The meeting confirmation came in an envelope and when Dan Sharp tore it open the first sheet he pulled out was a duplicate of a Telmara test result for Julius Ross: positive. Next, Sharp removed a formal-looking card that announced, You are invited to Logisen’s North American Headquarters where we will present our qualifications to act as supplier and provide mission specialists for the Mars colony infrastructure management.

Sharp fingered the card. Paper? Who sends out invitation cards? This was definitely not the way the other bidders had responded. Then he picked-up the Telmara print-out. So, Ross is Marked, thought Sharp. He knows we’re only taking Marked crew members this time. Does he want to go on the mission, himself? Sharp shook his head. Another rich CEO.

Two weeks later, Sharp and two other members of the review committee were met at the airport and directed to three different autonomous vehicles. It seemed a little strange to Sharp—even wasteful—for the three of them to take separate autons to the hotel. “It’s part of the demonstration,” their hostess explained. Sharp used the transit to answer messages. He noted nothing in particular during the trip; if this was part of the demonstration, it was pretty unimpressive. He wanted to ask his traveling companions if they had experienced a more informative trip, but when Sharp’s auton pulled up to the hotel he realized they were nowhere to be found. He asked at the front desk if they had checked-in before him—they weren’t even staying at the hotel.

The strangeness of their accommodations made for interesting dinner conversation when all five of the review committee gathered at a restaurant downtown. They were staying in five different hotels dotted around the city; a couple were in the heart of the city, two more were near the outskirts, and Sharp was out in a tony suburb.

“Boy, if they’re trying to impress us with their logistics management, they just tripped up at the starting gate,” Sharp said to himself after he bid good night to his associates and got into his waiting autonomous.

The next day continued to feel odd. He would have liked to meet with the committee over coffee to review Logisen’s RFI response, but instead ate alone. At the precise moment he stepped out the front of the hotel into a grey, overcast morning, an autonomous appeared from around the corner and pulled up to the entrance. A young, handsome, dark-skinned man wearing a white shirt and dark suit stepped out to greet Sharp.

“I’m Simon, Marked. I’m here to take you to Logisen.”

Sharp looked at him with surprise. “But… the auton’s not stupid, you know. It knows the way.”

Simon gave him a pearly-white smile. “You’re right, Mr. Sharp. This is a very intelligent auton. Mr. Ross sent me to provide ‘behind-the-scenes commentary’ about just how smart our Sentient Infrastructure and Transportation Systems are.”

Sharp got in, the door swung closed, and the auton glided down the driveway. Simon began, “At this precise moment, each of the committee members are also departing from their hotels. In our control center, the AI has already identified us and the other four vehicles as high priority travelers and has communicated plans to every autonomous, every stop light, and utility vehicle—even deliveries of goods to stores, warehouses, and factories—all are having their speed adjusted in small increments or being rerouted to avoid impeding our progress. You’ll note, Mr. Sharp, that we will never stop during this entire journey to Logisen. Our Sentient System has already determined that the five autons will deliver the committee members to Logisen at exactly the same time, even though each had to travel a different distance through different traffic densities.”

Sharp looked past the young narrator at the road ahead. At first, the auton gently wove its way through the traffic as it made its way out of the suburb toward the city, then began to increase speed as it reached the connector road.

“The AI tailored the driving strategy to be acceptable for the income level of the neighborhood we were traversing. Now that we have left the neighborhood, we’ll proceed at a quicker pace—we do have twice the distance to cover in the same time as the others.” Sharp glanced at the readout while the auton began to dash more aggressively between vehicles that were checkerboard-spaced on the road to allow for smooth diagonals from lane to lane. Despite needing to seem calm and in control, Sharp began to feel anxious. Sixty. Seventy. Eighty. The auton screamed down the highway toward the city while Sharp grew ever more tense. Finally, as the speedometer reached ninety, the vehicles in front of them pulled to the side lanes and momentarily cleared the center for Sharp’s auton to hurtle past.

Simon continued, calmly, “The actual disruption to the other vehicles in transit is minute, yet by directing them to open a pathway for us for just a few seconds, our Sentient Transport gives us a safe, high-speed path into Logisen.” Simon gestured for Sharp to look out the back as the vehicles that had parted in front of them now zippered back into the center lane, immediately behind them.

“Okay, now look forward again. In just a moment, you will see signs of our Sentient Infrastructure at work.”

Sharp looked ahead. The overhead roadway lighting began flashing in undulating waves that chased each other like runway lights toward the city skyline ahead. One-hundred miles per hour.

“Don’t miss this,” Simon noted, pointing forward at the forest of skyscrapers that loomed in the thunder storm greyness ahead. As Sharp looked-on, wondering what this next demonstration could be, the room lights went black inside all of the skyscrapers for a second, then re-lit in geometric patterns across all of the buildings until the city glowed once again. “Only the room lights went out,” Simon added. “The wall electricity and all the utilities to major building systems stayed on. For the people in each office, the room lights merely blinked out for a moment.”

“My god, that’s impressive.” Sharp exclaimed as the auton took an empty off-ramp onto a green-lighted city street and slowed to forty miles per hour.

“Everything we’ve done has made your experience smoother and more enjoyable without any notable sacrifice for others.”

Sharp could smell the nervous sweat wafting from his jacket.

“As we approach Logisen, notice that all the electronic advertising screens are showing Logisen ads. See that?” He pointed to a bus stop billboard and read, “Logisen: NASA’s Infrastructure Partner for the Future of Mars. Now I think that says it all.”

Sharp’s auton pulled onto the curving drive leading to the building entrance and the other four autons pulled up behind it. Simon leaned toward Sharp. “I hope we weren’t presuming. We felt that as NASA Administrator, you should arrive at the head of the group.”

Sharp thanked Simon and exited, just as the other members exited their autons. He wondered for a moment if Logisen’s AI hadn’t surreptitiously programed the review committee, as well. The building sensed them and the front doors opened like welcoming arms just as committee members walked toward them. The elevators were waiting to take them to the top floor, where they exited into a sparely-decorated room with a panoramic view over the city. Julius was there to meet them. He gestured out at the view.

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“Look at that—an organism made of concrete, stone, and steel. It breathes, blood flows, and all the little creatures that live off it go about their important duties. It is a fantastically complex creation, yet Logisen can control and coordinate every minute action within it. Each one of you came along a different route from different distances, and Logisen’s Sentient Transportation timed your arrival for exactly the same moment. The lighting, the waterflow, the electricity for every building along your routes were managed by our Sentient Infrastructure, as were the doors, elevators, lighting, and air conditioning in this building.”

Julius put an index finger to his temple and began to pace, as if thinking out loud. “I used to think that I had had a stroke of genius the day I discovered how to make systems truly sentient. But it was no stroke of genius,” he added, pointing his finger skyward. “I’ve since learned that my genes gave me an advantage over others—my Martian genes. My Martian variant is at the core of this company. No company understands infrastructure AI like Logisen. And with my Martian variant and those of our Marked team, we are the company who can best bring the City of Spirits back into operation.”

He gestured toward a door which automatically opened to let the five precision-crafted behind-the-scenes commentators into the room. “You each rode here with one of our proposed crew members. Get to know them; you can select who you want on the crew. We will underwrite their training and training in infrastructure for the rest of the crew. That is just my opening offer.” Then a wall slid open to reveal a side conference space and seven executives seated around a table. Julius nodded to them, then turned back to the committee members. “Your RFP stipulates that the next crew be Marked. I not only promise you Marked mission specialists, I guarantee you a dedicated division, 100% Marked, top-performers, to back them up.” He gestured toward the conference space with its large oval table. “Please sit down and get to know some of the most brilliant people on two planets. Ask them anything you please; they will have the answers.”

...

The day was crisp but sunny. Holiday Break was over and so was football season. A light frost still glistened on the sports fields surrounding the campus. Hundreds of teenagers climbed the steps to the main entrance of the school. Celeste followed a walkway skirting the gym, out toward the small hill overlooking the marshlands behind the school. She was very familiar with this route; during preparations over the holiday break, she had walked this path many times to meet with "the Elders," the name that had been given to the specially trained teachers they would bring in. On a low bluff overlooking the marshes sat a white steel and concrete building where the football team had taken special classes and trained for the season only months earlier. But today it took on a new role: The Woodley School. The school that would get her children into the best universities in the nation.

Celeste's plan had worked perfectly and their initial investment had cut loose the purse strings of other families in the district. There was no shortage of Marked families who were anxious to leverage their distinction to get special treatment for their children. If being Marked got them a higher quality instructor, then they were happy to finance a school for Marked children.

The main entrance to the school was a three-storey atrium arching over a combined cafeteria, student lounge, and multi-function space. It pulsed with the bustle of a couple hundred anxious and excited students. Other founders were there—families that were well known in the community and others new to the school from outside.

The School Master smiled at seeing Celeste and walked over to greet her. “Would you like to say a few words before me, Celeste?”

“Oh no. Today should be your day and the school's. I've spoken way too many times, already.”

A chime sounded and one of the Elders invited everyone into the auditorium for the official opening of school. There was a back-up at the doors as everyone shuffled in and found a seat. Then the school master took the stage and gazed across the assembly while people quieted down.

“What does it mean when you can trace your heritage back to an ancient civilization of space explorers?” The auditorium hissed with the whisperings of students. They liked the sound of that question. “Look around you. It seems like there are a lot of you, doesn't it? But really, you are a special minority. Not everyone can claim to have ancestors from another planet.”

Celeste felt a wave of pride wash over her.

“Somewhere in your genetic code are recordings of an ancestor who designed an interstellar rocket engine. And at a time when Earthlings were just beginning to farm and live in villages, your ancestors were wearing augmented reality headsets in an underground city on the planet Mars. Look around you. Every race and religion is in this room. But you, unlike others on this planet, share a great common bond. You are all brothers and sisters—of Mars.”

Celeste whispered to one of the other parents, "This is the most diverse school in this county. That should help us get grants."

“That bond should be the foundation that you build upon. You will hear about it over and over at this school, because the prejudices that have divided us in the past are the errors of Earth, not of Mars.”

Celeste looked around at the other parents in the room. We are all related, she thought. What a powerful idea.

“The Martian civilization, by all accounts from the Mars mission, was a peaceful and cohesive society, superior in many ways to the societies of Earth. Indeed, the great societies of Earth history may have arisen only because they were populated by our Martian ancestors. Our job, here, is not just to remind you of your heritage, but to build on that foundation to a degree worthy of an advanced civilization. Our goal is for you to study at a college level, perform like athletes, reason like philosophers, and lead like generals. It will not be easy for you—and some of you will go back to the standards of Earth. But those of you who succeed here will lead everywhere. Welcome to The Woodley School.”

There was enthusiastic applause from the parents, while the students squirmed nervously in their chairs. Celeste thought, My kids will do fine. They were born for this.

Others took the stage after the School Master, some with inspirational speeches, others with procedural information. Near the end, a man dressed in casual pants and crisp shirt with the chiseled look of a fighter jock stepped to the podium.

“Good morning. My name's Randy. I'm with a group called The Spirit Guides. We've partnered with The Woodley School and others to help with the emergence of this wonderful new movement. We are not part of the school but a lot of us in The Spirit Guides come from a background working with teenagers. We understand that there's more to becoming a strong adult than what can be taught in an average school day. You all need a place where you can build strong relationships and try out the new skills you've learned. You might say we're like a club or a sport in that way.

“We've all heard this morning about how much work you'll put into your education here.” He smiled out at the young faces and asked jokingly, “Are you sure you still want to do this?” They all laughed with nervous release. Randy nodded his head, slowly. “We're here to help you with tutoring and study groups so you can learn together. We also organize special activities to give you experiences to match your new world view. You want to learn what it's like to live on Mars? We have excursions where you'll meet people with first hand experience doing just that. We can help you experience what it's like to live beneath the surface. And you’ll have fun, too. You’ll make friends who will stay with you for the rest of your lives. Now, I’m done, here. But I’ll be at a booth just outside the entrance, if anyone has questions. Thank you.”

Randy took his place alongside the day’s other presenters—school administrators, Elders, athletic coaches. Like them, he projected confidence and stability. He had the calm strength, the confident posture, and the polished white smile that telegraphs to parents that they will be putting their children in good hands. By the time he got to the booth, outside, a group of parents was already waiting.