instances. Passengers are put into a state of suspended animation or hibernation for the entire journey so that they do not age, require food, water or go to the bathroom.
Travelers are shaved of all hair, given a shot in the arm, then asked to drink this gooey concoction that looks like purple slime, smells like McDonalds French fries and tastes like dish soap. Afterward you lay down naked on a table and black out a few minutes later.
Upon arrival transport ships orbit the planet until they receive docking instructions. After landing colonists and supplies are unpacked then the spacecraft is disassembled for parts or converted into usable space. Nothing is wasted here.
There are faster ships but it’s cheaper to send large groups of people and provisions this way, similar to how ocean liners used to work when air travel became possible.
While being processed for the trip, I was stripped, sprayed with hair removal powder (my head was already shaved while I was in jail), x-rayed to make sure I was not smuggling anything inside of me then told I could only bring one personal item with me.
No one knew that Charles gave me the necklace so I asked to take that with me. After a quick examination by the staff person overseeing my preparation they approved it and let me put it on. I was then given my shot and drank the swamp water before losing consciousness. When I woke up I was laying on a clinic cot on Mars with an IV attached to my arm.
I’ve been living on Mars now for about thirty months now. My three biggest complaints are all the dust that covers everything, being required to wear unwieldy gravity shoes (that recreate and sustain my Earth weight on Mars) anytime I’m not in my sleeping pod and the lack of privacy.
My sleeping pod is six foot long by four foot wide and three and a half feet high. It feels like the same amount of space as in a small car back on Earth with the front seat laying back. Not the place for someone who’s claustrophobic. Inside it’s got a built in video touch screen for viewing things or making calls back to Earth (not that I call anyone there) and a couple small drawers for my clothes.
Married couples with children have it the best. They get more food rations and are provided with a flat that’s the size of a small studio apartment. Those quarters are usually big enough for a double bed, a set of bunk beds, a table and some chairs. There’s also additional storage space incorporated into the room’s layout to accommodate for the needs of families with youngsters such as diapers, extra clothes, craft supplies and teaching tools.
To be honest, it’s not much different here than it was on Earth for me. I have almost no social life and spend a lot of time working or volunteering. I have no boyfriends, though I do have my eye on a young (and single) Czech doctor who works amongst several of the clinics here. I think his name is Tom.
My grandmother died last year. My childhood friend, Sabina, believe it or not, lives in the same housing compound as me and one of my cousins works at the South Pole Ice Harvesting Facility, so I’m not completely alone.
Last week the news headlines were inundated with stories about several people caught growing cantaloupe in unoccupied sleeping pods. It’s illegal to grow melons on Mars because they require so much water. The group were using stolen hydroponic equipment and drinking water to cultivate trafficked seeds then selling the contraband fruit all over the planet for huge profits.
I feel invisible and I’m pretty sure most people have no idea why I’m here. I think they believe that I volunteered to move here because of my age. Only my friend and cousin refer to me as Teresa (or Terri). I tell everyone else to call me Lilith, the name Charles gave me.
The other day something interesting happened that caught me completely off guard and got me believing in Fate or Destiny.
I was fingering the pennant on my necklace when something came loose. I monkeyed with it a few seconds and suddenly a tiny sim card slid out of it
It made me remember something Charles said about having a tablet computer with ten thousand books saved on its sim card. I wonder if this was that sim card he mentioned and if he also had something to do with me getting sent here with all those books, right under everyone’s noses.
All I need to do now is to find an older tablet computer with a broken wireless connection (there are plenty of them laying around here) so that no one can monitor what I’m doing then see what’s saved on this memory chip.
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