by C. J. Nash
A light bulb illuminated in Mason’s brain. “Lesson number one.”
Janet nodded. “First, you’re taking me to lunch. Then I will show you our farm. But before we leave, I need to see the bag your clothes were in.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask questions.”
“What lesson is that?”
“Just let me see the bag.”
Mason produced the thin polyester bag that he had been given at the spaceport. His allotted twenty-five pounds of clothing had just barely fit inside. Janet felt along the seams and apparently found what she was looking for. She produced a knife and carefully slit one of the seams releasing a dozen or so dark pellets which she scooped up and dropped inside her purse.
****
Once again Janet managed to consume an enormous repast. She had two plates filled to overflowing and even nibbled from Mason’s meager lunch. Janet followed the main course with two desserts.
Before leaving the cafeteria, Janet waited at the counter while several sandwiches were packaged to go. Mason waited a few steps to the rear and stared at the lithe form standing before him. Janet was about 1.75 meters or just under 6 feet in local units. He estimated that on Earth she would weigh about fifty kilos. He couldn’t even guess what that would be using local units under Mars gravity. She was well shaped with nice padding in all the right places. She looked to be about thirty in Earth years, so she had either aged very well, or she had been very young when she joined the colony. His thoughts were, “How on Earth—No—How on any planet can she eat that much and still look that good?”
Janet called over her shoulder, “Stop staring at my ass and get up here where I can keep an eye on you.”
Mason felt the blood rush to his face. How long it had been since he had last blushed he could not remember. Until that moment he had believed that he was too old to be embarrassed, but here he was, crimsoning like a teenager. “Uh…I wasn’t staring at your ass.” He knew his defense sounded lame but it was the best he could manage.
Mason rushed forward and joined Janet as she headed for the door. “What was hidden inside my clothes bag?” he asked.
“Contraband.”
“Contraband? What kind?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“How big a secret?”
“Something that the governor doesn’t need to know and something that the NAU absolutely doesn’t need to know.”
“Is it related to the murder investigation?”
“No, it has absolutely nothing to do with the murder investigation.”
“In that case, I suppose it is none of their business. I wasn’t sent millions of miles to investigate contraband, whatever it is.”
“Okay, when we get to the farm, I’ll show you what I’ve got.”
“Janet.”
“Yes.”
“Everyone calls you Miss Edwards, right?”
“Yes.”
“On Earth, no one ever uses the old titles. Females are all called Ms.”
“But this isn’t Earth.”
“Touché. I assume that your title means that you are unmarried?”
“I was married when I first came to the colony. It was a requirement—couples only.”
“But not now?”
“No. We were not really compatible. Actually, we only entered the marriage contract so that we could join the colony. After we arrived, we cancelled the contract.”
“And you didn’t remarry?”
“It’s really none of your business but I’ll try to explain anyway. There were two groups of colonists. Each group consisted of fifty married couples. One hundred men and one hundred women, total. Generally, men tend to be stupider than women…”
“You didn’t remarry because men are stupid?”
“Not because they are stupid, but because they do stupid things.”
“I’m not sure I…”
“Men are full of testosterone and because of the testosterone they take unnecessary risks. Of the original one hundred men, seventeen have died because they did something stupid. In contrast, only two women have died from stupid decisions. Because men are stupid, there is a shortage of them. Of course there is the new generation of men who were born on Mars but I am old enough to be their mother.”
Mason eyed Janet from head to toe. “You can’t possibly be that old.”
“I came with the second wave of colonists.” She did some mental calculations. “That would be about twenty-two Earth years ago—I think. I was fairly young, but I was old enough to enter into a marriage contract.”
“I read about the colony marriage contracts. Weren’t there some that were contracted as young as thirteen?”
“Yes, there were a few, but I wasn’t that young.”
“Your ex-husband, did he remarry?”
“No. Unfortunately, he was one of the stupid ones. Two months after our contract was cancelled, he decided to work in an unfinished cavern without a pressure suit. The cavern was leaking and he apparently didn’t have a clue.”
“So, there’s a shortage of men.”
“For women my age, yes. And with the murder victim, we are short one more. Assuming, of course, that he was murdered.”
“You think he wasn’t murdered?”
“Maybe.”
“Could it have been an accident?”
“Not likely. I’m sure someone killed him. But maybe it wasn’t murder. Maybe it was justice.”
“You think someone had a good reason to kill him?”
“Maybe. I do know that the NAU has no business getting involved.”
“When the case is solved, what harm would there be in sharing the results with the NAU?”
“Maybe none. But maybe they would just add that to the list of reasons why they want to shut down the colony. But it’s my day off. I don’t want to spend it discussing your investigation.”
“Fair enough.” Mason looked around. They had been walking in a tunnel for some time. “How much farther to the farm?”
“We’re just about there. You can’t see it because the doors are closed.”
“Doors? Is the farm kept at a different atmospheric pressure?”
“No. We have doors to keep the insects out of the rest of the colony.”
“Insects? You have insects on Mars?”
“Not yet—but someday. We are still doing a study to determine which insects we need and which ones we definitely do not want—like mosquitos.” Janet touched a panel and a door slid aside. “We’re here.”
As far as Mason could see there were rows upon rows of buildings, each one identical to the next. “I expected to see crops growing in the fields.”
“We actually have some of those farther on but the most efficient way to grow our food is to use hydroponics in controlled environments. When you meet Eddie, he will tell you more about it.”
“Eddie?”
“Eddie MacDonald. He is The Farmer. He is the only colonist that is permanently assigned to the farm. Everyone else takes their turn working for Eddie. No one is exempt from farm duty. I had my rotation last month. I had to take it early because I would be stuck babysitting you during my normal rotation.”
“I’m sorry. But you know it really wasn’t my idea to come here.”
“I know. Not your fault. This way.” Janet turned to the right. “Something I want you to see.”
At the end of the row of buildings was a lush green field of grass. Scattered about the verdant carpet were couples and families sitting or lounging or playing. Mason was astonished. “Grass? Real grass?”
“Real grass, but it’s a secret.”
“How can it be a secret? You said that everybody has to work on the farm.”
“The governor doesn’t and neither does his wife. And neither does the NAU.”
“So why is this grass a secret?”
“It was never authorized by the NAU because it is not necessary for the survival of the colony.” Janet removed a gossamer-thin blanket from he
r bag, unfolded it and placed it on the grass. “But the grass is so nice for a relaxing picnic on a sunny Sunday afternoon.” Once seated, she patted the blanket. “Sit,” she commanded.
Mason sat and Janet put a sandwich in his hand. Janet unwrapped a sandwich for herself and asked, “Perfect spot for a picnic, isn’t it? Green grass, no rocks and no ants.”
“It’s beautiful. Could use some shade trees though. And I feel a breeze.”
“Yes, we could use some shade trees. Oh! Here comes Eddie.” Janet opened her bag and collected the contraband that she had dropped inside.
Mason and Janet both stood to greet the lanky, grey-haired gentleman who was striding toward them. The new arrival gave Janet a hug and asked, “Is this the troublemaker?”
“He’s okay, Eddie.” The contraband exchanged hands. “And he says that we need shade trees.”
Eddie grasped Mason’s hand in a firm handshake. “You’re absolutely right, Johnnie. We do need some shade trees.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. MacDonald. But my name isn’t Johnnie. I’m Mason—Mason Turner.”
“Well, you can be Mason Turner to everybody else, but to me you’ll always be Johnnie—Johnnie Appleseed.”
Realization struck Mason. He pointed to the hand holding the contraband. “Those are apple seeds, aren’t they?”
“You’ve got that right, Johnnie. And I don’t go by Mr. anything. You can call me Eddie or you can call me Old MacDonald.”
“As in Eee-Aye-Eee-Aye-Oh?”
“That’s me. With a Chick-chick here and a chick-chick there. And someday there are going to be moos and oinks and baas if we can figure a way to smuggle them in. How do you like my grass?”
“I’ve never seen any greener.”
“Smuggled it in about five years ago—make that about ten Earth years. Started with less than two hundred seeds. For the first couple of years, I would have kicked your ass if you had even thought about setting foot on my grass. But now I love seeing people on the grass, enjoying the park.”
“And you’re the chief farmer?”
“I am The Farmer.” One could actually hear the capitalization. “Everybody else takes a turn at working the farm. Unless you work the farm, you don’t really appreciate what it takes to keep the colony functioning.
“To begin with, we have to recycle everything. When you take a shit, that shit is mine. It comes to the farm and most of the water is extracted. Some of the water is used on the farm and some of it goes back into the drinking water supply. The dried waste gets irradiated to kill any bacteria or viruses it might contain. Then we add back in some bacteria and yeasts that turn your shit into high quality fertilizer. And when people die, I recycle them too.
“Water and fertilizer go to the food crops. Most of the crops are grown inside buildings where we can control the temperature, humidity and sunlight. Some crops grow best in cooler climates, some in warmer. For some crops, we have to adjust the length of day and night to get them to bear fruit. We do have some open fields in this cavern, but most of the crops will always be grown inside these buildings. When the plants die, they are recycled into fertilizer.
“Some of the food crops don’t have to be pollinated, like potatoes. Others are self-pollinating. Have you felt the breeze?” When Mason nodded, Eddie continued, “Lots of plants are pollinated by the wind. We have wind in some of the buildings when the plants need to be pollinated. The breeze in the open cavern is mainly to benefit my grass, but people enjoy it, too. Crops that can’t be pollinated any other way have to be pollinated by hand. Someday we’ll have honey bees to pollinate those.
“And then there are the chickens. We have lots of chickens. Some of the plants we grow are used to feed the chickens. When a chicken shits, that gets recycled. We have a closed system—everything recycles. And I have to know exactly how many chickens we have and exactly how many plants of each type we have and exactly how many people there are in the colony. I have to have exact figures because we have to recycle something that we can’t live without.
“We recycle air. All the colonists, the governor, his wife and daughter, all the scientists, all the tourists, all the chickens and you are sucking up my oxygen and expelling CO2. But my plants like CO2. They take it along with water and fertilizer and turn it into food and oxygen. With eight caverns we have a lot of air. That’s good and it’s bad. With a lot of air, minor changes in the oxygen and CO2 levels are not an immediate danger. But with lots of air, when the imbalance becomes a problem, it takes a lot of effort to rectify that problem.
“And that brings us back to the grass. Before we had this beautiful green park, I had to use artificial means to adjust the atmospheric gases. The grass now does what I once had to do artificially. Actually, there is too much grass but that’s a good thing. Without proper controls the grass would overload the atmosphere with oxygen and bring the CO2 levels to dangerous lows. But that only happens if there is full sunlight on the grass every day. As oxygen levels begin to creep upward, filters block some or all of the sunlight.”
“But not on Sunday,” interjected Janet.
The Farmer nodded. “Never on Sunday. That is a day for people to enjoy the park. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Johnnie, I’ve got apple trees to plant. And when you see Mr. Echols, tell him that he’s needed on the farm.”
“Mr. Echols?”
“Weren’t you sent here to investigate Mr. Echols’ death?”
“I was sent here to investigate a death, but no one has actually told me the name of the deceased.”
Janet interjected, “Yes, his name was Lawrence Echols.”
“I’m confused. Why should I tell Mr. Echols…” Realization struck Mason. “He’s needed on the farm as fertilizer, isn’t he?”
Eddie nodded and touched the tip of his nose. As Eddie ambled away, he called over his shoulder, “Everyone always comes back to the farm. Don’t keep him away too long.”
Mason shuddered. “I had no idea so much was involved in keeping the colony alive.”
“You just got the short version,” said Janet. “To really appreciate the enormous responsibility of farming, you actually have to work on the farm. During my rotations I have done everything from pollinating plants to treating raw sewage. Every aspect of farming is essential to the colony.”
“And when someone dies, they are recycled?”
“Not the person—just the body they leave behind. It’s a closed system; we can’t afford to discard anything. When we die, it is important that we return to the colony what we have taken from it.”
“Trying to balance everything in such a closed system seems overwhelming.”
“It’s not overwhelming because we are ever vigilant. You know, Earth is a closed system, too. It’s just that it is such a big system that you don’t notice the little changes, but the little changes do add up. Pollution, nuclear waste, deforestation, global warming, ozone depletion. At some point you’re going to need a Farmer to bring balance to your planet.”
Mason finished his sandwich and lay back on the blanket and stared at the grey dome overhead. “The ceiling needs to be blue. And there needs to be some clouds.”
Janet lay down and looked upward. “I’ll talk to Eddie. He might be able to produce a blue sky but I doubt that he can conjure up clouds.”
Time can be deceptive in the caverns of Mars. The bright sun in the grey sky is useless for marking the hours. Connected by a myriad of fiber light pipes to the surface, its light remains constant as the solar collectors track the sun’s journey across the daytime sky. The artificial sun remains fixed and immobile in the center of the cavern only dimming when the true sun dips below the horizon. From the first light of dawn until the darkening of twilight, beneath the red planet it is perpetually noon.
“The sunlight and the breeze are a nice touch. And I can smell a little ozone. Smells like sunshine.” Mason closed his eyes and basked in the warm sunlight and imagined a robin-egg blue sky with white puffy clouds. The next moment he felt
a gentle tug at his shoulder.
“Stop snoring,” said Janet. “It’s time we were getting back.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Mason insisted. But when he looked around, he noticed that most of the other colonists had already gone and the light from the solar collectors was beginning to dim. “Have I really been asleep?”
“Yes. I guess we both fell asleep. But I think your snoring woke me.”
“I wasn’t actually snoring, was I?”
“Oh yes! You were snoring. We’ve got to get back and pick up our new clothes.” She grabbed her notepad and began typing. “I’ll let Kelly—she works at the shop—I’ll let Kelly know we’re coming. It’s her day off too, but she’ll open the shop for us—well for me. She doesn’t like you. Lesson number two.”
****
At the shop, Mason was introduced to an attractive young female named Kelly. Kelly located their packages but when Janet made ready to leave, Kelly insisted, “You can’t go yet. Try on the outfits and see how they look.”
“Well, just one,” said Janet, as she picked up the three gowns and headed for a dressing room.
Mason was stunned when Janet returned wearing a powder blue evening dress. “Wow! You look…” He paused unable to think of anything more to say. “Wow!”
“Your turn,” said Janet, pointing to the dressing room.
Upon Mason’s return, Kelly examined the results. “Dresses up nice, doesn’t he?”
Janet nodded. “Not too bad. And since we’re all dressed up, I think Mason should take me out to dinner.”
“The Starlight Room?” asked Kelly.
“Absolutely,” agreed Janet.
****
The Starlight Room turned out to be a formal dining room attached to the cafeteria where they had been dining. The room was dark; the only light came from real candles on each table. A violinist drifted among the patrons accompanied by beautiful music and a romantic mood.
Once Janet and Mason were seated, a waiter brought salad and bread. “Would you care for wine,” he asked, as he presented the menus.
“Martian Red,” replied Janet. “Very low alcohol, please.”