My First Landing

My First Landing

I’ve always wanted to be one of the first men on Mars, so I made a whole career out of projects that would gather me the relevant skills. Self-made millionare? Check. Botanist? Check. Robotical automation expert? Check. And so on. I’d been busy. Now I had sold all my valuables back on Earth and paid to get here, it was a glorious moment I’d been looking forward my whole life.

Anyway Mars has a single rocket terminal, and the fresh ones all arrive there. We were different then. Still seeped in the abundance of Earth, still believing in the values we’d evolved into for billions of years in an environment largely suitable for life. Mars is different, it’s not that, it’s not suitable for life. It’s suitable for a huge very expensive effort to perhaps make it habitable after generations of effort. So here I was, along with the other fresh ones.

When New York’s Central Station was build, they wanted a big space and they wanted a big statue in the middle. They didn’t want the hoboes and the petty thieves, but those are the main features nowadays. Well Mars rocket terminal is the same. There’s a big statue of a famous guy looking prestigious in the middle, and there are a lot of hopeless nobodies around, and then there are fresh ones from Earth just landed and very excited to be here. It’s a new frontier, and I loved the frontier. I loved the unexplored new world that would one day be huge, full of life, full of all that humanity and nature had to offer. I never loved anything more.

My Last Goodbye

Anyway I was married and I had kids and everything was swell and we were rich and had plenty of oxygen to breathe. But that just didn’t cut it for me and I couldn’t see myself living a life without challenges, without making an impact, without scoring some big points on the abstract scoreboard of my personal philosophy. Perhaps we were all honed to belive in the same thing, but anyway it felt really deep and personal to me.

I believe not in God or Salvation or Justice or Life after death, I believe in the expansion of Nature beyond its cradle, the Earth. The purpose of beetles is to eat crap and feed animals, the purpose of fish is to flock and churn, the purpose of trees is to convert carbon dioxide into oxygen for other lifeforms. The purpose of flowers is to look attractive to enable their pollination and procration. The purpose of man is to build rockets and make life multiplanetary. I really believe it.

So I had to sell all the things I invested in and pay for the return ticket. A one-way ticket had been deemed unethical by folks that didn’t have to pay for either, which made things so much harder for everyone who wanted to be at the Mars frontier. I had to say bye and maybe bye forever to everyone I knew, leaving them willingly for another planet. They didn’t get it, it’s a barren place with… Well with nothing, really. Why would anyone at all go there? And most of all, why would anyone with a wife, kids, a good life, and a serious income stream want to go?

I guess I’m crazy believeing in what I believe in, that’s why.

Two kinds of people

As I walked out of the ship, got through the papers, and received all the relevant information, I was allowed to join the common space of the multitude, the Plazza. The Plazza is really grand, it’s the largest communal space, and it’s beautiful. The amount of sunlight is staggering, considering the cost of dual-layer fortified glass. Very quickly, I began to see more than the pictures on Google. Some windows had been replaced with foam, and graffiti abound.

I began to notice people who didn’t look healthy. People who didn’t look social. People who looked like they would be willing to do anything.

For the first time, I felt trapped.

The monastic gardens

My status and wealth allowed me a one-off entry to the monastic gardens, a place where pure philosophical and scientific pursuits were encouraged. I really wanted to go there now.

Some dangerous-looking people who were clearly very accustomed to the environment noticed this quickly, and aimed their attention at me. Other people, dressed in the robes of the monastic order, noticed me too, and displayed clear authority. They didn’t move, they just looked like they ought to be taken seriously. Mysteriously, that worked.

I walked toward them.

"”Welcome””. Your journey must have been tiresome, would you like to enter your lodge?

I did.

"”Can you please confirm your right to return, your credits, and your oxygen allowance?””

I did.

You are welcome in the basic suite of the monastic gardens. Please follow our escort.

I did.

Closing the doors of the haven, in which plants bloom and where my skills would be made best use of, I couldn’t help but feel concerned. I was concerned about the people who didn’t have credits, or a ticket back, or an oxygen allowance. I was concerned about what will become of them, and I was concerned about what they may do to the rest of the social order.

I was concerned about the humanity of this place.