by Alec Taylor
Silence. There were a few uncomfortable glances at the others around the circle and at the cameras outside the circle.
“Okay, that’s all right; we’re just getting started. I’ll get us going, then. I guess my biggest worry is that my team and I might fail to positively manage the health of the colony. It’s largely our responsibility to make sure everyone is both physically and mentally well, but the health risks here are huge and many of them are unknown. Would anyone like to comment on my worry? Has anyone experienced something similar?”
More silence and furtive glances. I couldn’t stand it. Partly I felt sorry for Chris, but I also felt a responsibility to make the process as effective as possible—it was a risk-management action, after all, and I was a security officer.
I quietly cleared my throat and said, “Thanks, Chris. Um, I don’t really have any comment on your specific worry, but I work in Security and feel like I have some similar responsibilities. I guess I worry that I won’t be able to keep the colony safe.”
Chris leaned forward and listened intently, nodding emphatically.
“Great. Thanks, Mike,” she said the instant I stopped speaking. “And what kind of impact does that have on you?”
“Well…it motivates me to do a good job and work hard. Sometimes it affects my sleep. I mean, it’s not on my mind all the time—it’s just in the background, you know. And, in a way, I like the stress. It’s my job.”
“Fantastic,” said Chris with a smile. It was funny because it almost sounded like she was happy about my stress, but she was obviously just happy to have someone other than herself talking. “And what do you do to manage that stress?”
“Exercise is good. And I practise mindfulness.”
“Great,” said Chris. “You know, one of the reasons for this process is to meet people you can talk to as well, people who can support you. Does anyone have a comment on Mike’s worry, or would anyone like to share one of their own worries?”
I felt like I had been vague and I would have been happy to talk more, but there wasn’t a single question from the rest of the group. Chris had to resort to calling on everyone to share their worries, one by one. There was almost no follow-up discussion.
The colonists who said they “couldn’t think of anything” irritated me. The Mars selection process guaranteed that every colonist had a base level of confidence, maturity, and resilience that should have enabled them to constructively contribute to the session. Some of them were shy, but some were being deliberately passive.
I hung around after the session to talk to Chris.
“Well, that was something,” I said.
“I know,” she said despondently. “The thing is, I think most people would like to talk. Off the record, a lot of people are anxious since the dining room. I’ve also heard some bizarre rumours being spread about Glen.”
“Right,” I said. “I’m not surprised, but nobody is talking to me about Glen. For obvious reasons.”
“I’ve been thinking about him a lot,” said Chris, “and the conclusion I’ve come to is I think he simply couldn’t handle it here anymore. He was desperately trying to find a way to go home. I wish I’d known; I could have helped him. The rumours I’ve heard, though…mostly conspiracy theories. Even that he was a serial killer and also murdered Imani. But nobody is prepared to talk about anything like that, or anything else for that matter, in these sessions with the cameras on.” She hung her head and sighed.
“It’s not your fault, you know,” I said. “You’re doing your best in this situation.”
She looked at me intently and said, “Why are we administering compulsory group therapy to everyone, anyway? Oh, God—please don’t tell anyone I said that. I’m trying to make it work and don’t want JOSEV to think I’m not committed.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on your side.”
“Some people really need help, you know. We’ve treated depression, anxiety, and everything that goes with it. Proactive therapy sessions could be a good idea for the colony, just not implemented in this way.”
“Yeah,” I said. JOSEV would have read all of our medical records, and I wondered why they hadn’t acted sooner, before someone had a meltdown. Perhaps they had needed a catastrophe to justify their response? I didn’t like the thought that JOSEV had deliberately let someone become psychotic to create the impetus for change, but unfortunately it seemed plausible.
“Mike, how have you been since it happened?”
I remembered seeing my brother when I was standing over Glen. I remembered the shadows out in the storm, in the greenhouse, and at the canyon. I didn’t say anything for a moment, wondering how much I could say without alarming her.
“Actually, Chris, something has been happening, since well before the storm. Can we talk in private, suits off?”
“Sure,” she fiddled with the leads to the battery inside her suit.
“Do you remember when I said I saw something out at the canyon, when Eli died?”
“You said you saw a shadow?”
“It wasn’t a shadow. It was my little brother.”
“You saw your brother?”
“Yeah. He’s dead. He died when I was thirteen. I was there. I…saw it happen.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
I nearly told her the whole story, but I managed to stop myself just in time.
“It happened a long time ago,” I said. “Anyway, something about Imani’s death brought it all back. And then I saw him again out at the power plants during the storm…and then again when Glen went postal.”
“I see,” said Chris, obviously considering what I was saying very carefully.
“It hasn’t happened since then.”
“Okay,” said Chris. “How do you feel after you have these visions?”
“Well, at first I didn’t know what was happening and I was freaked out. But I know what it is now, and it doesn’t scare me anymore.”
“It’s not affecting your work or your sleep?”
“No. I mean, sometimes I have nightmares about him, but I can get back to sleep, and I’m having them less now that I’m seeing June.”
“Okay,” said Chris. “Well, having visions or hearing voices is actually not that uncommon. I’ll look it up, but I think it could be five percent of the population will have something like that happen to them in their lifetime. So you’re not alone and it’s not yet cause for alarm. It’s good that you let me know, though. Have you spoken to anyone else about it?”
“No, just you.”
“Okay. I’m not going to tell you how to handle your relationships, but I bet June would listen and support you. It helps to talk about this kind of thing with close friends.”
“Yeah,” I said in a noncommittal way. I wasn’t ready to be that open with June and, though I could imagine telling Tony, I was afraid he would stop being so funny and silly around me.
“Well, if it starts to affect your mood or your work or your sleep or anything, then let me know and we can work through some solutions. Okay?”
“Okay,” I replied.
“Listen to this,” she said, changing the subject. “They asked me if it was feasible to add anti-depressants to all colonists’ medication.”
“Wow,” I said. “We already have a drug problem. Do we really want to add another one?”
“Exactly,” she said. “I told them there would be increased risks and little long-term benefit, which thankfully they accepted. I guess the JOSEV doctors back on Earth probably said the same thing.”
Chris tried incredibly hard to make the group sessions work, but she was fighting a losing battle. JOSEV thought the failure was her fault, of course, and wrote a program to script the sessions, which she implemented without complaint. Only then, and after some vocal feedback, JOSEV decided that group therapy should only be administered to people who were nominated by a manager or requested it, which whittled the attendees down to only two groups for the entire colony.
The new buddy sys
tem was also ridiculous. JOSEV allocated every colonist a ‘buddy’. We each received a list of areas in our buddy’s life that we were to explore, ranging from the mundane to the abstract.
I had coffee with my ‘buddy’, Li Na, on a Sunday morning in the lounge. We said hello and sat down, told each other two-minute versions of our life stories, and briefly described our roles in the colony. Then I looked at the list of prescribed questions on my tablet.
“So,” I said, “um, let’s talk about stressful things in our lives.”
I looked up and saw that she had raised her eyebrows and a tiny smile was playing at the corners of her mouth. It was infectious and soon I was locking my jaw to hide my smile.
“Okay, let’s see,” said Li Na, looking around as if she was searching for ideas. “So, I guess I’m worried about not being able to breathe outside the colony and dying without ever seeing the Mona Lisa.”
“Right,” I said, wanting to take the process seriously but struggling. I couldn’t resist the follow-up question: “And how does that affect you?”
“Well,” she said with a dramatic roll of her head, “you know Europa, Jupiter’s moon, the one that’s covered in oxygen and water? Well, I’ve devised a plan to crash it into Mars to create a breathable atmosphere. And I’ve put in a request to go home to see the Mona Lisa.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling and nodding, and then added, “Have you been working on that answer?”
“A little,” said Li Na. “Was it obvious?”
“No, not too much. It was good.”
“Thanks.”
I dropped my chin into my hand, leaned my elbow on the arm of the sofa, and stared at her, still smiling. Her response was understandable—the prescribed-buddy approach was ridiculous and clumsy and I was sure most people considered the whole thing a joke.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, with a shy smile. “I know I should probably take this seriously, particularly as you’re in Security, but really, those questions are ridiculous.”
“I know,” I said. “They’re trying to identify the next Glen, but I’m not sure this is the best way to do it.”
“Perhaps anyone who takes the questions seriously should be reported to JOSEV? They’re obviously crazy,” said Li Na and I couldn’t help laughing.
“So, listen,” I said. “We’re required to submit a detailed description of each other. Let’s just quickly run through the topics, collect some answers, and be done with it.”
“Okay,” she said, tipping her head to one side and relaxing her shoulders. “Go.”
We finished interviewing each other and made plans to meet once a week, as required by JOSEV. I made a real effort to keep meeting her, just to ensure that I wasn’t breaking the rules—unlike almost every other person in the colony, who simply lied about regularly meeting their buddies.
JOSEV then tried to force everyone to change rooms to be with their new buddies. I’m sure it would have been okay in the end—it would have been like living in proper share accommodation. However, there was a strong negative reaction and an idea started whipping around the colony—send an objection to your sponsor back on Earth. Hundreds of messages filled the inboxes of the sponsors, and the buddy rooming idea was quietly dropped. In the end, JOSEV merely implemented a rule that all colonists were required to share a room and not live on their own. Gradually, all the loners moved in with other colonists, which flushed out some loud snorers for Chris to work with. The colony had an odd number of people, so Karl was allowed to continue to have his own private room. Pete was forced to find a roommate—he was another loner who had flown under the radar.
And then the final directive from JOSEV came to the Security Office: we were ordered to stamp out the mushrooms.
23. UNITY
When we had finished the weapons review, Pete privately asked me to fulfil the final directive from JOSEV.
“Listen, Mike,” he said quietly, leaning toward me. “I need you to get rid of the ’shrooms. JOSEV gave us specific directions but, frankly, I don’t think they’re feasible. I mean, they’re talking about door-to-door room searches and pat downs…Forget it. I know that you’ll do it right, so just get it done, okay?”
“Hmm,” I said. “I wonder how…”
“The thing is, though,” said Pete, “they want something like a burning demonstration, with footage of a big bonfire or something.”
“A bonfire?” I asked. “In this colony? Where oxygen is precious?”
“Yeah, I know. The media guys at JOSEV want something visual that might go viral. Clickbait.”
“Right, I get it. Okay.”
“Well, don’t worry too much about the burning demonstration,” said Pete. “But you can get rid of the ’shrooms, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Leave it with me.”
The next day, I told Pete we would need official amnesty and anonymity for everyone involved. JOSEV would get proof of destruction, but they wouldn’t get any staged publicity shots. Then I disconnected my suit battery and went to Organic Manufacturing.
Vivian was alone in the lab. I asked her to disconnect her suit battery and come for a walk. We wandered down the passages between the greenhouses and I told her what I had been asked to do. She didn’t say anything at first and then asked me if anybody was going to get into trouble. I told her about the amnesty and anonymity.
“Come with me,” she said and we walked to a distant greenhouse.
It was filled with a huge range of experimental crops—Agriculture were trialling new species for production. As soon as we walked in, I could tell that the humidity was higher than in the other greenhouses. It was also darker, and as I looked up at the ceiling Vivian said, “The prevailing wind from the plain pushes the dust up over the windbreak here. We don’t bother clearing it any more; we just use this greenhouse for shade-loving crops.”
In a shady corner, closest to the windbreak outside, was a large cluster of mushrooms.
“This isn’t my work,” she said. “Imani and I knew about it, but we ignored it. Somebody in Organic Manufacturing must have synthesised the first one from the gene base and they’ve been carefully propagated ever since. We just made sure it didn’t expand and occasionally checked the chemistry of the species, to make sure they have safe levels of psilocybin.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, we don’t need you to monitor them anymore; we need you to destroy them.”
“Okay,” she said and sighed.
“How will the colony take it?” I asked her.
“I think a lot of people will be annoyed. Some will be angry.”
“Will something pop up to replace it?” I asked and looked at her intently.
“Not from me, if that’s what you’re asking, and almost certainly not from my team. I have trouble imagining how anyone else would produce something narcotic without the raw ingredients or the equipment to synthesise it, but I suppose anything is possible.”
I almost apologised for the inconvenience, but I was doing my job, and maybe what I was doing was the best solution to the problem anyway.
We destroyed the mushrooms that day: they were mulched and turned back into the soil. Vivian committed to planting new crops in the space they had occupied. I gave recordings of the destruction to Pete, who sent them on to JOSEV. They were satisfied.
Then came the hard part. We sent out a written message from the generic Security Office mailbox (none of us wanted it to come from us personally) to all colonists, informing them of the ban on all mood-altering substances, including any food containing psychoactive mushrooms. The ban would take effect at the end of the following month, during which there would be amnesty and an anonymous drop-site in greenhouse one (which nobody used). We saw very few cookies in the lounge after the announcement, but the supply seemed to last for several weeks. The mood in the colony became noticeably irritable, although that could also have been caused by the mandatory group therapy that Chris was administering.
Productivity fel
l, of course. Partly it was due to the time we lost participating in all the ridiculous interventions, but it was also a result of the disempowerment that we all felt. Those of us implementing the mandatory tasks had the worst of it, but everyone felt that they were being ‘handled’ by JOSEV. Nobody felt good about their work.
Finally, JOSEV’s last response to the dining room incident was to reinitiate the bot program. In the early years of the colony, highly adaptable robots were deployed in parallel to the manual harvesting process, to see if they could perform the harvest without human intervention. They had some success in the hangars and on the open plains, particularly in good weather. But they also broke down, so they spent considerable time fixing each other. Distribution of parts became an issue—JOSEV experimented with designs for a parts storage machine and considered somehow integrating the colony’s manufacturing lines with robot distribution. After a year or so of experimentation, JOSEV decided to mothball the program and commit to relying on human involvement. The dream of a fully automated colony was put on hold, until the dining room deaths.
The Harvesting, Metal Manufacturing, and Colony Development teams were asked to reassess the feasibility of fully automated harvesting and tackle the ‘top five impediments to success’. Apathetic after JOSEV’s other interventions, they took their time.
Throughout all the distant, unilateral decisions JOSEV made, and its almost totalitarian exertion of control, an unsettling thought began to crystallise in my mind: we had no freedom. We were effectively a prison colony.
However, there was one strangely positive thing to emerge from the situation. The crackdown united the colony against a common oppressor—JOSEV. The coincidence that Glen had killed a colonist from each investor nation also drew people together. Suddenly, we started seeing much more mixing between the nations during mealtime, and local animosity based on nationality began to fade.
*
Winter gave way to spring and then eventually summer arrived, with longer and slightly warmer days. As the months passed, my relationship with June thawed the cold experience of living in the colony.