Mars

As the end of his time on Mars approaches, Max goes out to see one last sunset

Sol 34, 2067

Private Entry

It's been a long couple of years, Charlie. I don’t think you’d recognize me if you saw me. The long days have taken their toll. I’ve certainly gotten a few more gray hairs than I was expecting.

But it’s all finally coming to a close. Koda says that the Andromeda will be here in a couple of weeks. Although I’m relieved that they’re coming, I can't help but feel like the new crew is invading our home.

They don't know Mars like I do, at any rate.

Out of the six of us stationed here, I have done the most walks. I have seen 157 sunrises and 79 sunsets. I've gone the furthest into the sea of red and braved challenges that most men would flee from. Well, I suppose all of us here have. We have started new life here and to leave it behind will be harder than any of us care to admit. Not that it hasn’t come without challenges.

The last dust storm took out part of our medical wing. We won’t be able to fix it until the new ship comes in. If something else happens, our home could become our cemetery.

Well, they do say Mars is just another synonym for Hell.

And yet... I feel more at home here then I did back on Earth. Does that make me the Devil?

I suppose all astronauts fall from heaven at one point or another.

Don’t forget to feed Maggie and take her for walks.

Best,

Max picked up his helmet and headed to the airlock. He slipped into his suit and punched in the access code to the door. The airlock hissed open as he pulled on his helmet.

The crunch of dust under his feet was muffled by his suit. He breathed in, trying to taste something beyond the tinned smell of the recycled air. His eyes scanned the horizon, blinking past the data array that had opened up in the left corner of his vision.

The sun was rising in the distance, its first rays igniting the dust into hues of scarlet. A breeze stirred the ground around Max as he walked, playing with the loose ground beneath him. The hum and click of his respirator was the only perceptible noise. There were no birds to sing or leaves to rustle on Mars. Just the whirring and clanking of mechanical life. Artificial survival. To distract himself, Max hummed as he climbed up the red slopes.

It was an old song that his mother used to sing while she was working. If he closed his eyes he could still see the streak of flour on her cheek, smell the rising bread baking in the oven. The way her hair curled around her small ears and her soft voice carried through the whole world.

“Hello little rocket man,” she would say with a laugh. “Are you going to Mars today?”

He paused for air, his vision swimming a little. He was pushing his luck by going out this far. Pain tightened around his chest like a vice. His lungs struggled to fill themselves as his heart hammered a desperate warning. He practiced the breathing Walker had talked. In four, out eight. In four, out eight.

Once his pulse slowed again, Max started walking again. It was only another mile before he reached the top of the butte. He sat down on the edge, his legs dangling over the drop off. The ground was nearly a mile below him. The sun had just risen above the edge of the world. It spilled golden rays onto the valley below and reflected off the white of his suit. He picked up a handful of soil and let it slip through his gloved fingers. Here he was on an alien world, and yet here he sat detached from it.

Max longed to feel the sunlight again. To be warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze. To listen to the red world call to him and taste its fresh unpolluted air.

A trill interrupted his thoughts. A message from Koda.

Where are you?

She must have just woken up - the words slurred and jostled together a little. The computer must have alerted her that the airlock had open.

I'm on my way home.

Max opened his eyes. Mars stared back at him, grim and proud and lifeless. There was a beauty to it that surpassed anything that could be found on Earth.

His hands gently pulled off his helmet.

In the distance he smelled the rich scent of fresh bread rising.

“Hello little rocket man.”