have to,” said Cybele.
“That’s not much use to me now.” He scratched around the seal where grit had gathered. His face sweated under it, even though it was freezing cold. His finger came away red with dust.
“I wonder if it will be as pretty, the sunrise, when there’s hundreds of mirror-sats up there?” he said.
“I can show you, if you like.”
“No thanks, Cybele. I’ve seen the simulations. They’ll be wrong anyway.” At that time there were only five mirror-sats redirecting the sun’s energy onto the red planet: one over Canyon City, the others focussed on the poles. He’d seen pictures from when they first started up, sky-high plumes of carbon dioxide erupting from the ice caps where the light hit. A sea was already forming near the south pole, in Hellas Planitia, the big crater there. Oceans would follow. He wanted to go and see that, and he would, when he was older. Too far for his quad, that was for sure.
He finished his food. “Okay, we better be on our way, or we’re going to miss it,” he said.
He opened a pannier on the back of the quad and pulled out his radiation gear, a flimsy all-in-one made to go over his clothes. He pulled it on and drew up the hood. Cosmic ray dosage wouldn’t be too high on a two-day trip, but it’d keep Grandma Sue happy.
Or at least, a little bit less mad.
He pulled on his parka and gloves over the top of it, bulky with superinsulating foams, and activated the heating units built into them.
“I’m freezing my arse off up here,” he grumbled.
“No one made you come,” said Cybele, which made Jonah laugh.
He climbed onto the quad and drove on, wheels kicking dust up behind him as he went.
Four and a half hours later, Jonah made it up to the end of the road. A final, vicious switchback brought him up and over the lip of the canyon. It wasn’t obvious at first, as the Valles’ edges were so ragged as to present no discernible rim, but Cybele told him they were out.
The road degenerated into a dozen different tracks, heading in all directions. Jonah consulted the map in his implant. He located the hill he’d chosen as his vantage point on the horizon, and headed off toward it.
He crested the hill in good time, weary and aching from the ride. His muscles were leaden, and his bones felt like they were still vibrating. It was a fantastic feeling.
There was a star up there, getting brighter. A ferry. He’d chosen a good spot. Twenty kilometres away were the buildings of the new landing field, a spur of the new Tharsis road leading to it. The road was much wider than it needed to be, he thought, but Cybele had told him that Marsform were planning ahead. She’d showed him a projection of Martian population growth over the next century. It scared him a little. He could not visualise so many people here in his lifetime.
He set up his shelter and binoculars. He talked to Cybele as he worked; he’d set up a holograph of the AI, much better than talking to thin air. Cybele’s holo looked out over the plains, a visual marker for Jonah so he’d know what the AI was peering at through satellite eyes or over the Martian Grid. A necessary illusion.
By the time he’d finished setting up his modest camp, two other stars shone in the wake of the first, forming a line. The first glowed brilliant white, flickering a little as it passed through the thin Martian atmosphere.
Jonah settled down, ate a meal of self-heating stew, and wrapped a thermal blanket around himself. He pressed his face up to the viewfinder of the binoculars, had them magnify the spaceport. He homed in on the new immigration building, a huge thing, it seemed to him, again way in excess of the planet’s needs.
Current needs, he reminded himself.
They were well in signal here – the port had an array of dishes and transmitters, and part of its sprawling complex was dedicated to boosting on-planet Grid access. His binoculars pointed out a bunch of stuff on enhanced reality they thought he
“That’s not much use to me now.” He scratched around the seal where grit had gathered. His face sweated under it, even though it was freezing cold. His finger came away red with dust.
“I wonder if it will be as pretty, the sunrise, when there’s hundreds of mirror-sats up there?” he said.
“I can show you, if you like.”
“No thanks, Cybele. I’ve seen the simulations. They’ll be wrong anyway.” At that time there were only five mirror-sats redirecting the sun’s energy onto the red planet: one over Canyon City, the others focussed on the poles. He’d seen pictures from when they first started up, sky-high plumes of carbon dioxide erupting from the ice caps where the light hit. A sea was already forming near the south pole, in Hellas Planitia, the big crater there. Oceans would follow. He wanted to go and see that, and he would, when he was older. Too far for his quad, that was for sure.
He finished his food. “Okay, we better be on our way, or we’re going to miss it,” he said.
He opened a pannier on the back of the quad and pulled out his radiation gear, a flimsy all-in-one made to go over his clothes. He pulled it on and drew up the hood. Cosmic ray dosage wouldn’t be too high on a two-day trip, but it’d keep Grandma Sue happy.
Or at least, a little bit less mad.
He pulled on his parka and gloves over the top of it, bulky with superinsulating foams, and activated the heating units built into them.
“I’m freezing my arse off up here,” he grumbled.
“No one made you come,” said Cybele, which made Jonah laugh.
He climbed onto the quad and drove on, wheels kicking dust up behind him as he went.
Four and a half hours later, Jonah made it up to the end of the road. A final, vicious switchback brought him up and over the lip of the canyon. It wasn’t obvious at first, as the Valles’ edges were so ragged as to present no discernible rim, but Cybele told him they were out.
The road degenerated into a dozen different tracks, heading in all directions. Jonah consulted the map in his implant. He located the hill he’d chosen as his vantage point on the horizon, and headed off toward it.
He crested the hill in good time, weary and aching from the ride. His muscles were leaden, and his bones felt like they were still vibrating. It was a fantastic feeling.
There was a star up there, getting brighter. A ferry. He’d chosen a good spot. Twenty kilometres away were the buildings of the new landing field, a spur of the new Tharsis road leading to it. The road was much wider than it needed to be, he thought, but Cybele had told him that Marsform were planning ahead. She’d showed him a projection of Martian population growth over the next century. It scared him a little. He could not visualise so many people here in his lifetime.
He set up his shelter and binoculars. He talked to Cybele as he worked; he’d set up a holograph of the AI, much better than talking to thin air. Cybele’s holo looked out over the plains, a visual marker for Jonah so he’d know what the AI was peering at through satellite eyes or over the Martian Grid. A necessary illusion.
By the time he’d finished setting up his modest camp, two other stars shone in the wake of the first, forming a line. The first glowed brilliant white, flickering a little as it passed through the thin Martian atmosphere.
Jonah settled down, ate a meal of self-heating stew, and wrapped a thermal blanket around himself. He pressed his face up to the viewfinder of the binoculars, had them magnify the spaceport. He homed in on the new immigration building, a huge thing, it seemed to him, again way in excess of the planet’s needs.
Current needs, he reminded himself.
They were well in signal here – the port had an array of dishes and transmitters, and part of its sprawling complex was dedicated to boosting on-planet Grid access. His binoculars pointed out a bunch of stuff on enhanced reality they thought he
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