4

Redbacks

Ruhullah Islami hurried up the stairs to Will’s rooftop office. He walked down the path between overhanging walls of tomato plants and knocked on Will’s door.

“Ruhullah, good sol. Come in.”

“Thanks. Good sol to you as well.” He stopped to smell his hands. “My hands brushed against tomato plants all the way here from the stairwell, and now they smell of tomatoes!”

“I know; mine do, also.”

“Will, we need to move you downstairs. It’s becoming inconvenient for everyone to go up and down the stairs. Besides, Columbus 10’s bringing us a real secretary-receptionist.”

“I know, but I love my view of the escarpment.” He pointed out the door at the northern escarpment visible in front of him.

“Look, we’re buying the apartment next to Mars Control. It’s on the third floor and has an eastward-facing window. You should be able to see the escarpment from there. If necessary, we can lower the concrete wall outside the dome a few meters.”

“That might work. But you didn’t come up here to urge me to move the office downstairs.”

“No. I have a replacement group for the Wahhabis, if they’re not coming. Do we know, yet?”

“I think so. Hutan talked to them yestersol and they said they want to wait another columbiad and come here in 2042. They’ll save face by postponing instead of canceling and we’ll avoid criticism for being un-Islamic. I think they’ll come here on Columbus 11.”

“Good. Because I got a call from Hamid Khuyi yestersol. He’s the owner of a big Iranian software firm; a billionaire, too. He was concerned the Wahhabis would become the representative Muslim group on Mars and wants to sponsor the immigration of a dozen Iranian Shi’ites instead.”

“Interesting. Of course, if he hears the Wahhabis aren’t coming, maybe he won’t be so worried about their plans.”

“Oh, on the contrary! He’ll be delighted to know his group was first and they were second instead! In fact, the Wahhabis might change their mind when they hear!”

“I see. Then I’ll check with Hutan right now. If they aren’t coming, call Khuyi and offer the slots to him. At this late date, that may be our last chance to fill the seats.”

“No one else plans to come?”

“Well, we’ve got 196 slots rather than the original 96! We’re beating the bushes to fill them.”

“And struggling to supply their needs, too; I know about that.” Ruhullah nodded.

Will called Hutan and confirmed that the Wahhabis had postponed. So he nodded to Ruhullah. “Call Khuyi. That’s only ten slots, though, not a dozen.”

“I’ll tell him. Thanks. I think you’ll prefer the Shi’ites; the women are well educated, work hard, and they can do almost anything so longer as they cover their hair.” Then he turned and left.

Will wrote a few more emails and read several brief reports sent to him. Then his attaché beeped. “You have an appointment with Silvia at 10:15 a.m.”

“Oh, thanks Anisa,” he replied, speaking to his computer. “Is Silvio coming here?”

“No, you’re meeting him at the store.”

“Thanks.” Will folded up the attaché and clicked it onto his belt, then headed through the jungle of tomato plants, down the stairs, and through an airlock into Yalta Biome. Silvio was not visible at first, until Will walked through an open door and into a large empty space Silvio was busy inspecting.

“Your new store space?”

“Yes; I finally have the entire basement floor of the building and half of the first floor. I’m hoping to buy out the other condo. Once Columbus 10 arrives, I’ll probably need all 600 square meters of space. Pretty soon I’ll have to buy the top floor too, and it’ll still be too small.”

“I’m getting worried about the future of Yalta; it’s not big enough to serve as our commercial center much longer.”

“It can handle the needs of maybe a thousand people, though not commercial needs and cafeteria needs,” said Silvio. “So we’ll have to start planning pretty soon. How can I help you this sol, Will?”

“We have a 10:15 appointment.”

“We do? Oh, God, that’s right! Come back to my office.” Silvio turned and led Will out of the basement area and to his tiny office behind the current store. His judge’s robe hung in one corner; a book case of imported legal books occupied one wall; his desk was covered by electronic paper, each sheet of which displayed some sort of vital or once-vital piece of information. Silvio sat behind his desk and cleared some sheets off a seat for Will.

“Now I know where all our electronic paper has gone.”

“Yeah, I loved to have information stored on paper in front of me. It’s the best way for me to think about things.” He grabbed a pile of sheets and spread them out before Will. He put one sheet down in a prominent spot and pushed on an icon in the upper right corner with a magnetic stylus, paging back five pages to a particular chart. “Here’s where the Martian economy stands right now. Gold exports look like they’ll hit 300 tonnes and platinum group metals will hit twenty tonnes. The price of gold has declined twenty percent this year and it’s only September; it could decline ten percent more before New Years. Even so, we’re looking at a total income to the Commission of five billion euros, or nine billion new dollars, or six billion old dollars, or ten billion Canadian dollars. . . It depends on how you want to measure it.”

“Yes. . .” replied Will, uncertain about his point.

“And here’s a chart of store purchases and sales. It was denominated in United States dollars before the terrorist acts and the depression in the U.S., now is denominated in euros because it has been much more stable financially, and I gather we’re considering a switch back to dollars; new dollars.”

“Well, we can’t use old dollars because they’re replaced by the new dollars. Because of the decline in the value of the dollar, labor in the U.S. has become much cheaper and so we’ve been doing more business with U.S. firms.”

“And if the dollar strengthens and we switch to doing more business with Europe, will we switch back to euros?”

“I don’t know; say, what’s the question you’re asking?”

“Why not switch to one currency and stick to it. Our Mariner Bank has US dollar accounts, euro accounts, and accounts in several other currencies. Some employees have some of their salary deposited in one and some in another, and they switch the percentages depending on exchange rates. People complain when the store sets all its prices in euros, then changes to dollars, then changes back to euros; it means they get charged an exchange rate, so they have to have some credit cards charging in euros and others charging in dollars and change which one they use. This has become ridiculous, and doubling the size of this place will only complicate things further.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Our own currency.”

“Really? With only a few hundred people?”

“This few hundred people generates five billion in gold exports; or six billion, or nine billion, depending on how you measure it. Furthermore, the 350 people here now have about 100 million in disposable income; depending on the currency you measure it in, that is. It’s hard to say what the salaries are when part are paid in one currency and part in another!”

“Well, that’s true. We use computers to keep track of it all, computers able to give us grand totals in any currency we want. Grand totals that vary from sol to sol most confusingly because of currency exchange rates.”

“Earth clearly needs a common currency, and eventually they’ll figure that out. Meanwhile, Mars can have one. I’d call it the ‘Martian dollar’; the U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Hong Kong all use that term, so why not us. And I’d peg it’s value to a complex calculation involving the value of the U.S. dollar, the euro, the yen, the Swiss franc, and gold itself, since we’re now a major producer of that commodity. Generally when one of those goes up a lot, others go down, the Swiss franc tends to stay the same regardless, and the value of gold is affected.”

“Clever.” Will thought about the idea, then nodded. “Write it up. How would we back the currency?”

“With some gold, like everyone else, but I’d keep some of it here.”

“And would we print bills? We’re a plastic economy right now!”

“I know, and it’s a pain. Many people don’t like making small purchases by credit card. We should print paper money and mint some coins. If nothing else, there will be demand on the collector’s market and we’ll make a few million in profits.”

“You’ve thought this through. Yes, write up a report. I suppose it should go to the Mars Council and the Commission; the latter might need to approve its civil use here and the Commission would need to approve its use in managing the Commission’s budget.”

“I’ll get the design process started, too. It’s easier to think about something you can see.”

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

Once Silvio began to write up the idea, he began to talk to others to get their ideas, and within two or three sols a Martian currency was the talk of Aurorae Outpost.

“I think Will should be on the one dollar bill,” exclaimed Helmut one lunchtime to Clara, Greg, and Anna.

“Will would never allow that,” replied Greg. “The Canadians put animals and plants on some of their coins and bills and we don’t have any of them, so I suppose we should use Martian scenes.”

“And the ‘Spirit of Mars’ statue,” said Clara. “It looks like they’re finally going to get it inflated near Embarcadero.”

“Really? It’s been postponed three times. But it would be a good choice,” said Anna.

“And the Mars flag,” suggested Helmut.

“Controversial,” replied Greg. Then he thought further. ‘Well, why not.”

“I’m actually not sure we need money at all,” added Anna. “And I certainly wouldn’t call it the ‘dollar.’ Too American.”

“Like the Hong Kong dollar?” asked Greg.

“Well, too ‘Earth’ then,” suggested Clara. “I kind of feel that way too. And I’m Canadian, at least by origin.”

“You’re Marsian now?” asked Greg.

She nodded.

“So am I,” agreed Greg. “We all are; we’ve had children here, after all, and we’ve committed ourselves to building this place. That’s the best reason to have our own currency.”

“Even though there are so few of us?” asked Helmut.

“Sure. We generate a lot of wealth, and we spend it across the Earth,” replied Greg. “There are a dozen countries on Earth with smaller economies that have currencies of their own.”

“I’d still like to know what to call it,” said Anna. “The ‘Ares’?” She assumed a deep voice, like a salesman. “Those shoes are three hundred Ares. . .es, ma’m. Hum, I don’t know what the plural of ‘Ares’ would be.”

“How about ‘Marbuck’?” suggested Helmut, amused.

“‘Martian greenback,’ said Greg, with a smile. “Or ‘redback,’ that’d make more sense.”

“Then the currency would have to be red,” noted Helmut.

“Well, why not,” replied Clara. “It could be a very light red, almost a pink, for the $1, and get darker and darker red for the higher denominations.”

“Madhu could suggest a range of colors true to this place,” exclaimed Greg. “I’ll have to suggest that to Silvio.”

“They’ll never go with ‘redback,’ replied Anna.

“No, I refer to the color palette. As for ‘redback,’ it ain’t bad slang, even if it ain’t the official name.”

“That’s true,” agreed Clara. She mouthed ‘redback’ as if to feel the word.

Across the Patio, Will was eating with Ethel. “I’m amazed at how much the idea of a Martian dollar is being discussed,” he said to her. “You can almost hear the buzz.”

“Watch out; you’re creating patriotism.”

“True, but it’s been emerging for years, and there seems to be nothing wrong with it.”

“I agree; it’s natural. Lizzie told me the school is planning a contest for designs.”

“Really? Maybe some can be used.” Will drank the rest of his tea. “Well, I’d better get back to the office. I’m relieved the doctor’s visit went so well.”

“So am I. Let’s just keep our fingers crossed that’s the end of the carcinoma.” Ethel rose as well. “Well, I’ve got to get the carbonyl fractionator functioning again. We’ll be recovering platinum and iridium by 2 p.m., I think.”

“And throwing away even more nickel-steel. See you tonight.” Will kissed her, then they headed in opposite directions to go back to work.

After getting back to his office, Will saw that Charles Kern, the NASA Administrator, had called. He activated the recording.

“Good sol, Will. A rumor has just reached me and I was wondering whether you could confirm it; that the Chinese have approached the Commission to purchase a caravel for deep space exploration. It startled me. I have to admit that no one has an exclusive agreement to purchase caravel technology, but I’d worry about whether some of the technology incorporated into the caravel might be classified.

“On a related matter, our lawyers were reading over the procedures to incorporate new boroughs and find it astonishing that a similar arrangement was never offered to us when we requested an American station at the Martian South Pole. It seems to us the new procedure would simply allow us to set up something and apply for borough status. We’ve got a team on Mars already and another eight folks scheduled to leave in a few months on Columbus 10. Why can’t they simply apply for station status? Bye.”

Will stared at the screen for a few minutes, considering the two provocative and difficult questions. Kern was always pushing to get as much as he could; he tended to regard the Mars Commission as a largely American operation because NASA had founded it and because Will was an American citizen. But NASA dominance of the Commission had ended several years earlier.

He went back and listened to the message again, taking a few notes. He finally decided that simple, straightforward answers were best. Then he said “Anisa, take a response” and paused for the green light on the attaché to come on. “Good evening, Dr. Kern. Thanks for the message. There’s really not much to say about the Chinese. Obviously, I am not in the position to divulge the contents of any negotiations if there are any. As you noted, caravels can be sold to anyone. We’ve checked carefully the origin of all the technology we’re using; we don’t generally have access to classified technology. If the U.S. wants us to incorporate their own proprietary technology into a caravel, we would be honored to do so; that would be the same with any other nation. Everyone knows the Chinese are aiming to send a spacecraft to Jupiter by 2048 or 2050.

“As for a U.S. polar station, two years ago we didn’t have the legal framework we are now creating for boroughs. We’ll soon have all sorts of private groups coming here; they can go out and start their own boroughs. The U.S. can as well. A borough, however, is not the same thing as a national station; it elects representatives to the Mars Council; it has local authority over its land only; it is still subject to the Commission. Read the framework carefully and you’ll see that. But with those limitations in mind, some time next year when Columbus 10 arrives the framework will go into force and you can have a borough, if that’s what NASA wants.

“It’s good to talk to you. Bye.”

He sent the message with some regret. The Chinese would hear about the arrangement and want a borough as well; maybe other nations also. They would still be subject to Commission oversight, but that could get eroded. He had to worry about the unity of Mars as a society and polity.

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