2
Conference
The Great Room in Renfrew Hall had its seats and tables arranged in a big horseshoe, with two camera diagonally in front. Most of the seats were filled; almost everyone was there. No one wanted to miss the First Interplanetary Mars Science Conference.
The horseshoe faced three large wall screens. In the middle one, an auditorium in Houston was filled with close to a thousand people. The screens on the right and left showed smaller auditoriums in Paris and Moscow, respectively, but each was full as well. Tokyo was not present; it was the wee hours of the morning there, so no one was attending the opening session. The attendees on board Columbus 5 and at Shackleton Station, Luna, were not shown.
At exactly 9 a.m. Central time, Dr. Douglas Morgan rose to welcome everyone and convene the gathering. When he finished to warm applause in four different locations, Will Elliott’s face appeared on the screen in Houston. He had taped his comments just half an hour earlier. Leaving nothing to chance, both he and Morgan had written out everything they had to say and compared notes to make sure the message was consistent.
“Good sol to you all, and greetings to this conference from Aurorae Outpost,” he began. “All of us up here are not only honored, but thrilled to be involved in this unique and historic conference. Gatherings have been brought together across continents before by audio and video, but never before has a conference been held simultaneously on three continents and three worlds. The eleven minutes of time delay will be masterfully disguised using panel discussions and the latest technology. The hope is that all of us will feel as if we are participating together in one gigantic gathering dedicated to the advancement of our understanding of Mars and what it tells us about our home world and ourselves.
“For the next week, the twenty-nine of us up here will have quite a contribution to offer you. Our full-video geological field trips will take you to the widest possible range of geological features and terrains here. All of tomorrow will be dedicated to a field trip up Little Colorado Canyon, a hike through a half billion years of geological, atmospheric, biological, and climatological evolution. We also have forty original scientific papers to offer, thanks to six months to synthesis and integration of the research we have been doing here for years.
“Our presentations will be interspersed among three hundred papers delivered in Houston Paris, Moscow, Tokyo, Shackleton, and on board Columbus 5, with many sessions held simultaneously in as many as four venues, all tied together electronically. Among the highlights: a redefinition of the classification scheme of Martian biota; a new, more sophisticated model of late Noachian ecology in Gangis Chasma; a climatological model of the last three billion years, based on the polar layered terrains and sediment cores taken in Nirgal Vallis; a reclassification of the phases in Tharsis volcanism; a new date for the Hesperian-Amazonian boundary; a new date for the Tiu Vallis 3A flood; a revision of the history of Oceanus Borealis; and a new computer model for moving from horticultural management to ecosystems management here at the Outpost.
“A recent calculation indicates that our understanding of the history of Mars has doubled almost every three years since the arrival of Columbus 1, and that now, eight years after humans first set foot on Mars, we know eight times as much as we did in 2021. By the end of this year—nine years after the first human steps here—our human population will have increased eight fold as well. The outpost and its human residents will be the subject of twenty presentations, and half of them will not focus on the medical aspects of living on Mars. Indeed, the social dynamics of this place will receive its first serious attention.
It would seem, then, that by March 2029 the exploration and development of this world has reached a historic landmark. This is the first of what we hope will be an interplanetary and intercontinental conference about Mars every time the two planets come into opposition with each other. It is fitting that we look back over our deeds and consider what we can accomplish in the next decade. In 2039, a decade hence, one can project that Mars will have between 150 and 500 people on it. The first children born here will be moving into their teenage years. The planet will be crossed by a network of some two hundred thousand kilometers of dirt tracks. Tourists and specialized professionals will be arriving, staying a month, and returning to Earth about seven months after they left that world. Mars will be approaching a new threshold of self-reliance—we will never be self sufficient—with imports per arrival dropping below one tonne and exports approaching a similar value. We will know about sixteen times as much about this world as we know now. Who knows, by then we may have found life surviving somewhere on Mars; and if not, we may be contemplating the creation of genetically modified terrestrial species able to grow here and gradually terraform this world. And, we hope, the Outpost will continue to emerge as a multicultural model for the home world, one representing peace, justice, equality, and true fraternity.
“Time will tell whether we achieve these milestones. It will take the hard work of the scores and hundreds of us up here, and of thousands and tens of thousands of you on Earth. One week every columbiad we will come together to form a kind of learning community together. The people of Mars are grateful for your support and partnership and look forward to the learning and collegiality. Thank you.”
Will’s image faded from the screen and everyone in the Great Room joined the applause they could hear in Houston. Will nodded in thanks. There was a pause, then a video appeared of Madhu doing a classical Indian dance modified for Mars’s lower gravity. The audience gasped at her jumps. “They have no idea how much you have to change your dancing style,” Roger said to Madhu.
The rest of the morning was devoted to major overview papers presented by some of the leading support staffers on Earth. Then they broke for lunch. Will was getting ready to head to the geology expedition—they were doing a trip around Boat Rock in order to present classic outcrops showing erosion and deposition in the middle Noachian floods—when Dr. Martha Vickers and Dr. Kevin Dunbar approached him. Will saw them coming and his heart sank.
“Shall we head to my office?’
Kevin nodded. “Ah, I think so.”
The three of them walked through the greenhouses to Habitat 1, where Will’s office was reasonably private and soundproof. Martha closed the door and looked at Kevin.
“I want a divorce,” he began. “Jennie and I have been trying to live together for five months. The counseling did help for a while, but it hasn’t solved the underlying problems we have. I need to move out right away.”
Will wondered what to say. “Your old room doesn’t exist any more; it’s been subdivided into two temporary rooms for the Columbus 5 arrivals. But I suppose you could have one of them. How many months pregnant is Jennie?”
“Three,” replied Kevin, grimly.
“I recommend this move,” added Martha. “I’ve spent a lot of time counseling Kevin and Jennie over the last two years. Their differences seem irreconcilable.”
Will nodded. “Then we’ll have to do something. Mars doesn’t have divorce law or a set divorce procedure, but we’ll have to create one.”
“I hope so,” replied Kevin. “I was afraid that this silly utopian publicity façade would make divorces impossible.”
Will scowled. “Oh, no, absolutely not. There is a lot we can do here to make people genuinely happy, such as providing counselors like Martha whom everyone likes and trusts and wants to talk to. That’s our strategy. The Mars Commission is putting resources into ‘quality of life support efforts’ and we want to see what that does to preserve marriages and help people overcome personal problems. But when those efforts fail, we can’t paper over the differences. You and Jennie really tried hard, and I salute you for that.”
“Thank you, commander.” Kevin sounded relieved.
“Choose a room and let me know; I’ll authorize your key card to open the door. In the absence of an ordinance here, Texas and American federal law apply; that’s what the Mars Commission treaty specifies. That means if you and Jennie can come to an amicable agreement together, that can be approved by a Texas court, or both of you can hire lawyers and they can battle against each other in court there. Meanwhile, if we can put together a divorce procedure quickly enough here, you can use it instead. I’ll get started on that.”
“Good,” said Martha.
Will rose and shook Kevin’s hand. “Don’t worry; we’ll all get through this.”
“I appreciate the support; I do.” Then he and Martha left.
Will made a few notes on his attaché of things he had to do, then hurried to the suit donning area. He barely had enough time to get into his suit, grab his helmet and gloves, and jump into a ranger that was headed to the southern face of Boat Rock for the video expedition. Some five hundred geologists were expected to tune in, and not just the ones in Houston, Paris, Moscow, and Tokyo; the expedition was being web broadcast and the passwords had been given out to hundreds. He had to explain several key outcrops.
The expedition lasted until 6 p.m., then Will came back in, grabbed a bite to eat, caught his breath, and reviewed his presentation. He was on at 7:15 p.m., which was 8 p.m. in Houston; he was the evening plenary speaker there and the early afternoon plenary speaker in Japan. His talk was a general one about the history of geological study of Mars, a summary of an early chapter in the textbook he was completing. He concluded with a survey of questions that remained to be answered and regions of Mars needing particular attention. The questions occupied him until 8:45 p.m.
He hurried upstairs; Marshall was probably still awake, because his son didn’t want to go to sleep until both parents were with him. Sure enough, the little boy was still awake. Much to his surprise, Will found Marshall and Ethel praying, and Ethel was reciting a Bahá'í prayer about humankind. When she finished she looked up and smiled; she seemed pleased he had heard her.
“Daddy, she said a Bahá'í prayer!” Marshall said.
“Yes, I see. Now you have to learn the Lord’s Prayer.”
“I know half of it!” Marshall began to recite, and he did indeed know half of it. Will smiled. “Excellent! You’re learning!”
“Your turn, daddy.”
Will nodded. He sat on the floor with them and recited a Bahá'í prayer for unity that he particularly liked, one he said almost every evening. Then Marshall asked him to say two more prayers, because he and his mother had already said three each, so Will complied.
At that point Marshall yawned; he was ready to sleep. Will pulled out one of the boy’s books and began to read, but Marshall was sound asleep before Will had finished page 2. He and Ethel tiptoed out of the room.
He wondered whether to say anything. “That prayer you recited is one of my favorites,” he observed.
“I know; you’ve said it many times. I like it, too.” She paused. “As you can see, I’ve been reading a bit; and not just prayers.”
“Well, if you have any questions, you can always ask mom or Molly, if you don’t want to ask me.”
“Molly’s always helpful,” agreed Ethel, referring to Will’s sister. “How was your talk?”
Will shrugged. “Pretty good, I guess. There were a lot of good questions. The expedition this afternoon had 734 viewers; fifty percent more than expected! Quite a few others are viewing the videotape we made and are still posting questions to the website. Roger told me he’d be answering questions for the next week.”
“The Little Colorado trip will draw the biggest audience; it’s so spectacular.”
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The next week was exhausting for everyone on Mars. A team of geologists led by Lal Shakaraman took geologists on tours of volcanic features in Elysium—on the other side of the planet from Aurorae—when everyone in the Outpost was asleep. The Outpost folks otherwise were busy eighteen hours a sol either showing people outcrops, giving tours of parts of their facility, making presentations, or listening to the flood of papers from Earth.
When the conference finally ended, most people planned to take a few sols off. The next morning Will went down to the Great Room to get breakfast for the family and take it back to their room—they ate together at least once a sol, usually in the morning. Érico and Roger were having their usual friendly debate in line to get food for their families as well.
“Your President has finally passed national health insurance,” exclaimed Érico. “It only took the U.S. sixty or seventy years longer than all other civilized nations! Welcome to the club, Roger.”
“What club? The European countries have universal health care and practically no children, so they import a few immigrants and watch their median age exceed fifty. Only one Frenchman’s coming to Mars this time and it’s because they’re spending a third of their GDP on health insurance and social security. That’s no club to join.”
“But don’t you think the benefits you enjoy here should have more widespread application?”
Roger laughed. “No. Mars is an exception; we work hard and we renounce the benefits of living in a materially rich place. We have good health care because we have no access to stores.”
“For a few more months, anyway,” said Will, intervening. “We’ll have a store by the end of the summer, remember.”
“He’s really unbelievable,” said Érico, pointing a finger at Roger, but he was smiling.
“You’re both unbelievable,” replied Will.
“What did you think of the conference?” asked Érico.
“I’m pleased. We made a lot of friends, got a lot of ideas, shared a lot of ideas. . . it was good for everyone.”
“A geophysicist studying Mercury’s magnetic field had several clever ideas for me,” agreed Érico. “He and I plan to write a paper about the early history of the Martian magnetic field. We think we’ve figured out some of the puzzles.”
“Madhu’s got several major new ideas about the ecology of the biome,” added Roger. “A waste management expert recommended we set up several waste treatment lagoons outside the main part of the Outpost, maintained at a pretty low pressure—just enough to keep water from boiling at 40 Celsius—and use a combination of anaerobic digestion, combustion of waste gasses, and solar energy to keep the temperature constant and high. A lot of the water will evaporate and can be purified through distillation, and the rest will be clean enough to use for irrigation.”
“She told me. It sounds like a really clever plan, if this guy’s research is sufficient.”
“There’s a pilot plant on the moon that’s similar.”
“Yes, but it operates under somewhat different conditions; higher pressure and no solar inputs.”
The three men stopped talking because they had reached the food. Each held a “double decker,” two trays on top of each other, so they could carry all the food for their family. Martian gravity made possible something that was not practical on Earth.
Will waited because the cantaloupe ran out and Marshall had asked for some. As he was preparing to head out the door, he saw Eammon pulling Kevin aside. Kevin already looked uncomfortable. “So, you’re divorcing Jennie?”
“Eammon, It really isn’t any of your business.”
“But Kevin, you’re Catholic, aren’t you? Shouldn’t we take the church’s teaching about this pretty seriously?”
“Eammon, I’ll decide how I follow the church’s teachings in my life, okay?”
Will moved in. “Eammon.” He shook his head.
“Commander, I have free speech here.”
“Of course you do, and Kevin has a right to privacy. And we all have an interest in civility. Civility means we leave private matters like this to each person.”
“Commander, you’re not creating a neutral culture here; you’re advocating an individualistic culture. Shouldn’t we be our brother’s keepers?”
“Yes, but in courteous ways, Eammon.”
He looked hurt that he had in effect been called discourteous. “Very well, Commander.” Eammon clearly was unhappy.
“Thank you, Eammon,” replied Will.
He glanced at Kevin, who nodded a thanks to him.
© 2004 Robert H. Stockman