“We will have more of everything from this crop, except for the tomatoes,” Anna said. “Deirdre thinks we watered the tomatoes too much.”
Johann and Anna were standing side by side in one of the long aisles out in the far greenhouse. To their right, corn was growing as high as the top of Johann’s head. To their left was a beautiful plot of plump yellow squash and zucchini.
Johann glanced at the ceiling. “This place is an engineering marvel. Without the genius of Yasin and Narong, we never could have hoped—”
“From what Narong tells me,” Anna interrupted, “there would never have been any greenhouses without an original vision and some pretty astute systems engineering from a tall, blond German.”
Johann smiled. “Thanks, Anna,” he said. He didn’t notice the loving look in her eyes. He had missed it consistently for over a year. “The truth is that the greenhouses have been a successful team effort from the beginning. You and Deirdre have improved every single one of the operating plans that we initially designed.”
Johann bent down to touch one of the squashes. “How do you know when it’s ready to pick?”
“It’s all done automatically with that software Narong designed,” she said. “Every day the overhead camera takes a picture of every square centimeter in the greenhouse. Algorithms compute growth rates, maturation coefficients, everything that is needed. Then that robot harvester Yasin assembled out of spare parts is turned on. It interrogates the database established by the algorithms and picks what is ready.”
Johann stood up. “So with the increased yields from this crop, are you ready to declare the project a success?”
“Not yet,” replied the always conservative Anna. “Our Yields are still not high enough that we can easily survive a long duration dust storm like the one in 2133… And despite my objections, you have not cut back the food allocations to allow me to stockpile vegetables for a simultaneous dust storm plus a major subsystem failure.”
“We agreed several months ago to design only for single-point failures,” Johann replied. “It does not make sense to keep everyone undernourished just so we can accommodate multiple-fault scenarios.”
“Tell me that when everyone is starving,” Anna said grimly. “When you assigned me this task, you challenged me to try to imagine how bad things could get. You said to assume we would be receiving no food or supplies of any kind from Mutchville. At the time I thought you were being unduly pessimistic. But now that the situation is even worse than you foresaw…”
“You’ve done a great job, Anna,” Johann said, giving her a brotherly hug. “And we all appreciate it… But now that we are nearing self-sufficiency, you should consider lightening up a bit… Smile… Enjoy your life a little.”
They started walking back toward the greenhouse entrance. “There’s another subject I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Anna said hesitantly. “I promised Deirdre I would bring it up as soon as we began harvesting this crop.”
“What is it?” Johann said easily.
“It’s Yasin,” Anna said. “He is becoming more and more abusive to all the women here, especially to Deirdre and Lucinda. It’s not just his language, or his comments about women in general. Lately he has been making sexual threats.”
Johann stopped. “Has he done this to you?”
“No,” said Anna, “because he knows that I won’t tolerate any of his shit… But Johann, most of the women don’t have either my self-confidence or my experience. They’ve never been around anyone who refers to them all the time as bitches or cunts. Or who believes graphic sexual jokes are acceptable in mixed company. They don’t even know how to react to him”
“And what do you want me to do?” Johann said.
“Stop praising Yasin publicly, to begin with,” Anna said sharply. “I know he is a genius and has helped Valhalla immensely, at least from an engineering point of view. But every time you talk about how critical Yasin’s work has been, his ego becomes more inflated and he feels more indispensable. Then he figures he can treat the women any way he wants, without any consequences.”
“But his work has been fantastic,” Johann protested.
“That’s the trouble with you men,” Anna said, her voice rising. “I have never been able to figure out how you can so easily compartmentalize each other. If some guy’s a brilliant engineer, or a fantastic home-run hitter, you overlook the fact that he’s a jerk or a son of a bitch out of the office or away from the field… Women do not look at men that way. We consider the whole individual, not just one or two parts. To us, it does not matter how smart Yasin is, or what he has done for the outpost. The way he treats women is disgusting, and he should be reprimanded and censured for his conduct.”
Johann had never seen Anna so agitated. “All right,” he said at length. “Give me more of the details and I will talk with Yasin.”
“When will you talk with him?” Anna said. “I want to tell Deirdre and Lucinda.”
“Soon,” said Johann. He saw that Anna was not satisfied. “Tonight,” he added. “No later than tonight.”
Narong was in his office, working at his computer terminal. His door was open.
“May I come in?” Johann asked.
Narong smiled. “Of course,” he said. “I always have time for the boss.”
Johann slumped into one of the two large chairs in Narong’s office and heaved a sigh. “I promised Anna I would talk to Yasin today,” he said. “I need your help.”
“More complaints?” Narong asked.
“Yes,” Johann said. “Apparently he’s getting worse…” Johann squirmed in his chair. “I’m in an impossible situation,” he continued. “I agree with the women that Yasin’s behavior is intolerable, but I’m worried about what his response will be. Our system-failure rates are already astronomically high, and they’re still increasing. Without Yasin we’ll never keep up with the maintenance and repairs… What do you think we should do?”
“It has been a Hobson’s choice from the beginning,” Narong said. “Yasin is both deeply talented and completely screwed up. During the first six months he was here, I thought he had reformed. But now I can see that it was just an act. After he was granted his freedom, he quickly reverted to his old behavior.”
“Could we possibly maintain the outpost without Yasin?” Johann asked.
“You mean if he’s confined to quarters, or decides to leave if and when another train ever arrives?”
Johann nodded. “I don’t think so,” Narong said slowly. “I wish it were otherwise, but the truth is that nobody else here at Valhalla knows electronics nearly as well as he does.”
“That’s what I expected you to say,” Johann said. He stood up to leave. Narong handed him a five-page document.
“What’s this?” Johann asked.
“Unfinished business,” Narong said. “It’s probably no longer a priority, since those few ISA staff members still in Mutchville certainly have bigger problems. However, this is the final report on those Asian scientists who disappeared over a year ago while you were down in Mutchville. The initial document was returned to us a few months ago, before the fax lines became inoperative. I had forgotten about it. It’s now way overdue.”
Narong shook his head. “You know, Johann,” he said, “those guys at ISA headquarters didn’t make a single substantive comment about any of the text. They recommended no changes to my description of the unsuccessful search conducted by our drone rovers, and they didn’t question my surmise that the scientists had fallen into a crevasse or some other hazard on the ice… All their comments were about the form of the document, including the numbering of the paragraphs.”
Johann and Narong both laughed. “The stupid bureaucrats also informed me,” Narong said, “that a report of this importance must be signed by a facility director or the equivalent. Without your signature the report is invalid.”
Johann shrugged and signed the document without reading it. “What will you do with this now?” he asked.
There was a protracted silence in the room. “How much longer do you think it will be until there are no more trains at all, and no phone communications either?” Johann asked.
“I try not to think about that,” Narong said, forcing a smile. “But I do know one thing. When the infrastructure on Mars collapses completely, I would much rather be in Valhalla than Mutchville, or anyplace else for that matter. At least we’re somewhat prepared.”
Courage is a strange word, Johann thought as he sat in his apartment, preparing for his meeting with Yasin. It is applied most often to behavior during situations that are immediately life threatening. Sometimes it takes more courage to talk to another person about an unpleasant subject than it does to confront an armed lunatic, or to face down an animal in the wild.
Johann brewed the last of his personal supply of coffee for his visitor, who was due to arrive any minute. They did not grow coffee in the Valhalla greenhouses—it was not considered essential—and there had been no deliveries of coffee from Mutchville for almost a year. Like many Muslims, Yasin did not drink alcohol. But he absolutely loved coffee. Johann was certain that Yasin would understand the significance of his gesture.
The Arab engineer was prompt, and in a good mood. He smelled the coffee the minute he walked through the door. “Why, that’s damn nice of you, Ace,” he said, accepting the cup that Johann offered him. “This must be a token of your appreciation.”
“It is,” Johann said, seating himself in a chair opposite Yasin. “I inspected the greenhouses today and we have a bumper crop. It goes without saying that it would not have been possible without your ingenuity.”
“You’re welcome,” Yasin replied with a wide smile. “But I can’t believe you requested a private meeting to thank me. There must be some other reason. There’s no terrible news from Mutchville, is there? I thought the communications link was still not working.”
“No, no” Johann said, “nothing like that.” He hesitated, remembering what he had planned to say. “What I want to talk about is personal.”
Yasin took a sip of coffee and his smile faded. “Let me guess,” he said sharply. “One of your bitches has been complaining again.”
Johann’s eyes did not waver from Yasin’s. “Several of the women have lodged a formal complaint, Yasin. Not just about your language, or your derisive remarks. They say you are making sexual threats.”
“What a pile of shit,” Yasin said, his eyes flashing. He set his coffee cup on the table and stood up. “Why should I have to put up with this?” he said angrily. “I bust my butt for you, and save this whole. damn outpost, and what do I get for it? I have to listen to what a bunch of whining bitches say—
“Look, Ace, if there is some specific crime someone thinks I’ve committed, then charge me with it. But I’m not going to sit here and be upbraided because some lonely women have had their sensibilities offended.”
For a moment Johann thought that Yasin was going to walk out the door. What would I do then? he thought fleetingly. “Yasin,” he said hurriedly, “as the director of this facility, it is my duty to respond to the requests of my staff… I am not charging you with anything at this time. I am simply conducting an unofficial investigation that is entirely consistent with my position. I have called you here so that I can hear your side of the issue.”
Yasin’s hand was on the doorknob, but he did not open the door. He hesitated for a moment. “All right, Ace,” he said, coming back toward the chairs, “I’m going to take you at your word and presume that you do indeed have an open mind.” He sat down in the chair and took another sip of coffee. “Now, why don’t you tell me about these complaints so I can have a chance to defend myself.”
Johann started slowly, first reminding Yasin that every time he referred to a woman, or women in general, as “cunts” or “bitches,” he was demeaning all females in the same way that the term “nigger” or “kike” demeaned black people or Jews. Yasin did not say anything. Then Johann brought up Yasin’s habit of telling sexual jokes in the presence of women. Johann had finished explaining that people had a right to choose not to hear such offensive stories, and had just begun to describe what Deirdre Robertson had called an explicit sexual threat, when Yasin interrupted him.
“That ugly bitch might say anything,” Yasin said. “Don’t believe a word she says. She’s still pissed off because I wouldn’t screw her… Right after I came to Valhalla, she made a pass at me. I turned her down. She’s been waiting ever since to get even with me. You know how women are."
Yasin told how Deirdre had tried to seduce him soon after his arrival at Valhalla. Even though Johann knew that Yasin was probably fabricating the story, there was little he could do. Yasin categorically denied ever saying to Ms. Robertson that if she didn’t watch out, he’d pull up her dress and “slip her the big one.”
Johann was no longer on the offensive. Yasin was smiling again, thinking the issue had been defused. He relaxed visibly. “All that bitch needs,” he said with an easy laugh at the end of the conversation, “is a reaming from a real man. Then she wouldn’t be so unhappy and frustrated all the time.”
“It is exactly that kind of comment, Yasin,” Johann answered harshly, “that alienates the women here at Valhalla. And many of the men, including me.”
Yasin began backpedaling when he saw the anger in Johann’s response. “You know, Ace,” he said in a reflective tone a few seconds later, “the more I consider this problem, the more I think that what we’re talking about is simply a cultural difference. The Islamic and Christian cultures have a completely different view of women and their role in society. I was raised to think of women as helpmates, supportive subordinates whose primary responsibility was to take care of the house and raise the man’s children… I use the possessive because under Islamic law, after a certain age all offspring belong to the father and the mother no longer has any legal rights to them.
“Please understand that being even the slightest bit concerned about what a woman might think is a foreign concept to an Islamic man. Can you imagine, for example, a woman in Saudi Arabia or Iraq making a complaint about a man’s language? It would be unheard-of… So you see, your European ideas, which proclaim the ostensible equality of the sexes—although I’ve met very few of your male colleagues who really believe it—are very difficult for me to grasp. I have tried to make some adjustments to my behavior, but I’m not always able to catch myself.”
Very clever, Johann was thinking. You have changed the whole tenor of this conversation. Now the problem is no longer personal. It’s a cultural and religious issue…
“Kwame is very respectful of women,” Johann said suddenly. “And he is also a Muslim.”
“Kwame doesn’t really count,” Yasin retorted. “He’s not that serious about his religion and black Africans practice a different kind of Islam anyway… Besides, I think that Kwame’s polite manner is an act. I bet he would screw any woman in this outpost, without her consent, if he thought there would be no consequences.” Yasin leaned forward. “So would many of the men here at Valhalla, including your fair-haired Narong… I don’t know about you, Ace, I don’t have you figured, but most men would force themselves on women if there were no laws to prevent it. That’s biological, not cultural.”
Johann was about to argue when there was a loud knock on the door. Both men stood up. “It’s me, Narong,” they heard. “I have some urgent news.”
They opened the door. “Melvin dug up Dr. Won’s body today,” Narong said. “It’s still encased in ice. One of the drones is bringing her to Valhalla. The body should be here in two hours or so.”
7
Dr. Kyagi Won, a Korean geologist specializing in glaci
ers, was one of the four inter-Asian scientists who had mysteriously disappeared on the Martian polar ice over a year earlier. She and her male colleagues, Dr. Devi Sinha from India (the head of the expedition), Dr. Hiroshi Kawakita from Japan, and Dr. Ismail Jailani from Malaysia, had spent nearly a week in Valhalla before moving out on the ice to conduct their investigations. During their stay at the outpost, the Asian scientists had isolated themselves from the other residents. The quartet had eaten at their own table in the cafeteria and, unlike the free-spirited, bibulous Ukrainians from the previous year, had never attended any of the entertainments designed to enliven the evenings at the out-post.
Three of the Valhalla residents had trained the Asian scientists in the use of the icemobiles and other specialized equipment, and had gone with them to help establish the initial campsite on the ice. All three had returned with comments about the lack of warmth and personality in the Asian group. “They might as well be robots,” one of the Valhallans who had assisted them had commented.
Dr. Won and her colleagues had come to the north pole of Mars for a specific purpose. They did not accept the results of the Ukrainian polar expedition that had won plaudits from many of the world’s scientists. The Asians believed that both the core sample taken by the Ukrainians, and the ultimate analysis of the layers of that core, which resulted in a derived time history of the motion of the Martian spin axis, were seriously flawed. The Asian team intended to do the job properly. They expected to show that Dr. Kawakita’s original theory for the evolution of the Martian spin axis, which had been thrown into disrepute by the findings of the Ukrainians, was indeed correct.
Johann and Narong had both briefed the scientists, on their last day at Valhalla, about the importance of checking in daily while they were out on the ice. Dr. Sinha had not been convinced that regular communications with the outpost were very important. “We have a lot of work to do,” he had stated. “We will check in with Valhalla if it fits into our schedule.”
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