Idyllic Chicago
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
Suki Parker looked at the spotty rock in her hands and felt lonely. It wasn’t just because she was standing alone, looking out a high window over a sea of green; or that all around her were empty chairs waiting to be filled by dozens and hundreds of people who would never come; nor even for those reasons—as if they mattered so little?—that she wished more than anything else to have had a chance to sit down with those she’d loved best during the short time she’d lived on Earth: Tuckie, Scooter, and Willy.
But most of all…just as much—or maybe rather because she could think of no other way to describe it—she missed her friend Genevieve. She wanted desperately to look into the gray-blue eyes and find again a kindlier smile.
Even though they’d argued before their trip off-world, Genevieve didn’t deserve any bitterness from Suki, not after she’d stuck so close to them when everyone else except for Arturo thought Suki should die on account of something that happened long ago. Besides, nobody seemed like themselves anymore these days.
Perhaps if they hadn’t gone to E2 and M1, things might still seem normal enough somehow here among the billions of their home planet’s two moons.
The kids were right. They’d made good decisions back then! If only they knew how foolishly it sometimes felt now in this place full of unknowns and secrets, this strange land where men once walked under feet too big for its streets, where skyscrapers grew taller every day, and where gravity worked backward instead of forward.
The ground below—not called Mars but another name altogether—was real beneath their toes, although everything about this world, despite decades passing since its discovery, seemed unreal…impossible…alien! Who ever heard of planets without breathable air?
Or oceans teeming with life forms unthought of anywhere but someplace far beyond human experience? Could they possibly mean the same “Earth” in which each person dreamed their own dream for their lives? To this end, perhaps “Mars,” an imperfect metaphor, had been chosen as the final destination for humanity when they left the solar system more than half a century before.
Yet even with the magnificent photographs they’d taken on board of places such as Olympus Mons, Mount Sharp, Valles Marineris, and others—to say nothing of pictures of living beings on the surface of both Mars and Titan—”Terra”—and not least the fabulous photos of alien races on distant worlds, why did it feel as if they’d ended up somewhere entirely different and maybe even less wondrous—not so bright a future for anyone or anything on any of these weird new worlds?
Surely someone must understand this, couldn’t be content to stay silent. And what better people to learn from? There should’ve been somebody out there that everyone trusted to tell it straight. One who held fast to her convictions as well as facts that proved otherwise.
Somewhere along the line, though, all of us had let go of our grip on reality! All but Genevieve.
Suki took a step back from the windows, trying to take it all in once more. Not just the immense crater just visible through the leafy trees in a broad sweep across the horizon, but the entire landscape above and beyond her on the face of this battered moon.
Except for the gentle wind whipping through the great oaks that sheltered many of the campus buildings, the scene appeared unchanged from centuries past. Oh yes, Suki knew that to be untrue.
Like Titan itself, most of what surrounded her was covered over with ice. Beneath the blanket of snow that still trapped its deepest reaches beneath the perpetual shadow, subterranean flows of liquid water sloshed constantly, where warmer temperatures brought carbon dioxide frosting the undersides of permanent glaciers that flowed over mountain peaks that rose higher and longer every year, while newer glaciers stretched outward from old ones, widening the growing chasm. In a few hundred thousand years, a vast inland sea might well engulf the area outside of Gale Crater until nothing remained but frozen death to humans and creatures alike.
Only the deep blue of Titan’s methane lakes gave testament to life. So mysterious did they appear from a distance, with their twisting shapes and bizarre patterns—like stripes and spirals within striations and streaks within swirls—it made Suki think of fairy paintings, but also of fish swimming through clouds.
Some had suggested, if only half-jokingly, that this eerie image resembled some kind of giant squid dwelling underwater, despite the fact that none had yet been seen alive.
Her teacher Mr. Mahoney himself had described Titan as a “museum of space exploration.” Just thinking of him now always reminded her of Tuckie’s laugh—unabashed, infectious, ever-present, no matter the circumstances—the kind that set her teeth to rapping whenever he joined in one of his favorite jokes. He hadn’t been wrong.
It didn’t matter what time she needed him, whether it was for classwork or assignments that meant more work for everybody else, including their parents or older siblings, he’d come running for the slightest thing that crossed Suki’s mind, so loud and boisterous it startled her in spite of herself at first hearing.
Why, he’d make fun of her because her eyes were brown instead of green or dark red, as those of other humans said you could expect from being born to a Terran mother and father. At the time it embarrassed her; now it just amused her! He never teased the twins about anything—his two best friends, really—that he hadn’t already told them themselves.
Everyone seemed to enjoy that quality of his, except maybe Ms. Brigglesworth! The professor almost hated having to give assignments, particularly tests, to get ready for their departure, because they helped keep students focused and studying, though even that wasn’t the whole truth.
For the twins to pass these final examinations, which included one administered by her online courses that used multiple choice questions, essay answers, and performance tasks involving computers, a live video feed, and numerous simulated field experiments that involved things like data collection instruments, required something other than rote learning to be effective. Something that happened between their ears, if nothing else.
She recalled how their dad insisted on doing something similar during college in the 1980s: take all the requisite classes but ditch the textbooks to do more research, explore deeper into subjects covered and ask the professors challenging questions.
Meanwhile, Ms. B, who’d taught physics here back then, loved teaching all her students equally, making sure everyone understood the basic concepts necessary for a student to master course content without resorting solely to the textbook.
Of course that came in handy, given that most colleges offered the option of taking whatever material your major department deemed important enough to teach if you wanted. That suited Dr. Armstrong fine since he preferred independent study when possible anyway, preferring to find answers to puzzles using either intuition or logic alone, not relying too heavily on past experience. If others felt differently about that approach, well . . . some people never found anything more to learn or change their minds. How boring must that be?
But that would’ve left both sons and daughters ignorant of their family history. As far as Suki could recall, neither Dr. nor Mrs. Armstrong could remember any relatives on Earth, with the exception of an aunt in Hawaii whom they visited once before the Second War, only to meet with the same tragedy that caused her husband’s death.
Apparently, there’d been a war in their sector of the United States a few months after that visit and no news ever followed thereafter, other than reports from her husband’s own company stationed near Mexico City.
Their daughter, Karyn (short for Konstantine), had a twin brother named Mike, both children born before the marriage ended ten years later. Nothing else ever mattered so much to these parents that they went looking for someone new, leaving little interest behind, such was their love for each other.
To the surprise of their lawyer cousin in Kansas, she learned that neither wanted or expected much from anyone but themselves—certainly nothing anyone would regard as owed to them, nor was anybody interested in enforcing it upon them.
This should have endeared them to their family, though the attitude left a lasting impression—and probably hurt feelings, especially among their younger cousins and step-cousins. All that mattered to her grandmother was to see grandchildren appear in the next generation somewhere down the road; however, that rarely happened anymore. In retrospect, the behavior of those now dead ancestors was normal for Terrans: selfish, self-centered, driven toward some imagined goal, and generally oblivious of what it took to provide food, shelter, and health care.
Had this not changed so dramatically over the millennia, perhaps the United States would still exist in its original form, a nation built by immigrants drawn to opportunities found within the new country.
But how many Americans these days actually knew where any of that land had come from originally? More likely, they were descendants of interracial unions made possible by the likes of Abigail Adams, John Quincy Adams, and Thomas Jefferson, at least according to what Suki had read up on, none of which were good at staying married, let alone considering such notions.
They died young, after all, because of physical dangers their ancestors hadn’t known existed, or weren’t yet invented.
That was simply reality. Too bad America lacked the brains—not to mention desire—to figure out a way to prevent another Great Depression. Today, thanks largely to technological advances that made our modern world possible, we barely noticed such things when we might have saved ourselves along with so many people around the globe.
Unfortunately, those developments also led us to discover very powerful weapons that killed millions worldwide until such deadly mechanisms were reduced to mere components that were eventually replaced by cybernetics. Then progress began again, albeit slowly, right up through the present day.
We may finally be moving forward to a brighter future where diversity isn’t seen as such a terrible thing anymore, while those seeking peace throughout the solar system are the ones worth following. At last, I think maybe there is hope!
In fact, maybe being able to observe so many cultures firsthand has given me a unique perspective. If not for my sister Suki’s deep interest and fascination for finding her father’s true birthplace, neither she nor I would’ve known that the late king of Rahu VIII reigned during his country’s founding.
Considering how their royal house moved between continents every couple of centuries, there really wasn’t any reason to connect their lines back across oceans, at least until recently.
Since we first began studying Martian history together, I began asking myself why such seemingly intelligent folks put up with such primitive conditions on home turf, never bothering to reach even one of their nearest neighbors.
That, however, proved more complicated to solve. What could possibly drive humanity’s evolution this far if we still couldn’t do better?
Having lived most of their lives under the auspices of a king whose goal was to keep the colony running smoothly, neither Suki nor I thought twice about asking for help.
It turned out, however, that the answer lay right below the surface of Earth’s crust, waiting patiently for thousands of generations, perhaps longer, in places called cities, where citizens spent hours daily traveling to work and school. Here in this hemisphere, cities also served to harbor various religious groups who were busy praying at worship centers in large numbers.
Neither Suki nor I belonged to either side. So, what was it like to be raised without religion in today’s society, where faith often felt compulsory? That question remained unanswered, despite so much research on Earth. Maybe someday I’ll find answers to my questions, or at least learn something useful enough to share. Until then, I’m sure Mom will want to know I can manage just fine on Mars.
“Not exactly,” I admit, “though we both gave it an honest try. Eventually, Mom realized you could set goals, use time wisely, and be prepared for almost anything.”
Not surprising, because I think of her as quite smart herself, unlike so many others we’re going to meet over here. After all, not everyone here is as old as we are!
Suki sighs loudly. She probably knows my mother has already reached the point of boredom long before I am ready to speak openly in front of the class. But Mother deserves no less respect than any other citizen of Mars or Venus, or anywhere else within earshot of our conversation.
My mom must have been warned ahead of time that Suki and I intended to make it sound different from the standard school lessons about life aboard the ship. None of this is supposed to be public knowledge anyway—or at least until things begin looking up.
I agree completely, though, so I try to catch Suki’s attention by signaling several times. At first, Suki seems to understand I’m trying to tell her something important. Yet seconds later, she’s laughing uncontrollably over some joke the teacher told, forcing me to move to one side to give the instructor a clearer line of sight down our row.
When Suki returns to pay attention, I immediately say, “This kind of routine is necessary since the school cannot afford extra teachers.”
Mom nods in agreement, saying, “The whole idea for getting your kids interested in learning science and engineering came after your father started teaching on the ship. You two should remember he wanted to raise capable children so the United States would always stay strong.”
Dad would occasionally complain about all of these silly rules aimed to suppress anyone daring enough to suggest scientific advancement had nothing to do with religion! And once, upon seeing him smile proudly when someone offered sincere praise, Mom teased him, “What did they feed you in space?”
He laughed nervously, admitting it was no ordinary meal, but rather a tasty treat NASA cooked up, claiming it tasted like chicken. Nowadays, whenever one of the crew comes close to suggesting progress can happen without God helping guide them, people usually take offense. To date, no one has ever come forward and admitted wanting us dead!
We start discussing the real purpose behind coming here today. That, however, proves too uncomfortable for Mom; she wants to discuss it only after the rest of the class finishes answering their homework questions. After all, Mom prefers to plan everything carefully so there won’t be unexpected problems cropping up.
If not, she complains that her nerves get stressed way out of proportion compared to any normal person. What follows, therefore, is a lot of time-wasting while parents wait impatiently for kids to finish talking.
The End