Phobos

Posted on by watneymark

“The office was fairly deserted now. Not many of her colleagues began work that early. The big digital clock on the screen was flashing 4 am. Meg put down her cup of warm milk and looked intently at the spreadsheet on her monitor. If Mark has seen this, he would not be too happy about it.

She was pleasantly surprised to see Ryan at the training center about a month ago. He confessed he had been there two weeks earlier, avoiding his father spotting him. Ryan’s deep voice was in stark contrast to Mark’s moderate tone. It almost seemed as if he intentionally lowered his pitch to avoid sounding like his dad. But the round jaw, squinting eyes and dimpled smile gave him away. He had more Watney in him than he could hide. 

That night they met over dinner in the capsule behind the center’s main broadcasting room and spoke a little more, Meg about Titan and Ryan about Earth. He seemed fascinated with the home planet, the problems and solutions alike. He admitted he was more drawn to Earth than he had ever been. Then he spilled it. He volunteered for the next mission back home. Meg was quite taken aback. This was where his dislike for Mark had overflowed. It made him leave Earth, and now he was leaving Mars. But why go back, Meg ended up blurting out. There was nothing left for him there. No relatives, no friends. Their home in Jersey was underwater. Half the planet had migrated to colonies in orbit. It was on the verge of sustaining life and destroying it. 

Ryan looked out of the capsule’s window. Phobos was glimmering near the horizon. Meg spotted it too. The misshaped orb hung in the sky, awaiting its unavoidable fate. It was almost poetic how Phobos would be drawn so much by Mars’ gravity, that it would be torn apart, Ryan slowly said. But its legacy would live on, in the shape of a brilliant ring around the planet. By breaking up the moon, Mars ensured it would perhaps be forever engaged to it.

 Meg understood now. She cleaned up the plates, stored the leftovers in the containers and hugged Ryan goodnight. The next day she was writing him a letter of recommendation, highlighting his growing stature as a structural engineer. An approval from any lead member of a team was like the final approval stamp on a pass. Ryan had collected 17 letters till date, more than any other candidate on that mission. The only department missing was Mark’s. He could have done without the last one, but Ryan chose to get it anyway. 

He reached the Watney Center even before the receptionist, knowing that his father always liked to get a head start for the day. The lobby was deserted and the Chief Program Instructor’s cabin was closed. He checked the touch screen on the reception desk to locate Mark’s position. He was not at home, and not in transit either. Ryan thought the locator was picking up a rogue signal and rebooted the machine. It fed him the same details again. What was Dad doing? Mark Watney’s locator was pulsing from outside the hyperdome, from Acidalia Planitia.”

 

Homeward bound

Posted on by watneymark

Hey Dad,

Happy birthday! Surprised? I did remember this time. It’s hard keeping track of time up here. The sun rises and sets pretty fast. Fortunately, I had set a calendar reminder on my screen tab, and asked Pete to remind me, and yes, Meg as well. 

Don’t worry, I am not going to take all day. Just wanted to sort a few things out. Have you ever wondered why I chose this job, why I risk my life every single day, circling the planet? Looking out for asteroids, for cracks on the hyper-dome, or fixing satellites? I bet you didn’t. You are just upset because I wanted to do something you didn’t recommend. Something that would look bad on your very impressive resume. Mark Watney, the pioneer to humankind’s venture on Mars, the man who survived it all, the idol to countless here and back home, and father to a no-good engineer. Do you like the sound of that, Dad? I let you down, didn’t I? 

Remember the time we drove down to Florida, when Mom was better and you just wanted some time off from NASA? Of course, you did. How could I even forget? It was our last vacation as a family. The last time the three of us got a chance to have dinner together. Mom’s last meal at a dinner table. Anyway, I loved that weekend, even if it did bookmark itself with some unpleasant memories. That time when you nearly threw up on the roller-coaster, and Mom and I could not stop teasing you. ‘You can survive 10 Gs, but not 10 simple rolls on that ride!’ Mom teased you all the way. I loved that you always played sport. Never lost it. Even when Mom was about to leave you. 

Was it hard? Playing fake? Knowing that she was cheating on you. Knowing that all those months you were gone, she searched comfort in someone else’s arms. I saw him, dropping by for those occasional consultations. He was there on Easter, on the Fourth of July and even on Christmas. Every time he dropped by, I thought of you, and how alien this would sound if I had just dialed the number to your office. You were dead to me.

But that night in Florida, it all changed. You saw him. Worse still, you saw both of them, together, till the very moment he pulled the trigger. Those three rounds punctured her lungs, and our lives. She had chosen us, after everything. She even chose to tell you. We could have left her. Aunt Jane was there anyway. You could have chosen to leave on the first Ares mission, like it was intended to. I was rooting for you. Don’t play sport this time, Dad. I prayed you’d do the right thing. And you did. You stayed, and gave Mom thirteen more months, when the doctor couldn’t even here give her that many weeks.

Six years later, you were dead again. This time, for real. I had just finished sophomore year at the academy. I chose botany, could you believe it? Pete broke the news. He switched on the TV so that I could see the broadcast. Two day later, I was burying your uniform. I hated those salutes. You weren’t even there. I was given a temporary discharge. They asked me to ‘take it easy’ and ‘not to be so hard on myself.’ What did they expect me to do once I found out you were alive? I dug up your grave, unpinned those medals and threw them in the river. You were all over the news, and so was I. ‘Son goes frantic on father’s survival, vandalizes cemetery.’

You returned a hero, The Martian. I wish you had left us for Ares-1. I will always hate you for that, for being there when you didn’t have to. For loving someone when she didn’t deserve it. For fathering a teen you didn’t help raise. Everyday I look back at Earth and wish I’d just stayed there. Which is why I chose to do what I do. 

I guess this mail must be going over your head, like all those times we met after you came back from Mars. Well at least Meg will understand what I tried to say. Tell her I said hi and that I’m sorry I couldn’t make it for ‘Watney Day.’ 

Ryan W.

The computer screen was flashing 7 a.m. I hit reply and sat there for five minutes, trying to conjure something to talk about.

‘Mark? You alright dear?’ Annie entered the room, a cup of green tea in hand. ‘You’re not reading it again, are you?’ She placed the cup on the desk and looked at me, her eyes so caring and her smile faintly warm.

That was the last time I had heard from Ryan. It was exactly this day, three years ago. I did briefly see him on the launch sites or during his rehab after those many months in orbit. But we never spoke. He walked past me several times, each time pretending he didn’t see me.

I closed the draft, and it sat there, saved like the rest of them. 22 and counting. All to the same recipient. I looked at Annie and let out a sigh. ‘Someday, I’ll make it right. I promise.’

‘You better. Ryan always thinks you do the right thing. Sometimes I wonder if he’s expecting too much.’ She was taking clothes out from the shelves now.

‘Hang on, he talks to you?’ I was puzzled now.

‘All the time,’ she replied heading to the bathroom.

‘I thought he was on deep space observation for the last three months, and that he would be up North after that.’

‘He was. His mission ended a fortnight ago. He’s up at the Academy again.’

‘What! It’s been two weeks he’s here and I get to know that now! Why the secrets Ann?’ I pushed the talk button on my computer. ‘Call Bret Waters.’ Bret worked as the lead physician at the rehabilitation center.

‘He’s not at the center,’ Annie’s voiced echoed from the shower.

‘Then where is he? The Plaza, Underground, or I’m sure he’s sending time with that girl he liked. What was her name, Cindy, Joanne? No, that German girl? I can’t even remember her….’

‘He’s in training,’ she stopped me. ‘With Howard and the rest.’

‘What? He couldn’t possibly be thinking of…’

‘He is,’ Annie stepped out, drying her hair. ‘He was insistent. Howard objected first, but Ryan is our best engineer and he would be an asset to the mission.’

Bret Walters’ round face was occupying the screen now. ‘Hello? Mark? Oh hey Annie! I was wondering if you guys got my Halloween invitations.’

‘Yes Bret. We’ll just call you back.’ Bret looked confused as I hung up. ‘Are you telling me my son volunteered for the Europa mission?’ My heart was racing now. Nervous anxiety took over. I was getting scared. I couldn’t let him do it. No matter what that 37-year old man said, he was still that teen, cross with his father. I had to sort things out. Tell him how I felt, how sorry I was. I couldn’t see him go. Annie was the stronger one in the relationship. She supported Meg’s decision for the Europa mission. Heck, she even trained her. I couldn’t do the same. Ryan had to be convinced otherwise.

I quickly checked my schedule. The afternoon session was short. The batch was going outside the dome today. It was their first trip to see it from the other side. They would take time to get ready and so my class was shortened. I had time after that to meet Ryan. I checked the Academy’s log and saw he was scheduled for gravity assessment today. ‘That’s weird. Europa missions don’t have gravity training. Those were only for…’ I stopped dead. Ryan wasn’t heading to Jupiter. He was headed home. To Earth.

Dinner-time tales

Posted on by watneymark

Turnips look kinda weird, don’t you think? I mean, they start off with a brilliant shade of bluish-purple, only to taper off in a plain white. Why white? We did genetically modify all plants grown here, and yet we stuck to Nature’s mistakes on Earth. Look at that squash, for instance. Why would anyone eat squash on Mars? It’s an absolute abomination. Not even a squash marooned somewhere near Valles Marineris would eat itself.

We started growing potatoes in abundant quantities after Ares 7. They had my shit science to start off with, and one or two modifications later, there was enough to feed five small families at a time. They didn’t need my poo after that, not that I was fond of storing some just in case. Artificially grown bacteria and chemical fertilizers were sufficient. Not everything grew well here in the red soil. The ph content was too high. Most of the vegetables that needed water were not able to sprout. But over time, and some more time, my botany prodigies were able to harvest tomatoes, mustard and wheat. And that is how we started making burgers on Mars and getting fat. Just kidding. Our diet here was regulated by NASA. Yes, all our diets. All 1,454 of us. Talk about a first-world refugee camp. Pretty soon, NASA tied up with Space-X and began sending soil over here. Now Mars had its very own earth. See what I did there? That was p-unny. Sorry, my bad. I tend to get carried away.

I packed the turnips and squash, regrettably too might I say. My office pass was also my credit card. The store lady swiped it on the counter. It beeped as 12 units were deducted from my balance. 17 years and we still didn’t have a name for the currency. If only I had returned to Mars and claimed all the land I set foot on during my last visit. I guess I would name it Marks, only makes sense. Then I would go like, Hey how many Marks for that bottle of water? Two? Can I come back here with my clone?

I cycled like always. Mars’ gravity was kind on us aging folks. It made manual labor a tiny bit easier. But then once we realized we could lift things easily, they began making stuff which would represent an ideal Earth-weight ratio. That was for the first two years. After that, it didn’t matter. We acclimatized here and the weights were of no use then. Basically, our muscles knew how much strength was needed, for instance, to pedal.

Annie had the microwave running when I got home. Yeah, we still used that piece of junk. Open fires were still a big no-no. The table was set. ‘Meg’s in already?’

‘She just got in this morning,’ Annie replied without looking up from the sink. ‘She gone upstairs now. Said she had to check something.’ Annie rolled her eyes at that one.

Shit, again. I knew what Meg was looking for, and she wouldn’t find it. I had taken it with me to work, and left it there. ‘I’ll go check on her.’

I dropped the bag on the table, kissed Annie on the cheek and headed up the stairs. ‘Meg, what are you looking for?’

‘You know exactly what,’ she snapped back. ‘I am sick and tired of not knowing. I thought having you in the family would count for something.’

‘Oh, so I’m the official family mascot now? Dr. Watney, Chief Program Instructor, who does crazy somersaults when irked by his beautiful step-daughter, whom he happens to love so very much.’

That extra emphasis did the trick. Meg turned around from my study drawer, and looked at me. Her eyebrows were funneled and lips pursed. ‘Really?’ she lilted her head sideways. ‘That line again? It’s really getting old.’ Her shoulders slumped. She gave in. A smile arched across her face. She hugged me. ‘That works every time, Mark? Or should I call you Dad?’ She had her mother’s quirkiness too.

‘Hey, the Dad turf belongs to Ryan. I don’t think I have the patience for two of you.’ I walked up and hugged her again. She hugged back and I felt she meant it too. ‘It’s good to have you back, Meg.’

She still had her ID tag on. Megha Nagen, Lead, 2nd-level. My heart always skipped a beat when I saw her smiling face against that designation. She was assigned to lead the first expedition to Titan, chosen like Joshua and his friends, to venture out into the depths of mysterious space. Just 25. She should be sneaking out at night, feasting on every different type of food, thinking about her next date, like an ordinary person her age would. Meg was different. She harbored no special bond with anyone, except perhaps her mother and me. She barely saw Ryan enough to consider him a brother. The first candidate for humanity’s venture into the unknown. My first student. I was so proud of her, and so scared for her.

‘If you guys had enough of your melodrama, dinner’s ready.’ Annie was at the door.

Meg rearranged the papers on my table. ‘You won’t tell me, will you?’.

‘Can’t. Protocol. You know that.

She let out a heavy sigh, tilted her head again and followed her mother. I had seen the data, and I’ll be frank with you. It sucked. Every rover we tried to land on Titan was either unresponsive or too far off from the ‘safe-zone’. Meg was just trying to prepare herself, like always. She prepared herself the day her father died 10 years ago. It was either meeting him one last time and miss her launch date, or leave him, knowing that she would never get to tell how much she loved him, or how she wanted to do him proud. Harish passed away as soon as she left Earth’s orbit, both leaving their world’s at the same time.

Overwhelmed, I helped myself downstairs. Dinner looked good, or I was simply too emotional at the time. Annie still wore Harish’s ring and I respected her for that. I met her a year after Meg left. She was there with me coordinating every mission from Houston, training new recruits. We agreed to travel to Mars together because we grew so comfortable. We read each other’s thoughts. I asked her to marry me while orbiting around the planet. This spaceship isn’t the only one making the rings, you know, I told her as I showed her the ruby. She agreed and there we were. Eating dinner as a normal family.

The squash went well with the microwaved instant spaghetti. If only Ryan showed up more often. I worried about him sometimes. It’s not easy raising a teen all by yourself. And telling him that his dad is dead, no hang on, he’s alive, but he’ll die because we can’t get him back.

Ryan was up in orbit for the last five months, fixing our comms satellites, checking the outer spheres of the hyper-dome from up there. I admit I missed him. I missed his mother too. She would have got through to him. I did my part as a good dad. And yet, it wasn’t nearly enough. At times, I wish he’d got my sense of humor.

We finished dinner and I headed back to the academy. There was new data coming in from Europa and I wanted to see if that did any better. Orion was fine now. With his appetite for fish lost, we fed him Pedigree. He was snooping around digging the front last I saw him. Weird.

It all seemed remotely new

Posted on by watneymark

It had to be me. After all the millions of miles in space, and not to mention the agonizing wait to see someone’s ass back up on Mars, it still had to be me. And that last taco did not help. Not in the least bit.

The room started emptying out, scantily at first, followed by people just shoving each other out-of-the-way. I must admit I had a weird feeling since dawn. That extra mile on the treadmill seemed adventurous at first. The doctor even recommended it. Now, I began see why. Another consultation, another 50 dollars down his pocket. That capitalistic son-of-a-bitch, I knew it. Breakfast seemed okay, but I should have taken the hint not to leave for work. The frequent runs to the garden surely was big sign. How did I miss that?

Anyway, I was late by 20 minutes or so and you know all about me and waiting. In two words, it sucks. Yeah, ask NASA. I cycled to work on Fridays, but that morning I decided to take the shuttle. It takes about half an hour to the Watney Space Academy (yeah I got mine baby. In your face Neil Armstrong, again) from home with some minor traffic. It was unusually crowded down Posting Street that morning, another possible sign I should have cancelled today’s lecture. Those stupid kids knew everything nowadays anyway. The movie adaptations of my ‘miraculous’ escape from the tentacles of death in Mars. Was I actually hit by a comms device dart or did an alien snap me, to perform experiments and let their ‘face-grabbers’ lose on Earth? The sequels I tell you. I was portrayed by the best actors at the time. Sometimes as a space cowboy, hunting rogue androids, or a solo maverick, out to battle against an evil galactic monarch.

I always chuckled at the feeble attempts to ‘create’ outer space. They recruited me on several of their projects, dimwits with bold ideas. Stupid ideas. Who ever heard of sound in space? Some Lucas guy asked me if that could be ignored. I ignored his calls after that. Again, capitalistic sons-of-even-more-capitalistic-she-wolves.

The bus was crawling now. My comms screen buzzed under my coat. Shit, the office calling. Annie must have known I would be late. I should have peddled and I was cursing myself. The driver stopped the shuttle and I saw my chance. I got down at the junction of Posting Street and Booster Road (don’t blame me for the cheesy street names). Annie was calling again. I had to answer.

‘Mark Watney, where is God’s name are you,’ Annie furiously spat down the other end. God’s name? Really? Let me see, which of the 300 million of her gods  should I choose from? Oh, Annie or Anita Nagen is a Hindu, partly really. Her father is the lead scientist on the latest missions to Titan and Europa, and she is the lead cheerleader. Basically, she is the terminal manager, oh and my wife.

‘Honey,’ I always start with that if I need to apologize. ‘I was on the bus today. Something came up on the way..’

‘The bus? I thought you hated petroleum run vehicles. Your save-the-world policy on pause?’ she taunted back.

‘Very funny. Ha-ha. I was running late and.. ‘

‘I know that,’ she cut me again.’ You should glance more at your watch than at my butt or my private blog’. Damn she was a straight taker, and a bold one for that. I loved her for it. But right now, I was getting a little cranky.

‘Yeah, sorry about that, but Orion didn’t seem too well today. I needed to see if he was doing okay. He was throwing up all over and…’

‘Throwing up!’ Again. ‘Did you at least leave the slide door open for him? He’ll be all over the furniture otherwise.’

Shit. I didn’t. ‘Um, yeah, yeah. I did. I totally did.’ I was stammering. There was a long pause. She knew it. I was screwed.

‘Mark? Are you sure?’

Balls. I had to head back. I hung up abruptly, texted Joe, my assistant, to cancel the morning session and started my long walk back home. Orion was purring angrily by the time opened the door. He had thrown up in his bowl, testimony to his highly rated intelligence. He was in agony, poor chap. I did call the vet, who recommended he walk it off. Physical activity often led to good bowel movement he said. Orion certainly did not look like he wanted to go for a walk. So the gym it was. After half a mile, he stopped walking. That was it. I grabbed my cycle keys, clipped Orion’s collar on and was off to the vet, which is where I started off with you.

Orion had quietly sneaked into the kitchen last night and finished off the last fish taco we’d ordered from our local Mexican joint. Safe to say, Mexican food and cat were not made for each other. Orion had been letting out from his mouth all morning. That was when he decided to let one past his bottom, and nuke the room.

‘Mr. Gaitner?’, the nurse came calling from inside. Everyone had left,  but me. ‘Yes, coming.’ I followed her inside. Orion’s stomach was pumped. Turns out, he had swallowed a large hairball for dessert last night. I left him at the clinic and cycled back to work as soon as I could. Posting Street was still held up, so I took the detour through Eden Park to the academy’s backyard, where I held all my afternoon classes. My students were already sitting underneath the bougainvillea. I liked this part of my life now, sitting in the open, enjoying the fresh artificial air and heat. It reminded me of home 200 million miles away. To my grandpa’s garden in Pennsylvania. To Annie’s home, whose backyard had an entire mango orchard. The green color appeals the most to the human eye. It was only apt that nature draped itself in that emerald hue.

‘Sir, you seem distant today,’ Joshua startled me. I looked at him. He had just turned 16 and hence rendered eligible for the program. Born in world so far from the one his parents set out into. Literally. I looked at the others. So were they. All 22 of them. 11 couples from different ethnicities, cultures and geographies. They were not from the world of old, from my world. I looked up at the sky, and there it was. A faint blue against the murky red sky outside the hyper-dome, twinkling in the setting sun. Earth.

Joshua wouldn’t understand. He was conceived in outer space, on the way to Mars in fact, like all the kids of his generation. We were in our 17th complete year on the red planet, completing God knows how many Sols now. You see, we began leaving Earth, about five years after I was rescued. The Ares missions continued and soon enough, we found ways to settle here permanently. I know you might be having tons of questions right now. How did we survive the radiation? And what about food, and water, and oxygen? Well, all that was the easy stuff, and I promise to explain it all. But first, let me answer Joshua.

Yes I am, kid. I left my heart at home, and no one in this fucking world can rescue it for me. Or I should have said.

I looked at the rest. ‘It’s nothing. Orion’s sick, just worried about him.’ A ring of ‘awws’ went up. That’s cute, they think. A sixty-something man, caring for his poor little cat. Wait till I tell them what they were training for.