4

Equinox

The entrance to the bottom of the construction pit was rough and rock-covered. Will followed Alexandra down and spent most of his time looking around. It was sixty-three meters across on the bottom, and because it was excavated into a hillside, the southern side was twenty meters high, while the northern side consisted of a berm of piled regolith ten meters high. The floor had a north-facing slope, just like the outside landscape; it would be their first biome that was not flat-bottomed. The southern wall was steep, the boulders and gravel held in place by injected water that had quickly frozen into ice.

“That’s the spot where the wall caved in?” Will asked, pointing to an icy-covered circular alcove on the northeastern side.

Alexandra nodded. “We’re lucky nothing was damaged.”

“If it had happened during the day, someone could have been crushed.”

“It was a couple tonnes of stuff. The slope is stable; we immediately hosed it down, then removed the debris.”

“What do the folks in Moscow say?” They stopped in front of the landslide alcove and looked up. A trench had been carved in the slope by the falling rock, which was also white from freshly applied water.

“Pavel’s sending a final analysis this afternoon, but the preliminary is that we’re clear to start sinking the biome footings. We’re conducting another round of seismic analysis to get a better sense of where the injected water pooled and why it didn’t freeze that section better. We’ll probably have to change procedures; use more steam injection points, hose down the final surface, and possibly anchor debris nets over the surface.”

“The latter could be incorporated into the duricrete to serve as reinforcement.”

“We’ll have to look into that. This is the largest pit we’ve ever dug; the techniques for forty and fifty meter biomes will have to be changed for sixty meter biomes.”

“Even more so when we start on seventy-five and one hundred meter biomes. Of course, pretty soon we’ll extend this line of biomes past this steep section of the slope and the bigger biomes won’t require such deep pits.” Will nodded. “Okay, let’s stay out of the pit except for inspections and equipment removal until Pavel gives us a clearance. Then we’ll resume.”

They turned and headed back out. “Of course, in another year Pavel’s construction support team will be half as big. When something like this happens, we’ll be more on our own.”

“I know, but that’s the financial reality. If the national representatives ever meet, maybe they’ll appoint a new Commissioner, and I won’t have to worry about budgets and such. And maybe they’ll give more money. But right now I have the unenviable position of having to finalize a preliminary budget for an organization that still lacks its headquarters, half of whose employees are still dealing with no electricity and partially or completely damaged houses, with burned spouses and kids, who may be living with relatives all over the U.S. for the next six months, an organization with no financial support from the United States, with gold income whose value changes every sol, and whose national pledges change in value every sol. Maybe in six months the value of the dollar, euro, ruble, and gold will stabilize and we’ll know what we really have! Meanwhile, we have to make plans for cuts.”

“I know. Anything new with Columbus 8?”

“The U.S. is still holding two passenger transfer vehicles in low Earth orbit, so we can’t get twenty-four people to Gateway. Of course, we’re still not completely sure who some of those people will be, but at least we now have a reliable backup list. Yestersol we filed a motion to add additional damages; we’ll need to buy more fuel to get the last cargo shipment to Gateway.”

“Won’t that delay the judgment?”

“Apparently not. We should hear in a few hours.”

“If we win, do you think the U.S. will agree to attend a meeting of Commission Trustees?”

“Maybe.”

“And you still don’t want to be Commissioner?”

“God no! Everyone up here thinks I should be the new Commissioner, but remember that our work is still the tip of the iceberg. The Commissioner needs to be on Earth, especially for fund raising and diplomacy. Those are his main tasks, really. And for the next decade or so, the Commission will have the bulk of its employees on Earth, not on Mars. Economics drives that decision because of the cost of flying people here, then of paying them five times as much as an employee on Earth. It’s cheaper to do as many of our vital tasks on Earth as possible and keeping the staff up here to implement the plans.”

“True, Will, but you’re cutting our support staff, remember! And that makes it much harder.”

“I know, but this may be temporary.”

“But gold just hit $2,500 per ounce.”

“Yes, but Alexandra, the dollar has fallen in value to a third of a euro; gold is about $800 per ounce when measured in last year’s dollars. That means practically every gold mine on Earth that ever has been operated is being reopened. Gold production on Earth may triple. As long as there is economic uncertainty—and there’s a lot of that right now—demand for gold will stay high. But once stability returns the price of gold will crash, a lot of mines will go bankrupt, and we’ll have a huge financial crisis.”

“I know, but we can’t afford to save for that, Will, so let’s spend it.”

“I’m trying to make a long term plan.” He shrugged, then pointed at the circular pit they had just left. “So, we’ll have Colorado ready in time for Columbus 8, right? You have four months.”

“I know, and I know we’re late. Yes, Colorado will be fully pressurized, and the foundations of the various housing units will be ready for the people and bubbles arriving on Columbus 8. We should have the soil and gardens set up in the yard as well. But the bubbles that arrive won’t be fully ready for habitation for four more months.”

“Accommodating all those people will be interesting, especially since we will have some tourists and they will need comfortable lodgings. We’ll do it. Thanks for the tour, Alexandra. It sounds like this accident won’t set us back much.”

“No, not at all. We’re losing one sol of work, tops.”

“Good. Do you and Yevgeny have any plans for Equinox?”

She shrugged, which was barely noticeable in the spacesuit. “No, we’ll go to the big dinner, attend the premiere of Skip’s film and the arts evening, and then spend the sol next to the swimming pool.”

“Like everyone else. Have a good sol.” He waved goodbye and she reciprocated. Will walked uphill to head back to the airlocks, but he stopped momentarily to survey the work they were doing. A line of biomes was marching westward across the Aurorae Valley; first, a pair of forty-meter biomes, Yalta and Catalina; then another forty-meter pair, Riviera and Shikoku; then a fifty-meter pair, Huron and the almost completed Shenandoah; now a sixty-meter, Colorado, which would be matched with another B-60, Dakota. The next pair would also be sixty meters, then they’d probably build a seventy-five meter pair. One hundred meters was their eventual goal.

He turned and headed for the airlock, thinking about Alexandra’s questions. He had not been altogether honest; he would like to be Commissioner. But he knew the United States would never allow it because he had defied them. He also knew that politicking and partisanship was getting worse on the Mars Commission’s Board of Trustees—the representatives of the national governments—and it would be almost impossible for someone on Mars to keep track of the intrigues. He was saddened, frustrated, and sometimes angered as a result. But it was likely that his hand as Governor of Mars would be strengthened by his interim Commissionership.

He passed through the airlock, put his suit back in his locker—they now had a very nice locker room between Joseph Hall and the new Arrival Hall and Main Garage—and headed for his office. On the way he had to detour around two robotic cleaners, one in a hallway, sweeping and washing the concrete floor, and the other in Joseph, vacuuming the carpeted floor. The former had a bin full of small plastic garbage bags; the apartments now had robotic garbage pickup.

Will entered Yalta and was startled to hear people cheering and applauding. They were looking at the big screen, which had CNN news on it, live. They saw his surprised look. “The United States Federal Court has released our passenger transfer vehicles!” exclaimed Lisa Kok, whose chef’s outfit showed that she had run out from the kitchen.

“Really? What about the rest of the case?”

“The attempt to take over the Mars Commission has been ruled illegal!” exclaimed Skip. “Sanity has finally triumphed.”

“Thank God,” said Will. “That means the Lunar Commission is clear as well.”

“I hope they drop the audit of your finances,” said Lisa.

“Probably; they haven’t found anything. I just hope they drop the demand that I fly back to Earth to appear in tax court personally. Even with the sworn statement of our public safety people and our court that I will be extradited if found guilty, they’re still insisting that I appear.”

“It’s harassment. I’m sorry they’re putting you through this, Will,” said Skip.

“Politics,” replied Will. “This is good news. It probably means the Board of Trustees will finally meet.”

“Almost two months after Morgan had to resign,” added Skip, shaking his head. “You’ve done a good job.”

“Thank you.” He looked at the screen and they listened to the court statement, which was being repeated. “No one will get any work done the rest of this sol, so I guess I should declare the afternoon a holiday. Tomorrow’s Equinox anyway. Some people are even exchanging presents; they might need the time for shopping.”

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

May 28, 2035—or the first of Sagittarius in the Martian year 39, if one used the local calendar that they had informally adopted—dawned bright, clear, and cold at Aurorae Outpost, as always. Will, Ethel, Marshal, and Lizzie went to the patio for breakfast—a sparse meal, since the cooks were busy preparing midafternoon dinner—then came home for presents.

“Now remember, we aren’t making this as big as birthdays,” said Will, as they entered the flat. “It won’t be as big as Ayyám-i-Há either. But everyone wants to do something special for Equinox to make it a Marsian holiday, regardless of religion or culture.”

“Okay, okay,” said Marshall. “You guys didn’t order anything for us from Earth for it, anyway.”

“But we haven’t ordered Equinox presents for the next two years, either,” noted Ethel.

“That means clothes,” said Lizzie, rolling her eyes. It was about all they made on Mars that could be given as gifts, and all the used toys were for younger kids than they.

“That’s okay,” replied Will. “What would you guys like to do to celebrate Equinox as a family? I asked you yestersol and the sol before and never got an answer.”

“Let’s just exchange presents, then go to the pool until dinnertime,” replied Marshall.

“You know what I’d like?” asked Ethel. “Maybe next year we can do it. I’d like to have a special family breakfast together. Not just the usual food; something special. Maybe we can order something from the kitchen.”

“Some people have ordered special breakfasts and lunches,” said Will. “Lisa was complaining to me about it. Next year I hope the kitchen offers some special meals people can take home. The big communal meal is very nice, but a smaller family meal would make this special, too.”

“I’d like to decorate didie,” said Lizzie, pointing to their diminutive potted tropical tree in the living room. “We’re putting our presents under it already; can’t we put some ornaments on it, too?”

“I like the decorations on the Patio,” added Marshall. “It makes the holiday festive.”

“Next year, let’s plan on decorating the entire living room,” suggested Ethel, with a smile. “And especially didie. That gives us plenty of time to make the ornaments.”

“Good,” replied Lizzie.

“Dad, can we open the presents?” asked Marshall. “Cause Samie and I want to go to the pool.”

“Okay.” Will looked at his watch. “We’ve got thirty minutes before the sun officially crosses the equator. Do you want to go to the celebration? Everyone’s bringing noisemakers.”

“Yes, then the pool!”

“Okay.” Will turned to the tree. He sat on the floor and began to hand out presents, which were in decorative, reusable plastic boxes or bags. “Marshall from mom and dad. Lizzie from mom and dad.” He handed them to the recipients.

Marshall pulled open the box and out came a vest. “Light blue. Cool. Thanks, dad.” He held it up to look at it; it was in the “Martian style,” a double layer of cotton and polyester with large pockets around the front and back filled with standard five-centimeter thick hydrogen-impregnated polyethylene radiation shields. The kids loved to slip all sorts of toys, writing utensils, and other junk into the pockets as well. The vest extended down past their waist. He tried it on.

Lizzie’s box had a dress. She stood and modeled it. “I hope you like it,” said Ethel, tentatively.

Lizzie nodded. “Yes; I like flower patterns.”

“I thought so.”

“Thanks.” She kissed her mother and father. Then she pointed to a big bag. “That’s yours, dad.”

“Oh?” Will was puzzled by the large bag, so he picked it up and reached in. Out came a hat. But it was no ordinary hat; it resembled a fedora slightly and even looked like it might be made of felt, but the top was higher and the brim wider and thicker. Will hefted it; he could tell it was filled with hydrogen-impregnated plastics as well. He put it on and looked in the mirror. “Thank you.” Then he frowned. “I wonder whether I look slightly ridiculous.”

“I think so!” exclaimed Marshall.

“Silvio says they aren’t selling,” replied Ethel. “People have to get used to them, that’s all. It’s fashionable enough once we see them around.”

“And they provide radiation protection,” said Will, nodding. “Okay, I’ll do my patriotic duty.”

“It does look a bit silly,” commented Marshall.

“People used to wear hats all the time on Earth,” replied Ethel. “Maybe hats will make a comeback.”

“At least here,” said Will. “There are good reasons to wear them, after all.” He reached down and grabbed the last bag. “For you.” He handed it to his wife.

“Thank you.” She smiled and reached in. Her eyes opened with delight when she pulled out a thin shawl of wool in a plaid pattern. “Oh, how nice. Yalta and Riviera are always so chilly in the evenings. This will cover my arms and legs very nicely. You got this from Earth, though; it’s too nice to have been made here!”

“Yes, it’s an extra present I ordered for you,” said Will. “But look inside. I had Madhu sew some radiation pockets, so you can put in some pads if you want.”

“Oh, how nice,” she said. She smiled. “They’re the rage. You’re sweet, as always.” She kissed him. She draped it around her shoulders and they all admired it.

Within a few minutes they were ready to return to the Patio, because a crowd was assembling there with noisemakers. Ruhullah was on stage, ready to lead everyone into a countdown. The sun, still barely in the northern hemisphere, was almost exactly over the equator and heading south. The large screen had a countdown flashing on it. They all counted down the last ten second aloud, then began to bang pots and pans or blow horns while shouting “Equinox!” Then everyone looked at each other and laughed, embarrassed because they had never had a custom like that before. The crowd slowly thinned as people headed elsewhere.

Will and Ethel led the kids home to change into swimming suits, and they returned to Yalta to swim. The pool was full of kids and there was a volleyball game for adults nearby as well; dozens of spectators chatted as they sat in chairs pulled over from the Patio and lined up under the two buildings’ wide overhangs. The kitchen put out ice cream and cookies and the biome took on a festival atmosphere.

Will sneaked away for half an hour to check his messages. The Bio-Archive administration in New Mexico had sent a dozen documents, including a proposal for a California redwood ecology in a two-hundred meter biome with a one-hundred meter ceiling. That was encouraging; throughout the court case, Bio-archive had not communicated with Mars at all. It seemed to signal that relations with the United States government were returning to a sort of normalcy. A message from Sebastian about resumed communications with NASA and its offices provided further evidence of a change, though Sebastian added a very sad personal note: his wife’s death in Houston had been confirmed. Will immediately sent him a message of condolence.

Much to his surprise, a message also arrived from the Internal Revenue Service as well, stating that their audit had showed that he had overpaid his taxes by $735 over the last seven years and that they would send him a check. Will had insisted that his tax preparer not include a few hundred dollars of deductions every year on the grounds that since he wasn’t on Earth to look everything over, he preferred to overpay by a small amount. But during the audit his tax preparer had insisted that the deductions be included.

Whistling and feeling happier than he had in months, Will returned to Yalta to tell Ethel they were cleared. The whole family returned home in a good mood.

After the kids changed clothes, they all went back to Yalta for a light lunch; the big dinner was at 5 p.m. Then they headed to Joseph Hall, where the garage, cleared of vehicles, had been temporarily converted into a movie theatre for the premier of Skip Carson’s movie, The Survivor. He had incorporated modest special effects into the opening scene when a vehicle that looked like a Mars shuttle crashed on a planet that looked like Mars with the first crew to visit that world. For the next two hours, the lone survivor crawled out of the wreckage and salvaged what equipment he could in order to fight for survival. At the end, they all gave Skip Carson and Brian Stark a standing ovation for an excellent, dramatic film about the inner resources that humans possessed.

By the time the questions and answers ended, it was time for the big dinner. Everyone returned to the Patio for the best food Mars could offer. Every major dinner the kitchen hosted was a bit grander than the last, and this one saw the premier of several new dishes, such as blackened tilapia, crab cakes—with artificial crab—and rose water flavored ice cream.

As everyone finished their desserts and filled their cups with coffee and tea, Will rose and walked up to the stage. “May I have everyone’s attention for a moment,” he began, and waited a moment for the crowd to quiet. “I don’t want to interrupt the festivities, so I’ll be brief. I want to thank everyone for making this sol a special Marsian holiday. I think we have combined many good customs from our native cultures on Earth to make a set of Marsian customs here. Twice an annum, we now have our own gift-exchanging holiday to complement the sols we celebrate in our homes based on religious and national traditions. We will celebrate the moment the sun crosses the equator, which again is found in some cultures on Earth. Many families had a special lunch at home, a custom that I think will grow every year. We have our big collective meal together. And we have cultural events: the film premiere this afternoon and the cultural evening later tonight, which will include two original poems, an original song, and a short, original play.

“To these customs I want to add a few words from the Governor. This sol is a very special, historic sol. Not only is it our first celebration of Equinox, but it also marks the final recognition of the Mars Commission as an independent, international, intergovernmental body. Yestersol the U.S. Federal courts gave us a victory. We are all grateful; we are not bitter or suspicious, rather we want to get on with the task of exploring and settling this planet, an enterprise to which every nation can and must contribute.”

Will was interrupted by a wave of applause. It had been a long struggle and the Marsians were relieved that they had won.

“In spite of the very difficult times on Earth, the future of all humanity is bright, and Mars will help lead the way. This sol we received a proposal to build, six years hence, a California Sequoia biome. The biome would be two hundred meters across and one hundred high, for that is the height needed to accommodate a redwood. The sol is coming when we will see giant redwoods planted on Mars. We will live to see them ten meters high; our children, twenty; our grandchildren, thirty. Eventually, perhaps a thousand years hence, a biome will contain redwood trees one hundred meters high, their uppermost boughs brushing against the top of the dome. Perhaps these great trees will become one of this world’s symbols, for they will represent perseverance, patience, survival against all odds, and hope.

“This is our future. The last six months have seen the birth of a new consciousness here. It is the dawn of ‘Marsianness,’ a word we never before would have uttered or considered seriously. Yet here we are: Marsians. It is a transplanted identity, by and large, but in our children it does find its natives. Marsianness is tied to a land isolated far from the mainstream of humanity. It is slowly becoming a culture, a dialect, and a nationality of its own. It will not see independence any time soon, not in our lifetime, but it already has semi-autonomous political institutions. And its future is glorious; it will become the standard bearer of civilization, just as Greece, Rome, and western Europe, Iran, India, China, Russia, and the Americas have before it. It already represents a beacon of hope, a proof that a just and united future is possible for all humanity, and a promise that a stable, prosperous, and peaceful society is possible.

“So twice per annum, on the spring and autumnal equinox sols, let us celebrate our accomplishments, give thanks we are on Mars, and reflect about the brightness of our future. We have much to be proud of. Thank you.” And Will Elliott walked back to his seat to thunderous applause, for they were all thankful for the present and hopeful for the future.

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