Mars One

1

Mateo pawed the keypad to his unit and a red screen appeared. He clenched his teeth. The small lumps that formed on the side of his mouth jumped up and down as he shifted pressure on his teeth.

He was tired, exhausted. The nuclear broiler was on the verge of a meltdown for the fifth time this year. His team had been evacuated twice, just today, and had been ordered to return when the situation was under control. No matter how finely calibrated their HVAC systems were, when one of these god-forsaken storms rolled over Mars it sent dust particles through the life support systems causing trouble for everyone in Mars One.

The keypad was malfunctioning — of course it was — so he punched the code manually. Red. Nothing was ever easy on Mars. The most mundane things became little obstacles eating away at the little R and R that the Company allotted you. Everything on Mars was life or death. He banged on the door once, then twice that much harder.

Veronica would be home by now. Her shift at the water treatment plant had ended hours ago. He didn’t know if he could deal with her today. They had married on Earth before their deployment to Mars in the third wave of what has since been dubbed the Great Migration.

A breathy whine followed a hard wrenching sound as the door slid open. On the other side of the door stood Veronica wrapped in a towel. Her hair dangled in tight curls, falling just below her shoulders, and dripping water on the gray floor. “What happened Mateo? Keypad jammed again?” Before he could answer, the microwave dinged and she walked to the kitchenette. She dragged the packet of green tea toward her across the small counter, which also served as their dining area, before retrieving the cup of boiling water from the microwave.

Mateo followed her in and tapped the keypad on the inside of the unit. The door hummed and shut with a smooth ease that mocked his previous attempts.

“Feeling wasteful today?” He said looking her over as his eyes settled on the tea brewing in her hand.

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. She dipped the tea bag repeatedly into the water and said nothing.

Mateo walked into their bedroom and stripped down. For a moment, he looked at the clothes on the cold, gray floor and almost walked away. He couldn’t. He knew very well his personality matrix wouldn’t allow it. Those who had been selected for Mars colonization — colonization, what a primitive word — had been selected with very specific character traits and neatness ranked high among those. He bent down and grabbed the items. For Mars to be habituated — better word than colonization; much better — it would require individuals who were neat, responsible, educated, determined, goal-oriented and self-reliant. He dropped the clothes into the hazmat-washer, so it could strip away the excess radiation and leave it usable once more, and slipped in the cleanser unit. The unit’s floor was still damp from Vero’s shower. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the water between his toes for a moment. Instinctively, his hand floated towards the nozzle that activated the water.

He opened his eyes, shook his head, and pressed the other button at the center of the claustrophobic cleanser. The door closed and a puff of wind blew out, warning him to close his eyes, which he dutifully obeyed. The deafening sounds of the deionization surrounded him as it blew a steady stream of warm humid air from the ceiling to the floor. The cleanser went silent and Mateo stared blankly as he unconsciously picking at his lips. You never feel truly clean on Mars; at least I don’t reek anymore.

When he stepped out of the cleanser he found Veronica lying on the bed staring up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Her towel hung forgotten on the hook beside the door. The half-empty cup of tea, still steaming, lay on the work table next to the bed.

Mateo’s mouth opened as if to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked at her and his face sank in exhaustion. He wasn’t mad. He was just utterly drained. He turned, giving Veronica his back, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Mateo, come on,” Veronica pleaded.

“No,” Mateo said his voice dripping with finality.

Veronica drew closer to him and hugged him from behind. “I want to.”

“Veronica, I can’t do this every couple of days. You know the rules.”

“Screw the rules,” she said, pushing off him petulantly.

Mateo bit his lip. Enough was enough. He turned to face her, but she was already off the bed. His eyes followed her as she made her way to the table and grabbed the cup of tea. She took a sip, giving him her back now. Mateo sighed. He was so very tired of the same argument and the resentment that was building up. Veronica took a sip, over calculated, and drank too much of the scalding liquid. She yelped and pulled back, her free hand raced to console her mouth as the other let go of the cup: on Mars miscalculation was a way of life. Humans had a hard time dealing with the lower gravity. With the same instinctive speed with which she let go of the cup she rescued it as it floated downwards, while managing to spill just a few drops of its precious content.

“I should’ve just let it drop,” Veronica said, still nursing her lip. “What’s the point of tea or coffee, or all the little precious things they dole out to us just to remind us of Earth, but I can’t — we can’t — ”

“It’s not about the rules,” Mateo said standing up. He went to the metallic chest of drawers to pull out a pair of underwear. “It’s the science.”

“No, I don’t believe it. Look at us … we have adapted so well to Mars. We’re thriving as a species.”

Mateo scoffed and pointed at the cup in her hand. “So well we can barely drink tea.”

“I want to have a baby,” Veronica shouted.

“We can’t,” Mateo rejoindered.

“Yes … we can,” She lowered her voice.

“No.” Mateo raised his voice. “We can’t. We can’t afford to get back to Earth. You know that and it’s the law.”

“I know that. Here … Let’s have the baby here on Mars,” Veronica pleaded.

“I’m done having this argument, Veronica. We are poor and we don’t have the credits for a round trip. So what are our options? We can’t fly one-way because our off-world loan hasn’t been paid off. In fact, we have 45 years left on that loan. We can’t refinance it because … well, because we haven’t built up enough equity on Mars. So what do we have left? Having the baby here? It’s illegal and once they find out — because they will find out — they will end the pregnancy and charge us a fine that is as big as the off-world loan. It’d be as good as slavery.”

Veronica started crying. Big, sloppy tears wet her cheeks as she wiped them away carelessly. She looked down. “I never knew I needed this so much. I thought when we left we could pay off the loan in a couple years. We both thought that. Then we would’ve gotten a new one to start our family. They lied to us. The work isn’t well paid and everything we spend here gets tacked on to the loan. There’s no leaving here and there is no living here.”

Mateo lowered his forehead onto his open palm. Veronica put the tea down and sat back on the bed. Mateo sighed. “It’s not even about all of that. You’ve seen the research. Most pregnancies aren’t viable. If the babies are born, they don’t make it. We are an Earth species and will always be one. That won’t change until the Port Canaveral Genetic Compact is overturned. Do you really want to suffer what would probably be a miscarriage?”

“Yes,” Veronica replied quietly. “Those were mice.”

“They have done experiments on other mammals. The results are remarkably similar.”

“But I want to try. I want to be the human guinea pig.” Veronica sobbed.

“What are you saying? Vero, what are you saying?” Mateo said in disgust.

Veronica turned to look at him. “You’re done having this conversation? Well, so am I. I’m done and I will have this baby with you, Mateo, or with someone who is willing.”

Mateo shook his head slowly as he stood there eyeing the creeping wrinkles on his hands. His focus shifted to the black underwear he was holding, and he lowered his torso steadily, deliberately to slip on the underwear. His hand raced across the cold surface of the another drawer before opening and pulling out a black pair of pants. He finished dressing with the same deliberation and silence that had followed Veronica’s outburst. When he was done, he turned to look at her and saw Veronica eyeing him defiantly.

He opened his mouth to reply but instead walked out of the room. He grabbed his work boots from the entrance and sat on the gray couch next to the door and pulled them on as he swore under his breath.

“Was that your answer?” Veronica said, walking out of the room now dressed in a polyester robe.

Mateo finished lacing up his boots before replying, “I don’t do ultimatums.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, then do whatever you want.”

Mateo balled his fists and bit the knuckle on his thumb. How could she be this self-absorbed? His eyes welled up. “You think you’re the only one who wants this? You think I don’t want a kid as much as you? You think I don’t think about it when I see my friends back home with their own kids? We can’t even adopt here — there’s no such thing. Why are you so unreasonable?”

“Unreasonable?” Veronica shouted.

“Lower your voice; the neighbors.”

Her voice lowered to a menacing whisper. “I will not be called unreasonable. This system is unreasonable. We were promised a brand new world full of possibilities. We were promised a full life. A family. Not just a new home for humanity … a new home for us. A home.” She burst into sobs. “A home goddammit. A home.”

Mateo stood up and walked to her. He grabbed her and hugged her tight. We don’t have a home, he said to himself. Outwardly he said, “We don’t need children to make a home; to have a home. We’ve built a home here.”

Veronica pulled away. “You know that’s not true. We work here. We live here. We come home and collapse of exhaustion here. We have many things here on Mars but a home is not one of those things, because a home comes with possibilities. It comes with a future that one can imagine and extend into old age. It comes … I can’t see any of that here. We’re slaves of the company. Automatons that will never do anything other than what we’re doing now.”

“That’s not true, Vero. We can pay off our off-world loan. We can take out a maternity loan instead of a preggers loan. We freeze my sperm and you can carry the baby and have them on earth — ”

“Without you there by my side,” she interrupted.

“There are no easy options,” Mateo finished.

“By the time we liquidate the off-world loan, I won’t be able to carry the baby naturally. Then I’d need a surrogate, and they won’t give us a loan for that. And … there’s no point talking about an artificial womb. Above all else, I just want to have the baby myself.”

“With the excess radiation we’ve received here who knows if we’re even fertile?” Mateo said as he stroked her back gently.

“We can try, Mat,” she said looking at him. “No one has tried it — no one. We can.”

There are no easy options, he repeated to himself. He pulled back and their eyes locked.

“Okay.”