On a well-settled Mars, the five major city Council regimes
struggle to meld into a stable, working government. Embracing an official
Unified Faith In Humanity, the Councils are teetering on the verge of pogrom
directed against Christians, Molesters, Jews, Rapists, Buddhists, Murderers,
Muslims, Thieves, Hindu, Embezzlers and Artificial Humans – anyone who threatens
the official Faith and the consolidating power of the Councils. It makes good
sense, right – get rid of religion and Human divisiveness on a societal level
will disappear? An instrument of such a pogrom might just be a Roman
holiday...To see the rest of the chapters, go to SCIENCE FICTION: Martian Holiday on
the right and scroll to the bottom for the first story. If you’d like to read
it from beginning to end (70,000+ words as of now), drop me a line and I’ll
send you the unedited version.
The slidewalk let out into a huge cavern. “I didn’t
come in here,” said Paolo Marcillon.
“Nope. This is Breachport. Common Law – about the
closest thing we have to a free port on Mars – is enforced here by squads of
police from all of the major Domes and a few of the minor ones. Makes certain
everyone gets a fair shake if things go sideways. All the Domes are supposed to
have one,” said Judas, a contact with the faith underground in Burroughs. Paolo
followed him until they reached a parked marsbug. “This is mine. Touch your com
to mine.” Paolo pulled his out and did. “All right. You have all my passcodes
and IDs. They’ll get you out of Burroughs lands. After that you’re on your
own.”
“Thanks,” Paolo said. The two men faced each other
awkwardly. “I think in better circumstances we might have been good friends.”
“Agreed.” He stepped forward abruptly, hugged Paolo
and whispered, “We’re being followed. Get moving.”
Paolo hugged him back, nodded and got into the
‘bug. He was rolling a few moments later after using the IDs on his com to
check out. He lifted his hand as he passed Judas and said a brief prayer. Then
he was on his way.
Via Cydonia terminated in the Cydonia region in the
northern hemisphere of the planet. After decades of study, observations from
Earth as well as data from a dozen orbiting and landing probes, tied together
with speculation from the Twentieth and the Twenty-first Centuries had led to
wild stories and theories about the region.
Geologically, most were confirmed: the Cydonia
region was a transitional zone between the heavily cratered regions to the
south and relatively smooth plains to the north. Strong evidence suggested that
it had been underwater in the early millennia of Mars and there was virtual
certainty among Mars aerologists that Cydonia had been a coastal zone.
Of course, confirming that the Face On Mars was
only a light and camera artifact created by equipment that was both the best
possible at the time, but was comparatively primitive today – had been
irrelevant to the true believers. Paolo shook his head sadly. Long-established
religious faiths were banned on Mars, but Facers had a government-funded
research facility – the Temple of the Face is what people whispered behind the
true believers backs. Usually they snickered shortly after.
Shaking his head, he pulled up the travel corridor
map. Between him and Cydonia was Bradbury, the ostensible capital of Mars – at
least Mayor Chief Mrs. Lilac Esien Ndem held firmly to that title. The other
Dome Mayors disputed it, but her cold-blooded refusal to give up the designation
made their objections moot. He’d just as soon go around that Dome, but not only
did it lay between him and the Face On Mars, between the capital and Cydonia
was one last, small dome. He said, “Current status of Ares Station.”
The ‘bug’s computer replied, “Ares is currently running
a complete balloon survey of the Cydonia Basin in the area of The Face.”
Paolo scowled. “What are they expecting to find?”
“Stated purpose is the investigation of
gravitational anomalies in the region.”
“They’ve seen those before. Why the research now?”
“A new gravitational anomaly appeared seven days
ago. First they will survey for any others, then send a team in to investigate
the new anomaly.”
“Seven days ago?”
“Yes.”
That was when he’d run over the satellite and
activated it. He sat in silence for some time, the computer signing off in the
meantime. Finally he said out loud, “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
No comments:
Post a Comment