7
New Years
The sheets of vinyl siding practically snapped into place. Will could align the sheet against the metal frame and push and it clicked in place, so well formed it was. Then he drove screws into precut holes using his electric screwdriver.
The piece he was working on had additional screw holes to hold a plastic sheet over the window, and yet more holes to hold ornamental window framing in place. As soon as the sheet was fully secured he grabbed the plastic, placed it, and secured it with screws. Finally, he lifted the framing and anchored it in place.
He paused to peer through the three layers of plastic—two plastic sheets and a pressure membrane—making up one of the windows of building 1. It was a bedroom and he had to wonder who would be living in it, in a few weeks. Eammon O’Hare was inside installing a wireless communications port. Then Will moved on to place another piece of vinyl siding. Building 1’s “outside” consisted of simple vinyl panels screwed onto a light-weight metal frame that existed only to hold them up. The agricultural sections on the roof, filled with tonnes of soil and water, were supported by pillars of concrete and steel. Inside the vinyl siding was the building’s airtight kevlar bubble and inside that, a layer of insulation and the sheetrock walls of the interior of the building. The three had been compared to Russian nested dolls, fitting tightly together but barely touching.
Will continued along the second story of the building, anchoring the large, light-weight panels. Building 1 was a light blue with wide, white decorative window frames. Building 2, across the yard, was a peach color with white framing; Thierry was busy putting up its siding. As soon as Will finished the entire row of panels across the front—it took over an hour—he lowered the work platform to the ground, where Zach helped him load up with the top row of panels. As they finished, Will’s communicator buzzed. He groped for the small device under his heavy sweater and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Will, this is Silvio. I gather you don’t have your video with you, right? Then I won’t email you anything. We have the wording on the sale of condominiums all finalized and approved; the task force of lawyers in Houston just gave their approval.”
“Excellent. You’re satisfied?”
“Yes, we got most of the features everyone here wanted. We’ll assign units based on a lottery system weighted in favor of seniority, as proposed.”
“Good. Email it to my address and I’ll take a look when I get finished here. Let’s make an announcement tonight.”
“Okay. Take care.”
“Bye.” Will pushed the off button. He surveyed the biome. It was looking pretty good. By the end of the sol, the outside panels would be in place, including the framing around the doors. The interiors were virtually complete as well; some interiors would have to be changed depending on who bought them, but that was a minor matter of blocking a few doors. The yard was not looking as good; only the thinnest layer of fill had been placed because of the problem of heating thousands of tonnes of processed regolith during the dust storm, so there were still ramps leading up to the buildings’ doors. But some trees had been moved in from Clarke Dome in their pots, and a few trays of flowers as well. The east end of the yard, termed “the patio,” had a temporary plastic floor in place. Only the other end—called “the west court”—was still undeveloped, because a swimming pool was to be put there.
It was time to consider holding their meals on the patio instead of Renfrew Hall. The exterior lights had been installed, also. But it was barely ten centigrade in the biome; they had kept the heat low. He punched in Lisa Kok’s number.
“Ecology, Lisa.”
“Say Lisa, this is Will. I’d like to consider holding supper tonight in Yalta; the buildings’ exteriors will be finished at that point. But that means cranking up the heat hauling in extra lights to make it bright, maybe moving in more plants, and jazzing up the menu.”
“I think a celebration is a good idea; it rewards our work and makes up for the gloom,” she agreed. “We’ve got the heat energy, of course. We’d probably have to haul in lights from some of the greenhouses and that will slow plant growth by one or two percent.”
“Bring some of the plants along to catch the stray light; I’d rather make the yard as green as possible. What about food; any more animals you can contribute?”
“Yes, we could kill three rabbits and add them to a stew. We can increase the vegetables and salad for this meal if we decrease them slightly for the other meals over the next week.”
“I suppose that’s the best we can do. We’ve got some pretty good foods from Earth that we can pull out as well.”
“Yes; how about the wine?”
“Sure. It’s New Years, after all.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of that right away.”
-----------------------------------
They continued to work until 6 p.m.—an hour early. By then the siding was indeed up; buildings 1 and 2 looked finished. The work inside was fairly extensive, but there was still a lot of finishing to do.
Will dashed to his office quickly to handle messages. Louisa Turner’s message was not long, but very worrisome; interest in interviewing Mars residents had dropped precipitously over the last two months and media coverage was now forty percent as much as it had been last year. The Magellan Project had captured the public’s attention at least temporarily, the dust storm had prevented surface exploration and the good video it provided, the focus on construction of housing had made them look like middle class consumers instead of heroic explorers, the Dunbar divorce had tarnished Mars’s image as a family place, and the controversy over the gay couple—far bigger off Mars than on—had complicated their image as well.
Will acknowledged the message, wished Louisa happy New Year, and headed back to Yalta. The round tables in Renfrew Hall had been rolled out to Yalta’s patio, followed by the chairs, and soon everyone began to arrive for supper. The buffet line was set up just inside building 2 in what would be their future kitchen; the food had to be hauled from Renfrew, however, which was inconvenient for the cooks. The large, open space gave the evening an even more festive atmosphere than usual. Eammon and Irina brought their three-sol old baby as well; Patrick’s first public appearance. Everyone crowded around to see.
“Congratulations, Eammon,” exclaimed Thierry, after most of the crowd had dissipated.
“Oh, thank you Thierry,” Eammon replied, a bit stiffly.
“So, the rumor has it that this is the first of many,” added Zach.
“God willing,” replied Eammon.
Irina rolled her eyes. “We’ll see,” she replied.
“You can have our allotment,” volunteered Zach.
Thierry poked him. “No, not necessarily; we could always adopt.” The two of them smiled impishly at each other.
If they had set out to make Eammon uncomfortable, they succeeded. “Thank you, but I don’t need your allotment.”
“No, probably not,” agreed Thierry.
“So, how’s your work?” Greg asked Thierry, attempting to change the topic.
“My work? The geologists have taken it away from me. I’ve become a full-time construction specialist. I never drive Prospectors any more.”
“You drove half of last Wednesol,” exclaimed Roger from a nearby table. His tone was impish as well, not confrontational.
“That’s true,” agreed Thierry. “Boy, you guys have been touring the planet.”
“It’s the only way we can get around, right now,” replied Roger. “Besides, lately we’ve been cruising the trails to see how the dust has changed them. We have to clear half the tracks again.”
“But it’ll be pretty fast work, this time,” added Érico.
“Charles wants to get down here as soon as he can and help,” added Martha Vickers.
“How are they doing up there?” asked Zach. “They must have seen all of Deimos by now!”
“Pretty much,” agreed Roger. “They’ve figured out how to refill the gas tanks of their maneuvering units, and now that they’ve covered the ranger’s wheels with big cleats they’ve been able to deploy the ranger on the surface. The result is a lot of travel.”
“Right now they’re on the ITV, though,” said Martha. “For New Year’s.”
“How are they handling the switch between gravity and weightlessness?” asked Eammon. “I think switching weekly would drive me crazy!”
“They’re doing alright,” replied Martha. “We’re monitoring them pretty closely. They aren’t having the sleep problems that often crop up when someone lives in weightlessness for several weeks or months. Their muscle tone and bone mass are holding up much better, too; of course, they’re getting a lot of exercise on Deimos, and that helps.”
“They seem to have developed a faster ability to adjust than I’ve ever seen,” added Roger. He stood up and walked to the buffet table to get seconds, even though the relatively sedentary life of the Outpost was causing him to put on a little weight. After he partially filled his plate he was walking by a table with Will, Ethel, their children, Alexandra, Tatiana, and Ivan, and Tatiana said “Don’t listen, Roger.”
“What?”
“I was joking.”
“We’re having a debate about the colors of the two buildings,” explained Will. “Alexandra was agreeing with something Madhu said the other sol: that while peach seemed like a good Martian color for a building, light blue seemed inappropriate.”
“But I wanted the colors to represent a contrast,” replied Tatiana. “Peach does indeed represent Mars this sol; it’s a warm color, but it also echoes this world’s reds and oranges and yellows. Light blue is supposed to represent a contrast: either the water of Earth, or the water inside this biome, or the color of a dust-free sky. Those are the choices I had in mind.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Will, looking at the building in the steadily brightening artificial light, as twilight faded outside. “I like them both.”
“So, what will we work on next?” asked Roger.
“The insides aren’t finished,” reminded Tatiana. “There’s a lot to do there.”
“With this dust storm tying us down, maybe for three months more, I’d favor completion of the yard,” said Alexandra. “The swimming pool will be immensely popular.”
“Good,” agreed Roger. “But I have a simple request: the two basketball hoops. Of course, they’ll have to go about a meter higher than regulation to make up for the gravity. They can be set up in a few hours.”
“The space between them will be pretty small for basketball,” noted Will.
“We can manage, especially if the pool can be covered over quickly with a hard plastic surface, so we can run over it. That would produce a wider basketball court,” suggested Roger.
Alexandra nodded. “That’ll be necessary for volleyball also. We’ve designed some extra-thick vinyl panels that can be quickly placed over the pool and anchored.”
“Good. But completing the interior won’t consume three months,” said Roger. “Maybe five or six weeks, sure. What about the rest of the time?”
“Good question,” said Alexandra. “Our best bet would be to get started right away on the second biome: Catalina. We’ve already gotten the rangers excavating the hole, and next week I’ll start to divert labor to the manufacture of steel beams and rods, and to sheetrock. That way when the storm clears, more people will be able to go out to explore.”
“Not many more,” replied Roger. “That’s the problem. Even once we set up the two mobilhabs, we won’t have the capacity to send out many more people. This storm will really curtail exploration for this columbiad. But a little extra construction might not be bad. I already told Will my construction suggestion.”
Will nodded. “A resort on the escarpment.”
“Made from what?” asked Alexandra.
“Catalina’s building bubble 1 or 2,” replied Roger. “Either bubble will have the capacity to accommodate Columbus 6, including the space rendered empty by Yalta. So I suggest we set up one bubble on the edge of the escarpment; I know a place that even has the right arc shape. It overlooks Little Colorado as well as the entire Valles Marineris. A beautiful spot. We could even let the bubble overhang the escarpment by a few meters, which would guarantee a great view! Inside the bubble we could set up a modest building and a small garden. We could cover it over with plastic sheeting to protect it from sun and dust. It’d be a perfect vacation spot for two couples or one family at a time; a sort of time-share dacha for all of us.”
Alexandra smiled. “What a fascinating idea! The only problem is the issue of redundancy. We need the bubble to house people if we have a failure at the Outpost.”
“We could always move people to the dacha and they could commute here to work every sol,” replied Roger. “It’s about thirty kilometers, an hour away.”
“We’ll have to look into this,” replied Will, obviously fascinated by the idea.
Silvio approached the table. “I think it’s time,” he said. “Everyone’s asking questions.”
“Okay,” replied Will. He had finished his supper; most people had finished theirs as well. He rose and walked to a spot near the buffet table. Everyone, seeing the Commander stand, quieted down in anticipation.
“My, what an attentive audience!” said Will, surprised. “I wish every time I had an announcement, I got such attention! Let me start by wishing everyone a Happy New Year. I understand Madhu has a program from 11 to 12 midnight and she says she can hold it here on the patio, so we’ll stay right here. And since no one lives in here, we can make as much noise as we want.
“But I’m not standing here to wish you Happy New Year. The ink is now dry on the plan to sell condominiums to the residents. We will have a town meeting next week—Satursol afternoon, January 9, 2030—to ratify the plan. It should be on our website the sol after tomorrow so everyone will be able to read it and post their questions and comments on the civil bulletin board. I hope everyone uses the bulletin board before the town meeting in order to digest the discussion, so the town meeting can build on it.
“In short, here is the plan. Tonight we will hold a lottery. Every adult will be eligible to draw a number; we have 47 numbers here in the pot.” He pointed to Silvio, who held up a pot. “Any couple or group of people who want to purchase a unit jointly can use the highest number drawn by the group. Érico is the Borough clerk who issues title to property; Silvio is the sales agent. The two Yalta buildings will be open for walk-throughs all sol tomorrow. People can go to Silvio any time after tomorrow and put in their property requests; we recommend that everyone give us a general description of what they are looking for, what they do not want, and four ranked examples. Don’t forget to mention people you want to have as neighbors, or not as neighbors. Note that the Yalta buildings are designed to provide thirty-five square meters of living space per adult. If you prefer, you can put in a request for housing in one of the habitats or one of the halls, and we will redesign them to provide fifty square meters per adult.
“Then next Frisol afternoon, January 8, Silvio, Érico, and I will go through the ranked requests and assign them based on the lottery. We have 14 adults here from Columbuses 1, 2, and 3; 15 from Columbus 4; and 18 from Columbus 5. The highest fifteen numbers, regardless of seniority, will be selected in order. In the next fifteen selections, we will be sure to include anyone from the highest seniority group with numbers as high as 40 and anyone from the middle seniority group with numbers as high as 35. If you include the garden level apartments, Yalta is set up with six three-bedroom units, twelve two-bedroom units, and six one-bedroom units; theoretically it can accommodate all of us. Depending on need, however, we can rearrange the units in all sorts of ways; we could make 24 two-bedroom units, for example. Most likely we will accommodate about 42 adults.
“Once all four choices are taken, we’ll have to get back to people about their next choice and start redividing units. Keep in mind that units in the habitats and halls will cost the same as in Yalta, but will be about fifty percent larger, and you should be able to negotiate even more space if you want it.
“Questions?”
“Can we stay where we are, if we want?” asked Ruhullah.
Will was surprised by the question. “Yes, no one will be evicted from their present housing. Depending on who moves out, you may even be able to double your space.”
“And if we buy, we can sell the unit back to the Borough?” asked Pete. He had a family on Earth; he was one of the few crew members planning to head home in eleven months.
“Yes.” Will looked around. “Other questions?”
“Do you have to have seniority?” asked Greg.
“We’ve had quite a discussion on that, haven’t we?” replied Will. That had been a controversial matter. “This is a pretty weak seniority system, I think. As most of you know, seniority is, in my opinion, an important principle in the settlement of Mars; not a central or powerful principle, but a principle, because it gives everyone an incentive to stay and advance.”
“How are the mortgages, titles, and all that going to work?” asked Radha.
“We will not require deposits; people can just start paying. Everyone here has a good credit rating and we know it. The titles to the property by definition are clear; no certification will be needed. So purchase involves signing a purchasing contract based on payments over as much as thirty years at six percent interest. The prices are $15,000 per square meter for the ground floor, $12,000 per square meter for the top floor, and $10,000 per square meter for the garden level. The prices in the habitats and halls is $8,000 per square meter.”
Several people whistled or sighed at the price. “We have high salaries here,” replied Silvio. “A typical unit will cost a quarter of our salary, which is about the cost of housing on Earth, and the money comes back to you when you sell the unit. The mortgage payment will cover the cost of importing more housing and life support equipment, which means we are laying the foundation for paying for this world’s settlement. Including the interest payment, in thirty years each of you will roughly have paid for the cost of the housing and life support. In twenty or thirty years the costs of transportation will be less and it will be possible for settlers to come here and earn enough money to cover their own housing. We have to think ahead.”
“An expensive way to think ahead,” commented Érico.
“We can’t deny the presence and power of capitalism,” replied Silvio, with a shrug. “Perhaps it’s a bit premature to announce this, but in February I am fairly sure the town meeting will have to discuss banking laws. We are finalizing plans to open an Aurorae branch of International Manhattan Bank. This has immense implications for everyone. Right now we are paid salaries in dollars by the Mars Commission and the money goes into banks in our home countries. We have to pay American income tax on the income because it originated in the United States and sometimes partial national income taxes as well. But the Mars Commission exists on Mars and in Houston. If we have bank accounts here, we can be paid here, and legally we will be obligated to pay Martian taxes first, not U.S. or other national taxes. Mars doesn’t have any taxes, or at least not yet. You should be able to divide your income between our bank and any terrestrial bank, also. Money deposited here can be invested here, and any profits are taxable here.”
That got a lot of attention; everyone was silent a moment, trying to figure out what it meant. “But will our units appreciate in value?” asked Roger.
“Who knows?” replied Silvio. “That’s a function of several factors: the cost of importing items for making more housing; the cost of building here; and demand for space, which is a function of our population and our personal desire for space. Imports should drop, construction costs here should drop, and demand for space should increase. Then there’s the market, which is not always completely rational.” Silvio smiled.
“So, when will we have to pay taxes?” exclaimed Kevin.
Will shrugged. “Who knows? Keep in mind that we now have eight children on Mars and one more is on the way. We have to pay for child care and schooling. Pretty soon, we’ll have to pay for some of our health costs. Most likely, incomes will be raised to cover the taxes, but whether the salaries will go up as much is not clear. We may have to make some choices as a community in the next few years if national government support wanes; our salaries, reinvested in this place, can be an engine for growth.”
A few people gaffawed at that, but Silvio stepped forward. “Don’t misunderstand that comment. The average adult here is paid $350,000 per year; our gross domestic product therefore is $16.450 million per year. If all of us paid twenty percent of our income in local taxes, that would amount to about $70,000 per year per person, and it would reduce the tax we owed our national governments by the same amount. Multiply that times fifty adults and twenty years: it totals seventy million dollars. Columbus 5 cost four million dollars per person on Mars for cargo and a hundred million to fly each arrival here. If those costs halve, our taxes could fly a teacher or physician here. When the Outpost doubles in size, we can fly both every columbiad.”
The lecture caused a few to giggle and a few to frown; others looked pensive. There was a pause. Will got the impression no one else had questions, but he could see that Ruhullah looked cross. “Ruhullah, it looks like you might have something to say.”
Ruhullah was startled. He looked at Will, then rose. “I did not, Commander, but since you have offered me the floor, I will graciously accept it. I apologize that I have not been following the discussion about financing our housing over the last few months. If I had, perhaps I would have spoken up sooner. Since arrival four and a half months ago, I have tried to be a hard working and loyal resident here. Like everyone, I have essentially done two jobs; my professional work as a chemist and my duty as a construction specialist. So I am gravely concerned that after contributing so much labor to this beautiful place, the purchase of units here will be set up in a western and European manner that will force me to compromise my fundamental religious principles, or not participate at all. Many of you know that the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon Him, was a merchant. He was very concerned about setting up a society where people could legitimately make money, but he was also concerned about the poor and about exploitation of others. For these reasons he forbade usury; that is, the charging of interest. By setting up this banking arrangement, my participation in this society has been compromised.”
He sat. There was silence. Many looked baffled; a few uncomfortable, as if they had been personally criticized. Will had been looking down at the floor and listening. “I believe we will be able to accommodate you. International Manhattan has a very impressive portfolio; we looked at the portfolios of many banks when we were selecting a bank to use, and selected International Manhattan because of its extensive system of branches and affiliated banks around the world, as well as its wide range of services. International Manhattan has Islamic banking affiliates in the Arabian peninsula. I don’t know why we couldn’t set up a branch bank of one of them as well.”
Ruhulllah looked surprised; Silvio looked even more surprised. “If there are no other questions, let us proceed to the selection of numbers,” Will suggested. “People can come up in any order. Let’s start with this table.” He pointed to the nearest table. Eammon, Irina, Greg, Érico, Carmen, Roger, Madhu, and Sam rose and stepped forward. Sam was told to reach in and mix up the slips of paper, which he did. Then everyone drew a number and sat.
They went table by table and everyone drew a number, including Ruhullah, who looked at Will with respect as he came forward. Then Silvio and Will pulled out the last two numbers.
“I’ve got fourteen; what do you have?” Will said.
“Eleven. Say, Will, do you think I should talk to Ruhullah about his concerns? Two banks is a pretty elaborate and wasteful solution.”
“Not necessarily. No, if he wants to raise the matter with us, he is free to do so. Contact our International Manhattan representative and see what he can do. IM is providing the entire setup of the branch here at no cost; they plan to use it in advertising, after all. They can advertise the Islamic operation as well, so let’s see whether they’ll absorb the cost.”
“For one person?”
“No; for Mars’s many future Muslim residents. Columbus 6 looks like it will have a few, too. The government commitment is a hundred million up front and ten million per year for twenty years or as long as the citizen stays here, or a one-time lump-sum payment of 200 million. There are sixty nations in touch with the Commission about this way to boast about their economic and technological capabilities. A dozen of them are predominantly Muslim.”
“I see. I suppose the percentage of Americans and Europeans here is bound to drop, as more nations come on board. But what about the precedent? What if Érico comes to us and says he wants a bank run on socialist principles, because he’s concerned about the profit motive driving International Manhattan?”
“Tell him to go to the Islamic bank; their moral and economic foundation may be more to his liking.”
Silvio laughed at the suggestion. “Okay, I’ll contact our agent sol after tomorrow.”
Will headed back to his table. “What’s your number?” he asked Ethel.
“Twenty-nine.”
“Mine’s fourteen; that should get us something decent.”
“Sure you can’t pull rank? I really like the first floor three bedroom unit in building 1, with the morning sunlight streaming in through the master bedroom’s eastward windows.”
“Sorry.”
“Dad, can I stay up for new year’s?” asked Marshall.
“Another year, son. You’re still too young.”
“I’m almost five!”
“I know; another year. I bet mom said that, didn’t she?”
“Yes.” He was disappointed, on the verge of crying. Will looked sympathetically, but not too sympathetically, lest his reaction trigger a tantrum. Then he saw Ruhullah approaching.
“Thank you, Commander,” he said. “I hope my heart-felt concern was expressed appropriately.”
“Yes, I think you were very articulate. And passionate, but not in a manipulative way.”
“I hope the banking system will be able to accommodate me.”
“I hope so, too. International Manhattan does have Islamic banks; I read the portfolio very carefully. I’ve instructed Silvio to investigate.”
“Excellent; thank you.” Ruhullah smiled in gratitude.
© 2004 Robert H. Stockman