4

New Years

Helmut looked around the room at the twenty-five other human beings. Except for two-year old Charlie Langlais and almost eleven-year old Caitlin Vickers, everyone was between 32 and 48; Clara and Helmut were the two youngest. The team was male and female and from a multitude of races, nationalities, and religions. They were all immensely well trained and experienced.

He looked at Clara excitedly. She smiled at him, excited as well. Charlie felt the energy in the room; he was bouncing up and down on his mother’s lap. Helmut looked at the banner in front of the classroom with the logo of the Asteroid Belt Commission on it. It had a whole new meaning for him now.

The door opened and Sebastian Langlais entered the room. Charles Vickers immediately stood; the others followed him, showing respect for the Commissioner of the Asteroid Belt Commission. Sebastian smiled and walked to the front of the room.

“Please, be seated,” he said. “I apologize I’m slightly late; if any of you know me, you know I am punctual. I received an unexpected political videomail; maintaining our cash flow requires constant vigilance. I have very little to say here because Charles—Commander Vickers—will do most of the talking. I want to welcome all of you to this mission, ABC’s first, and thank you for your service to the ABC.

“The Asteroid Belt Commission is not a Mars project; it’s a human project. The Ceres 1 Mission is supported by the United States, European Union, Russia, China, Japan, the Mars Commission, Brazil, Kenya, and India, in that order. We happen to be based on Mars, but the ABC may send out missions from Earth as well. Some of the crew members are newly arrived residents of Mars who have extensive experience on the moon, near-Earth asteroids, and Venus orbit. We’ve already opened the application period for a Vesta mission launching in 2045 and we’re receiving hundreds of applications from the moon, Earth, even from Mercury! I emphasize this because we are not going to the asteroid belt for Mars; we are going for all of humanity. The fact that the mission is being launched from Mars and that Mars has so many extremely well qualified and experienced residents who can serve as crew speaks highly of the role of this world in humanity’s exploration of and expansion into the unknown.

“If all goes as expected, you will visit four small worlds. You’ll spend a year on Ceres, which has 2.8 million square kilometers of surface area; almost half the size of the continuous 48 states of the United States. If things go better than nominal, you will return with more scientific knowledge than any single exploration project ever launched. If something goes wrong, some of you—maybe all of you—will die. It is virtually impossible to launch a rescue mission. Our equipment is very safe and reliable, but it can never be safe and reliable enough.

“So I thank you for your courage. I wish I were young enough to go along. You can be sure that when you return—and I am confident you will—we will all celebrate your success.” He turned to Charles. “And now I turn the floor over to Commander Vickers.”

Charles rose. He was 44 years old, slightly balding, with prematurely graying blond hair. “Greetings to all of you,” he began. “We’re starting early because all of you were so anxious to begin! We won’t have another meeting until after Christmas and New Years, when training begins.

“We’ll start in the first week of January by moving into a cluster of four cylinders. Ceylon Biome has just been pressurized; the land will be barren for the next three or four months. We’ll set up and finish three cylinders, which will provide us about the same amount of housing space as we’ll have on the Giovanni Piazzi, which will be the name of our caravel; he was the discoverer of Ceres. In February and early March we’ll be going to the South Pole Station, where we will open the station, set it up, and explore the area together; the Chinese have graciously consented to delay their arrival. March through May will be devoted to study of the asteroids we’ll be visiting and what’s known generally about the belt; we will teach each other and everyone will have their research assignment. In June we’ll fly to Embarcadero, spend a month setting up the Giovanni Piazzi, and launch our advance supply vehicle to Astrea. Then we’ll take the caravel on a shakedown cruise to Deimos, where we will maintain the fuel manufacturing equipment and drill a special research shaft all the way through the moon. We’ll return here for September and October to do more study, assemble our supplies, and wrap up our lives here for four years. In November we’ll fly to Embarcadero and set up the Piazzi, fueling and provisioning it. In December we set off for Astrea.

“The seven-month flight will be dominated by completion of the setup of the Piazzi, refinement of our plans to explore Astrea, and remote set up of our advance equipment there. Our six-month stay will include a complete study of Astrea and manufacture of two hundred tonnes of fuel for the next leg of our trip. We’ll leave Astrea in December 2042 and continue on to Ceres, which we’ll reach, if all goes on schedule, in August 2043. About October 2044 we will leave Ceres, and after short visits to Hebe and Flora, we’ll reach Mars in late 2045. It’ll be a four-year mission.

“It’s a long time to be away from home. We’ll return to a very different place; a place with double its current population. My daughter Caitlin will be sixteen; Charlie will be seven. Three automated vehicles will be returning here with very used drilling and fuel making equipment and up to five tonnes of samples each. We’ll receive resupply vehicles three times. We will have three abort opportunities to Earth and one to Mars. The original plan was to send two caravels, but because caravels are so redundant we’re going in one.

“That’s a summary of the training and the mission; sorry to be so repetitive. I probably should introduce some of the assistant commanders. Dharmapala Peres is chief science officer; Lin Chen is the chief engineer; Sophie Chen is the chief of life support; Juliette Delafontaine is the ship’s chief physician. All of you will be working for at least one of them, probably two or three of them at one time or another, since all of you are highly qualified to do at least three tasks. Questions?”

Jack Alberghini raised his hand. “Once we move into Ceylon together in January, how much will we be mixing with the rest of the outpost?”

“Good question. Monsol through Frisol, not at all; we will eat all our meals together and no one will be able to join us without my permission. Weekends you’ll be able to go to the Patio or Deseret and stay in your old flat if you want. The idea is that we have to become a team, so we have to know each other well and acquire a sense of solidarity. That’s why we’re going places together and why we’ll be building things together.”

“Commander,” said Clara. “Should we plan to bring Charlie along to Deimos?”

“Yes. He’s part of the crew. He has to learn how to handle life on board, weightlessness, and engine firings. Caitlin’s coming along as well.”

“Could any of us be disqualified by the next year of exercises?” asked Zach Hersey.

“The purpose of the training is to make us cohere closely as a team, not to disqualify anyone. But it is possible someone will resign. We have several alternates. Other questions?” There were none. “Good. Enjoy the holidays! At least, everyone but Helmut; he defends his dissertation next week. Come 2041, our work together begins.”

-----------------------------------

The Deseret Cafeteria was brightly decorated for the holidays. Will was pleased to see the wreath of artificial pine branches and stopped to feel it.

“Come on, dad!” said Marshall.

“I’m coming. I wonder how they made these wreaths.”

“Good sol, Dr. Eliot,” said Henry Smith. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Good sol, Henry. I suppose we did, but for us it was an ordinary sol.”

“I’m surprised so few people celebrate Christmas up here. Sales are definitely stronger this week than last; most people exchange gifts on New Years.”

“Well, it’s more international, I guess. But remember, we’re Bahá'ís, not Christians.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry. How’s your assembly doing?”

“Well, thank you; we elected a nine-person local spiritual assembly for Aurorae more than half a year ago. Mars now has thirteen Bahá'ís; we’ve received two new members this Gregorian year.”

“So I heard. Are the two of you sitting for lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Over here, then.” Henry pointed to a counter with relatively few people. He raised his attaché. “What would you like?”

“Our usual.”

“A hamburger with french fries and a salad for Will, a cheeseburger with fries and beef-vegetable soup for Marshall,” the attaché said in reply.

“Exactly. Make it so,” exclaimed Will, knowing that phrase would cause the attaché to send the order to the kitchen.

“Thanks, Dr. Elliott,” replied Henry. He reached down and removed the electronic paper menus on the table and stood them up where they were out of the way. The customers could talk to the menus or click on them as well to order. “So, anything new?”

“New? Just the continued strong terrestrial economy and the steady weakening of gold prices as a result.”

“A problem for us, I know. At least it reflects the drop in terrorism.”

“The currency negotiations are driving down the gold prices, too.”

“If they’ll ever go anywhere,” said Henry. “I doubt the Europeans will let the Russians into the euro zone or that the South American cone states will really establish a common currency.”

“Even so, there appears to be momentum toward larger economic units. That’ll force much tighter economic integration, and that drives political integration.”

“I suppose America has no choice but to participate; as long as New York and Washington get some of the new institutions. So, that’s driving down gold prices.”

“Probably. Economic integration reduces financial uncertainty, and that decreases the desire to hoard gold. I’m worried about the result.”

“I can imagine. Dr. Elliott, I want to change the subject. I have a theoretical question for you.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“How easy would it be for a group of us to buy some land inside the Outpost? Not a building, but a building site.”

“I suppose it’s for sale just as much as the buildings themselves.”

“Good. That’s what I thought. I want to talk to a group of us about purchasing land for the eventual construction of a Mormon temple.”

“Oh; well, there’s no requirement to use land in a certain way when someone purchases it. The borough does have some zoning restrictions, so you’d have to talk to them. Land’s expensive if it’s pressurized.”

“I know. What do you think the public reaction will be?”

“I think you can guess. Some will be jealous, some will feel it’s a terrible waste of land and space, and some won’t care.”

“What do you think?”

“I think we live in a place where people can make choices how to use their resources, and that’s the sort of place we should live in.”

Henry nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Elliott. That’s good advice.” He turned and headed to another new customer.

“Where can twelve of them get the money to build a temple?” asked Marshall.

“The Mormon Church is worth billions and billions, and so are a few Mormon businessmen. If they build a Mormon temple here, they’ll get a lot of publicity and the faithful will feel proud their religion is flourishing on Mars, so the faithful will teach others more and will tithe more.”

“I get it. So, why don’t we build a Bahá'í temple here? There are more Bahá'ís here than Mormons! Actually there are more than thirteen Bahá'ís here, dad, because you only included the adults! What about the kids and youth?”

“Sorry; you’re right, there are seventeen Bahá'ís here, not thirteen.” Will contemplated. “You ask a good question; why not a Bahá'í House of Worship? I suppose one answer is that I doubt the Marsian Bahá'í community ought to ask for support from Earth. But we could probably build it ourselves. We have a lot of financial resources, the seventeen of us.”

“Especially our family?”

“Yes, because the longer someone’s on Mars, the more wealth they have. The six hundred people here on Mars have something like 3 billion redbacks of net worth.” He didn’t add that he and Ethel were worth 60 million of that. “And if we borrowed money, we could pay for the building over twenty years or so.”

“A mortgage.”

“Exactly. I think I’ll ask for an appointment to meet with the Spiritual Assembly. It’s worth considering. If nothing else, maybe the time has come for us to purchase a small building to serve as a Bahá'í Center. We’re now holding events twice a week; we could use a permanent space.”

“No one else has a space, either, but maybe they need it. Sammie goes to church on Sunsol, Sunsol school, and Bible study. The Catholics have a lot of events, too. The Universal Church is always doing all sorts of things.”

“Exactly, and all these churches are gradually getting bigger and wealthier. I suspect they’ll all want buildings pretty soon. It might be a good idea to avoid a big building boom right now, though; half the people here will be turned off by it.”

There was a small commotion at the entrance to the cafeteria as Helmut, Clara, Charlie, and Sebastian entered. They looked very excited. Will smiled and rose. As they walked in, he walked over to them. “Dr. Langlais, I presume?” he said to Helmut. Helmut nodded.

“He did a great job!” exclaimed Sebastian. “It was a public defense of his dissertation. Stanfield had some pretty difficult questions, too, but he answered them all!”

“Ask me anything about the Oligo-Noachian,” commented a smiling Helmut, referring to the third of the six divisions of the Noachian, the earliest epoch of Martian geological history.

“What’s the dating of Candor Lake 2?” asked Will, joking.

“Oligo-Noachian Estival Twenty-six, assuming the classic study by Underwood and Shankaraman is right; there is now some contrasting opinion. My cores from north of Korolev, in the middle of Olympia Planitia, have a particularly prominent layer from the twenty-sixth.”

“Okay . . . what does estival mean?”

That stumped Helmut. “Hey, this is a doctorate in climatology and stratigraphy, not Greek!”

“Estival and hibernal: from the Latin words for summer and winter. Various terms were tried and rejected, but these have stuck, for better or worse.”

“It’s not bad, I guess,” said Helmut. “When Mars has a high axial tilt, the polar layered deposits all sublimate, the atmosphere thickens, the greenhouse effect gets somewhat stronger, and Mars has an estival or planetary summer; then the tilt heads back to zero, much of the atmosphere freezes out, and Mars has a hibernal or global winter.”

“Still, Martech should teach the meanings behind the words!” exclaimed Sebastian, angry that his son had been ignorant of them. “We’re too scientific and technical and not sufficiently oriented to the humanities!”

“That’ll change,” replied Will. He offered his hand. “Congratulations. MarTech has produced another fine alumnus. We’ll miss the two of you, but you’re embarking on a very exciting adventure.”

“Thank you, Will,” replied Helmut, shaking hands. It was the first time he had called the Commissioner by his first name. “We’re thrilled to be going, too.”

“I can imagine. Sebastian and I are both jealous, right Sebastian?”

“Yes. I considered resigning as Commissioner of the ABC in order to apply, actually. But I’m too old.”

“And where will this one go?” asked Helmut, tapping Marshall on the shoulder.

“Saturn or beyond,” replied Marshall. “Triton sounds really interesting. Of course, dad won’t even let me go outside with Sammie yet!”

“Hey, regulations are clear,” replied Will. “You and Sammie can go outside together when both of you are sixteen. You’ve got a month to go and he’s got almost thirteen months. Meanwhile, either of you can go outside with an adult.”

“I’ll go out with you some time,” volunteered Helmut.

“Will you?” asked Marshall. “With Sammie, too? We want to climb to the top of the Tower.”

“That’s a bit ambitious, though the trail’s safe enough. I was on top once; the geology’s good all the way up, and the top’s interesting. Okay, maybe Frisol, if all parents agree.”

“Is that okay, dad?”

“Sure,” replied Will. “You have no school all week. It’d be a good way to spend half the sol. But let’s not bother Helmut right now; he has some celebrating to do.”

“Congratulations, Helmut.”

“Thanks, Marshall.”

------------------------------------

Most of the Outpost had the rest of the week between Christmas and New Years off. The latter was a big celebration on Mars, rivaled only by the Vernal and Autumnal Equinoxes, which were treated as a sort of Mardi Gras. Helmut found the time to take Marshall and Sam outside twice. Will used the time to write a geology article he had been thinking about for several months.

But everyone was back to work on January 2d. Will arrived in the office to find a backlog of work. The face of his imaginary secretary, Anisa, soon appeared on the screen of his attaché. “You’ve got an email from Ludwig Collins in Environmental Management Audit, Seville, saying that they are not getting any data from Aram at all about their three enclosures. They’ve asked three times now. He thinks you have to get involved. GWC has sold forty tonnes of methane to Aurorae Spaceport in the last three months, which means they’ve manufactured about one hundred sixty tonnes of oxygen, probably to make up for losses. Unless the Commission threatens to cut off services, it appears GWC won’t cooperate. There’s a videomail from Sally Chines of the Budget Office with the latest financial projections, and they are looking worse and worse. The price of gold continues downward. She recommends some drastic budget cuts or some conversations with governments. Louisa Turner asks about the wording of a statement about the Commission’s finances; she’s gotten queries from two media outlets. She thinks the January and February media themes may need to be reconsidered because the financial matters will push routine themes aside. Alexandra already called about the 10 a.m. meeting with you and Lisa; she wants to reschedule to 10:15. You also have routine hellos from Concordia Station, Mercury and Aitken.”

“Give me Ludwig’s email, please,” Will replied. It appeared on the screen with the current time in Seville displayed in a chronometer box; Anisa’s face shrank to a small square in the lower right corner. Anisa had summarized the request quite well. “Okay, Ludwig, I’ll call Forest Rivers right away,” Will said when he finished reading. “Anisa, send that as an email to Ludwig, and now connect me to Rivers in Aram, please.”

She nodded and the screen went blank. He could hear Rivers’s video communications device ringing. “Good morning, Dr. Elliott,” exclaimed Rivers a moment later, his face appearing on the screen. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s good to talk to you, Dr. Rivers. I hope you had a good new years?”

“Yes, though we’ve decided not to celebrate it, and to stick to Martian seasonal events. We did mark the terrestrial winter solstice, though. How about you?”

“We stayed up to participate in the celebration in Yalta Biome; the kids stayed up this time as well. I’m calling because I note that you’ve sold forty tonnes of methane to the spaceport here in the last three months. It appears you’re leaking a lot of oxygen at Aram.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. We have been building up our reserve supply, and of course we’ve had some leakage, but it started to decrease significantly in the last few weeks, as predicted.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Environmental Management in Seville has sought data from you several times in the last few months. The regulations call for continuous data transmission from your environmental management controls to our center in Seville, for a backup audit of procedures and a review of developments. They’re still getting nothing, which is a cause of grave concern for the Commission.”

“I appreciate your concern, Commissioner, but we are managing our affairs quite well down here and really don’t need to be audited or reviewed. You’re welcome to come personally to inspect our facilities any time.”

“Then perhaps I’ll send a team down. This is a serious matter. Let me put it this way, Forest: we will start to fine Aram if we don’t start to get data on February 1st. I hate to be hard nosed about this, but that’s the way it is. Preserving human life is a responsibility of all of us and we can’t let a matter like this slide.”

“I see. Will, we really do appreciate your concern. But this is our borough and our colony, not yours—”

“And it is on the planet we are responsible for. February 1^st, Dr. Rivers. I’m not going to change my mind about this. I’ll get back to you about what the proposed daily fine will be, but you can predict that by March 1^st the daily amount will increase. This request is not technically complicated. It is a routine matter; talk to Yoshi. We monitor the Zen monastery’s environmental management systems and they’ve gotten extremely capable as a result.”

“Mr. Commissioner, perhaps I should go to court about this matter, then.”

“Feel free; we have plenty of lawyers, too. February 1^st; I’ll have an email drawn up summarizing our position. Have a good sol.”

“Thank you, Mr. Commissioner.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” Will closed the line. “Anisa, forward this conversation to Huma, so she can draw up a summary for my review, then it would go to Rivers, Collins, Islami, Kok, Messier, and Turner. Let’s see Chines’s videomail.”

“Acknowledged,” replied Anisa. A moment later, Sally Chines’s face appeared on the screen.

“Good sol, Dr. Elliott,” she began. “The income projections are looking significantly worse because of the continued decline in the price of gold. We’re now projecting it to be below 500 redbacks per ounce by the time Columbiad 11’s gold reaches Earth; that’s seventeen million redbacks per tonne or, at current conversion rates, eleven million dollars per tonne. Production estimates are also down: 320 tonnes. That means, after the take of the mining companies is accounted for, we’re projecting an income in 2042 of 2.8 billion redbacks, or 1.5 billion dollars. That’s a billion dollars less than we hoped and half a billion less than we planned for, which means our 2042 budget goes from a half billion dollar surplus to a half billion in deficit.

“We’ve informed Pierre and he’s already started lining up visits with several national representatives to the Commission Board, but as you know, the U.S. really wants to cut their support rather than increase it, and Europe is very unlikely to give more, with their burgeoning Mercury expenses. So we’re facing a realignment of priorities. If you can canvas the people up there, we’ll have a better idea what to expect. We want to push the sale of caravels, but obviously we can increase that only so much; the Mars crew is already working at capacity, and output has actually proved to be lower than expected. More land could be released for sale, but the revenue is always unpredictable and the impact on the value of existing plots can be adverse. The biggest research items on Earth we could cut would be the silane and diborane production and utilization work. The biggest program on Mars, besides exploration itself, would be the advanced aircraft research. We could ask the Asteroid Belt Commission to pay higher fees for some services and could raise the interplanetary freight costs. We’re preparing a list for your review. Advice would be appreciated. Bye.”

Will stared at the screen for a minute after Sally’s message ended. Money was a perpetual problem; Mars was not self sufficient and wouldn’t be for some time. During the Turanistan War of the late 2030s, the loss of support from the United States and Europe had been compensated by a tripling in gold prices, but gold had been steadily dropping to “normal” price levels. Mars’s platinum and iridium output was still small because of the immense costs of extracting them from nickel-iron meteorites. Mars faced the classic problems of economies dependent on the export of raw materials, and it was still too small to diversify its industrial base. Dependence on government subsidies carried many political liabilities that had to be handled with extreme delicacy; Mars was growing large enough that it could no longer claim to be a nonpolitical organization, not that it really ever was.

“Thanks Sally,” Will replied, without bothering to tell Anisa to send a reply; she would figure it out. “I’ll schedule a heads of staff meeting up here in the next week and I’ll ask Pierre to schedule one for the heads of staff down there. We have cash in the bank that we could use, though it gives us flexibility and I’d rather not lose that. As you said, there are options. Thanks. Bye. Anisa, please convert Sally’s options into a list; Huma can help if you get stuck. Give me the budget summary for this year and next, please.”

He scanned the two-page budget summaries, reminding himself of their plans and how the expenses had been going. Not sure what to do yet, he decided to let his subconscious work with the problem, so he called Yoshiyaki Suzuki up at the monastery.

“Good sol,” said Yoshi, answering the ring with audio only.

“Good sol, Yoshi, this is Will Elliott. How are you this sol?”

“Quite well, Will, and you?”

“Fine. Enjoying the return to work.”

“Few people can say that, usually, but I know you love your work. How has the switch to the five-sol workweek gone?”

“It’s too soon to say; the first free Satursol comes up in a few sols. But everyone seems to be very pleased with it and are planning what they will do with a real weekend. And everyone’s asking when we’ll cut the work sol to eight hours from ten, but I don’t see that happening soon; with cafeterias to provide quick food, robotic laundry and house cleaning, and no commute to work, we can afford to work ten hours per sol. How’s everything up there? How are your plans for transporting more people and cargo?”

“Reasonably complete. We’ll be importing six more monks and of course we’re replacing the cargo that burned up. The insurance payments have been adequate.”

“I think we’ll initiate a sale to sell the last thirty places on Columbus 11. If so, I’ll let you know. You may be in the position to import a few more monks.”

“Yes, let me know.”

“How’s the dome holding up?”

“Very well, as you know. The sensors and the radar imaging have given us a very thorough knowledge of the ice table under the dome. As heat works down and melts the ice, so far the water has migrated downward and frozen closed any new cracks. We’re losing five tonnes of gas per month, but that’s a manageable rate of loss. We’ve planted most of the interior of our crater. You should come up and see, some time.”

“I’d like to do that. Say, Yoshi, do you talk to Forest at all?”

“Maybe once a month I call him or he calls me. Why?”

“We’re very concerned about safety issues at Aram. We have no idea how well they’ve developed their three pressure enclosures and we are getting absolutely no data from them, so we don’t have any feel for how safe their efforts are. A major depressurization looks bad for all of us, not just for them. Pretty soon we may have no recourse but to begin fining them. I can appreciate their concern about independence, but in this case it’s a question of auditing each other’s procedures to maintain everyone’s safety. Yes, we’ll audit them; but they’ll get to audit us as well!”

“Rivers has a very strong concept of ‘independent,’ I agree. It’s unfortunate you haven’t been able to place sensors there, like under our dome. We’re beginning to acquire definitive knowledge of our dome and the ice curtain underneath, and that breeds confidence.”

“It does. Yoshi, I’m not sure how to request this; could you say that to Forest? He trusts you; I’m not sure he trusts me. My concern is not to make life difficult for him or to take away the freedom of his utopia. My concern is with lives. Maybe their domes are safe; more likely, they are less safe than yours, they don’t know it, and we don’t know it. If they have an accident, people might die, they’ll lose prestige, it’ll cost them a lot of money, and it might cost us some money and prestige as well.”

Yoshi considered. “I’m not sure Forest trusts me, either; in a way he doesn’t trust anyone but himself. He’s something of a prophet, after all. Human prophets can have a problem with cravings. They may not see things as they are. But perhaps I can say something to him that will help him see things rightly.”

“It sounds like you want to rise to the challenge.”

Yoshi laughed. “Perhaps; it is one of my cravings, to reform people! I’ll give him a call.”

“Thank you. I owe you a cup of coffee, Yoshi, so next time you come down to the outpost let me know.”

“Or bring some coffee up; I get tired of our tea, sometimes. Oh, we’re having a special tea ceremony in two weeks and we’ll be sending you an invitation in a few sols. It’ll be taped for editing and broadcast on Japanese television; as you may know, we tape a ‘reality’ show here weekly and it is very popular back at home. We would be honored if you’d come up and participate.”

“It would be my honor, Yoshi. As soon as I get the invitation, I’ll check my calendar and see whether I can make it.”

“I hope you can, Will. I hope you can take some time this sol to slow down, close your eyes, relax, breathe slowly, and open your mind. It will be better for you and for your work.”

“I’ll do that, Yoshi, right after the call ends. I need exactly that kind of mental state to tackle a particular problem, in fact. May this sol bring you many opportunities to serve others.”

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” Will closed the line and looked out the window at the dome and the escarpment beyond. He could almost see the site of the monastery. He sat up straight in his chair, closed his eyes, and relaxed for a few minutes. But it was harder to relax his mind; it tended to seethe with ideas and tasks. Yet when he calmed the surging sea of thought, whenever he let it loose it tended to toss useful ideas out.

It was now 10:18; he was late for the meeting. He hurried to the conference room down the hall. Lisa Kok, Alexandra Lescov, and Tatiana Petrovna were already sitting together scrutinizing a huge piece of electronic paper with the plans for Andalus Dome. Ruhullah Islami walked into the room at the same time. “You’re late, too,” he whispered.

“I was meditating,” whispered Will.

The three women—the director of the environmental management, the director of construction, and the head interior designer respectively—were looking at a specific building inside Andalus, a large five-story rectangle eighty meters long and forty wide that ran from the dome edge to Andalus’s off-center public square. The square was surrounded by buildings, many condominiums, and had several short streets.

“Let me see the food court area again,” said Lisa.

Tatiana nodded, touched an icon on a corner of the schematic with her finger, and outlined the building. The exterior view was replaced by a blueprint. “This is the bottom floor of the mall,” she said. “It opens onto Andalus Square through a series of pillars with concealed pressure door tracks, so we can close it off in the event of a depressurization. The grand entrance is two stories high; very impressive and attractive. The food court itself has seating for 1,000 people, not counting tables on the square. There will be kitchens and cafeteria lines for the two eateries we currently have and accommodation for Silvios, Deseret, and a dozen small stores and boutiques. The square will accommodate dozens more. The food court will have an alcove with a dance floor that can serve as a nightclub. The square will have a section with small portable kiosks for small businesses and a flea market. The second, third, fourth, and fifth floors are for storage, future commercial expansion, a theatre for showing movies and for our Satursol Night Show—which is now becoming reasonably popular—Commission offices, and apartments. Altogether the building has 16,000 square meters; it’s very large.”

“My main objection, which is a huge objection, is that you’re making the cafeteria an equal partner to Deseret Café,” said Lisa.

“No, we’re not. We’re making it one of potentially a dozen or more food outlets. Which is worse than you thought, Lisa, but let’s look at this dispassionately. There’s no reason for the Commission or the Borough to be in the restaurant business. This is an operation that can be easily commercialized. The competition will increase variety and lower costs.”

“Easy for you to say; I have an entire staff worrying about their jobs.”

“Encourage them to start their own businesses,” replied Ruhullah. “In another year and a half Mars will have a thousand people; Aurorae Outpost alone will have about 750. Two years later we’ll have several hundred more. We don’t need a centrally managed cafeteria any more.”

“Or break your operation down into a series of mutually reinforcing subgroups,” said Will. “Create an Italian food outlet, an Oriental food outlet, an Indian food outlet, etc. You’ve got plenty of time to talk to your people and develop a plan.”

“These are painful and complicated changes,” replied Lisa, shaking her head.

“How big is this dome, in terms of population?” asked Ruhullah. “I don’t see how you can complete it in eighteen months.”

“The interior will take much longer,” replied Tatiana. “It can hold at least 500 people; enough for the eleventh Columbiad and part of the twelfth.”

“That’s risky,” persisted Ruhullah. “Too much housing in one facility.”

“We plan to construct Cathy Dome early next year and start building housing there, as a backup. It’ll have a square as well, which will be as close to Andalus’s as possible, and they’ll be connected by tunnels. In both cases we’ll start by constructing the buildings right around the squares, to define the central space, then later we’ll fill in the taller buildings around the edge of the dome.”

“And you’ve planned four of them, right?” asked Will.

“Yes,” said Tatiana. “All four are named for areas on Earth where cultures came together and mixed. Al-Andalus, or Muslim Spain, brought the Muslim, Christian, and Jewish cultures together. Cathay was Marco Polo’s name for China; it represents all of East Asia. In 2042 or 43 we’ll start on Indus Dome; the Indus River in what is this sol northern Pakistan was the cradle of Indian civilization and a major contributor to Hinduism and Buddhism, though this sol it is Muslim. In 2044 we’ll build Zanzibar, named for an island in the Indian Ocean off Tanzania where Arab, Indian, Chinese, and African cultures blended. Together the four will hold at least 2,000 people; more if the interdomal areas are filled with underground tunnels and buildings.”

“And each will be accompanied by three B-160 agricultural biomes,” added Lisa. “Enough to feed and recycle all the wastes of the 500 people. Without plastic bottoms.”

“What?” said Alexandra. “Why shouldn’t they have plastic floors?”

“Oh, come on, Alexandra. It’s clearly not necessary. The Zen monastery’s dome has proved the concept. If you heat the regolith with compressed and warmed Martian air for a month or two, then add water, air can’t leak out; if a crack opens in the ice lens, liquid water gets pushed in and it refreezes.”

“But a B-160 has 20,000 square meters of floor and needs at least 5,000 tonnes of water to form a stable, airtight ice lens and water table, assuming the water doesn’t flow from some areas and pool in others, producing spotty protection.”

“It’s cheaper than excavating a hole, installing a floor, putting the soil back, and putting all trees in big pots,” replied Lisa. “Not to mention that when the plastic membrane leaks, we either perform very expensive repairs or create a water seal anyway.”

“It’s not a tested technology,” exclaimed Alexandra. “Maybe it will be, but it’s still risky.”

“So what?” asked Lisa. “We now have 50,000 square meters of pressurized space here. We can afford to take chances with units of 20,000 square meters. Where can the air go? Every B-160 we add will be built against the existing outpost, which will seal part of the ground around it against leaks. I’d favor the system they’re using at Aram, frankly, of covering huge areas with airtight plastic and creating long cylindrical greenhouses that aren’t too wide, to keep the forces from pressurization at a minimum. Pile regolith between the north-south trending cylindrical domes to hold the plastic down and keep the air in. Make the interdomal areas the right size so that the domes’ reflection blankets aren’t stealing light from each other every early morning and late afternoon, only from the interdomal areas. Let people build underground housing under the interdomal areas opening on the cylinders if they want. Connect everything together with pressurized underground roads. Let the outpost expand over the Aurorae Valley.”

“Alexandra, I hope you aren’t planning to put a membrane down under Andalus,” exclaimed Tatiana. “Because it really isn’t necessary. Andalus’s our first truly urban space. The entire floor will be covered by buildings, streets, or the central square; it’ll all be concrete and stone. We’ll have to install the dome, partially pressurize it to create conditions adequate for pouring concrete, then pressurize it for workers and buildings. The best way to do that is drive piles, steam-wet the reg, let it freeze, soak the ground to freeze up the entire base, pressurize with oxygen, and build. With Andalus, the piles have to go down sixty meters anyway.”

“I was planning to install a pressure membrane.”

“Don’t bother. We have plenty of water to freeze the ground now; we didn’t when the outpost got started.”

“Tatiana, that’s not your decision, it’s mine.”

“Or mine,” exclaimed Will. “The data from the Zen monastery has been very persuasive. If a lot of cheap water is available, it makes an excellent airtight seal. And we have to save money. I just heard from the Budget Office that our 800 million redback surplus for 2042 is projected to become an 800 million redback deficit instead because the price of gold is falling to prewar levels. We’ve got to stretch out Martian jet aircraft research, silane production and utilization projects, and expand exports. The ‘polder’ concept can save ten or fifteen percent of labor costs, right?”

“More,” replied Tatiana.

Alexandra frowned. “I’ve been pretty open about my opposition to the polder concept. I’m still not convinced the savings are worth the possible compromise in safety.”

“Have you seen the latest report from the Mars Construction Institute in Moscow?” asked Lisa. “They say the polder approach is potentially more safe if each dome is surrounded by a vertical airtight barrier and has at least thirty meters of buried plastic sheeting around it to allow recapture of leaking air. The self-sealing nature of the water table underneath is a big plus.”

“I haven’t seen it, no.”

“Well, plan on reading it,” said Will. “Tatiana, is this urban center approach cheaper than our current designs?”

“Oh, definitely. This is a new approach; a sort of pendulum swing, but an important swing. The first phase of outpost construction involved small, crowded habs and small agriculturally intensive greenhouses. Then the pendulum swung and our housing became a sort of American suburb, with apartment buildings set in tiny parks and intensively farmed gardens. It was much more open, airy, verdant. Then we began to build larger domes and raise the population density somewhat, but they still felt suburban. Now, Aurorae Outpost feels like a bunch of suburbs in search of an urban center. Andalus, Cathay, Indus, and Zanzibar will provide an urban focus, a ‘downtown.’ It’ll solve the problem that Yalta is way too small to serve as our commercial center any more; it’ll become the home for our elementary school, allowing Mariner Institute of Technology to expand. The high population densities in these four domes will make them relatively cheap per person to build, and the polder technique means we can install new foundations and buildings as we go.”

“So, what else will go around the square?” asked Will.

“A Borough Hall for the local government. I’d suggest a Commission headquarters building; you’ll need more space soon. The hospital needs more space, too.”

“What about some places of worship?”

That idea surprised Tatiana. “I suppose we could include them.”

“Public spaces have always had churches and mosques on them,” agreed Lisa. “That makes sense.”

“I know of at least two religious groups wanting buildings,” said Will. “I suggest we open up the design of these domes to the public more and let businesses and groups purchase land and build their own structures. These four domes will make Aurorae into a city, and that’s an exciting development.”

“If the time to privatize restaurants is fast approaching, when will we privatize construction?” asked Lisa.

“It’s a matter of time,” replied Will.

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