A.M. Herald Broadcast Transcript, recorded 3.21.44
Terry Hopkins of the Ascraeus Mons Herald:
Today marks the second terrestrial year since our last contact with Earth. From the accounts of refugees landed in the past six months, Earth was on the brink of nuclear war at the time of their spacecraft’s launch. From these testimonies, the silence of the communications systems, and the Commonwealth observatories’ photographs of Earth at present, it seemed almost certain that Earth entirely succumbed to nuclear war.
However, hope is not lost: an image was received by Allied communications facilities, and the signature on the image indicated its origin was the old UN moon base. No written or spoken message was attached. The image, dated 3.15.44, appeared to depict Earth, specifically North America, at night. Though sections of radiation glow were visible in known fallout zones, it appeared that sections of Southwestern, Intermountain Western, and Midwestern United States still harbored city lights. The resolution provided a close-up which revealed that the cities of Reno, Nevada; Wendover, Nevada; Provo, Utah; Park City, Utah; Boulder, Colorado; Tucson, Arizona; Idaho Falls, Idaho; Pocatello, Idaho; Sheyanne, Wyoming; and Kansas City, Missouri all appeared to be functioning normally, while other cities in those regions appeared to be at partial functionality. The question remains: if these cities are still functioning, why don’t they establish contact?
Dr. John Turon’s Journal, dated 3-21-‘44
They won’t establish contact, dear sirs of the Herald, because they can’t or won’t. Simple as that. News, indeed. Anyone who can think knows that the fact that they can contact us and they don’t isn’t any cause to start building hopes. And obviously if they can’t contact us, things can’t be much better. Earth is dead, or dying. We can’t save it any more than we can stop the Sun from burning.
All this foolishness about the Earth becoming habitable again. Mars is the new Earth. We should desist from our fantasies of returning home and focus on making this Red Planet into a world we can fill. Instead of wasting our valuable webcom and electricity on contacting Earth, direct it toward science. We can make this planet green before Earth ever will be again.
Elizabeth and I took a walk to the Valentine Ridges outside the colony earlier this evening. The rusty soil crumbled under our footsteps as we strode toward crater, the pale sun setting in the blackening sky. there was not a soul in sight; the silence and emptiness was Eden away from the squalid shanty-metropolis of Ascraeus Mons, teeming and seething on the mountainside like a hive of angry insects.
Elizabeth was born on Earth; I am a native of Mars, and so I was surprised when she expressed for the first time how light she felt here on Mars, how fast she was able to walk. She spoke of the crushing gravity of Earth, unbending and uncompromising. While I had always understood the science, I had never thought much of how much heavier we would be on Earth, how it must feel to be so heavy, and every movement be so painfully laborious. We take the ease of movement and lightness for granted here in the Colonies. I dwelt on this thought, and considered also how heavy the burden of endless war and unending police regulations must have fallen upon the shoulders of those on Earth. I could not think of my Timothy having to bear such fear and injustice. His children will not live in the poverty we live in, but at least he is free.
Tonight’s supper was wonderful: Manning secured for us actual chicken. It was delicious; Elizabeth still remembers how to cook chicken.
John Turon’s Journal, dated 4-12-’44
I have been making efforts to restrict to this journal my personal life and details pertaining to it, separate from my professional life and the scientific work I conduct. This change came about when I noticed my wife sitting alone last night, morose.
I asked her what was the matter; she told me that she had not spent any time with me alone since our voyage to the Valentine Ridges. I was shocked, certain I couldn’t be guilty of such neglect. She was of course correct. NEither had I spared much time to talk to her about much beyond my work.
My work is so crucial to the survival of the human race, I thought. Surely she can understand that. I asked her if she understood, and she said to me,
“Yes, I understand. But I feel at times I have no husband.”
“But of course you have!” I cried in horror.
“I know I have,” she replied, “But I feel I haven’t. Some evenings you don’t even come home. When you do come home, more often than not all I hear is about science and progress. What good is it if mankind lives while your family dies?” [saving mankind at the expense of humanity]
I was numb with horror. Yet a part of me knew all along. A part of me was conscious. A part I shoved aside and continued as I was comfortable.
I make good of my promises. I promised to her things would be different. I sent a petition to Manning requesting my hours be reduced, and I see the need to secure this diary alone for my family and personal records. I am in the process of separated entries relating to my work and filing them away in my logs in my office.
I love Elizabeth more than life itself. A life with food and water to spare and a house large enough for a family would be empty compared to a life of rationed sustenance and housing, and a family overflowing with love. I will not make my family martyrs for science.
Today Elizabeth was giving Tim his lesson, and he was of no mind to listen. He kept fidgeting, staring off into space, seemingly desperate to think of something other than mathematics. When she took him by the shoulder and insisted that he “behave,” he looked at her with stern eyes and answered, “I am have!” I fear I really have been missing out on moments like these. I could not be more at peace with keeping this promise to Elizabeth.
Log: Turon, John: 4.14.44
A team of Explorers returned from the brink of Les Valles Marineris with the most exciting news: visible ice at the bottom of the canyon section they could see. This was not visible from Earth during even the latest photograph from the New Hubble Telescope. This is just what we've been looking for! If there is ice visible on the surface of the canyon floor, the mining possibilities are incredible! The potted-forest project may yet be salvageable.
I hope I get to rant to Manning about this sufficiently before I go home, or Elizabeth will think I've broken our promise from my being unable to stop going on and on about this.
[seems very disjointed with the different sources]
Isaac Davis' Journal — 4.14.44
I woke to tears this morning as the full reality sank in: the exploration is over. No more beautiful vistas, red mountains and deserts stretching as far as I can see, no one to block the view or cry or smell bad. No one setting up flags, no one giving orders, no one at war with anyone. It was just me, Lareoux, and Ottenson, alone with the Martian frontier.
Ascraeus Mons is horrid. I walked down the street while crowds managed to escape the tangle of scrap metal houses, piled on top of one another like rusty card castles, cheering us like heroes. I smiled. I waved. I hated every second of it. The smell of humanity closed in so thick around us I could taste it. It had none of the metallic purity of the deserts, just the muggy mixture of rust and excrement. Soldiers greeted us at the end of the windy road, after we marched up the labrynth of a mountainside to the one building that could truly be called a house, the Governor's Mansion. There were Marines, dressed in the old Earth uniform. They even had an American flag flying over the mansion. Still has 50 stars. Funny. We wouldn't want to forget the 50 states that are probably glowing craters by now.
Inside, the Governor Himself met us. I shook his soft, clean hand. He'd taken a shower that day. In the reception room (made for photo shoots like ours), we had scuffed up the floor with red footprints from the dirt outside. Everything was just so white. Behind him were the flags of our allies. The Federal Republic of Smoldering Russia. The Commonwealth of What's Left of England. Maybe there's still some places in Brazil that haven't been nuked, but I still can't see why they bother using the flags.
Anyway, that was yesterday. The formalities are over. Now back to the drudge-work. We report to Professor Manning's later today for debriefing. I'm just glad I went into science before coming to Mars. I don't think I could work the ice mines.
[balance science logs with personal journal entries; conflict family with need to go on exploration; needs of family with needs of world]
[change perspectives to a New Darwinist terrorist cell. record their disgust with humanity and their plans]
[one of the last explorers who will be debriefed is secretly one of the New Darwinists]
Log: Explorer Debrief: Unit 33B
4.14.44
[Davis:] On Wednesday of last week, we — Max Laraoux, Phillip Ottenson, and Isaac Davis — achieved the goal of our excursion, which was to be the first men to personally examine the northern wall of the Greater Valles Marineris. At the point we discovered, our supply reserves were at just under 40%. A supply increase for future excursions will be needed, especially water.
[Ottenson:] The distance from the ridge to the canyon floor was approximately 6 kilometers, as detected on previous photographs and readings on the area. To our surprise, we found that since the satellite cameras went offline, the Valles has undergone significant changes. Near the center of the Valles, a fissure had opened, approximately 140 meters wide at its widest, and running along the canyon floor in either direction, beyond our instruments’ capacity to measure. The bottom could not be seen. Smaller fissures had opened up around it, and ice water was visible in them. Frost covered the area surrounding the fissures, suggesting the presence of great quantities of water.
[Ottenson:] Upon return by way of the Noctis Labyrinthus Colony [COMMONWEALTH], we learned of strange happenings in the area[the Noctis Labyrinthus Colony lies at the north exit of the labyrinthine system of canyons at the eastern end of the Valles Marineris]. Strange sounds echoing from the Valles, reports of missing livestock and things of that nature. The people were very spooked.
[Laroux]: The refrain was: missing livestock and broken fences might have been commonplace on earth, but what could possibly eat cattle on the lifeless Mars?
[Ottenson:] Though it was not part of our mission, we chose to investigate the situation. Noctis Labyrinthus is one of the sparsest colonies on Mars, and it didn’t take long to discover similarities and differences: about ten animals had disappeared, a terrible blow to a place like the Noctis colony. No three missing animals were of the same species. Two cattle, two sheep, two goats, two hens, two dogs. This looks suspicious, and we recommend further investigation.
[Laroux]: I second the notion. It appears that someone is deliberately taking two of each animal. Sort of like Noah and the Ark, except that there is nowhere for the animals to go.
[Officer Filmore:] Davis, I noticed you haven’t hardly spoken. Can you confirm what has been said.
[Davis:] Confirmed.
[Officer Filmore:] Can you shed any further details on the situation?
[Davis:] No.
[Officer Filmore:] Very well. Anything further?
[Davis:] No.
[Laroux:] No.
[Ottenson:] No, sir.
[//DEBRIEF SEQUENCE COMPLETE//]
Private Message to Ottenson and Laroux from Officer Filmore:
I did not wish to bring up any contention, but I noticed Isaac Davis was unresponsive and uncooperative. Colony Security informs me he has not left his apartment for more than ten minutes at a time, several times a day. Is there something wrong?
Private Message to Officer Filmore from Laroux:
Leave Davis alone.
Private Message to Officer Filmore from Ottenson:
Davis’ wife left him a year ago. A few months before we set out on the expedition, he lost the court case trying to prosecute her for adultery. He feels like adultery should be a punishable crime. He’s been having a really hard time with that. He was fine while he was away, but as soon as we got to Nocturnis he couldn’t talk about anything else. As soon as he mentioned this, Laroux instantly began backing him up. They talked on and on about injustice and laws and whatnot. If you ask my advice, keep an eye on him and Laroux.
Private Message to Ottenson from Officer Filmore
thanks for the heads-up. There’s been an awful lot of unrest in the colonies these days, and it’s gotten worse with time. We’ll be sure to keep a close watch on both of them.
Acreous Mons Herald:
Breaking News: Colonizers Make Landfall ! ! !
The sky lit up a few hours ago with twenty or more colonizer ships from Earth, all landing within a few hours of one another. They hail from all different areas of Earth, but mostly England and Europe. This marks the single largest number of colonizer ships, and hopes are high that they bring with them many supplies much-needed in these areas! We will update as more information is gathered.
Acreous Mons Herald:
Transmission from the New White House:
President Goldberg:
My fellow Americans: Hundreds of years ago, President Lincoln gave an address on the fields of Gettysburg, hoping to give some consolation to the broken hearts of the families of thousands of fallen soldiers. President [the devestation of WWII and the holocaust]. President Bush stood in the rubble of two fallen towers and the debris of over 3000 orphaned families, declaring a message of hope and energy for a better tomorrow. I would give everything I own to trade places with any of those men.
My message is not for the remnants of America alone, but for the whole human race, because this is their tragedy as well as ours: the Earth is no more. The venom of hatred, paranoia, and extremism accumulated and grew so potent as to extinguish everything and everyone together. What words can I offer on this occasion? What can I say that will bring back the untold billions of innocent lives? What metaphors or clever alliterations can I make that will remove the tiniest amount of radiation from the craters of what was once our home-earth, or bring even the smallest amount of hope for those we know nothing can bring back? For all the power the President is thought to hold, I am entirely impotent. I am nothing in the wake of such unimaginable hatred.
I will not try to comfort anyone. I will only say this: never again. We will never again raise arms against our brothers and sisters here on Mars. God has granted us a second chance; we are living on borrowed time on borrowed land. Many more colony ships like the one that brought us the news that has shaken us so will land in the next few months. Many more refugees will have fled the flames of the earth we spent billions of years, dollars, and worst of all, lives to destroy. When they arrive here, what will they see? Will they see broken remnants of the broken governments and the broken hatreds that killed the Earth? Will they will see a raggedy, dirty planet of refugees who cannot hope for more than survival?
Or will they see a people who has learned from the mistakes of the past? Will they see a new world rise from the ashes of the one they fled from? Will they arrive to see us murmuring, pointing distrusting fingers from one foreign colony to another, making scapegoats and bywords of those we choose to fear and hate, or will they see a people ready to forget past wars and fears, ready to write not a new page in the book of history, but to write a new history altogether?
The earth will be burning for thousands of years no matter what we choose to do, but we need not burn again. What they will see when they come down from the skies will be what we decide we will be. I alone am nothing, but together we are strong; together we can do anything. We have destroyed one world; it is my prayer that, beginning with the Remnant States of America, we will create a new one. [rewrite with much more resolve rather than suggestion]
nn: breakcast//ascreusmonsherald%hpptm\\WATCHYOURBACK
[BROADCASTING TO ALL COLONIES]
[TRANSMITIDO PARA TODAS AS COLONIAS]
[TRANSMITIENDO PARA TODAS LAS COLONIAS]
[diffusion à tous les COLONIES]
[Rundfunk bis allen Kolonien]
[广播到所有殖民地]
[すべての植民地へのブロードキャスト]
[μετάδοσης σε όλες τις αποικίες]
[вещания на всех колониях]
[البث لجميع المستعمرات]
[שידור כל המושבות]
[WHY BOTHER TRANSLATING INTO ANY OTHER LANGUAGES? YOU’VE KILLED OFF EVERYONE WHO SPOKE ANYTHING ELSE.]
Stirring words, Mr. President. For all your humility, you play the old Earth rhetoric very well. [POINTS TO BRING UP: FUTILIY OF EARTH-NESS, NEW ORDER, INFILTRATION, GO AHEAD AND TRY TO STOP US, WE’VE ALREADY WON: UNLESS YOU FIND A NEW SOURCE OF WATER, WE’LL THIRST YOU OUT AS THE MEDIEVAL KINGS STARVED OUT THEIR BESIEGED OPPONENTS]
Don’t bother trying to root us out. You may find that our moles are important people to you. You may find it hard to live without them.
Which brings us to our final point: it’s stupid to show one’s hand before one has made one’s move. We’ve made our move. We’ve already won. We’ve been smart enough to stay off your radar till now.
We leave it to the citizens of the nations to decide whether they wish to live or to die. Let’s take a leaf out of the American President’s book: What do you want to see in three hundred years? A Mars, cracked, bleeding, and dead like Earth, or a human race that is still alive? Forget strong. Think “alive.” Survival of the fittest. So what’ll it be, citizens?
You have about a month to choose the right side.
— Your Saviors, nn
John Turon’s Journal:
[OPEN WITH COMMENTS ABOUT THE NN TRANSMISSION]
With the incoming colony, we’ve been forced to open our doors, tight though they are, to these refugees from Earth. It’s not that I’m really bitter or anything, but the three of us barely had space as it was. An order was given that everyone who had sleeping space on their floors measure it out to see how many would fit. Apparently the government no longer has people to do that for them, so we hte citizens must oblige. We’re the census takers, the tax collectors and spenders, and pretty much everything but the police force, the politicians, and the explorers.
Well, we are the explorers. I prefer the term to the Earthen term “scientist.” It sounds so clinical. I suppose that they couldn’t use that term anyway — it’s too clean for a place like this. There are no white labs with sterilization rooms or anything like that around here.
Anyway, my small family signed the rosters, announcing our flat had the available space for exactly one person. No one will check up on that, especially since they can’t exactly punish me. I’m too crucial to their interests. It’s not that I don’t want to help, but I just know this isn’t the way I’m meant to help, and my family is strained as it is.
Tommy came with me to the lab and was ever so quiet and attentive as I showed him what I do every day. He was asking Elisabeth why I spend so long away from home. I hope I sated his curiosity, but I probably didn’t satisfy. I can see why. Tinkering with computers and instruments all day intermitent only by yelling at the different deparment heads probably didn’t seem like something he would do rather than stay at home with Elisabeth. Increasingly, I agree.
Officer Filmore to Ottenson:
Now, about Isaac Davis. We’ve done some investigative work and found that he didn’t report his household living space. He lives alone in a flat that we know has space for at least another family. We’re thinking of putting him up with Dr. Turon. We know Turon to be a trustworthy man. My question is, do you think he’s in a fit state to be living with them? He won’t pose any danger to their son?
Ottenson to Officer Filmore:
Thank you for your message. About Davis: I’m certain he would be safe in the Turon home, but I would advise against that. You’ve seen the recent threat from the NN? They’re recruiting, I just know it. Turon’s household is a good one, but it will remind Davis of what he lost. His wife gained custody of his two sons. [NOTE: A MAJORITY CHILDREN ARE BEING BORN MALE OWING TO THE LOWER TEMPERATURES OF MARS, ALSO IN KEEPING WITH THE MYTHOLOGY: MARS = MASCULINE, VENUS = FEMININE. SO FAR NOT A PROBLEM AS EARTH-REFUGEES ARE MOSTLY FEMALE]. From the way he was speaking back in the deserts, seeing a functional, happy family might just put him over the edge. Might unhinge him a bit. I’ll tell you what: I never married, and my flat is very small. Not enough to house the number of refugees we need.
Send him to live with me, and use his apartment to house two small families, or one large one. I’ll keep a close watch on him and send you reports however often you’d like.
Officer Filmore to Ottenson:
Thank you for your suggestion. But if he is as close to being unhinged as you say, I think taking away his agency in this case would be a poor choice indeed. He has connections in the our national exploration program, in several colonies. It would be a terrible blow to us to lose a man like him to the nn. We’ll give him a choice. If he’s as depressed as you say, he’ll leap at the opportunity to stay with you rather than staying alone or with the Turons.
President Golberg to [send to all primary contacts]:
How is our little witch-hunt going, gentlemen? Are we getting paranoid yet?
No? Well, you should be.
Pardon me for being so condescending, you really should be. I am your traitor.
No, I’m not President Golberg.
I am the nn. Part of it, anyway.
Your President’s security seems pretty shabby if you ask me. But don’t take my word for it: wait, do. I’m proving my point with every word I write.
Would you like to know how many of you have been bribed by me? Or how many of you have sold me secrets, passwords, and access to citizens’ ears?
Do you know how cheaply they were bought?
Now, to business: let me clarify exactly what I mean by “about a month.” I mean three days. I know, hardly fair. Well, that’s life. The strongest will survive, adapt, and continue. Nature selects the best to go on. We haven’t survived by playing fair, and we’re not about to start. I’m not even sure you deserve three days. I’m on the President’s personal comm unit. Someone was greedy enough for that. Who was it? The President’s brother? His personal security officer? His son? His wife? If the traitor is so close to him, how safe is he really? And how can you be sure?
Three days, gentlemen. Three days. Hunt down your traitors and save yourselves if you can. If not, it’s my game. It’s only fair.
***ASCREIUS MONS US SECURITY OFFICIAL CHANNEL***
***There has been a security breach***
***Implementing code Theta-Kappa-42-Prime***
John Turon lab log:
I unlocked the door to my lab today and heard someone moving around inside. I nervously peered inside — no one but the exploration teams have access to the labs, and I was always the first inside. I heard voices inside, two people conversing tensely. They hushed the instant I opened the door, and when I turned on the light, I could see no one inside. The room was empty. Frantically searching around, I found the freezer basement door unsealed, and beneath it, the grate was removed. They must have left through the service corridors.
[they were stealing equipment for security splicing; neither was Davis]
I reported it to our commanding officer, Daniel Filmore. He seemed very worried. Apparently one of the exporation committees has been infiltrated by the nn, and they’re trying to find out who. I told him I suspected Isaac Davis.
“Who in this place doesn’t suspect Davis?” he said. His eyes were red and the beginnings of shadows were deepening under them. He hadn’t slept for the past few nights, which explained why his agitation. “I think even Davis suspects Davis, the state he’s in. But I know it can’t be, because we’ve had him monitored. Hardly ever leaves his flat. No, it’s someone else, but now that we know they’re using the service tunnels, we’ll scour them for anyone who isn’t authorized to be there.”
Everyone is so tense today. I’m tense. Our nn friend tells us we have three days left. At least he was kind enough to give us a heads up at 0:01. I wonder if he actually has anything planned or if he just wants to watch everyone squirm.
I left work then and there. Our projects can’t continue under these conditions. They told everyone who was in the facility a the time so as to eliminate them as possibly traitors. I’m going home and I haven’t a mind to leave it. We haven’t been assigned a new family to house, oddly enough. No complaints here. I just want to make sure my family is safe.
include a section where Laroux? tells Officer Filmore he suspects that Isaac Davis and Ottenson are nn agents
ASCREUS MONS HERALD:
THIS IS AN OFFICIAL US GOVERNMENT ANNOUNCEMENT: IN ALL COLONIES, WE ARE IN HIGH ALERT. THERE IS AN IMMEDIATE THREAT.
REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY TO THE NEAREST POLICE DEPARTMENT OR MILITARY INSTALLMENT.
CURFEW MANDATE IS NOW IN FORCE. 9 PM TO 6 AM.
[other restrictions]
Ottenson to Officer Filmore:
I have information for you. I need a more secure channel.
Officer Filmore -=>###PROTOCOL 9777###<=- SECURITY LEVEL [OTTENSON, PHILLIP MCCLEAD] set to LEVEL 8.
Ottenson_secure
It’s the frenchman, Laroux. Him and Isaac. Last night they came to my flat, after curfew. They came in through some utility corridr
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
I knew it wouldn’t be long before they came beating on my door. never takes long for themt o sniff out a disloyal. Am I really disloyal? Doesn’t matter a bit. Shoot first and ask questions later. They’d probably love to have a suddenly empty apartment and a body to feed to the machines below. The machines might even like it, too. Having flesh and blood to feast on instead of the crap oil they’re filling them with.
So what did I do? I ran. Instinct. Stupid instinct. Doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Where would I run to? There’s nowhere to go. I wonder why I even take the time to record these things. Maybe somewhere deep down inside me, I hope someome else will pick up my fight where I left off. Maybe I hope my wife will hear this someday and spend weeks crying. Closest thing to revenge I can get, maybe. All I know is that I want my story to be recorded, even if there’s no one to read it. I don’t want to float away in the sand of the next dust storm.
The slums are even worse in the lower levels. The smell is like concentrated sweat, the roads barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Metal pipes, bars, and wires hang overhead and just out from the walls at random intervals like a canopy of leaves overhead. Back on Earth, we called places like these concrete jungles. At least I’m in the shade. The sun hasn’t shined down here in decades. Not since we started building on the mountain.
The people are all worried and shifty-eyed. Ever since that nn message, everyone’s been looking at his neighbor who he may have known for years and wondering if he should report him.
I hear police sirens. I need to move.
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
I can’t do this any longer! They found me. They sent in soldiers, not just police. The walkways were so thin and cramped, they could only enter single file, giving me the chance to escape. I took a side ramp, and it led down into the dark levels. No sunlight ever comes down here, and energy reserves are so low they are lit only by occasional dim utility lamps. Perfect place to hide. Not a bad place to get killed, either. I can barely see a thing. The palid glow of the lamps just showed a maze of pipes of all shapes and sizes, and the wires spread like spiderwebs everywhere (one good thing about Mars: no spiders).
They followed me, but I had found a labyrinth of walkways in the undercity. I was getting close to the water-and-oxygen seeding facilities. I could tell, because the tiny living spaces became more and more sparse. Patches of bare Mars were visible between the mess of cables, tubes, and pipes. I puased for a moment to catch my breath and wonder. It was freezing. I wondered that anyone could survive in the dark levels. I listened; I heard nothing. I was alone. I let out a breath and watched it expel like a plume of smoke from my mouth.
After the wave of relief washed over me, I laughed nervously. It was the first time I had been alone and not on the anyone’s errand. I looked around, and found I was indeed perfectly alone. Not a soul in sight. Just the checkered patterns of the walkway grate painted onto the tuby, pipey, wirey roof by the utility lights beneath my feet.
Eventually I came to the utility corridors deep underneath the city. They are a network of tunnels that go to every place the government might want someone to be able to appear at a moment’s notice. They are normally sealed up, and only those with security 5 access and above are given the key code.
I was amazed to see that my code still worked. I thought for certain they’d have changed the password by now.
My amazement found its explanation as the metal door lumbered open. There, at the intersection of two corridors some fifty yards away, stood Lareoux. He spun around at the sound of the door opening.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. I heard radio chatter echo down from somewhere above, and the dull pounding of footsteps on the metal grills. They were near, and they had heard the door open as well.
I ran inside and shut the door behind me. I knew it wouldn’t stop them, but every second might count. I followed Lareoux.
Lareoux said he’s following someone else he caught down here early this morning.
Lareoux is asking me to shut up now; we’re in the deepest levels of the utility corridors now, and apparently a section of security is being diverted to sweep the corridors. He says we have about five minutes before they get here, and we need to get out before then. I don’t know what his clever plan is, but he’s the first person so far to not look at me like might kill everyone.
Oh, he might be blushing. So modest, Lareoux. I really will shut up now.
Officer Filmore to Ottenson:
Ottenson, you were right. Security scanners identified Lareoux in the lower corridors after the infiltration was reported. Davis was last seen in the dark levels of the city and suspicious activity was reported close to the eastern corridor entrance. We suspect the two are working together.
You spent months in the company of both men, and as such I’m going to request you be brought into custody for questioning. It will be a summons, not an arrest. I just need to interview you personally. You’re one of the few of the field explorers I trust, and if your department has been breached, I’m certain you’ll have information that could help find the traitor before it’s too late.
SECURITY CHANNEL 4492//*KAPPA> Interview between Officer Filmore and [David?] Ottenson DATESTAMP TIME
Ottenson: They’re on to me. They know I’m ratting them out. They’ll be at my flat shortly. Please, get someone over here now. Your men found out they’re using the corridors to get around, but they haven’t shown up on any of the security footage. It’s Laroux: he knows the system. He helped design it. Sir, they can get access to my apartment through the corridors. Lareoux or one of the nn will be here any second now, I know it!
Filmore: We’re not taking any chances. We’re sending in the mechs.
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
Whoever it was left a trail easy enough for us to follow. Doors are left ajar; there are even muddy footprints. Unsurprisingly, the trail is taking us up, back into the explorers’ district. I just hope we can find them. I think things are messed up, but I’m not a traitor. If I can help catch our nn agent, that’ll at least clear my name.
Lareoux: Quiet! We’re just about here. Up this shaft.
Wait. Shaft 19? That leads to
The air is warmer here. There’s another opening nearby.
I’ll end this for now. Got to keep quiet.
Recording: Security Channel 95554###*****son
[Ottenson]: What was that? Wait ... who —?
[Lareoux]: It’s you!
[Ottenson:] What are you doing, Lareoux?
[Davis]: It was you all along! You’re the one they’re looking for!
[Ottenson:] Davis, Lareoux …
[Davis]: The trail leads right to you! You’ve been sneaking around the utility tunnels!
[Ottenson:] No, Davis. This conversation is being recorded —
[Davis]: Good! Maybe then they’ll see that I’m not the one they should be hunting!
[Ottenson:] — And the police will be here any second —
[Davis:] You’re the one they want, not me! See? You watching this, Filmore?
*beating on door*
[Lareoux:] The police are here!
[Davis:] Time’s up, Ottenson.
*door beaten in*
*POLICE COMM* ALL CITIZENS IN AREA WILL BE SUBJECT TO INTERROGATION. SUBMIT TO ARREST IMMEDIATELY.
[Davis:] What? Mechs?
*POLICE COMM* THREE HUMANS IDENTIFIED, SUBMISSION PENDING. HUMANS: COMPLIANCE WILL BE ENFORCED IN TEN SECONDS.
[Ottenson:] Hands and knees, heads down! Isn’t this line straight out of Firefly?
*POLICE COMM* 10
[Lareoux:] What the —
*POLICE COMM* 9
[Davis:] Why did they send the mechs?
*POLICE COMM* 8
[Ottenson:] They’re going to kill us! Get down!
…
…
*POLICE COMM* HUMAN COMPLIANCE ACCEPTED. RESTRAINT INITIATING.
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log [datestamp]:
They knew we were coming.
We saw the ladder access route had been modified. Very cleverly; no one would have noticed unless they were looking at the plans. Or unless they climbed up the ladder to find it led somewhere other than marked.
It didn’t lead to the emergency water reserves for the explorers’ flats [contradicts the whole shaft 19 section where it says it leads into his flat]. It led straight into Ottenson’s apartment.
We were such idiots. The nn mole is an expert! Why would he accidentally leave doors open if he can hack into the President’s personal comm unit? Why would he leave bits of his equipment along the way? Why would my access codes still work unless someone had programmed them to? He planted the trail for us, and led us right into his trap.
It was Ottenson all along.
We climbed up into his apartment and we found him there, defenseless, his eyes open in shock and his blonde little eyebrows arched in horror. What a perfect little thespian. I wonder if the security tapes picked up his gasp.
intro with mechs — try to make the reader afraid for him — more action/choice from him to balance how much happens to him.
Then came the mechs — the creeping, mechanical things our beloved Earthen government was too afraid to send us here without. When the steel door of the flat caved in a little after the first pound, it was obvious there was something wrong. Police don’t do that. Three more pounds, and the door came crashing down with a metallic shriek.
In came the mechs, their towering arachnoid bodies belching smoke (steam?) and their many hydraulic limbs hissing as they crawled inside. I’d never seen one before, only heard of them being used in extreme cases. They are so tall, their thin little legs must have folded over three or four times to fit inside. The red sensor lights glared down at us as they positioned themselves above us, their legs forming tight little cages around us.
Trapped little flies, we were. Ottenson probably wet himself for the cameras, the little leech.
Then came the worst: after we knelt down and bowed our heads in submission, as per demand, the prisoner capsules descended and wrapped their hundreds of wiry fingers around us, and then lifting us off the ground. They felt every part of us, caressing their metal fingertips along every part of us, feeling for something out of place. They plucked the contents from our pockets, and then blanketed us in the oxygen tanks, and drew us into compartments in their bulbous bodies. Double-layered glass shields hissed down to lock us inside their round bellies.
They left the flat, satisfied, and they stretch skyward to their full height, that the three captives might be seen by everyone. Don’t be our next meal, they seemed to say to the thousands of faces that ventured outside to stare, as they crept on their long, lithe legs toward the National Security headquarters.
At length the mechs docked in the dispatch bay. Their legs collapsed in a dozen different joints, crinkling beneath them and retreating into their dark, cavernous abodes. Ottenson’s lost no time in spitting him back out, leaving him a quivering pile on the ground. Police swarmed around him from the dark recesses of the security corridors and took him away, patting his back and saying things I couldn’t hear through the thick glass from where I watch.
They never did come to let us out. I’m sure they will, after their desired psychological toll has been taken on us. They need to let us squirm and be digested a bit longer. Loosen us up for questioning.
If I hadn’t had this diary mechanism embedded in my neck, I’d probably go insane. That’s probably what they want. That we go insane here in our dark little cells. There’s one thing the government did for us explorers. Wouldn’t want us to miss a single observation. We might lose progress.
Meanwhile, they take their sweet time while the hours tick away. What do they care? They think they’ve just stopped the clock.
Interrogation Transcript [datestamp]: Isaac Davis research interrogation techniques
[Officer Brandy] [interrogate]
[Davis] [reveals no information]
Uphsot: Davis has no info on the nn. Claims Ottenson to be the operative, but the incriminating evidence was found in Davis’ flat. He can’t prove it wasn’t there before he left.
[Chapter 3?]
Ascreus Mons Herald Breaking Line:
Transmission from the New White House:
[President Golberg:]
Citizens of the American Colonies:
We scored a great victory the other day. As many who live in the mountain colony of Ascreus Mons witnessed, the nn agent was captured along with his associate.
[DISPLAY PHOTOS: Max Lareoux, 43, nn agent; Isaac Davis, 26, associate]
They have been taken into custody and without a doubt, their capture will yield information that will help us root out and eliminate the threat of anarchy and terrorism that lurks beneath the surface of our our colonies.
The terrorist cell that calls itself the “nn” and led by Max Lareoux will shortly find itself exposed and its members without anyone to turn to. They will see that they are weak, and we are strong. As Max Lareoux gave us the ultimatum of violence of three days, we give an ultimatum of compassion to members of the “nn”: surrender within the next three days, and you will go unpunished, in exchange for information.
If there is anyone behind Lareoux who is turning the wheels of this organization, I tell you: just as your lieutenant before you, you will be found out and brought to justice. Abandon your scheme while you still have your anonymity to protect you. You cannot win against the people of America, when we come together and become strong.
Good night to America, and good night to all of mankind.
[//end transmission]
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
Good. I don’t think I could stomach another trial. What’s the point of giving me one, anyway?
My mech is my home now. They didn’t bother finding me a cell. They take me out every three hours and give me food, let me pee, and so on. I’ve seen nothing but the shiny black floor panels below me for the past thirty hours. They’ve interrogated me twice. The first time, the cameras were on. They just put me under a bight light, like in the old crime flicks, ask me questions, slap me around, yell at me when I don’t have the answers — nothing extraordinary. I gave them nothing, because I have nothing to give them. They sent the recording to the security cable in their report, I’m sure, heartily assuring the CIA that I’ll crack any moment. They sent me back to my cell, and watched me.
I found out why it was they were watching me.
Although the capsule is about as comfortable as being inside an old fridge with air pumped inside, my eyes grew heavy and started drooping. At last, I thought: an escape from the belly of the beast.
No. As soon as I shut my eyes and started to breathe in a relaxed manner, the capsule regurgitated me onto the freezing, sleek floor, and hands clenched my arms. They dragged me, so groggy I could barely protest, I had no idea where I was, but it must have been deep under the city. Flood lights lined the edges of the walls and poked out of what migth have been windows high above my head. The only shadows in the room were beneath my feet. I squeezed my eyes shut, and they still hurt from the red light that leaked in through their lids.
There came a strange hissing noise from beneath my feet, and a sickly sweet smell filled my nostrils. Whatever gas enveloped me rendered me entirely immobile. I flopped heavily to the floor like a corpse.
And I felt wonderful. I felt like the day I was married. I felt like Christmas. Euphoria bubbled up from inside me, and I giggled in spite of myself. The sickly smell, I realized, wasn’t sickly at all: it was rose incense, like the kind Alice and I brought from Earth. The bright lights were nothing more than the sun, high above. I wasn’t moving not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t have to; I was relaxed, not numb. I was on Earth, on a Floridian beach. My lips drew up in a wide grin: I was in paradise.
I opened my eyes and saw the electrifying blue sky above. My face prickled, tingled playfully. I lifted my hand to my face and brushed away course ocean sand. A young woman stood above me, with long black hair than flowed down and became lost in her black dress, which cascaded to the beach and ebbed into the waves of the ocean. She smiled with teeth that gleamed and cocked a coy eyebrow at me. Her shimmering teeth parted, and she spoke in a distant voice,
“Who are the other nn agents?”
“What?” I laughed.
“Where are the rest of them?”
My cheeks began to hurt, I was smiling so widely. Oh, I knew I could impress this girl. I was going to try, anyway.
“If there are any more, they’ll be hiding in the exploration district.”
She let out soft peals of laughter, and knelt down in front of me.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Because that’s where all the signs led me.” I didn’t quite understand the words coming out of my mouth, but they sounded pretty. “Because that’s where Ottenson was.”
“Phillip Ottenson?” She asked. “Why were you trying to find him?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “Kill him, if it would solve anyone’s problems. Mostly I just wanted to clear my own name.”
“Clear it of what?”
“Its bad reputation, of course!” I laughed, “what else do you clear your own name of?”
“A bad reputation of what?”
“Oh, hadn’t you heard?” I said, “I’m a dangerous nn agent.”
“So where are the other dangerous nn agents?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“IT IS NOT.”
I was in the blinding white room, and my eyes were wide open. I shrieked and squeezed them shut, but my arms refused to fling themselves over my eyes and hide them from the light. The rest of my body was completely irresponsive.
There was a man kneeling by my side, a gas mask covering his face, giving it an alien look.
“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN INVOLVED WITH THE NN?”
Came the mechanized voice from behind the gas mask.
I guess it must have been clear to them that the drugs had worn off, because I heard another great hissing sound, and I fell again onto the beach, and the woman was kneeling there again.
“How long have you been involved with the nn?” She asked.
Back and forth I went, from the beach to the deathly-lit room, until they brought out the knives, and the scalpels, and the needles. I screamed until I had no more voice that I knew nothing, nothing, nothing. Still they cut, and poked, and tore.
They must have gotten tired of not getting information from me, except for one crucial bit: they had it from my own lips that I am an nn agent. Now it’s official. It’s on the record, and it’ll hold up in any court, if they were to give me a trial.
Which I doubt they will. Now that I’m no longer of any use to them, I’m sure to executed as an enemy of the state.
Just when I was starting to get charming again. Maybe some law student in the future, if we ever get back to building law schools and having a proper legal system and such, will listen to these and decide I was alright after all.
Make him more concerned with himself, so others can be concerned with him
Urgent Report to Federal Government of the United States
from Federal Exploration Department
John M. Turon, chief explorer
Phillip Ottenson, terraform specialist
Joseph Kissinger, planning specialist
Michael Quast, planning specialist
Kimberly Quast, planning specialist
Mr President, Mr Vice President, Secretary of Defense, Secretary of Terraforming and Agriculture, and the rest of the Cabinet:
The situation of overpopulation in the colonies has become dire. Last month, Ascreus Mons produced enough food for only 89% its population and shelter for less than 70%. The water-seeding tribunes and drills yield less water for crops and drinking every month.
It is estimated that the recent influx of refugees from Earth will add, if distributed to every world power equally, ten thousand new citizens per colony per country.
The refugees have not been settled equally to the different powers. Ascreus Mons took in 24,283 new citizens, and other American and Commonwealth colonies took in nearly as many. Other Formerly European nations took in less than 20,000 combined, and those who landed near the former Chinese and North Korean national headquarters were not permitted to enter the existing settlements. All known refugees landed near established colonies. Five known colonizing/terraforming vessels landed with the refugees, but their proximity to our cities will strain even more the water-seeding yield, as the sparse water content of the ground beneath us would have to serve two or more colonies rather than one. Without the further drilling facilities for water, much the same effect will happen, as the population increase will strain the current water supply and production equally.
This is affecting even the oxygen levels, which are dropping as much as 2% per week. and if nothing is done, it is expected that more than half the population of this colony alone will starve in the next two months.
Sirs and Madames of the Cabinet, we are facing a crisis beyond anything the so-called “nn” could create: the extermination of roughly half the life on Mars.
We are left with two options, which we will spell out for you:
The first is decide who lives and who dies. We take control of the situation and plan the future of humanity based on its current population, and decide which peoples, traits, etc., we will perpetuate into our future, and let the rest die. We do not recommend this course of action.
The second and much preferable option is to send the excess population, with a team of explorers and a military escort, to settle and drill the newly-discovered water-rich fissure deep in the Valles Marineris.
Notwithstanding the treachery of Max Lareoux and Isaac Davis, it was on their recent expedition spearheaded by our own Phillip Ottenson that a new fissure filled with visible water crystal formations has opened in the Coprates chasm system in the middle quadrant of the Valles Marineris.
Owing to the size of the Valle Marineris — 9 km long and 6-8 km deep — and the fissure taking up a good portion of this size in the central areas of the Valles, the potential for water drilling at this location is limitless. Nowhere on Mars since the Poles retreated and melted has visible water been seen. Tests from the soil nearby this fissure indicated that the soil was composed of at least 30% water — comparable to swampland on Earth. The fissure stretched for many miles, disappearing from the exploration team’s scanners Eastward. The total water content is estimated to be at least that of all of the Old American Great Lakes and the Amazon River combined.
Were the United Colonies of America to control and harvest this source of water, it would become the leading provider of water to the entire planet. This, ladies and gentlemen of the board, is America’s chance to become again the dominant human powr and take her position as the leader of the free world.
Our proposed solution is to send a colonization mission to the Valles Marineris, armed with water harvesting and oxygen seeding facilities, a powerful military escort, and the entire refugee population in the American colonies. We do not know if the other nations have discovered the fissure at the Valles, so compounding the potential population catastrophe is political expediency. We have already prepared a preliminary team to lead this expedition if this is the course decided upon.
This report should have reached this board earlier, but owing to recent events, we hope we will be forgiven for the tardiness of this report.
[///end report]
[New White House message to FED]
It is clear your proposal is the best course of action.
Our only concern would be that of dispatching a significant military escort when the security in the Colonies seems so shaken. We have captured the nn leader, but we fear that there may be others ready to mobilize, and that they will be emboldened if they see military presence in the colonies noticeably diminished.
Secondly, if our colonization is sent heavily armed, others are bound to notice. The Noctis Labyrinthis Colony, belonging to the UK Commonwealth, will likely be the access point into the Valles Marineris. They may suspect something if they see what looks like an American Exodus, and they are nearer to the fissure. If they discover it before we arrive, they will likely dispute our claim on the land.
Executive authorization is granted, but the expedition will be granted only one division of marines and three mechs.
Mobilize as soon as possible; no later than the day after tomorrow.
section: conversion of Isaac Davis pt. 1
[#$%$#$SSSSSSmessage to Mech 23a — RECORDING DEVICE DETECTED]
[SENT @ UNKNOWN RECORDING DEVICE] try to, in the re-write, maintain Ottenson’s character in these italics throughout the conversation
How ya doin’, Davis? Cozy inside your little mobile prison? Had enough fun talking to yourself, or should I leave you there till some judge decides to kill you?
[Isaac Davis’ Personal Log]
Who is this?? How are you contacting me?
It’s a friend. How’s good old Justice serving you now? Easy over?
Who are you???
Well, either you’ve really cracked and your fun journal-keeping degenerated into voices in your head … or I’m some incredibly bright guy who’s gonna bust you out.
I really am going insane, aren’t I? Every condemned man dreams he escapes somehow. I must be having my grand delusion of rescue.
Let me simplify for you: I hacked into your mech prison. I can do things like that. I can hack into anything. I can go anywhere.
There’s a famous short story about this. Some Confederate guy dreams he miraculously survives in the split second before his neck breaks in a Union noose. I must be about to die.
You’re depressing, you know that? Well, put this to the test: you’ll know I’m just a voice in your head — well, your neck — if you die. Then it won’t make any difference. You’ll die happy. Or you really will be saved, which you will be, day after tomorrow. Either way, you can either live happy for a few days or many years, or live miserably for a few days. Which sounds better?
I’m getting executed that day. Cutting it melodramatically close, aren’t you?
You’re gonna break my heart. You seem to need some convincing.
[Isaac Davis’ personal log — ten minutes later — try to make this part of the same log entry as the above as the dialogue will only work if it’s an exact record, not a retelling]
It really is Ottenson. It really was him. I wasn’t dreaming at all. There he was, just a few minutes ago. He walked out onto that black tile floor in front of me. Out in the open. Looked up at me, and said,
“Good evening, Davis.”
“What’s this all about?” I shot.
“It’s about you,” he said. “You are in one heck of a predicament, and you don’t deserve to be.”
“I’m going to die,” I explained, as he seemed to be ignoring this point. “You’re the one who landed me here.”
“I had to land you here.” He looked me straight in the eye. He barely blinked. Just looked me right in the eye, his round little face even more palid than normal in the light of his LED lantern. “You gave me no choice, you and Lareoux. If you’d been more patient, I could have gotten you somewhere safe.”
“What are you talking about?” I shot. He wasn’t making any sense.
“My associate, Lareoux.” He said calmly. “They knew that my flat was the source of certain nn activity, and they sent the mechs in to deal with us. I was going to escape, go into hiding. Then you two came up that shaft.”
“So we took the blame?”
“Those five minutes landed the blame on you. They were coming anyway. If only Lareoux hadn’t been so stupid! He always did like to play the hero.”
“Hero? What—”
“He was trying to warn me. He was trying to rescue me from the police. In the end, he sacrificed himself to save the two of us. Only they didn’t buy your story.”
“Are you trying to tell me he was leading me to rescue you from the police? The same police that captured us?”
“You’ll notice he’s locked up and I’m free. I’m the one they were looking for. The evidence pointed straight at either you two or at me. On his testimony, I’m free; I suppose he did rescue me, in the end. We had a pact, he and I: we would do anything to protect the mission, to protect the nn and save this people from themselves.”
“What made you do it? Until the day we were arrested, I wouldn’t have ever suspected either you or Lareoux.”
“I plan on surviving,” he said. “I’m going to live. I can’t do it alone. Humanity is currently in flames. You know why it is? Because the way we we’ve been doing things worked back when the worst thing we could do was to siege the bad guy’s castle and pillage his countryside. Before we could actually kill off millions of people in a few years, like Hitler did, or before we could kill billions of people in a few hours, like we did two years back on earth.
Things are different now, and our system of fuedalism and politics simply doesn’t work anymore. We saw what happened when you apply ideas from greeks who died three-thousand years ago to govern twenty billion people who hate each other and have nukes.
Some truths still hold, though, Davis. Ancient chinese proverb: it is the definition of insanity to do the same thing twice and expect a different result.
Nature gave us a second chance with the colonization of Mars. You saw for yourself how fair and practical the old ways are. Justice, Davis. How does it work these days? do the old laws make any sense? Why should a woman who violated a legally binding contract — like, say, marriage — not be guilty of any crime? How is it acceptable and legal for two people to promise faithfulness to each other and then go off and have sex with whomever they like? Does that make sense to you?
We’d have to be pretty thick to use the old ways after they’ve proven to lead to disaster. Especially when this is our last chance as a species to survive.
We all have our reasons for going against the grain. The nn is a place for people like us — people who don’t just wait for nature to decide our fate. we decide it first. We think in new ways. And Davis, I’ve seen in you someone who is going to make it. I’d hate to see you burn up in the fire that’s going to come down on these idiots.
I’ve got a proposal for you. I can save you. Thanks to Lareoux’s sacrifice, I am still invisible. Defenses are down. The threat we made three days ago will still be carried out, and no one will realize it until after the damage has been done: we are going to the Valles Marineris. We’ll start a new life there. The government is sending us with money, soldiers, equipment, water-drills, and a colonizer, to harvest the water-filled fissure we discovered deep in the Valles.
We have other plans for the expedition. Day after tomorrow, Davis, and this world turns upside down.
We were promised three mechs. I can arrange yours to be one of them. You’ll be smuggled into the expedition, and you know? I get a fuzzy feeling knowing that it was the government that wanted you dead that wrapped you up in your getaway vehicle.
And the best part, Davis? I can get you revenge. I can bring your wife and the moron she’s with along on this expedition. We can execute real justice. You can see the past set right.
Of course, evolution is nothing so simple as intrigue and force. You need to choose for yourself. If you want to stay behind, I won’t force you to come along. I mean, deliberately betraying the “civilized world” and joining the nn? Big decision. Then again, so is dying. Let me know in the next 24 hours what your choice will be. Just say my name into the microphone embedded into your neck, if you can spare a minute from ranting at yourself.
I’ll be listening.
[Davis’ personal log]
I don’t know what to believe anymore. There’s nothing to anchor me into reality. I have nothing to assure me that I’m not insane except for this portable journal in my neck. As long as I can talk and play back my old conversations, I know that it really happened. Either that or I have an uncanny memory.
What kind of a moron does Ottenson think I am? I don’t believe half of what he’s talking about. I’m not an undergrad who gets excited at ideas of world conquest. He’s not going to win me over to his anarchy game like that.
Deal is, he doesn’t need to. He’s the only one who’s taking me seriously at this point. I know I’m going to die if I don’t go with him. I might die if I take his offer, but it’s the only option I have where my death isn’t a certainty.
Why am I still debating this? I don’t want to die. What point would that prove?
I take it you’re listening to all this, Phillip Ottenson. Get me out of here.
…
…
…
Just be patient. I’ll crack you out of there if you don’t crack yourself up first.
Terry Hopkins of the Ascraeus Mons Herald:
Today marks the second terrestrial year since our last contact with Earth. From the accounts of refugees landed in the past six months, Earth was on the brink of nuclear war at the time of their spacecraft’s launch. From these testimonies, the silence of the communications systems, and the Commonwealth observatories’ photographs of Earth at present, it seemed almost certain that Earth entirely succumbed to nuclear war.
However, hope is not lost: an image was received by Allied communications facilities, and the signature on the image indicated its origin was the old UN moon base. No written or spoken message was attached. The image, dated 3.15.44, appeared to depict Earth, specifically North America, at night. Though sections of radiation glow were visible in known fallout zones, it appeared that sections of Southwestern, Intermountain Western, and Midwestern United States still harbored city lights. The resolution provided a close-up which revealed that the cities of Reno, Nevada; Wendover, Nevada; Provo, Utah; Park City, Utah; Boulder, Colorado; Tucson, Arizona; Idaho Falls, Idaho; Pocatello, Idaho; Sheyanne, Wyoming; and Kansas City, Missouri all appeared to be functioning normally, while other cities in those regions appeared to be at partial functionality. The question remains: if these cities are still functioning, why don’t they establish contact?
Dr. John Turon’s Journal, dated 3-21-‘44
They won’t establish contact, dear sirs of the Herald, because they can’t or won’t. Simple as that. News, indeed. Anyone who can think knows that the fact that they can contact us and they don’t isn’t any cause to start building hopes. And obviously if they can’t contact us, things can’t be much better. Earth is dead, or dying. We can’t save it any more than we can stop the Sun from burning.
All this foolishness about the Earth becoming habitable again. Mars is the new Earth. We should desist from our fantasies of returning home and focus on making this Red Planet into a world we can fill. Instead of wasting our valuable webcom and electricity on contacting Earth, direct it toward science. We can make this planet green before Earth ever will be again.
Elizabeth and I took a walk to the Valentine Ridges outside the colony earlier this evening. The rusty soil crumbled under our footsteps as we strode toward crater, the pale sun setting in the blackening sky. there was not a soul in sight; the silence and emptiness was Eden away from the squalid shanty-metropolis of Ascraeus Mons, teeming and seething on the mountainside like a hive of angry insects.
Elizabeth was born on Earth; I am a native of Mars, and so I was surprised when she expressed for the first time how light she felt here on Mars, how fast she was able to walk. She spoke of the crushing gravity of Earth, unbending and uncompromising. While I had always understood the science, I had never thought much of how much heavier we would be on Earth, how it must feel to be so heavy, and every movement be so painfully laborious. We take the ease of movement and lightness for granted here in the Colonies. I dwelt on this thought, and considered also how heavy the burden of endless war and unending police regulations must have fallen upon the shoulders of those on Earth. I could not think of my Timothy having to bear such fear and injustice. His children will not live in the poverty we live in, but at least he is free.
Tonight’s supper was wonderful: Manning secured for us actual chicken. It was delicious; Elizabeth still remembers how to cook chicken.
John Turon’s Journal, dated 4-12-’44
I have been making efforts to restrict to this journal my personal life and details pertaining to it, separate from my professional life and the scientific work I conduct. This change came about when I noticed my wife sitting alone last night, morose.
I asked her what was the matter; she told me that she had not spent any time with me alone since our voyage to the Valentine Ridges. I was shocked, certain I couldn’t be guilty of such neglect. She was of course correct. NEither had I spared much time to talk to her about much beyond my work.
My work is so crucial to the survival of the human race, I thought. Surely she can understand that. I asked her if she understood, and she said to me,
“Yes, I understand. But I feel at times I have no husband.”
“But of course you have!” I cried in horror.
“I know I have,” she replied, “But I feel I haven’t. Some evenings you don’t even come home. When you do come home, more often than not all I hear is about science and progress. What good is it if mankind lives while your family dies?” [saving mankind at the expense of humanity]
I was numb with horror. Yet a part of me knew all along. A part of me was conscious. A part I shoved aside and continued as I was comfortable.
I make good of my promises. I promised to her things would be different. I sent a petition to Manning requesting my hours be reduced, and I see the need to secure this diary alone for my family and personal records. I am in the process of separated entries relating to my work and filing them away in my logs in my office.
I love Elizabeth more than life itself. A life with food and water to spare and a house large enough for a family would be empty compared to a life of rationed sustenance and housing, and a family overflowing with love. I will not make my family martyrs for science.
Today Elizabeth was giving Tim his lesson, and he was of no mind to listen. He kept fidgeting, staring off into space, seemingly desperate to think of something other than mathematics. When she took him by the shoulder and insisted that he “behave,” he looked at her with stern eyes and answered, “I am have!” I fear I really have been missing out on moments like these. I could not be more at peace with keeping this promise to Elizabeth.
Log: Turon, John: 4.14.44
A team of Explorers returned from the brink of Les Valles Marineris with the most exciting news: visible ice at the bottom of the canyon section they could see. This was not visible from Earth during even the latest photograph from the New Hubble Telescope. This is just what we've been looking for! If there is ice visible on the surface of the canyon floor, the mining possibilities are incredible! The potted-forest project may yet be salvageable.
I hope I get to rant to Manning about this sufficiently before I go home, or Elizabeth will think I've broken our promise from my being unable to stop going on and on about this.
[seems very disjointed with the different sources]
Isaac Davis' Journal — 4.14.44
I woke to tears this morning as the full reality sank in: the exploration is over. No more beautiful vistas, red mountains and deserts stretching as far as I can see, no one to block the view or cry or smell bad. No one setting up flags, no one giving orders, no one at war with anyone. It was just me, Lareoux, and Ottenson, alone with the Martian frontier.
Ascraeus Mons is horrid. I walked down the street while crowds managed to escape the tangle of scrap metal houses, piled on top of one another like rusty card castles, cheering us like heroes. I smiled. I waved. I hated every second of it. The smell of humanity closed in so thick around us I could taste it. It had none of the metallic purity of the deserts, just the muggy mixture of rust and excrement. Soldiers greeted us at the end of the windy road, after we marched up the labrynth of a mountainside to the one building that could truly be called a house, the Governor's Mansion. There were Marines, dressed in the old Earth uniform. They even had an American flag flying over the mansion. Still has 50 stars. Funny. We wouldn't want to forget the 50 states that are probably glowing craters by now.
Inside, the Governor Himself met us. I shook his soft, clean hand. He'd taken a shower that day. In the reception room (made for photo shoots like ours), we had scuffed up the floor with red footprints from the dirt outside. Everything was just so white. Behind him were the flags of our allies. The Federal Republic of Smoldering Russia. The Commonwealth of What's Left of England. Maybe there's still some places in Brazil that haven't been nuked, but I still can't see why they bother using the flags.
Anyway, that was yesterday. The formalities are over. Now back to the drudge-work. We report to Professor Manning's later today for debriefing. I'm just glad I went into science before coming to Mars. I don't think I could work the ice mines.
[balance science logs with personal journal entries; conflict family with need to go on exploration; needs of family with needs of world]
[change perspectives to a New Darwinist terrorist cell. record their disgust with humanity and their plans]
[one of the last explorers who will be debriefed is secretly one of the New Darwinists]
Log: Explorer Debrief: Unit 33B
4.14.44
[Davis:] On Wednesday of last week, we — Max Laraoux, Phillip Ottenson, and Isaac Davis — achieved the goal of our excursion, which was to be the first men to personally examine the northern wall of the Greater Valles Marineris. At the point we discovered, our supply reserves were at just under 40%. A supply increase for future excursions will be needed, especially water.
[Ottenson:] The distance from the ridge to the canyon floor was approximately 6 kilometers, as detected on previous photographs and readings on the area. To our surprise, we found that since the satellite cameras went offline, the Valles has undergone significant changes. Near the center of the Valles, a fissure had opened, approximately 140 meters wide at its widest, and running along the canyon floor in either direction, beyond our instruments’ capacity to measure. The bottom could not be seen. Smaller fissures had opened up around it, and ice water was visible in them. Frost covered the area surrounding the fissures, suggesting the presence of great quantities of water.
[Ottenson:] Upon return by way of the Noctis Labyrinthus Colony [COMMONWEALTH], we learned of strange happenings in the area[the Noctis Labyrinthus Colony lies at the north exit of the labyrinthine system of canyons at the eastern end of the Valles Marineris]. Strange sounds echoing from the Valles, reports of missing livestock and things of that nature. The people were very spooked.
[Laroux]: The refrain was: missing livestock and broken fences might have been commonplace on earth, but what could possibly eat cattle on the lifeless Mars?
[Ottenson:] Though it was not part of our mission, we chose to investigate the situation. Noctis Labyrinthus is one of the sparsest colonies on Mars, and it didn’t take long to discover similarities and differences: about ten animals had disappeared, a terrible blow to a place like the Noctis colony. No three missing animals were of the same species. Two cattle, two sheep, two goats, two hens, two dogs. This looks suspicious, and we recommend further investigation.
[Laroux]: I second the notion. It appears that someone is deliberately taking two of each animal. Sort of like Noah and the Ark, except that there is nowhere for the animals to go.
[Officer Filmore:] Davis, I noticed you haven’t hardly spoken. Can you confirm what has been said.
[Davis:] Confirmed.
[Officer Filmore:] Can you shed any further details on the situation?
[Davis:] No.
[Officer Filmore:] Very well. Anything further?
[Davis:] No.
[Laroux:] No.
[Ottenson:] No, sir.
[//DEBRIEF SEQUENCE COMPLETE//]
Private Message to Ottenson and Laroux from Officer Filmore:
I did not wish to bring up any contention, but I noticed Isaac Davis was unresponsive and uncooperative. Colony Security informs me he has not left his apartment for more than ten minutes at a time, several times a day. Is there something wrong?
Private Message to Officer Filmore from Laroux:
Leave Davis alone.
Private Message to Officer Filmore from Ottenson:
Davis’ wife left him a year ago. A few months before we set out on the expedition, he lost the court case trying to prosecute her for adultery. He feels like adultery should be a punishable crime. He’s been having a really hard time with that. He was fine while he was away, but as soon as we got to Nocturnis he couldn’t talk about anything else. As soon as he mentioned this, Laroux instantly began backing him up. They talked on and on about injustice and laws and whatnot. If you ask my advice, keep an eye on him and Laroux.
Private Message to Ottenson from Officer Filmore
thanks for the heads-up. There’s been an awful lot of unrest in the colonies these days, and it’s gotten worse with time. We’ll be sure to keep a close watch on both of them.
Acreous Mons Herald:
Breaking News: Colonizers Make Landfall ! ! !
The sky lit up a few hours ago with twenty or more colonizer ships from Earth, all landing within a few hours of one another. They hail from all different areas of Earth, but mostly England and Europe. This marks the single largest number of colonizer ships, and hopes are high that they bring with them many supplies much-needed in these areas! We will update as more information is gathered.
Acreous Mons Herald:
Transmission from the New White House:
President Goldberg:
My fellow Americans: Hundreds of years ago, President Lincoln gave an address on the fields of Gettysburg, hoping to give some consolation to the broken hearts of the families of thousands of fallen soldiers. President [the devestation of WWII and the holocaust]. President Bush stood in the rubble of two fallen towers and the debris of over 3000 orphaned families, declaring a message of hope and energy for a better tomorrow. I would give everything I own to trade places with any of those men.
My message is not for the remnants of America alone, but for the whole human race, because this is their tragedy as well as ours: the Earth is no more. The venom of hatred, paranoia, and extremism accumulated and grew so potent as to extinguish everything and everyone together. What words can I offer on this occasion? What can I say that will bring back the untold billions of innocent lives? What metaphors or clever alliterations can I make that will remove the tiniest amount of radiation from the craters of what was once our home-earth, or bring even the smallest amount of hope for those we know nothing can bring back? For all the power the President is thought to hold, I am entirely impotent. I am nothing in the wake of such unimaginable hatred.
I will not try to comfort anyone. I will only say this: never again. We will never again raise arms against our brothers and sisters here on Mars. God has granted us a second chance; we are living on borrowed time on borrowed land. Many more colony ships like the one that brought us the news that has shaken us so will land in the next few months. Many more refugees will have fled the flames of the earth we spent billions of years, dollars, and worst of all, lives to destroy. When they arrive here, what will they see? Will they see broken remnants of the broken governments and the broken hatreds that killed the Earth? Will they will see a raggedy, dirty planet of refugees who cannot hope for more than survival?
Or will they see a people who has learned from the mistakes of the past? Will they see a new world rise from the ashes of the one they fled from? Will they arrive to see us murmuring, pointing distrusting fingers from one foreign colony to another, making scapegoats and bywords of those we choose to fear and hate, or will they see a people ready to forget past wars and fears, ready to write not a new page in the book of history, but to write a new history altogether?
The earth will be burning for thousands of years no matter what we choose to do, but we need not burn again. What they will see when they come down from the skies will be what we decide we will be. I alone am nothing, but together we are strong; together we can do anything. We have destroyed one world; it is my prayer that, beginning with the Remnant States of America, we will create a new one. [rewrite with much more resolve rather than suggestion]
nn: breakcast//ascreusmonsherald%hpptm\\WATCHYOURBACK
[BROADCASTING TO ALL COLONIES]
[TRANSMITIDO PARA TODAS AS COLONIAS]
[TRANSMITIENDO PARA TODAS LAS COLONIAS]
[diffusion à tous les COLONIES]
[Rundfunk bis allen Kolonien]
[广播到所有殖民地]
[すべての植民地へのブロードキャスト]
[μετάδοσης σε όλες τις αποικίες]
[вещания на всех колониях]
[البث لجميع المستعمرات]
[שידור כל המושבות]
[WHY BOTHER TRANSLATING INTO ANY OTHER LANGUAGES? YOU’VE KILLED OFF EVERYONE WHO SPOKE ANYTHING ELSE.]
Stirring words, Mr. President. For all your humility, you play the old Earth rhetoric very well. [POINTS TO BRING UP: FUTILIY OF EARTH-NESS, NEW ORDER, INFILTRATION, GO AHEAD AND TRY TO STOP US, WE’VE ALREADY WON: UNLESS YOU FIND A NEW SOURCE OF WATER, WE’LL THIRST YOU OUT AS THE MEDIEVAL KINGS STARVED OUT THEIR BESIEGED OPPONENTS]
Don’t bother trying to root us out. You may find that our moles are important people to you. You may find it hard to live without them.
Which brings us to our final point: it’s stupid to show one’s hand before one has made one’s move. We’ve made our move. We’ve already won. We’ve been smart enough to stay off your radar till now.
We leave it to the citizens of the nations to decide whether they wish to live or to die. Let’s take a leaf out of the American President’s book: What do you want to see in three hundred years? A Mars, cracked, bleeding, and dead like Earth, or a human race that is still alive? Forget strong. Think “alive.” Survival of the fittest. So what’ll it be, citizens?
You have about a month to choose the right side.
— Your Saviors, nn
John Turon’s Journal:
[OPEN WITH COMMENTS ABOUT THE NN TRANSMISSION]
With the incoming colony, we’ve been forced to open our doors, tight though they are, to these refugees from Earth. It’s not that I’m really bitter or anything, but the three of us barely had space as it was. An order was given that everyone who had sleeping space on their floors measure it out to see how many would fit. Apparently the government no longer has people to do that for them, so we hte citizens must oblige. We’re the census takers, the tax collectors and spenders, and pretty much everything but the police force, the politicians, and the explorers.
Well, we are the explorers. I prefer the term to the Earthen term “scientist.” It sounds so clinical. I suppose that they couldn’t use that term anyway — it’s too clean for a place like this. There are no white labs with sterilization rooms or anything like that around here.
Anyway, my small family signed the rosters, announcing our flat had the available space for exactly one person. No one will check up on that, especially since they can’t exactly punish me. I’m too crucial to their interests. It’s not that I don’t want to help, but I just know this isn’t the way I’m meant to help, and my family is strained as it is.
Tommy came with me to the lab and was ever so quiet and attentive as I showed him what I do every day. He was asking Elisabeth why I spend so long away from home. I hope I sated his curiosity, but I probably didn’t satisfy. I can see why. Tinkering with computers and instruments all day intermitent only by yelling at the different deparment heads probably didn’t seem like something he would do rather than stay at home with Elisabeth. Increasingly, I agree.
Officer Filmore to Ottenson:
Now, about Isaac Davis. We’ve done some investigative work and found that he didn’t report his household living space. He lives alone in a flat that we know has space for at least another family. We’re thinking of putting him up with Dr. Turon. We know Turon to be a trustworthy man. My question is, do you think he’s in a fit state to be living with them? He won’t pose any danger to their son?
Ottenson to Officer Filmore:
Thank you for your message. About Davis: I’m certain he would be safe in the Turon home, but I would advise against that. You’ve seen the recent threat from the NN? They’re recruiting, I just know it. Turon’s household is a good one, but it will remind Davis of what he lost. His wife gained custody of his two sons. [NOTE: A MAJORITY CHILDREN ARE BEING BORN MALE OWING TO THE LOWER TEMPERATURES OF MARS, ALSO IN KEEPING WITH THE MYTHOLOGY: MARS = MASCULINE, VENUS = FEMININE. SO FAR NOT A PROBLEM AS EARTH-REFUGEES ARE MOSTLY FEMALE]. From the way he was speaking back in the deserts, seeing a functional, happy family might just put him over the edge. Might unhinge him a bit. I’ll tell you what: I never married, and my flat is very small. Not enough to house the number of refugees we need.
Send him to live with me, and use his apartment to house two small families, or one large one. I’ll keep a close watch on him and send you reports however often you’d like.
Officer Filmore to Ottenson:
Thank you for your suggestion. But if he is as close to being unhinged as you say, I think taking away his agency in this case would be a poor choice indeed. He has connections in the our national exploration program, in several colonies. It would be a terrible blow to us to lose a man like him to the nn. We’ll give him a choice. If he’s as depressed as you say, he’ll leap at the opportunity to stay with you rather than staying alone or with the Turons.
President Golberg to [send to all primary contacts]:
How is our little witch-hunt going, gentlemen? Are we getting paranoid yet?
No? Well, you should be.
Pardon me for being so condescending, you really should be. I am your traitor.
No, I’m not President Golberg.
I am the nn. Part of it, anyway.
Your President’s security seems pretty shabby if you ask me. But don’t take my word for it: wait, do. I’m proving my point with every word I write.
Would you like to know how many of you have been bribed by me? Or how many of you have sold me secrets, passwords, and access to citizens’ ears?
Do you know how cheaply they were bought?
Now, to business: let me clarify exactly what I mean by “about a month.” I mean three days. I know, hardly fair. Well, that’s life. The strongest will survive, adapt, and continue. Nature selects the best to go on. We haven’t survived by playing fair, and we’re not about to start. I’m not even sure you deserve three days. I’m on the President’s personal comm unit. Someone was greedy enough for that. Who was it? The President’s brother? His personal security officer? His son? His wife? If the traitor is so close to him, how safe is he really? And how can you be sure?
Three days, gentlemen. Three days. Hunt down your traitors and save yourselves if you can. If not, it’s my game. It’s only fair.
***ASCREIUS MONS US SECURITY OFFICIAL CHANNEL***
***There has been a security breach***
***Implementing code Theta-Kappa-42-Prime***
John Turon lab log:
I unlocked the door to my lab today and heard someone moving around inside. I nervously peered inside — no one but the exploration teams have access to the labs, and I was always the first inside. I heard voices inside, two people conversing tensely. They hushed the instant I opened the door, and when I turned on the light, I could see no one inside. The room was empty. Frantically searching around, I found the freezer basement door unsealed, and beneath it, the grate was removed. They must have left through the service corridors.
[they were stealing equipment for security splicing; neither was Davis]
I reported it to our commanding officer, Daniel Filmore. He seemed very worried. Apparently one of the exporation committees has been infiltrated by the nn, and they’re trying to find out who. I told him I suspected Isaac Davis.
“Who in this place doesn’t suspect Davis?” he said. His eyes were red and the beginnings of shadows were deepening under them. He hadn’t slept for the past few nights, which explained why his agitation. “I think even Davis suspects Davis, the state he’s in. But I know it can’t be, because we’ve had him monitored. Hardly ever leaves his flat. No, it’s someone else, but now that we know they’re using the service tunnels, we’ll scour them for anyone who isn’t authorized to be there.”
Everyone is so tense today. I’m tense. Our nn friend tells us we have three days left. At least he was kind enough to give us a heads up at 0:01. I wonder if he actually has anything planned or if he just wants to watch everyone squirm.
I left work then and there. Our projects can’t continue under these conditions. They told everyone who was in the facility a the time so as to eliminate them as possibly traitors. I’m going home and I haven’t a mind to leave it. We haven’t been assigned a new family to house, oddly enough. No complaints here. I just want to make sure my family is safe.
include a section where Laroux? tells Officer Filmore he suspects that Isaac Davis and Ottenson are nn agents
ASCREUS MONS HERALD:
THIS IS AN OFFICIAL US GOVERNMENT ANNOUNCEMENT: IN ALL COLONIES, WE ARE IN HIGH ALERT. THERE IS AN IMMEDIATE THREAT.
REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY TO THE NEAREST POLICE DEPARTMENT OR MILITARY INSTALLMENT.
CURFEW MANDATE IS NOW IN FORCE. 9 PM TO 6 AM.
[other restrictions]
Ottenson to Officer Filmore:
I have information for you. I need a more secure channel.
Officer Filmore -=>###PROTOCOL 9777###<=- SECURITY LEVEL [OTTENSON, PHILLIP MCCLEAD] set to LEVEL 8.
Ottenson_secure
It’s the frenchman, Laroux. Him and Isaac. Last night they came to my flat, after curfew. They came in through some utility corridr
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
I knew it wouldn’t be long before they came beating on my door. never takes long for themt o sniff out a disloyal. Am I really disloyal? Doesn’t matter a bit. Shoot first and ask questions later. They’d probably love to have a suddenly empty apartment and a body to feed to the machines below. The machines might even like it, too. Having flesh and blood to feast on instead of the crap oil they’re filling them with.
So what did I do? I ran. Instinct. Stupid instinct. Doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Where would I run to? There’s nowhere to go. I wonder why I even take the time to record these things. Maybe somewhere deep down inside me, I hope someome else will pick up my fight where I left off. Maybe I hope my wife will hear this someday and spend weeks crying. Closest thing to revenge I can get, maybe. All I know is that I want my story to be recorded, even if there’s no one to read it. I don’t want to float away in the sand of the next dust storm.
The slums are even worse in the lower levels. The smell is like concentrated sweat, the roads barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Metal pipes, bars, and wires hang overhead and just out from the walls at random intervals like a canopy of leaves overhead. Back on Earth, we called places like these concrete jungles. At least I’m in the shade. The sun hasn’t shined down here in decades. Not since we started building on the mountain.
The people are all worried and shifty-eyed. Ever since that nn message, everyone’s been looking at his neighbor who he may have known for years and wondering if he should report him.
I hear police sirens. I need to move.
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
I can’t do this any longer! They found me. They sent in soldiers, not just police. The walkways were so thin and cramped, they could only enter single file, giving me the chance to escape. I took a side ramp, and it led down into the dark levels. No sunlight ever comes down here, and energy reserves are so low they are lit only by occasional dim utility lamps. Perfect place to hide. Not a bad place to get killed, either. I can barely see a thing. The palid glow of the lamps just showed a maze of pipes of all shapes and sizes, and the wires spread like spiderwebs everywhere (one good thing about Mars: no spiders).
They followed me, but I had found a labyrinth of walkways in the undercity. I was getting close to the water-and-oxygen seeding facilities. I could tell, because the tiny living spaces became more and more sparse. Patches of bare Mars were visible between the mess of cables, tubes, and pipes. I puased for a moment to catch my breath and wonder. It was freezing. I wondered that anyone could survive in the dark levels. I listened; I heard nothing. I was alone. I let out a breath and watched it expel like a plume of smoke from my mouth.
After the wave of relief washed over me, I laughed nervously. It was the first time I had been alone and not on the anyone’s errand. I looked around, and found I was indeed perfectly alone. Not a soul in sight. Just the checkered patterns of the walkway grate painted onto the tuby, pipey, wirey roof by the utility lights beneath my feet.
Eventually I came to the utility corridors deep underneath the city. They are a network of tunnels that go to every place the government might want someone to be able to appear at a moment’s notice. They are normally sealed up, and only those with security 5 access and above are given the key code.
I was amazed to see that my code still worked. I thought for certain they’d have changed the password by now.
My amazement found its explanation as the metal door lumbered open. There, at the intersection of two corridors some fifty yards away, stood Lareoux. He spun around at the sound of the door opening.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed. I heard radio chatter echo down from somewhere above, and the dull pounding of footsteps on the metal grills. They were near, and they had heard the door open as well.
I ran inside and shut the door behind me. I knew it wouldn’t stop them, but every second might count. I followed Lareoux.
Lareoux said he’s following someone else he caught down here early this morning.
Lareoux is asking me to shut up now; we’re in the deepest levels of the utility corridors now, and apparently a section of security is being diverted to sweep the corridors. He says we have about five minutes before they get here, and we need to get out before then. I don’t know what his clever plan is, but he’s the first person so far to not look at me like might kill everyone.
Oh, he might be blushing. So modest, Lareoux. I really will shut up now.
Officer Filmore to Ottenson:
Ottenson, you were right. Security scanners identified Lareoux in the lower corridors after the infiltration was reported. Davis was last seen in the dark levels of the city and suspicious activity was reported close to the eastern corridor entrance. We suspect the two are working together.
You spent months in the company of both men, and as such I’m going to request you be brought into custody for questioning. It will be a summons, not an arrest. I just need to interview you personally. You’re one of the few of the field explorers I trust, and if your department has been breached, I’m certain you’ll have information that could help find the traitor before it’s too late.
SECURITY CHANNEL 4492//*KAPPA> Interview between Officer Filmore and [David?] Ottenson DATESTAMP TIME
Ottenson: They’re on to me. They know I’m ratting them out. They’ll be at my flat shortly. Please, get someone over here now. Your men found out they’re using the corridors to get around, but they haven’t shown up on any of the security footage. It’s Laroux: he knows the system. He helped design it. Sir, they can get access to my apartment through the corridors. Lareoux or one of the nn will be here any second now, I know it!
Filmore: We’re not taking any chances. We’re sending in the mechs.
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
Whoever it was left a trail easy enough for us to follow. Doors are left ajar; there are even muddy footprints. Unsurprisingly, the trail is taking us up, back into the explorers’ district. I just hope we can find them. I think things are messed up, but I’m not a traitor. If I can help catch our nn agent, that’ll at least clear my name.
Lareoux: Quiet! We’re just about here. Up this shaft.
Wait. Shaft 19? That leads to
The air is warmer here. There’s another opening nearby.
I’ll end this for now. Got to keep quiet.
Recording: Security Channel 95554###*****son
[Ottenson]: What was that? Wait ... who —?
[Lareoux]: It’s you!
[Ottenson:] What are you doing, Lareoux?
[Davis]: It was you all along! You’re the one they’re looking for!
[Ottenson:] Davis, Lareoux …
[Davis]: The trail leads right to you! You’ve been sneaking around the utility tunnels!
[Ottenson:] No, Davis. This conversation is being recorded —
[Davis]: Good! Maybe then they’ll see that I’m not the one they should be hunting!
[Ottenson:] — And the police will be here any second —
[Davis:] You’re the one they want, not me! See? You watching this, Filmore?
*beating on door*
[Lareoux:] The police are here!
[Davis:] Time’s up, Ottenson.
*door beaten in*
*POLICE COMM* ALL CITIZENS IN AREA WILL BE SUBJECT TO INTERROGATION. SUBMIT TO ARREST IMMEDIATELY.
[Davis:] What? Mechs?
*POLICE COMM* THREE HUMANS IDENTIFIED, SUBMISSION PENDING. HUMANS: COMPLIANCE WILL BE ENFORCED IN TEN SECONDS.
[Ottenson:] Hands and knees, heads down! Isn’t this line straight out of Firefly?
*POLICE COMM* 10
[Lareoux:] What the —
*POLICE COMM* 9
[Davis:] Why did they send the mechs?
*POLICE COMM* 8
[Ottenson:] They’re going to kill us! Get down!
…
…
*POLICE COMM* HUMAN COMPLIANCE ACCEPTED. RESTRAINT INITIATING.
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log [datestamp]:
They knew we were coming.
We saw the ladder access route had been modified. Very cleverly; no one would have noticed unless they were looking at the plans. Or unless they climbed up the ladder to find it led somewhere other than marked.
It didn’t lead to the emergency water reserves for the explorers’ flats [contradicts the whole shaft 19 section where it says it leads into his flat]. It led straight into Ottenson’s apartment.
We were such idiots. The nn mole is an expert! Why would he accidentally leave doors open if he can hack into the President’s personal comm unit? Why would he leave bits of his equipment along the way? Why would my access codes still work unless someone had programmed them to? He planted the trail for us, and led us right into his trap.
It was Ottenson all along.
We climbed up into his apartment and we found him there, defenseless, his eyes open in shock and his blonde little eyebrows arched in horror. What a perfect little thespian. I wonder if the security tapes picked up his gasp.
intro with mechs — try to make the reader afraid for him — more action/choice from him to balance how much happens to him.
Then came the mechs — the creeping, mechanical things our beloved Earthen government was too afraid to send us here without. When the steel door of the flat caved in a little after the first pound, it was obvious there was something wrong. Police don’t do that. Three more pounds, and the door came crashing down with a metallic shriek.
In came the mechs, their towering arachnoid bodies belching smoke (steam?) and their many hydraulic limbs hissing as they crawled inside. I’d never seen one before, only heard of them being used in extreme cases. They are so tall, their thin little legs must have folded over three or four times to fit inside. The red sensor lights glared down at us as they positioned themselves above us, their legs forming tight little cages around us.
Trapped little flies, we were. Ottenson probably wet himself for the cameras, the little leech.
Then came the worst: after we knelt down and bowed our heads in submission, as per demand, the prisoner capsules descended and wrapped their hundreds of wiry fingers around us, and then lifting us off the ground. They felt every part of us, caressing their metal fingertips along every part of us, feeling for something out of place. They plucked the contents from our pockets, and then blanketed us in the oxygen tanks, and drew us into compartments in their bulbous bodies. Double-layered glass shields hissed down to lock us inside their round bellies.
They left the flat, satisfied, and they stretch skyward to their full height, that the three captives might be seen by everyone. Don’t be our next meal, they seemed to say to the thousands of faces that ventured outside to stare, as they crept on their long, lithe legs toward the National Security headquarters.
At length the mechs docked in the dispatch bay. Their legs collapsed in a dozen different joints, crinkling beneath them and retreating into their dark, cavernous abodes. Ottenson’s lost no time in spitting him back out, leaving him a quivering pile on the ground. Police swarmed around him from the dark recesses of the security corridors and took him away, patting his back and saying things I couldn’t hear through the thick glass from where I watch.
They never did come to let us out. I’m sure they will, after their desired psychological toll has been taken on us. They need to let us squirm and be digested a bit longer. Loosen us up for questioning.
If I hadn’t had this diary mechanism embedded in my neck, I’d probably go insane. That’s probably what they want. That we go insane here in our dark little cells. There’s one thing the government did for us explorers. Wouldn’t want us to miss a single observation. We might lose progress.
Meanwhile, they take their sweet time while the hours tick away. What do they care? They think they’ve just stopped the clock.
Interrogation Transcript [datestamp]: Isaac Davis research interrogation techniques
[Officer Brandy] [interrogate]
[Davis] [reveals no information]
Uphsot: Davis has no info on the nn. Claims Ottenson to be the operative, but the incriminating evidence was found in Davis’ flat. He can’t prove it wasn’t there before he left.
[Chapter 3?]
Ascreus Mons Herald Breaking Line:
Transmission from the New White House:
[President Golberg:]
Citizens of the American Colonies:
We scored a great victory the other day. As many who live in the mountain colony of Ascreus Mons witnessed, the nn agent was captured along with his associate.
[DISPLAY PHOTOS: Max Lareoux, 43, nn agent; Isaac Davis, 26, associate]
They have been taken into custody and without a doubt, their capture will yield information that will help us root out and eliminate the threat of anarchy and terrorism that lurks beneath the surface of our our colonies.
The terrorist cell that calls itself the “nn” and led by Max Lareoux will shortly find itself exposed and its members without anyone to turn to. They will see that they are weak, and we are strong. As Max Lareoux gave us the ultimatum of violence of three days, we give an ultimatum of compassion to members of the “nn”: surrender within the next three days, and you will go unpunished, in exchange for information.
If there is anyone behind Lareoux who is turning the wheels of this organization, I tell you: just as your lieutenant before you, you will be found out and brought to justice. Abandon your scheme while you still have your anonymity to protect you. You cannot win against the people of America, when we come together and become strong.
Good night to America, and good night to all of mankind.
[//end transmission]
Isaac Davis’ Personal Log:
Good. I don’t think I could stomach another trial. What’s the point of giving me one, anyway?
My mech is my home now. They didn’t bother finding me a cell. They take me out every three hours and give me food, let me pee, and so on. I’ve seen nothing but the shiny black floor panels below me for the past thirty hours. They’ve interrogated me twice. The first time, the cameras were on. They just put me under a bight light, like in the old crime flicks, ask me questions, slap me around, yell at me when I don’t have the answers — nothing extraordinary. I gave them nothing, because I have nothing to give them. They sent the recording to the security cable in their report, I’m sure, heartily assuring the CIA that I’ll crack any moment. They sent me back to my cell, and watched me.
I found out why it was they were watching me.
Although the capsule is about as comfortable as being inside an old fridge with air pumped inside, my eyes grew heavy and started drooping. At last, I thought: an escape from the belly of the beast.
No. As soon as I shut my eyes and started to breathe in a relaxed manner, the capsule regurgitated me onto the freezing, sleek floor, and hands clenched my arms. They dragged me, so groggy I could barely protest, I had no idea where I was, but it must have been deep under the city. Flood lights lined the edges of the walls and poked out of what migth have been windows high above my head. The only shadows in the room were beneath my feet. I squeezed my eyes shut, and they still hurt from the red light that leaked in through their lids.
There came a strange hissing noise from beneath my feet, and a sickly sweet smell filled my nostrils. Whatever gas enveloped me rendered me entirely immobile. I flopped heavily to the floor like a corpse.
And I felt wonderful. I felt like the day I was married. I felt like Christmas. Euphoria bubbled up from inside me, and I giggled in spite of myself. The sickly smell, I realized, wasn’t sickly at all: it was rose incense, like the kind Alice and I brought from Earth. The bright lights were nothing more than the sun, high above. I wasn’t moving not because I couldn’t, but because I didn’t have to; I was relaxed, not numb. I was on Earth, on a Floridian beach. My lips drew up in a wide grin: I was in paradise.
I opened my eyes and saw the electrifying blue sky above. My face prickled, tingled playfully. I lifted my hand to my face and brushed away course ocean sand. A young woman stood above me, with long black hair than flowed down and became lost in her black dress, which cascaded to the beach and ebbed into the waves of the ocean. She smiled with teeth that gleamed and cocked a coy eyebrow at me. Her shimmering teeth parted, and she spoke in a distant voice,
“Who are the other nn agents?”
“What?” I laughed.
“Where are the rest of them?”
My cheeks began to hurt, I was smiling so widely. Oh, I knew I could impress this girl. I was going to try, anyway.
“If there are any more, they’ll be hiding in the exploration district.”
She let out soft peals of laughter, and knelt down in front of me.
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Because that’s where all the signs led me.” I didn’t quite understand the words coming out of my mouth, but they sounded pretty. “Because that’s where Ottenson was.”
“Phillip Ottenson?” She asked. “Why were you trying to find him?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “Kill him, if it would solve anyone’s problems. Mostly I just wanted to clear my own name.”
“Clear it of what?”
“Its bad reputation, of course!” I laughed, “what else do you clear your own name of?”
“A bad reputation of what?”
“Oh, hadn’t you heard?” I said, “I’m a dangerous nn agent.”
“So where are the other dangerous nn agents?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“IT IS NOT.”
I was in the blinding white room, and my eyes were wide open. I shrieked and squeezed them shut, but my arms refused to fling themselves over my eyes and hide them from the light. The rest of my body was completely irresponsive.
There was a man kneeling by my side, a gas mask covering his face, giving it an alien look.
“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN INVOLVED WITH THE NN?”
Came the mechanized voice from behind the gas mask.
I guess it must have been clear to them that the drugs had worn off, because I heard another great hissing sound, and I fell again onto the beach, and the woman was kneeling there again.
“How long have you been involved with the nn?” She asked.
Back and forth I went, from the beach to the deathly-lit room, until they brought out the knives, and the scalpels, and the needles. I screamed until I had no more voice that I knew nothing, nothing, nothing. Still they cut, and poked, and tore.
They must have gotten tired of not getting information from me, except for one crucial bit: they had it from my own lips that I am an nn agent. Now it’s official. It’s on the record, and it’ll hold up in any court, if they were to give me a trial.
Which I doubt they will. Now that I’m no longer of any use to them, I’m sure to executed as an enemy of the state.
Just when I was starting to get charming again. Maybe some law student in the future, if we ever get back to building law schools and having a proper legal system and such, will listen to these and decide I was alright after all.
Make him more concerned with himself, so others can be concerned with him
Urgent Report to Federal Government of the United States
from Federal Exploration Department
John M. Turon, chief explorer
Phillip Ottenson, terraform specialist
Joseph Kissinger, planning specialist
Michael Quast, planning specialist
Kimberly Quast, planning specialist
Mr President, Mr Vice President, Secretary of Defense, Secretary of Terraforming and Agriculture, and the rest of the Cabinet:
The situation of overpopulation in the colonies has become dire. Last month, Ascreus Mons produced enough food for only 89% its population and shelter for less than 70%. The water-seeding tribunes and drills yield less water for crops and drinking every month.
It is estimated that the recent influx of refugees from Earth will add, if distributed to every world power equally, ten thousand new citizens per colony per country.
The refugees have not been settled equally to the different powers. Ascreus Mons took in 24,283 new citizens, and other American and Commonwealth colonies took in nearly as many. Other Formerly European nations took in less than 20,000 combined, and those who landed near the former Chinese and North Korean national headquarters were not permitted to enter the existing settlements. All known refugees landed near established colonies. Five known colonizing/terraforming vessels landed with the refugees, but their proximity to our cities will strain even more the water-seeding yield, as the sparse water content of the ground beneath us would have to serve two or more colonies rather than one. Without the further drilling facilities for water, much the same effect will happen, as the population increase will strain the current water supply and production equally.
This is affecting even the oxygen levels, which are dropping as much as 2% per week. and if nothing is done, it is expected that more than half the population of this colony alone will starve in the next two months.
Sirs and Madames of the Cabinet, we are facing a crisis beyond anything the so-called “nn” could create: the extermination of roughly half the life on Mars.
We are left with two options, which we will spell out for you:
The first is decide who lives and who dies. We take control of the situation and plan the future of humanity based on its current population, and decide which peoples, traits, etc., we will perpetuate into our future, and let the rest die. We do not recommend this course of action.
The second and much preferable option is to send the excess population, with a team of explorers and a military escort, to settle and drill the newly-discovered water-rich fissure deep in the Valles Marineris.
Notwithstanding the treachery of Max Lareoux and Isaac Davis, it was on their recent expedition spearheaded by our own Phillip Ottenson that a new fissure filled with visible water crystal formations has opened in the Coprates chasm system in the middle quadrant of the Valles Marineris.
Owing to the size of the Valle Marineris — 9 km long and 6-8 km deep — and the fissure taking up a good portion of this size in the central areas of the Valles, the potential for water drilling at this location is limitless. Nowhere on Mars since the Poles retreated and melted has visible water been seen. Tests from the soil nearby this fissure indicated that the soil was composed of at least 30% water — comparable to swampland on Earth. The fissure stretched for many miles, disappearing from the exploration team’s scanners Eastward. The total water content is estimated to be at least that of all of the Old American Great Lakes and the Amazon River combined.
Were the United Colonies of America to control and harvest this source of water, it would become the leading provider of water to the entire planet. This, ladies and gentlemen of the board, is America’s chance to become again the dominant human powr and take her position as the leader of the free world.
Our proposed solution is to send a colonization mission to the Valles Marineris, armed with water harvesting and oxygen seeding facilities, a powerful military escort, and the entire refugee population in the American colonies. We do not know if the other nations have discovered the fissure at the Valles, so compounding the potential population catastrophe is political expediency. We have already prepared a preliminary team to lead this expedition if this is the course decided upon.
This report should have reached this board earlier, but owing to recent events, we hope we will be forgiven for the tardiness of this report.
[///end report]
[New White House message to FED]
It is clear your proposal is the best course of action.
Our only concern would be that of dispatching a significant military escort when the security in the Colonies seems so shaken. We have captured the nn leader, but we fear that there may be others ready to mobilize, and that they will be emboldened if they see military presence in the colonies noticeably diminished.
Secondly, if our colonization is sent heavily armed, others are bound to notice. The Noctis Labyrinthis Colony, belonging to the UK Commonwealth, will likely be the access point into the Valles Marineris. They may suspect something if they see what looks like an American Exodus, and they are nearer to the fissure. If they discover it before we arrive, they will likely dispute our claim on the land.
Executive authorization is granted, but the expedition will be granted only one division of marines and three mechs.
Mobilize as soon as possible; no later than the day after tomorrow.
section: conversion of Isaac Davis pt. 1
[#$%$#$SSSSSSmessage to Mech 23a — RECORDING DEVICE DETECTED]
[SENT @ UNKNOWN RECORDING DEVICE] try to, in the re-write, maintain Ottenson’s character in these italics throughout the conversation
How ya doin’, Davis? Cozy inside your little mobile prison? Had enough fun talking to yourself, or should I leave you there till some judge decides to kill you?
[Isaac Davis’ Personal Log]
Who is this?? How are you contacting me?
It’s a friend. How’s good old Justice serving you now? Easy over?
Who are you???
Well, either you’ve really cracked and your fun journal-keeping degenerated into voices in your head … or I’m some incredibly bright guy who’s gonna bust you out.
I really am going insane, aren’t I? Every condemned man dreams he escapes somehow. I must be having my grand delusion of rescue.
Let me simplify for you: I hacked into your mech prison. I can do things like that. I can hack into anything. I can go anywhere.
There’s a famous short story about this. Some Confederate guy dreams he miraculously survives in the split second before his neck breaks in a Union noose. I must be about to die.
You’re depressing, you know that? Well, put this to the test: you’ll know I’m just a voice in your head — well, your neck — if you die. Then it won’t make any difference. You’ll die happy. Or you really will be saved, which you will be, day after tomorrow. Either way, you can either live happy for a few days or many years, or live miserably for a few days. Which sounds better?
I’m getting executed that day. Cutting it melodramatically close, aren’t you?
You’re gonna break my heart. You seem to need some convincing.
[Isaac Davis’ personal log — ten minutes later — try to make this part of the same log entry as the above as the dialogue will only work if it’s an exact record, not a retelling]
It really is Ottenson. It really was him. I wasn’t dreaming at all. There he was, just a few minutes ago. He walked out onto that black tile floor in front of me. Out in the open. Looked up at me, and said,
“Good evening, Davis.”
“What’s this all about?” I shot.
“It’s about you,” he said. “You are in one heck of a predicament, and you don’t deserve to be.”
“I’m going to die,” I explained, as he seemed to be ignoring this point. “You’re the one who landed me here.”
“I had to land you here.” He looked me straight in the eye. He barely blinked. Just looked me right in the eye, his round little face even more palid than normal in the light of his LED lantern. “You gave me no choice, you and Lareoux. If you’d been more patient, I could have gotten you somewhere safe.”
“What are you talking about?” I shot. He wasn’t making any sense.
“My associate, Lareoux.” He said calmly. “They knew that my flat was the source of certain nn activity, and they sent the mechs in to deal with us. I was going to escape, go into hiding. Then you two came up that shaft.”
“So we took the blame?”
“Those five minutes landed the blame on you. They were coming anyway. If only Lareoux hadn’t been so stupid! He always did like to play the hero.”
“Hero? What—”
“He was trying to warn me. He was trying to rescue me from the police. In the end, he sacrificed himself to save the two of us. Only they didn’t buy your story.”
“Are you trying to tell me he was leading me to rescue you from the police? The same police that captured us?”
“You’ll notice he’s locked up and I’m free. I’m the one they were looking for. The evidence pointed straight at either you two or at me. On his testimony, I’m free; I suppose he did rescue me, in the end. We had a pact, he and I: we would do anything to protect the mission, to protect the nn and save this people from themselves.”
“What made you do it? Until the day we were arrested, I wouldn’t have ever suspected either you or Lareoux.”
“I plan on surviving,” he said. “I’m going to live. I can’t do it alone. Humanity is currently in flames. You know why it is? Because the way we we’ve been doing things worked back when the worst thing we could do was to siege the bad guy’s castle and pillage his countryside. Before we could actually kill off millions of people in a few years, like Hitler did, or before we could kill billions of people in a few hours, like we did two years back on earth.
Things are different now, and our system of fuedalism and politics simply doesn’t work anymore. We saw what happened when you apply ideas from greeks who died three-thousand years ago to govern twenty billion people who hate each other and have nukes.
Some truths still hold, though, Davis. Ancient chinese proverb: it is the definition of insanity to do the same thing twice and expect a different result.
Nature gave us a second chance with the colonization of Mars. You saw for yourself how fair and practical the old ways are. Justice, Davis. How does it work these days? do the old laws make any sense? Why should a woman who violated a legally binding contract — like, say, marriage — not be guilty of any crime? How is it acceptable and legal for two people to promise faithfulness to each other and then go off and have sex with whomever they like? Does that make sense to you?
We’d have to be pretty thick to use the old ways after they’ve proven to lead to disaster. Especially when this is our last chance as a species to survive.
We all have our reasons for going against the grain. The nn is a place for people like us — people who don’t just wait for nature to decide our fate. we decide it first. We think in new ways. And Davis, I’ve seen in you someone who is going to make it. I’d hate to see you burn up in the fire that’s going to come down on these idiots.
I’ve got a proposal for you. I can save you. Thanks to Lareoux’s sacrifice, I am still invisible. Defenses are down. The threat we made three days ago will still be carried out, and no one will realize it until after the damage has been done: we are going to the Valles Marineris. We’ll start a new life there. The government is sending us with money, soldiers, equipment, water-drills, and a colonizer, to harvest the water-filled fissure we discovered deep in the Valles.
We have other plans for the expedition. Day after tomorrow, Davis, and this world turns upside down.
We were promised three mechs. I can arrange yours to be one of them. You’ll be smuggled into the expedition, and you know? I get a fuzzy feeling knowing that it was the government that wanted you dead that wrapped you up in your getaway vehicle.
And the best part, Davis? I can get you revenge. I can bring your wife and the moron she’s with along on this expedition. We can execute real justice. You can see the past set right.
Of course, evolution is nothing so simple as intrigue and force. You need to choose for yourself. If you want to stay behind, I won’t force you to come along. I mean, deliberately betraying the “civilized world” and joining the nn? Big decision. Then again, so is dying. Let me know in the next 24 hours what your choice will be. Just say my name into the microphone embedded into your neck, if you can spare a minute from ranting at yourself.
I’ll be listening.
[Davis’ personal log]
I don’t know what to believe anymore. There’s nothing to anchor me into reality. I have nothing to assure me that I’m not insane except for this portable journal in my neck. As long as I can talk and play back my old conversations, I know that it really happened. Either that or I have an uncanny memory.
What kind of a moron does Ottenson think I am? I don’t believe half of what he’s talking about. I’m not an undergrad who gets excited at ideas of world conquest. He’s not going to win me over to his anarchy game like that.
Deal is, he doesn’t need to. He’s the only one who’s taking me seriously at this point. I know I’m going to die if I don’t go with him. I might die if I take his offer, but it’s the only option I have where my death isn’t a certainty.
Why am I still debating this? I don’t want to die. What point would that prove?
I take it you’re listening to all this, Phillip Ottenson. Get me out of here.
…
…
…
Just be patient. I’ll crack you out of there if you don’t crack yourself up first.
The day after next
Security Report: execution of prisoners ##2000093 and ##2000094 approved for [datestamp]
Retrieving restraining blocks located within mechs 23a and 24a.
Retrieving **WARNING DATA SLICE DETECTED*** %$$$$$ERR.......................................... mech 23b retrieved. No life form detected within. %$$$$$ERR.................................. execution process complete. Remains will be processed to the incinerator.
Officer Filmore to COMPUTER: What just happened? Where’s Mech 23a? Where’s Davis?
System message: **Wish I could see your face right now. Kisses — nn**
[Ascraeus Mons Herald]
Breakout!
Moments after exploration expedition Nova was launched this morning, one of the nn agents captured earlier this week was found missing. Max Lareoux and Isaac Davis, suspected to be the nn operatives who made the famous threats against Ascraeus Mons, were scheduled for an investigative hearing. When a squad was sent to retrieve them, Isaac Davis was found to be missing. No signs of struggle or damage to his holding area were evident. National police suspect another nn agent with security ties of having freed him, and all security personnel are undergoing intense scrutiny to determine if one of them is the traitor.
Isaac Davis is no longer in custody, and he is beleived to be dangerous.
[display photo]
If you see this man or have any information about his whereabouts, report immediately to yor local security checkpoint. Failure to do so may result in charges of conspiracy and treason.
[Isaac Davis’ Personal Log]
I was sane all along. I am sane. I’m alive.
I should be dead. I heard them coming for me. I heard their metal boots echoing down the empty black hall. My name was on their radio, and my mech was right in front of them. Then they stopped.
They kept saying my name, but I watched them pass directly under my mech. Twenty security men. Not one of them looked up. They marched passed me and went instead to the empty mech beside me. Both that mech and mine began to walk on their shaky, spindly legs, crawling out of the hallway and into the security hangar, floodlit this time. All around, armoured vehicles were being prepped and men were preparing envrionmental combat suits. Ottenson was right: they were getting ready to go on a long, dangerous journey.
The mech behind me dutifully followed the small squadron of security officers, down a long hallway which stretched into darkness, and finally terminated in a pinprick of light. That must have been the chamber I was interrogated in. It was to have been my execution chamber. My mech did not follow. It crept along the floor and found its place beside two other mechs near the armored vehicles. Like the others, its legs retracted and buckled until its belly—my glass window—was pressed against the steel floor.
I lay there for a few hours, too afraid to breathe deeply. Ottenson had made good of his promise, but what if they could hear me breathing? I could swear, my heartbeat was pounding so loud that they couldn’t fail to hear it.
But no one saw me. No one looked to see what my mech was carrying. Even when it lifted itself up and stretched toward the hangar ceiling, directly beneath the floodlights, no one craned their heads upward to see me. I saw them, though.
It was a very small military escort for an expedietion of the size Ottenson was describing, but they looked well-armed. The armored vehicles were a sort I hadn’t seen before: several meters tall and large enough for maybe twenty people to sit in comfortably, each armed with some sort of rapid-fire cannon and sporting two or three pillboxes. A mass-transport took center-stage, however. The thing was massive, and although it had no weapons, it was heavily armored. I estimate it could hold close to a thousand people, easily. A small town on wheels! How is that not going to get noticed by everyone nearby? The most we’ve ever brough on an expedition was a smaller version of one of those armoured vehicles. This really is something big, and the funny thing is, it seems almost as though they’re expecting to be attacked by something. And my mech was going to be part of the security detail.
Just as ranks formed at the hangar exit, I saw Dr. Turon and good ol’ Ottenson inspecting one of the exploration vehicles—smaller and somehow uglier by the amount of armor that had been welded onto it—just as Ottenson looked up toward me. It was too far to tell, but I had a feeling he was smirking.
He does that too much.
John Turon’s personal log:
Everything is in order. The exploration team is ready, the refugees are about to board the transport vessels and the colonizer, and the military detail seems together (I’m not much of a military man, but the security looks pretty impressive). Everything is ready for perhaps the greatest exploration of our time.
Everything but me. Elizabeth and Tom won’t be able to come with us.
Despite everything I’ve tried, Ottenson just won’t let them come. He says it may be too dangerous for them. There are hundreds of children coming with us! How are they less important than mine?
He and the government officials agreed that only essential personnel be permitted to leave on this initial expedition. My family is essential to me.
I’ll be seeing them again in a few months, of course. They’ll be able to come down and join me when the new colony has been firmly established, everyone assures me. They’d better be able to.
Well, I had better go say goodbye.
Ascreus Mons Herald:
Today marks a twofold victory over terror and despair:
on the day we were promised a devastating blow from the nn, the mysterious terror cell that gained so much notoriety this week, we are launching the first new American colony on the face of Mars in the last fifty years.
video feed: thousands of colonists embarking, cheering crowds, military escort, all parading from the military hangars and out into the Martian desert.
Despite threats that today would be the day that we would face some sort of disaster, we captured the nn leaders, prevented what seemed like certain starvation in the Ascreus Mons colony, and spread the influence of the Martian American dream across the red deserts.
This was made possible by the discovery made recently by American explorers of a region recently opened to settling, filled with visible water reserves. Not only does this give hope to the dream of floowing water on Mars’ surface again, but also it gives hope to the thousands who had none, coming from the ruins of earth to the new cradle of mankind.
We are still on our guard, should the nn attempt anything, but we have reason to believe they won’t make any such attempts.
This is Michael Gordon-Scott, at Ascreus Mons—your most trusted news source.
Isaac Davis’ personal log:
Oh, it’s beautiful out here! The sky so blue it tapers to black at the top, the rolling red dunes everywhere … this is why I never felt at home in the colonies.
Well … mostly.
I’m still kind of shaky from earlier. I can’t believe I’m alive. The oxygen feed to my mech has never tasted so sweet. Oh, I’m alive! Alice can go throw herself into the turbines for all I care. This is amazing! I just can’t wait till I can lose the mech. Actually walk in the rusty sand myself. Feel the winds tugging at my environmental suit.
After everything, I realize now that I was worried about such stupid things. I was so selfish. My wife betrayed me, yes. But yo uknow, I’m young yet! She’ll have to bear the burden of what she did; why should I? I am ALIVE. Yesterday I had a few hours to live. I thought to myself, what would I change if I could go back? What would I do with myself if I had more time? What has my life amounted to?
I realized I didn’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I have so much more time! I could do so many things! I could marry again, find love, have some children of my own. I could teach them what life is really about — who cares if it smells bad, or if it tatstes bad? The colonies are smelly, dirty places, but filled with people who are alive! So what if they’re handled like little kids fighting over toys on a playground?
And now we have a chance to start again. Start something new, off in the Valles Marineris. We have a new life, all of us. We don’t need to answer to anyone, we can be what we want to be.
Now I know why I’m doing this. Not just the journal, but why I’m going along with Ottenson. I think he’s a sneaky little liar. But he gave me life! He gave me another chance. If he’s going to do all his political maneuvering and wants power or whatever, he can have it. I’m going to live my life to its fullest. I’m going to make a difference.
When my time does come to die, I want to lie down and embrace it. I want to be ready.
And i don’t want that to be for years to come.
Life, here I come.
NOTE: have Ottenson have a similar entry just before he dies, contemplating his existence, what his life has amounted to … sort of like Valjean’s and Javert’s matching soliloquies.
Ottenson’s communicator, on his desk at Ascrues Mons—**Incoming Transmission from Mech 33A: Unknown Recording Device**
Signal Strength: Weak—Too far away/environmental interferance
“….life amounted to?
I realized I didn’t want to die. ... have so much more time! I could do ... could marry again, find love … could teach them what life is really about ... it tatstes bad? The colonies are smelly ... kids fighting over toys ... a chance to start again. … something new, off in the Valles Marineris. We have a new life, all of us. We don’t need to answer to anyone, we can be ... to be.
Now I know why I’m doing this. Not just the journal, but why I’m going along with Ottenson. ... But he gave m .... chance. If he’s going to do all his political maneuvering …”
Isaac Davis personal log:
**Incoming Transmission**
This is Officer Filmore. … Isaac Davis, reveal your location at … Isaac Davis … Ottenson … reveal your location at once! Where are you, you little … find you and haul you back to Ascraeus Mons tonight!
Officer Filmore: Urgent Message to Head of Security Chief o4erokjdsfkjfdsskjfafs
Sir! Ottenson left behind his communicator, and we’ve been receiving transmissions from Davis—Sir, Ottenson is the traitor, not Lareoux! He was in communication with Davis, and must have helped him escape! Repeat, Ottenson is the traitor, not Lareoux! The nn mole is in charge of the expedition we just sent out this morning! We must take immediate action to recall
that expedition!
Head of Security to Officer Filmore [Forward: All Staff]
Contact Captain Watson of the expedition’s military escort and order him to take Ottenson into custody and return the entire expedition to Ascraeus Mons. Security and technical staff, begin an immediate scouring of all records related to Philip Ottenson. I want to know where he has been and what he’s been doing every second of every day for the past three months. If Ottenson resists, consider it a guilty verdict and react accordingly.
Captain Watson [datestamp] to expedition technical adviser Steven Whitman
(mention characters once or twice beforehand, maybe? cause some recognition)
Steven! [distortion, static] Steve! … hear me? I’ve boosted this communicator’s signal, but … don’t know how much longer it will hold up. Our communications equipment has been stripped of its anti-rust coating! … received a message from Ascraeus Mons security channel, and it’s flagged as highest priority, but … can’t decipher it, the sound quality is so bad. I investigated … found that the ambient rusting has corroded away nearly a quarter of … communications devices!
Steve, I thought you double-checked … everything before the expedition set out! Who did you report to after your inspection? I think we’re going to have to … back to Ascraeus Mons! The hopes of humanity couldn’t be trusted in your hands, huh? … this one’s rusting away in my hands … losing signal … you and I are going to … a long talk when we … back …
If … anything happens to these people … sabotage ... holding you and the tech team responsible.
Steven Whitman to Captain Watson
Sorry, Captain. Your inter-camp receiver should still be working. Look, you and I go back a long ways. Served together for years. I haven’t forgotten about that time you stuck your neck out for me and saved me from that investigation panel. You’re a good guy, Captain.
I’m gonna stick my neck out for you, now. Get back inside your vehicle and don’t get out for anything. Turn it around right now and head back to Ascraeus Mons. Something bad is going to happen tonight. Don’t bother trying to warn anyone else; your comm devices won’t work. We cut whatever lines we didn’t let rust away.
Captain Watson — expedition log
I don't know what's going on around here, but it's big, and it's going to mean something awful for all of us. The technical advisor to our expedition informs me that “something bad” is going to happen tonight, and advised me—me, his superior in command—to turn around, abandon my post, abandon this expedition—abandon everything and retreat to Ascraeus Mons!
The same technical advisor informed me—matter-of-fact, like he was telling me that Mars is a desert—that he sabatoged or allowed the sabatoge of our communications devices, which are rusting away right in front of our eyes.
I don't like the way this is going. He advised me not to get our of my vehicle—not likely. I'm going straight to Dr. Ottenson and Dr. Turon about this, and I'm bringing my vehicle with me. I suspect treason and conspiracy. I suspect this has something to do with the nn.
To any who are listening to this, if I don't hand this recording to you, you can bet that I was killed and someone, maybe everyone, in charge of this expedition was involved in my death at the least, and probably large-scale treason.
Davis Personal Recording Device
Why did you have to be so brilliant, Ottenson, and then forget to bring your comm unit with you? We're in it, now. How could you possibly hack into the President's personal network, hijack the Ascraeus Mons Herald, convince people you weren;t what you were when the evidence was against you, even break me out and organize this mass exodus … and then forget the comm unit connected to my recording implant?
I'd have suspected him of doing that on purpose, but it wouldn't make sense. Why would he want the government to know it was him and not Lareoux? Why would he tip off the government when he was so close to escape? No, I think it was an accident. I hope it was an accident. That man is so twisty and strange, I'm not sure what to think anymore.
I can see the armored cars surrounding the transport are massing toward the science vessel. I don't know what Ottenson is going to do. I might have known his contingency plan if I'd talked to him recently, yo uknow, if he hadn't left his comm unit on his stupid desk.
EXPEDITION—VALLES MARINERIS INTERCOMM PUBLIC ADDRESS SYSTEM
HELLO, HELLO! CAN EVERYONE HEAR ME? MY VOICE SHOULD BE EMINATING FROM EVERY SPEAKER IN EVERY CAR, TRANSPORT, MECH, WHATEVER.
SO, YOU CAN ALL HEAR ME? I KNOW, CLAP ALL YOUR HANDS IF YOU CAN HEAR ME!
SEE, THAT'S ABOUT ALL YOU CAN DO, BECAUSE WE HAVE SEVERED COMMUNICATIONS WITH ASCRAEUS MONS. I HOLD THE ONLY VIABLE COMMUNICATIONS SYSTEM HERE IN THE SCIENCE VESSEL. YES, THE OTHER SYSTEMS HAVE BEEN SABOTOGED. YOU WILL ACTUALLY BE ABLE TO OBSERVE THE DELICATE ELECTRONICS DISINTEGRATING BEFORE YOUR EYES.
I SEE THE MILITARY VEHICLES HAVE STOPPED MOVING TOWARDS ME WITH THEIR SCARY GUNS. GOT YOUR ATTENTION NOW, HAVEN'T I? NO COMMUNICATIONS DEVICES, THAT'S RIGHT.
BECAUSE I WOULDN'T WANT THE MILITARY TEAMS BACK AT ASCRAEUS MONS TO FIND OUT THAT THIS EXPEDITION TO THE VALLES MARINERIS WILL NOT BE FLYING THE STARS AND STRIPES. YES, WE'RE A BIT FURTHER OUT INTO THE DESERT, WHICH GIVES US THE FREEDOM TO SHOW OUR TRUE COLORS. WE FLY THE FLAG OF THE NN.
I AM PHILLIP OTTENSON. I HAVE STOLEN ALL OF YOU, ALL OF THIS, FROM THE AMERICAN COLONIES, AND FROM THE CIVILIZED WORLD. THE CIVILIZED WORLD THAT WANTS TO USE YOU AS FREE HEAVY LABOR IN AN ICE MINE SO IT CAN CONTINUE ITS GAME OF CHESS.
DID THEY NOT TELL YOU WHY YOU WERE CHOSEN TO ESTABLISH THIS NEW COLONY? I CAN TELL YOU: I DRAFTED THE EXPEDITION DETAILS, AND I CAN READ THE SIGNATURES OF THE PRESIDENT, VICE PRESIDENT, VARIOUS SECRETARIES, AND MANY OTHERS, WHO SIGNED THIS PLAN — TO ESTABLISH A NEW ICE MINE AND WATER PROCESSING PLANT IN THE VALLES MARINERIS, WORK YOU TO THE BONE, AND PRODUCE WATER FOR THE AMERICAN COLONIES TO SELL OR NOT SELL AS IT DEEMS PRUDENT. UNDER THIS PLAN, YOU WOULD ALL BE WORKING 12-HOUR SHIFTS HARD MANUAL LABOR, SEVEN DAYS A WEEK, CONSTANTLY UNDER THREAT OF ATTACK FROM FOREIGN POWERS WANTING TO STEAL THE ICE PROCESSING FACILITIES.
THE CIVILIZED WORLD SHOWED YOU ALL, LESS THAN TWO YEARS AGO, WHERE THESE GAMES LEAD.
SOME OF YOU WERE EVEN ITS LEADERS. ITS BILLIONAIRES, FAMOUS SCIENTISTS, PHYSICIANS, POLITICIANS, ARTISTS—THE SORT OF PEOPLE WHO COULD AFFORD TO BEAT THE OTHER 20 BILLION PEOPLE INTO ONE OF THE 200,000 SEATS AVAILABLE TO MARS. YOU ARE IMPORTANT PEOPLE.
HOW DID THE AMERICAN COLONIES SEE YOU?
ACCORDING TO THIS PLAN, “SURPLUS POPULATION.”
THE WORDS “LIABILITIES” AND “CONSUMERS OF PRECIOUS RESOURCES” ALSO FEATURE PROMINENTLY IN THIS REPORT.
YOU ARE NONE OF YOU STUPID PEOPLE. YOU SAW WHAT THE MARTIAN WASHINGTON D.C. LOOKS LIKE. NOT THE UTOPIA THAT YOU ALL ENVISIONED. BARELY POWERFUL ENOUGH TO RULE THE COLONIES WITH IRON FISTS. BELIEVE ME, I HACKED INTO THE PRESIDENT'S PERSONAL COMPUTER. THEY WILL NOT STOP THE NN BECAUSE THEY CANNOT. OTHER NATIONS FEAR THE AMERICAS—AND AS I KNOW THEY HAVE NO CAUSE TO FEAR THEM, I KNOW THAT WE HAD NO CAUSE TO FEAR THEM.
FOR NOW. HOW MUCH LONGER WILL THAT LAST? HOW LONG BEFORE EVERYONE BUILDS BACK TO UP TO THE POINT THAT WE CAN BLOW MILES-LONG CRATERS INTO PLANETS AND LEAVE CITIES SMOLDERING WRECKS?
BUT WE ARE ALIVE. DESPITE HAVING DUG OUR OWN GRAVE AND THROWN OURSELVES INTO IT BACK ON EARTH, WE ARE ALIVE.
WE SHOULDN'T BE.
WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO WITH THIS SECOND CHANCE NATURE GAVE US?
BECOME MINE WORKERS, SLAVES TO AN IMAGINARY SUPERPOWER SO IT CAN PUFF ITS CHEST AND POUND ITS PUNY PECTORALS AT OTHER IMAGINARY SUPERPOWERS?
OR WILL YOU JOIN WITH THE NN COLONY THAT WAS ESTABLISHED IN THE VALLES MARINERIS TEN YEARS AGO?
YES, YOU HEARD THAT CORRECTLY.
MY REPORT WAS FALSIFIED. THIS PLAN I WROTE PRESUPPOSED THAT AN ICE MINE WOULD NEED TO BE ESTABLISHED. THE NN HAS BEEN ESTABLISHED IN THE VALLES MARINERIS FOR OVER TEN YEARS. THE MINE IS ALREADY THERE. THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE, VOLUNTEERS, WORK THOSE MINES. WE ARE ALREADY THE MOST POWERFUL SO-CALLED NATION ON MARS, AND MARS DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE.
HOW ELSE DO YOU THINK I WAS ABLE TO OBTAIN SO MUCH POWER, DO SO MUCH WITHOUT BEING NOTICED? HOW ELSE DID I GET ENOUGH MONEY TO BRIBE THE PRESIDENT'S WIFE?
YOU, HOWEVER.
YOU ARE WHAT WILL TURN THE TIDE. WITH YOU AND A NEW COLONIZER, WE WILL EFFECTIVELY DOUBLE THE POPULATION OF THE NN. WE CAN REVEAL OURSELVES TO THE WORLD. WE ARE POISED TO CUT DOWN THE MEN THAT CALL THEMSELVES THE RULERS OF THIS WORLD, AND WE CAN MAKE OURSELVES THE RULERS. WE CAN RUN THINGS IN A WAY THAT WON'T CAUSE US TO FACE EXTINCTION AGAIN. WE WON'T BE STUPID LIKE WE WERE LAST TIME.
SO COME, ALL OF YOU. ALL WHO WISH TO JOIN US WILLINGLY, COME ON OUT OF THE TRANSPORT. THOSE WHO WILL BE THE LEADERS OF THE NEW, EVOLVED HUMANITY, PRESENT YOURSELVES. IT'S TIME TO PROVE YOUR ALLEGIANCE, AND TAKE YOUR PLACE AS THE MOST POWERFUL PEOPLE ON MARS.
Security footage: science vessel of the Expedition Valles Marineris [datestamp]
[John Turon] You can't do this, Ottenson! This is murder! This is massacre!
[Ottenson] And what do you call the nuclear fallout on earth? Is this any worse than that?
[John Turon] it's exactly the same! You talk so much about being better—
[ottenson] I say nothing about being better, Turon, and don't you start puttting words in my mouth. They won't fit anyway; I've got a forked tongue, didn't you know.
[John Turon] Are you really going to kill all these people?
[Ottenson] Stop trying to appeal to my gentle, noble side. Gentility and nobility died in the nuke explosions and left shadows instead of corpses. I'm not better than anyone. I'm going to live, is what I'm going to do. And I'm not going to let the sorts of people who killed billions into humanity's next stage.
[John Turon] And what's humanity's next stage? Ruthless, evil, killing hundreds of innocent people?
[Ottenson] We're already like that. And you left out greedy, egocentric, superstitious, gluttonous … I could go on and on! But that's enough. This is done.
[John Turon] Don't you touch that control!
[Ottenson] John, I'm about to kill hundreds of people. Do you think one more on my tally is going to stop me?
[John Turon] Put that gun down.
[Ottenson] Um, no.
[John Turon] I'd rather die knowing I tried to stop you than live knowing I could have.
gunshot blast
life form Turon, John—terminated, vital signs dead
[Ottenson] I'd better add “stupid” to my list.
