. etc.
The United Nations, through Mars Corp, has made promises. If these promises are reneged upon, then the rot in our world-order is far far deeper than I suspected. It is obvious to me that, at some level of Mars Corp, somone knows that the public are being misled. The shareholders certainly stand to profit from continuing with the status quo and forgetting those promises were ever made.
You see, based on some other information I've picked up on the way, Mars Corp runs at a huge profit, and I think I can guess why. I've held off publishing what follows, but I worked it out before I left. If you're reading this, then I'm dead and it might have been a factor in my cause of death. I still don't know if it's responsible journalism to publish it, even in that case. If this causes the Martian economy to irreversibly collapse, I'm really really sorry. But it's the truth as I know it.
It's cheap to make things on Mars. Very very cheap. Mars Corp tell people everywhere that the Martian currency is based on the cost of importing biological material to feed compost heaps. But what are the costs /to Mars Corp/ of importing anything? Mars Corp own the ships, and the ships are going to travel anyway, for the lucrative exports from Mars. The fuel is water, processed by Mars Corp's fusion reactors and Mars Corp's terraforming department knows all about getting hold of large quantities of water in space. Just like for the sailing ships of the olden days, there's hardly any real cost to Mars Corp for adding an extra tonne of cargo to a ship which isn't fully laden. Once Mars Corp have put in some (paying) volume-hungry human cargo, and expensive paid-for cargo, whatever else goes on the ship travels for whatever price the accountants decide to move from one column of Mars Corp's books to another. So the cost to Mars Corp of paying their workers, up to a certain limit, is not very great at all. Only when they start having to refuse other cargo does shipping plant material to Mars actually cost them something beyond some additional wear and tear on ship's engines. Do Mars Corp ever refuse cargo? Yes, but not very often.
But the news for the Martian economy is worse; according to a copy of the export records that I obtained, Mars Corp don't seem to actually export much compost material or other plant material at all, other than seeds. So how do they pay their workers on Mars? Do they juggle to recipe for processed bio-waste, in order to return only a fraction of the material deposited? Effectively robbing Peter to pay Paul? Or do they use surplus production from their hydroponic production system to feed the bio-reactors directly? They'd need far less mass or volume to transport fertiliser for hydroponics than the dead plant matter they claim to import. In either case, the Martian currency must actually be worth far less than Mars Corp claim.
No wonder production costs on Mars are so low. No wonder Mars exports so much, even when transport costs are included. The Martian population are effectively working for the sort of exploitative non-wages that have been made illegal on Earth — when Mars Corp agree to pay someone a wage on Mars, they are doing so with the help of an accounting miracle that turns straw into gold, or glass beads into ten times their weight in gold.
The construction work for the big domes represents the labour of current big-dome-dwellers, who are given the option of working a few hours a week 'community service' for their food or starving. Is that just fair rent, or something exploitative? I don't know. Work on Mars pays in Martian currency, which Mars Corp effectively admit as valueless, as they only allow tickets to be purchased using Earthling money.
So, practically speaking, once you're on Mars then unless you're part of a very successful family able to sell surplus food, or have friends back on Earth to pay for your ticket home, you can't leave. Mars Corp don't want people to leave Mars, that would mean less people working for them for practically nothing. They also want to continue running their monopoly, it's a very lucrative way of doing business. Have I just described a kind of slavery or serfdom? I don't know. Do you need to know that's your position for it to be true? Maybe the major shareholders like the regular extra income for their national budgets too, not to mention the thought that one day far higher numbers of people could be sent to work on Mars also.
Clearly, this situation of forgotten promises and paying the Martian workers in monopoly money is not the effort of just one individual, but has been sustained policy of Mars Corp for decades. It is, of course, possible that some of the current directors don't fully realise it, but they certainly perpetuate it. The shareholders, of course have the role of holding the board to account.
But, Mars Corp's shareholder meetings are not only closed to the press and general public, but also the shareholders cannot approach the press about what goes on in them without forfeiting their shares. Are some of the shareholders unhappy about what's going on in the organisation? Almost certainly. Can they risk telling that to a journalist, even secretly? Almost certainly not. To my mind, this whole web of secrecy ought to mean Mars Corp earns a negative score on the international transparency index. We must presume that the majority of the votes cast by shareholders are in favour of the current model.
To my mind, the exploitation of the hopes and dreams of a million people ought to mean the following: the voting rights of the descendants of the first Martians, promised so many years ago, ought to be granted; the voting rights of the current shareholders who have concurred in this abuse be suspended and the board of the corporation be metaphorically pushed out of the airlock. Maybe me knowing this has meant I've been pushed out literally. But anyway, by accident or design, I'm not going to be around to see that happen.
May God intervene to put an end to this oppression, and bring freedom to the captives on Mars.
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Ed looked at Alice. “Wow, Alice. I hope you're keeping that crystal safe.”
She shook her head. “I think that's you job now, Ed.”
“Do you have a copy?”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“I've given an encrypted version to some people I know, with instructions of what to do if I end up dead.”
“And you don't think I need to know who.” it was a statement.
“Do you think you might need to?”
“You're accusing Mars Corp of some pretty high crimes here, so... probably not, no.”
“The plan, just so you know, is that my death triggers a countdown. You publish sufficient that it looks like the regime on Mars will be changed, then nothing else happens. If you don't, then the people I know assume that you're being leaned on too. Some will send it to the authorities, some will send it to our competitors, world wide. The files are encrypted differently, so that a binary match won't find them.”
“You're trusting your friends with the password and file?”
“No. Some people will publish the password, others the file. And mostly it's not friends. Contacts might be a better term, friends of friends.”
“So, if someone threatens us, I can mention hydras. Thank-you. You've thought this through, obviously.”
“I've tried to, and I've had help,” Alice said, and she heard him decide he was going to ask something that had been bugging him.
“I've got a question for you though, Alice.”
“Yes?”
“About a month ago, you said that you'd cheated, and not always had sources. What did you mean?”
“Oh, that. I meant exactly what I said, Ed.”
“You're not telling me that you've been illegally bugging people, have you?”
“No.” she shook her head, “There are no laws against the way I cheated. Well, not human ones.”
“You were listening to demons?”
“No, Ed.” She looked at him curiously. “How strong is your faith in established scientific fact, Ed?”
“Pardon?”
“How firmly do you believe that humanity know just about everything there is that can be discovered, that there are no great new world-changing discoveries left, now that we've got forcefields, fusion, and a colony on Mars?”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“You mean, do I believe in miracles?”
“No. I mean do you subscribe to the 'there must be a reason for everything in fairy stories' camp, or to the 'fairy stories are just silly rubbish to scare kids into behaving properly'.”
“I'm really getting lost, here, Alice.”
“Well, answer the question then.”
“But... where does it lead?”
“It helps me make a decision.”
“About what?” Ed asked, confused.
“Whether I decide to satisfy your curiosity,” Alice said, “or leave you being bugged by what under the sun I was talking about.”
“I'm still lost.”
“So tell me about scientific proof versus myth.”
“Oh. Reproducible cause and effect, experiments driving out myth, the triumph of logic over fear. But God isn't amenable to experiments, so you can't prove or disprove Him.”
“Good answer. I'm not very amenable to experiments either, and if you tell anyone then I'll laugh at you just as hard as anyone else. Hold one end of that metal pen of yours you love fiddling with, and think of a nursery rhyme.”
Totally confused, he nevertheless obeyed. She reached out and touched the end of it.
“Over the hills and a great way off,” Alice said, “I think I've just blown your top-knot off. No demons, no magic, just a rare human ability that lies behind the stories. No one believes in mind-reading, Ed. Especially not when people who can do it very sensibly refuse to come forward to scientifically prove there ought to be a witch-hunt. I hear decisions that affect me, I hear people I'm interviewing think 'I hope she doesn't ask about such and such.' If I touch skin or skin-metal-skin, I don't just hear decisions. I can't really turn it off, either, not for long. But if I go out of my way to listen to someone's thoughts... joke around before an interview to get them to think of what they want me to avoid asking, that's definitely cheating, isn't it? Probably a very unethical thing to do.”
“But you're going to laugh if I tell anyone,” Ed said, repeating Alice's words.
“Of course, Ed. Just who collected the mushrooms you had for lunch, and do you think you might need to see a doctor?” she asked in a concerned voice. “Time and time again it's been scientifically proven that it's all just a trick.”
“Well, that's quite a trick, Alice. Very convincing.”
“Now you know the big secret. Take scientists with a pinch of salt when they say something can't happen, they're not speaking from the point of view of divine knowledge.”
“Alice, you're astounding! Thanks for telling me, it can't have been an easy decision. Urm, not that I'm planning to pass this on, any idea how rare an ability you have?”
“No, sorry. I've not met many people who can do it, though.”
“You'd recognise them?”
“No guarantees, but I know what to look for.”
“I presume your boyfriend — his name's Simon, right? — knows you can do this?”
“He does, yes.”
“Well, I won't pry. You've not thought of saying 'Hi' to the Institute for the Human Mind, have you?”
“Not for more than thirty seconds, no. The director is under standing orders that would mean they'd be desperate to employ me, and where would my career be then, eh?”
“Fair enough. Oh, on the topic of your career, you're taking the week off next week.”
Alice was surprised. “I am?”
“Yes. These articles are plenty good enough, I think, and I can't send you off on a multi-year assignment without giving you time to pack. The union would hang me out to dry.”
“I am mostly packed already.”
“I'm sure. But still, have a break, Alice. You're going into a life-threatening situation, with no clear exit plan, after all.”
“I've got a very clear exit plan, Ed.” Alice contradicted him. “If I die, then I know where I'm going. But... can I ask your advice?”
“Sure.”
“Two things. One is I'm really not sure I should have put the stuff in that report which is pretty likely to destroy the Mars economy. Is it responsible?”
“I think you need it to drive the point home,” Ed said. “Mars doesn't really need to supply free labour to the solar system, after all.”
“No, of course not.”
“But that is the only bit that your report ruins, surely? There's no way that people will want to stop growing food there, and for all your hydroponic plans, long-term you're going to need compost.”
“OK. Right, next question: I'm pretty sure Simon's planning to ask me to marry him.”
“Congratulations. Why is that a question? You told me last month that you'd likely be engaged before you left.”
“Is it too fast? Should I tell him to not be impatient?”
“What do you think?”
“I think we don't know each other well enough, but I'm also certain that we'll marry one day.”
“You can't be certain about things like that, surely, Alice?”
“About ten days before my parents died, God told me that I'd marry him. Then I got awfully confused, as you know, and broke off contact entirely. We didn't recognise each other at all when we met this time around. So yeah, we're getting on well, and we're going to marry one day, but there's a lot of getting to know each other we need to do first.”
“God told you? How?” Ed asked.
“Yes. Well, sort of. Don't spread this around, not even to Simon. Promise?”
“My lips are sealed,” Ed said, shaking his head in wonder.
“Well, I asked God where the man was who'd father my children. In reply I got this vision, that he was in Simon's house, upstairs, in his bedroom. I called him and we were phone-friends until I had my 'everything I thought was from God is from the devil' crisis.”
“How did you get his number?”
“Hmm... got myself into this position, didn't I?”
“What position?”
“Ed, 'phone-friends' is a good analogy, but it's not the literal truth. Just like my telling you how I cheated is not the whole truth. I don't know if I need to tell you, I don't know if you need to know. Can we leave it at that for the moment? Me being far from God... that's something that really shouldn't have happened, given how active he's been in my life, and it's left me pretty uncertain about some things.”
“Sounds like I ought to be praying for you.”
“Please do, Ed.”
“You're having doubts?”
“Not about God. More about my own judgement. Hence the earlier question about how I ought to react if Simon does propose. One of the great things about Simon is that I can talk to him about anything. For instance I'd happily talk to him about whether I give you the full disclosure bit. But I can't very well ask for his advice about accepting his proposal, can I?”
“Well, you could. But if you're certain you're going to marry him some time, why not accept but say you're going to have a long engagement?”
“Because I don't want to tie my hands like that. I don't want to say that I'm not going to marry him for another two years; I might decide I know him well enough by the time we get to Mars.”
“Didn't you tell me that lots of couples on Mars don't marry until he's had a proper harvest?”
“Yes. But in some ways he already has: he was one of those kids that constructed his own little mars soil experiments, only his parents had the space for him to do it on a proper scale, with about half a ton of sand. I've seen the photo of his harvest.”
“Sounds like he knows what he's letting himself in for, then. In terms of Mars, I mean.”
“As well as he can, yes.”
“As for getting to know you, well, I've been married for most of your life and we're still learning things about each other. So if you let imperfect knowledge bar you from marriage, then you'll never do it. What do you want to do, Alice?”
“Emotionally? You know me, Ed! Risk? It's fun! I want to throw caution to the wind and marry him before we go, but that's not sensible, and we've agreed to be sensible this time round.”
“You're going to be undergoing a lot of changes.”
“I know. So having almost two months of getting used to married life doesn't sound like quite such a silly idea, does it? It'd also let his parents and sister to come to the wedding.”
“I thought you were trying to ask how to let him down gently.”
“That too. And how to convince myself not to ask him.”
“Alice, you're amazing. So, should I be keeping Saturday week free?”
“Maybe. Or Monday or Tuesday. We don't fly off until Wednesday, after all.”
Ed considered what he'd planned to get Alice to do before she left. None of it was really very important. “It'll be easier for your guests to come on the Saturday, and it'll give you some time for a couple of days honeymoon. I don't imagine there's much privacy on-board.”
“Hey... that's right!” Alice said, excitedly. “If we're willing to switch to a shared room, then we might get to take more cargo.”
“Might?”
“People pay better than cargo, which makes good sense, but the ships are limited by mass and space. A double room is only fifty percent larger than a single, only needs one bed, and so on, which is why a double ticket costs less. If they run out of space, but have cargo to spare, which is more likely on an old ship like the Celestia, then swapping two singles to a double can make them a nice extra bit of profit. As a thank-you they'll let you take an extra chunk of luggage. I must read up on how much.”
“You'd have stuff you wanted to take?”
“Yes. Simon's got his luggage all organised, but I've got a house-full of stuff I'd like to take. Not to mention my mum's wedding dress, unless, of course, I get married sooner....”
“Alice, are you trying to convince me that there are logical reasons to marry Simon after only knowing him for a month, or do you just want me to tell you it'll be a disaster?”
“It will, won't it?”
“If you were on Earth, almost certainly. But on the other hand, I imagine that starting off on a new planet with the wedding out of the way might make life easier in some respects — you won't have the stress of finding out that you need some paper you left here to satisfy the marriage laws, for instance. The whole thing is going to be terribly stressful, you realise. Going to Mars, I mean, let alone regime change and sorting out your love-life.”
“About the regime change....”
“Yes?”
“Have you heard anything about my proposal for a more Martian-friendly model of funding?”
“Didn't you get copied on the message?”
“Not that I noticed.”
“Hmm. They probably wanted me to tell you. Basically, it's proposal accepted. Whit Holder will be writing to you about details, but you're going to negotiate with the guys there, preferably for Earth cash, assuming they've got an account. If not then we might have a problem. Roughly equivalent to starting freelancer rates unless someone's really good. If they are, then get them to sign an exclusive deal, and we'll pay better, Whit will let you know how that works. Hopefully the Martians won't mind that we're paying in Earthling cash, since it's extra revenue, and you won't want to pay them in biomass, I presume.”
“Not from my compost heap, no.”
“So, even though we know that it's monopoly money for Mars Corp, we're prepared for our output there to be paid for in Martian currency, and you're going to need to work out how to set up a heap of appropriate sites. Get us an income on Mars, and maybe you can pay some of the guys there in biomass eventually, or whatever the Martian currency evolves into. You're going to need to work out how to set up a company there, I presume. Are you really sure you don't mind putting your big story on hold?”
“I'm not putting it on hold, Ed. I'm proposing that I build up contacts in the local scene. If I interview people for that as soon as I'm off the ship, then I fully expect to get the blank wall that Whit got on Luna. I need to build up some cred amongst people who are convinced Mars Corp or the shareholders are out to kill them. I'm also going to be adding my voice, once I've got one, along with the evidence of my hydroponic buckets, to the debate against sticking with biomass.”
“Once you've got a voice?”
“I'm going to be a jit for the first year, Ed. That's another reason for marrying soon, of course.”
“Why?”
“Because my work-load is only going to get worse, I expect, when I switch from contact-building to bringing about a nice gentle revolution.”
“You think it will be gentle?”
“I think, once I write about my experiments, then quite a lot of the next wave of immigrants will follow suit. I'm not planning on cutting my hair off, either; it might well be toxic, anyway,” she looked critically at the dyed locks that framed her face, and continued. “So the whole 'how healthy is your compost heap' thing is going stop being nearly so important. Between my publishing and them arriving, the whole biological basis for the electronic economy ought to have drifted away. That bit is going to be gentle, I hope. As for the board....” She draw her finger across her throat.
“You revolutionary, you.”
“Big risk taker, aren't I? Are you and Regina free on Saturday week?”
“We will be if you invite us, yes.”
“Great.”
“And if you do end up getting married, then I fully expect you to take some of your annual leave having a couple of day's honeymoon before you fly. Go on, talk it through with Simon.”
Alice grinned, and practically danced out of the office.
----------------------------------------
5.30PM, FRIDAY.
“Alice!” Simon said, rising to meet her, as she entered his office.
“Ed's given me all of next week off, and I needed to talk to the professor again before I go. That's done, and since I was so close I thought I ought to come and say hello.”
“I'm very glad you did.” he kissed her offered cheek.
“I have news: I'm getting baptised on Sunday.”
“Excelent!”
“I also a very serious question for you.” she said. Her eyes were sparkling.
“I'm yours to command.”
“Oh good.” she exclaimed and kissed him.
“What's the question?” Simon asked.
“When are you thinking of proposing?”
“Isn't that supposed to be a surprise?”
“Yes. But I've had the suspicion over the past few days that you're gearing up to it, and I was wondering how I ought to respond. I talked it through with Ed today, and if you leave it too late, then what I think is my preferred response won't work. If you're not thinking of proposing in the next ten days then fine, it doesn't matter. Just... if you are, then I've got another Alice dilemma for you to help me think through.”
“Should I be scared?”
“Hmm. I don't promise not to bite, but I'll try hard not to hurt when I nibble.”
“I am so reassured,” he said. “What's the dilemma?”
“I don't want you to make you think I'm forcing your hand, Simon,” Alice said.
“Good. I'm curious about the dilemma though.”
“Before I talked to Ed, I saw a number of different responses, varying from the entirely sensible to the entirely Me, but talking to Ed's helped me to realise that there are a number of positive aspects to the entirely Alice option, and a number of negative ones to what outwardly seems the entirely sensible one, and that the slightly silly, slightly sensible ones are a bit of a compromise without so much to say in their favour.”
“Ah. Do I take it that your preferred response has Alice written all over it?”
“It's always best to true to yourself, isn't it?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't?”
“I mean, we'd agreed to be very sensible this time round, didn't we?”
“How is that working for you?” Alice asked.
“I can do the being sensible thing, it's OK. I don't want to scare you off.”
“You won't,” Alice said firmly.
“Not even if I have crazy ideas?”
“What, like giving up your life here for a life of adventure on a new planet?”
Alice laughed.
“I might regret this...”
“I'll try to make sure you don't. “
“Will you marry me, Alice?”
“I thought we'd settled that a decade ago? Of course I will, Simon. As to when... I hope it's not a sin to mislead your pastor, but I told him I'd not talked to you yet but was thinking it might be nice to have a good-bye party for friends at church next weekend. Therefore, I know he's free on Saturday week and so is the church hall. Before you decide I've gone totally crazy, I'd like to point out that it means I can wear the wedding dress my mum kept for me, it means your parents and Sue and Mick can all celebrate with us. You know your mum was hurt at the idea of missing your wedding. It means that we can either swap our two single tickets for a double and have chance at extra cargo, or have one cabin as a study and one as a bedroom, which also sounds nice. It means we don't face the temptations of being deeply in love with too much spare time on our hands. It means that we don't have to decide where to put our claims and then swap them around later, but can work on them together. You've already had your first harvest, albeit not on Mars, so you're qualified by Mars standards. Marrying now rather than after we've been on Mars a year also means that we don't get married just at about the time when I switch to running a full-scale branch on Mars as well as getting active in challenging the status quo. I think that's going to be a pretty stressful time, and adding another lifestyle-change seems silly. Why not do all the lifestyle changes in one go?”
With his heart overflowing with joy, Simon managed to say “Somehow, I don't think this is the entirely sensible option is it?”
“No. What do you think?”
“I love you Alice.” he kissed her, to prove his point. “I love your ability to line up all your arguments in one go and persuade people that there's no sensible alternative, and I love the way that you can take a crazy idea and make it seem so incredibly attractive.”
“But? I think I heard a but in there,” Alice asked, disappointed.
“But... I don't actually need persuading. I was half thinking along the same ridiculously optimistic, crazy lines. You really checked with Pastor Bob?”
“Yes. So... who gets the first call? Him, or your parents?”
“I think Bob ought to. Otherwise we might not have a place.”
“Go on then. Tell you what, I'll call your mother, and tell her that I think your dad won't be fishing on Saturday week. Or should I tell Sue, or should I leave your family to you, and I'll just call Ed?”
“Oh, call Mum, she'll be over the moon, I expect.”
----------------------------------------
“Mrs Bunting? It's Alice.”
“Hello Alice, is everything all right?” Bethany asked, concerned by Alice calling her.
“Yes, thank-you, at least from where I'm sitting. Simon's just talking to his pastor, but I was wondering if you had any plans for Saturday week?”
“Oh! Well, I had thought to have you both over for dinner, once Frank's back from fishing. Will that be all right?”
“Well, I'm just guessing, but I think fishing might be off the schedule once you've talked to Simon.”
“What's Simon gone and done now?”
“He asked me a little question.”
“He... he asked you to...” Bethany couldn't form the words.
“He asked if I'd marry him and I said yes,” Alice said.
Simon asked Bob to hold on and butted in: “Actually, mum, she said 'Of course.' About five minutes ago.”
“Oh! That's lovely news! And you're having an engagement party before you go?”
“Well, I know you said you'd have liked to be at his wedding, and I would like to wear my mum's wedding dress, and we're changing almost everything else about our lives in ten days time, so we were thinking why not start our new life with a new marital status too? I'm guessing it won't be a very big complicated event, with only a week's notice.”
“You're daft, the pair of you! Stop pulling my leg, it's not funny.” Bethany said.
Simon interjected again “Bob says there's another wedding ceremony at the church at ten in the morning, Mum, but apart from the fact we're crazy, which he already knew, he'll be happy to officiate at two o'clock, and the other group won't be using the church hall, so we can use that for the reception. He also says he's not sure what difference it'll make, but he'll rush through the marriage preparation classes with us this week.”
“You're not joking?” Bethany couldn't believe her ears.
“No, Mum, we're very happy, and we're probably daft too, but we're serious about getting married on Saturday week.”
“What does Sue think about this?” Bethany asked.
“We've not told her yet,” Alice said. “You can come?”
“Of course! If you're daft enough to do this, then I'm going to be there, no question!”
----------------------------------------
Having given some more reasons why it did make sense really to Simon's mother, Alice called Sue.
“Hi, Sue! Alice here.”
“Hi Alice, you sound happy.”
“So I should be! Simon asked, I said 'of course', and the pastor says he's free two o'clock Saturday week.”
“For marriage prep. class?” Sue asked, confused.
“No, for our marriage. Your mother says maybe we're not totally daft.”
“You're serious?”
“Very. Seriously happy, seriously certain, and serious about not putting ourselves through the whole 'let's totally change our lifestyles' thing twice in quick succession.”
“Do you have any idea what stress that's going to put your marriage under? You're going to be struggling to adjust to each other as well as external circumstances. You're not going to have any part of your lives without change. Nowhere that you can have a little bit of a secure, unchanging space.”
“But on the other hand, it removes some areas of uncertainty, which is also a source of stress.”
“What sort of areas of uncertainty.”
“How long we should wait, for example. Are we going to go our separate ways for a few more years? Issues about learning to farm on two separate claims rather than one combined one. But you're wrong about unchanging areas, Simon will still be researching, I'll still be working in news. We're still worshipping the same God.”
“Hmm. The phrase 'clutching at straws' springs to mind. You're not exactly staying at the same church, are you? New lifestyle, new relationship, new workplace, new home. That's too many changes for most people. I really hope neither of you break. Speaking about new home, what does it do to your accommodation? You were going to be sharing with Evangeline and Simon with Chris, weren't you?”
“Ah. Good question. Hopefully it's not a disaster.”
“I hope not, too, but you'd better at least tell them your plans and ask if it would be, or you might be sleeping in separate bedrooms.”
“I'll check, don't worry. Can you come?”
“Saturday week?”
“Yes, two o'clock.”
“We'll be there. I really really wish you were waiting, but we'll be there.”
----------------------------------------
“Evangeline, would it be a disaster, in terms of your parents putting us up, that is, if Simon and I got married sooner rather than later?”
“Probably not, we've got another spare room, as long as my brother's not using it. Is it likely?”
“Well, he's just proposed and we were thinking of Saturday week. It means his family can be there, I can wear my mum's wedding dress, and Simon's already had his first harvest. And it just gets rid of a whole heap of other questions.”
“And brings up more, like when are you starting a family?”
“Well, yes. Probably not until after the dust has settled, post-publication.”
“Dust doesn't settle much, but congratulations anyway. Pastor Bob's really going to marry you at such short notice?”
“Yes.”
“I'll tell my parents. I'm sure we can work out something.”
“Thanks, Evangeline. Bob's said two o'clock on Saturday week. Feel free to invite Chris's parents, assuming you can make it. They're going to be down anyway, aren't they?”
“Yes. You're giving me ideas.”
“What, you're thinking of talking to Bob too?”
“Yeah.”
“But surely your parents would want to be at your wedding.”
“Well, yes and no. Shipboard lessons don't take up the whole day, and based on the ship I came out on, there isn't much space for one-on-one chats except bedrooms, and jamming the door open is breaking regulations. Mum said something about talking to the captain being better than sin. I'll ask. It'd certainly solve the issue of sleeping arrangements.”
“Are you that certain about Chris? I mean, I forgot in the intervening time, but really it was settled a decade ago between Simon and me.”
“I let him carry my tent. I'm certain.”
“You let Simon carry it, too.” Alice pointed out, “And you're not getting him.”
“Yeah, but that was different. That was because I was exhausted, and you'd made it very clear that Simon was taken. I let Chris carry it because he'd just told me he'd been in love with me for months and asked what I thought of him. We'd been seeing a lot of each other last year, then he backed away just when I thought he'd ask me out properly. It was really infuriating. Turned out that he'd decided he loved me too much to let me fall in love with him when it'd take him so long to get to Mars, the jit. So yeah, it wasn't a spur of the moment thing, not really.”
“OK, well you'd better talk to your parents, then.”
“Yeah. I hope they say OK.”
“What happened to no wedding before a proper harvest?”
“It's not a law. And anyway, I've had plenty of harvests. We'll just have to modify it. No kids before a proper harvest.”
“That reminds me... getting contraceptives on Mars. Is that a problem?”
“I'll ask Mum.”
----------------------------------------
“Ed? Alice. Date for your diary: two o'clock on Saturday.”
“What, tomorrow?”
“No, Saturday week.”
“That's a relief. Count us in. Regina says you're crazy, by the way, but that in love and crazy are synonyms, so hopefully everything will work out wonderfully.”
“I'm not sure we'll get invitations out, but if not, we'll at least send out directions.”
“What are you doing for catering?”
“To be decided.”
“Regina offers you one three tier wedding cake, made by her own fair hand. Think of it as our wedding present, I know you don't want a set of china.”
“Oh wow! Hundreds of thank-yous! Oh, just as advanced warning: there's a possibility of it being a double wedding, for much the same reasons. But she's just asking her parents what they think of that idea.”
“They're heading to Mars too?”
“Yes. He's graduating on the following Monday, too, poor lad.”
“When are you going to load your cargo?”
“It was going to be Saturday for hold luggage, but we've brought it forward to Wednesday.”
“I can't imagine why. What happens if you eat too much wedding cake?”
“We leave something behind from hand-luggage, or if it's less than half a kilo, we don't take as much drink with us, which means we get to drink recycled water sooner.”
“Is that bad? I mean, you'll end up doing that anyway.”
“Apparently it can taste pretty bad, and is better put off until later. You're sure about the cake?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks, Ed.”
“Regina's making it and decorating it. You'd better get to work on packing, the invitations, guest list, and the rest.”
“Have no fear, we will. Oh, I almost forgot in the excitement, other news is I'm getting baptised on Sunday. I'll fully understand if other commitments prevent you, etc.”
“We'll try to be there.”
“Great.”
----------------------------------------
SATURDAY 11TH JUNE, 2270, TOWN PARK.
Evangeline read the reply from her mother to Chris. “'Dear Evangeline, the spare room is full of Ben's experiments, so that sounds like a good solution to accommodation troubles. Whether it's a wise decision, we leave to your judgement, after all, you know him. It would have been nice to be at your wedding, but we get to see you growing together, so we don't want to be greedy. By all means give his family that joy. To think over: does he practice farming on your best claim, your small one, or his own (closer, we hope) to start with? On your friend's question: no local production, imports understandably erratic; so it's better to bring your own supplies. You should too, if Chris is going to be learning slowly as planned.' So, what do you think?”
“Have you spoken to Bob?” Chris replied.
“No,” Evangeline said.
“So you don't even know he'll agree?”
“No, I don't. But he agreed for Simon and Alice. But what do you think?”
“I think change management says introduce life-changes slowly for least psychological disruption.”
“Oh.”
“But on the other hand, Scripture says it's better to marry than to burn with lust, so I don't know. I don't want to rush you.”
“If you notice, I'm bringing this as a suggestion.”
“I love you Evangeline, I really really do.”
“I love you too.”
“Can you tell me about life on ship? I mean, isn't it going to be so crowded that we're not going to have a moment together?”
“It's won't be shoulder to shoulder crowded, except during a storm, people would go nuts. But you can't leave doors open, in case of a leak, and there's nowhere public like this where you can have personal talks without someone over-hearing. So, if we're talking, we're in a bedroom with the door shut.”
“So there'd be opportunity for sin.”
“Multiple times a day, probably. They get people to think about all sorts of questions as homework for the orientation lessons, in couples if appropriate. Also, I don't know what the Celestia is like, but it was pretty warm on the ship coming here when the drive was on, in other words almost always.”
“How warm?”
“I'm not sure, but almost everyone was in t-shirts. And standard wear for the fitness room was swim-wear, which doesn't exactly help you keep your thoughts pure, does it?”
“No,” Chris agreed. “You think we should marry before we go, don't you?”
“I love you, Chris, and you're not the only one who needs to keep their thoughts pure. I think that if we don't marry now, we might well decide resisting temptation is getting too hard and we ought to on the ship.”
“Let's talk to Bob, then.”