4

13.

New Year

Will Elliott and Thierry Colmar stood in front of a small manger scene with a cross standing behind it. “Commander, it isn’t the manger scene that bothers me, I suppose, but the big cross. This is the Patio, after all; we eat our meals here. This is as public as public space can get.”

“It is indeed the most public space in the outpost; that’s why the display area is here,” replied Will. “And we have quite an interesting series of displays planned. Ernesto Alves will put up his watercolors of Martian scenes in mid January, Arieh is planning an educational display about cancer for later that month, there will be a Valentine’s Sol display in February. We’d love to have a Bastille Sol display in July, Thierry, if someone can do the work. And at important religious times we will have a manger scene, an Id display, something for diwali, Chinese New Years, etc. In short, religion is being treated as a part of the Outpost, just like a cultural, popular, or secular event.”

Thierry answered slowly, just like Will, so as not to raise his voice. “Commander, religion is not something. . . ethnic. It has caused terrible bloodshed on Earth. Consider the terrorism that has been happening in Kashmir in the last year, or the bombings in Morocco, or the bombing of the mosque in Granada last year. I think we have to consider very carefully what we portray here, and what we might be encouraging on Earth.”

“But surely you would agree that the religious people here on Mars harbor no desires for terrorism? Yes, religion has been badly misused; but so has science, which still has humanity threatened with nuclear devastation. When something is misused, it is the obligation of the people involved to correct the problem. And surely the religious people here are concerned with strengthening the positive side of religion.”

“Well, perhaps they are; I don’t know, I don’t go to any services. Neither do about half the people here, either. They meet at various times in Clarke Dome. Maybe that’s the best place for religious displays; it’s easy for people wanting to avoid such a display to walk around the dome, after all.”

“But here, in this very public spot, the religious identity of some of the residents is recognized and valued, just like we want to recognize and value some of our ethnic groups. Thierry, you can always take the matter to the next town meeting. I authorized the inclusion of religious displays here not as Commander of Mars Operations, but as Manager of Aurorae Outpost. This display space belongs to the Aurorae Borough and its voters can decide.”

“Thank you, Commander, I’ll consider that idea,” said Thierry, disappointed that Will wasn’t coming around to his position. “Surely as an American you understand the separation of church and state?”

“Of course I do, but it would be inappropriate to apply that very American approach to the relations between religion and state to Mars. You should talk to Andries Underwood, who is not particularly religious. He told me that in South Africa, separation was viewed not as freedom from religion, but equal recognition and access of religion to civil society. A display about humanism or even atheism would also be welcome in this display space, as long as the display does not attack or tear down something else. That’s where we are drawing the line.”

“I see. Well, thank you again, Commander. Have a good sol.” Thierry turned slowly and headed for DiPonte’s store. Will watched him go. Then he looked around the patio; almost everyone had finished their lunch and left, including Ethel and the kids. Will walked to Catalina Biome, the enclosure north of Yalta, where Lisa was waiting to explain a complaint to him.

She was waiting on the edge of “Catalina Pool,” and Will immediately could see that the water was as murky as people had complained about. Catalina had the largest body of water inside the outpost; the forty-meter biome had a pool thirty meters long, with a bulbous eastern end ten meters across and a long, thin—five-meter wide—channel extending west from it. A rope extended across the western end of the channel to demarcate the kids’ wading pool. The bulbous part was up to seven meters deep, but Will doubted he could see a quarter of the way to the bottom. “It looks pretty murky,” he said.

“Yes and no,” replied Lisa. “When you get out you may want to take a shower; but we have one to use. The turbidity is unpleasant, but it isn’t a health danger. We take water samples daily.”

“We can’t filter it?”

“No. You see, right now between Christmas and New Year’s, almost everyone is taking some vacation time, and that means there are three times as many people swimming in here as usual. The biology in this pond is another year older, too, so there’s that much more organic buildup on the bottom. The filters just can’t cope with so many more people stirring up the bottom. It’s not doing the biology in here any good, either; but we anticipated the problem and made a major fish harvest last week. As a result we had enough fish for the big Christmas dinner and there are fewer fish in here to feed.”

Will looked at the oxygenator’s air bubbles rising thickly from the middle of the bulbous area. “The water still has oxygen, too, so that’s not a problem. Is there a lot of algae?”

Lisa nodded. “Sure! If you stir up the bottom, you add nutrients to the water! The water doesn’t smell, though, because of the oxygenator. My main concern is that we not overreact by chlorinating the water and wiping out the ecosystem. This is our main fish supply.”

“No, we won’t do that. My concern is the opposite; that we won’t close the pool to swimming. Yalta’s pool is just too small.”

“At least it’s clean, though. If anyone is upset about the water quality here, tell them to use Yalta.”

“I will. Okay, Lisa, I feel better about the situation now. This isn’t dirtier than a cousin’s farm pond that I swam in as a kid. The person who complained was raised in a city and is used to public swimming pools, not natural ponds. We really should call this Catalina Pond, not Catalina Pool. I’m sorry to take time from your other tasks.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” She shrugged.

“How’s bio-archive?”

“Pretty good. We’ve got everything put to bed for winter; it’s really cold in the central Alaskan greenhouses! You need a heavy coat to go in at all. They’re getting three hours of daylight per sol and there’s half a meter of snow covering everything. But it’s surprising how much biological activity is going on underneath; we can measure it because there’s carbon dioxide buildup in the greenhouse’s atmosphere.”

“Interesting. When will it start to snow in Huron?”

“We’ve delayed winter there by a month because construction was delayed and we wanted the trees time to get established before we hit them with cold. Next week, though, the nighttime temperatures will be below freezing every night, and ten sols later they will be below freezing most of the sol as well. At that point you can tell Marshall to come sled on the snow! We’ll make up to three meters of it in some places.”

“Good. He and I plan to take some afternoons together in there.”

“You should talk to Alexandra. She has some ideas for future biomes—the larger ones we’ll be building in a few years—where the floor will have a slope to it rather than being flat. The results should be aesthetically pleasing and good for sledding. Maybe even a bit of skiing.”

Will laughed. “That’s an interesting idea. Thanks, Lisa.”

“Have a good sol, Will.”

He nodded and headed across Catalina to its western end, where a short tunnel took him to Huron and Riviera. He stuck his head in Riviera quickly and felt fall in the air; it was crisp and chilly. He walked across Huron’s yard between the two completed buildings, reflecting about how each biome had its own unique appearance. If anything, they were becoming more different every year, too. Some of Yalta’s condos, including Will’s old flat, would soon be converted into more space for businesses. Yalta would soon become a commercial space. Riviera, on the other hand, had their administrative headquarters and no doubt would eventually be a government biome. Catalina had their university, Mariner Institute of Technology; it still used a small part of the buildings, but now they were thinking of moving science facilities and maybe the hospital to Catalina. That meant that Huron and other future biomes built farther to the west would be residential.

Will walked out the eastern end of Huron and followed the tunnel to the western end of Riviera, where he entered and headed for the south building, on whose roof was located his office. He stopped first at the control room right down the stairs from his office. Rostam Khan and Kent Bytown were there.

“Anything new?”

Rostam shook his head. “Not really. We were just chatting with the crew of Argo 1, by the way; they called to say hello.”

“They’re pretty close, actually.”

“Yes, about seventy million klicks. They said Mars is quite pretty in the night sky at 2007KB63.”

“I have to send them congratulations for the successful landing. You’re still able to reach them directly?”

“Yes, we should be able to, so tape a message and I’ll forward it to them.”

“Thanks. How is everything on the Hadriaca and the Tharsis?”

“Fine. They’re getting bored of training.”

“They’re more than halfway there.”

“By the way, Will, any further word from Houston about Columbus 7’s return to Earth?” asked Kent.

Will shook his head. “We’ll send it back unmanned. Everyone heading home wants to go with Columbus 8 and fly past Venus; who can blame them? We’ll have enough vehicles going back to keep everything functioning by remote control. I don’t see a problem.”

“Oh, I’m taking off the next two sols,” said Kent. “Miranda and I are going up to the dacha overnight; Leona’s being watched overnight by Tatiana and Boris. Their little girl and Leona are really close, as you may know.”

“Have a good trip; that should be really nice. The dacha’s hopping this time of the year.”

Kent nodded. “A lot of people are taking vacations up there. Are you doing anything for New Year's?"

Will shrugged. “We’ll go down to the patio with the kids for the countdown tomidnight, then go to bed! Then have a sol to relax.”

“And then see what happens with the U.S. election,” said Kent, worriedly.

“Don’t worry. Everything will work out.”

“You may be the only optimist in the Outpost, Will!”

“No, I just know that a century from now, the U.S. will be around, the world will be around, Mars will be around, and the nail biting will have been long forgotten.”

“I suppose that’s true,” agreed Kent.

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

Most of the outpost arrived at the patio by 11:30 of New Year’s eve. Only people with small children were absent. Marshall, a month short of his tenth birthday, insisted on being there; Lizzie, seven, didn’t want to be left behind, even though she couldn’t stay up that late. Soon she and her friend Corazon were asleep, wrapped up in blankets on the grass.

They all watched the count down to New Year’s in Honolulu; that year, coincidentally, Honolulu’s new years was just twelve minutes before Aurorae’s. Then they counted down their own clock and shouted “Happy New Year!” as 2035 began. Most people drank toasts or kissed a loved one. Then the dance music began again and many danced, while others said good night and collected their bleary-eyed children.

“Good night, Will!” exclaimed Ruhullah.

“Good night, Ruhullah, and happy new year.”

“Thank you, happy new year to you, also.” The greeting seemed a bit empty, exchanged between a Muslim and a Bahá'í, both of whom had their own calendars. “I hope it will be good.”

“So do I,” replied Will. “I’m sure it’ll be good here. I’m not so sure about Earth.”

“No, the international tensions are worse than they have been in decades. Perhaps it’s just as well that we’re up here.”

“Perhaps. We may be safer here. Good night.”

Will nodded greetings to a few others, then walked to the lawn to pick up Lizzie, who stayed sound asleep as he carried her back home. He helped Marshall a bit to get in bed; it was too late for family prayers. Ethel tucked Lizzie in.

“Well, my dear, another year,” he said to her as they got in bed.

“Yes. The year you turn 49 and I turn 48.”

“The year we will have been on Mars 14 years. That’s hard to believe, too.”

“It really is.” She looked around the room. “But let’s plan to stay in this flat a while, okay? I’m tired of moving.”

“This has all the space we need anyway. It’s our fourth flat here together.” He leaned over. “Happy new year.” And he kissed her.

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

New years sol was peaceful on both worlds. But Will didn’t sleep well that night, and rose a bit before dawn on January 2 to turn on the television. The United States House of Representatives was meeting to resolve the Presidential election, the electoral college having been unable to give any candidate a majority. Two months of political uncertainty in the United States had caused the stock market to fall sharply and the world economy to slow noticeably. On the third ballot, the House of Representatives had not yet done any better.

Ethel came out to watch as well. Then the kids rose, so Ethel ran to the patio to grab breakfast for all of them. “I’m glad you didn’t go,” she told Will. “The big screen is on, live from Washington. Everyone’s watching.”

“I don’t want to make any comments, that’s for sure,” said Will.

“Why are they voting by states?” asked Ethel.

“That’s the Constitutional requirement. The representatives caucus by state, cast state ballots, and announce who got the most vote by state. A President has to be elected by at least 26 states.”

“That’s going to be impossible! The election practically split three ways.”

“We’ll see. They have to vote for one of the three; the Constitution specifies that, too.”

Lizzie came out and complained she couldn’t watch the children’s show that was always taped for her. Marshall, however, showed slight interest in the voting. The fourth ballot was also inconclusive, so Will took the kids to school, then went to his office. When he went to lunch they were on their seventh ballot. The stock market had plunged 5% in value.

He went back to his office and got to work. Aurorae Outpost took several hours a sol to manage; there were personnel assignment changes to approve, disputes between workers and bosses to adjudicate, reallocations of power and consumables to consider, reports about leaks to read, and expenses to watch. He passed several on to Ruhullah, who had proved very capable at management.

Then he received automatic emails from several news services, and at the same time he could hear shouting outside. He switched to the British Broadcasting Service. John White, the arch-conservative, had been elected President of the United States after nine ballots.

Will sat and stared at the screen, wondering what that would mean for Mars. For that matter, he wondered what it would mean for Earth. White had received less than a third of the popular vote; he would be a weak President.

Then the attaché beeped with a message from Doug Morgan. Will pressed the play icon. “Good sol, Will. I’m sure your people up there will be very worried about White. He’s the opposite of internationalism, which is an inevitable value in Mars culture, and he represents a few other positions that will worry our people. But I know White some; I can’t say I know him well, but I worked with him when I was a Senator and he was a White House staffer—and I can say that we will manage the threat to abolish the Mars Commission. I know what to do and who to talk to. So tell people not to worry about that. White’s in favor of nuclear power in space, so that will be to our advantage. Overall, we can make this election work for us. Bye.”

Morgan was very confident, but he had been a Republican Senator, so it was logical. Will felt relieved. He hit record. “Thanks, Doug. I’ll assure people privately. This should help a lot. We’re working on the revised industrial equipment manifest for Columbus 8; Alexandra has a few changes she wants to make. The gold production continues to be strong and with the price of gold creeping upward, we should be in good shape financially. There’s nothing new up here. The Gradivus mission is moving forward. We’re in touch with Argo 1 daily. Aster 1 is on its way to 2006MN and Aster 2 is doing fine en route to Eureka. It appears we may be able to move her on to 1998VF31, the other L5 trojan, if we can conserve fuel. Lal’s expedition in northern Argyre has found some fascinating glacial deposits, and Roger’s down in Alba Patera is tracing its volcanic history. So we’re doing well. Bye.”

Will sent the message, then rose from his desk. He knew the residents of the outpost would be upset and unlikely to work, so he went on a walk. There was a small gathering in the patio, where people went for a coffee break. They saw Will coming.

“So, what does this mean, Commander?” asked Anna.

“We’ll see. Morgan thinks he should be able to mute their criticism of the Commission, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“But won’t he put money into NASA and not into the Commission?” asked Lisa.

“Maybe, but our gold will be worth about 30% more than expected because of rising prices, so we can handle a cut in American support. Besides, White is in favor of nuclear power in space, which will probably benefit us in the end.”

“True,” said Lisa, skeptically.

“I don’t understand how someone can be elected President with such a small share of the vote,” said Anna. “In Croatia we have a runoff election between the top vote-getters.”

Will saw someone else enter the patio; it was Érico. “The Constitution doesn’t work that way,” he replied.

“I’m amazed he got the votes of the Republicans after running as an independent,” said Érico. “I thought he was dead for sure.”

“Well, the core of the Republican party is very conservative. That’s where White stands as well. The core has never liked Krieger.”

“But he wants to ban abortions!” exclaimed Anna. “He’s a crazy man.”

“And he said on the campaign he would not tolerate it if Turanistan continues to harbor terrorists,” added Érico. “Of course, there’s no evidence they ever have, and plenty of evidence the U.S. ignored it when their ally, Khalistan, was involved in the Paris bombing!”

“I know,” replied Will. “But remember; he will be a weak President. I doubt he’ll be able to do very much. And frankly, if he managed to ban abortions, it may be the best way to legalize them once and for all. The fight over abortion has been going on for fifty years. I don’t think Americans will tolerate back-alley abortions. They tried prohibiting alcohol, and once they saw that didn’t work, they never tried prohibiting it again.”

“We’ll see,” said Érico skeptically. “Don’t forget he has said he’d withdraw the U.S. from quite a few international trade treaties. That could wreck the world economy.”

“Which is probably evidence he won’t do it,” replied Will. “Hey, he wasn’t my first choice! But we’ll have to live with this decision. We have to run this place so that it benefits regardless who is in the White House. That means staying politically neutral and finding advantages where we can. With White, the advantages are more nuclear power and higher gold prices. With any luck, Morgan can build a relationship with this White House; he wasn’t welcome at the last one, after all.”

“Hey look! White’s making a speech!” exclaimed Anna. They all turned to the large screen on the wall behind the stage.

It was a quick, conciliatory speech. “Well, he certainly comes off as a nice man,” concluded Lisa. “He knows how to call for unity and letting bygones be bygones.”

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” sneered Érico.

Will said nothing at first. “White is a very courteous man; everyone seems to agree on that,” he finally said. He left the patio feeling a bit better about the election. The people gathered there felt much better.

He walked around the Outpost, stopping to talk to people, assuring them Morgan knew what he was doing, and encouraging them to listen to White’s speech. A few people were happy about his election, but about ninety percent were opposed. He had to reflect on the power of culture to shape attitudes; Mars was more like Europe than America, with a communitarian rather than an individualistic slant, and an internationalist rather than a nationalistic attitude.

He finally ended up at Ethel’s work station in Joseph Hall. “You heard the news about White?” he asked.

She nodded. “The next four years should be interesting. I’m glad he made that conciliatory speech.”

“Yes.” Will paused to reflect. “Of course, that made people feel better, but I doubt it changes anything.”

“I agree. He strikes me as an ideologue.”

“Exactly.” Will looked at her. “My hunch is that the stock market will now recover for a month or so, until he does something drastic, which he might. So I’m inclined to wait and see whether we can pull some of our investments out of the money market funds and such and put them into Martian gold companies. If there’s economic instability in the world, the price of gold will skyrocket, and we know the companies are doing well.”

Ethel nodded. “I wouldn’t mind investing more in Martian land, too. It’s a long-term investment, but it’ll make money eventually.”

“I agree. But the mining companies are looking at big profits. Production has been good, there have been no accidents, and the shipment of gold is insured. If it’s alright with you, I’d shift about half of our portfolio there.”

She was surprised, but nodded. “Alright, let’s do it when the stock price allows.”

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