Read Online Merely a Madness by SW Fairbrother - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: SW Fairbrother
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He hadn't once looked up from the screen between his fingers, although he had heard enough to roll his eyes at his older brother's words.
The Kozlow family follow them out of the shuttle: dull husband, duller wife, and two dull little Kozlows, faces pale and green from the journey, and growing paler and greener at the sewer stench of the Earth. Poor little sods , Mullen thinks. They hadn't asked to come. They hadn't asked for parents who thought an educational holiday was a good idea. What lesson can they possibly learn from this? Visit the luxury dome next time. He snorts.
Hannah pokes him again, “Seriously. You promised.”
“Sorry.”
Fisher claps his hands together three times in quick succession, and plasters a grin on his round froggy face. “Welcome to Earth, people. I won't keep you all standing around. We've got a full schedule, and I know it's cold. The camp's around a half-hour away by truck. Once we get there and we're all warmed up, we'll have a chance to grab a bite, and then I'll go over the programme for the next few days. All aboard!”
A thin wire mesh covers the truck windows, protecting the real people from the rabble outside. The newsfeeds had reported on increased rumblings from the local savages just before they'd left. Mullen considered cancelling the trip, but it's been years since there was any real trouble, and he didn't want to disappoint Hannah. The sight of the mesh brings back his fears. He shakes them away. It's only a week. Nothing is going to happen in a week.
Long thin boards have been laid across the mud, leading towards the truck. Hannah pulls at his hand, and the boards creak and bend under Mullen's weight. Unsurprisingly, Hannah takes the seats right at the front. They are cold, made of some smooth yet unfamiliar material, worn in some places and patched in others. Mullen slips in beside her and stretches his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, her side warm and snug against his.
“See there?” Hannah says. Mullen follows her pointing finger. “See the smoke?”
He doesn't at first, but then he picks out a darker patch of grey sky roiling up against the horizon.
“That's one of the Harbin-Beck mines. One of yours.”
Hardly. He just works for them, as does a full fifth of the Martian population, but he doesn't argue the point. Instead, he snuggles closer to her and grunts in acknowledgement.
Hannah points in a different direction. “And there's the Valadez space elevator. I still can't believe they're going to tear it down. It's a landmark.”
An ancient, decrepit, and expensive landmark that no one uses any more. Mullen nods anyway. If Hannah thinks it's worth saving, then it is, for no reason other than she says so.
The Kozlows settle into their seats. Fisher takes the passenger seat beside the driver, looks around to make sure everyone is on, then nods at Arnou who reaches down and twists something to his right. The truck rumbles to life.
It's a small group, much smaller than it should be. The remaining nine places had been reserved for a large family of Lunans. Fisher had refused to let them on the shuttle when they couldn't provide proof of vaccination.
Idiots. Mullen can almost feel the Earth's germs burrowing into his skin. He imagines the clear liquid of his vaccinations rising to the surface, providing a bright and shiny barrier that turns golden as it meets the filth.
Fisher, that little grub, had stood unexpectedly firm at the shuttle port, repeating the same line about insurance and liability over and over. Eventually one of the Lunans had stormed off, presumably to find someone to appeal to. Fisher had just put everyone else on the shuttle and left. Mullen wonders if they'll get a refund. Probably not.
The truck vibrates and rocks over the grubby terrain. Mullen's eyes start to adjust to the brown and grey landscape, and he begins to make out the road beneath the thin veneer of mud, smoother than the churned-up sludge around it. Arnou
The Kozlow family follow them out of the shuttle: dull husband, duller wife, and two dull little Kozlows, faces pale and green from the journey, and growing paler and greener at the sewer stench of the Earth. Poor little sods , Mullen thinks. They hadn't asked to come. They hadn't asked for parents who thought an educational holiday was a good idea. What lesson can they possibly learn from this? Visit the luxury dome next time. He snorts.
Hannah pokes him again, “Seriously. You promised.”
“Sorry.”
Fisher claps his hands together three times in quick succession, and plasters a grin on his round froggy face. “Welcome to Earth, people. I won't keep you all standing around. We've got a full schedule, and I know it's cold. The camp's around a half-hour away by truck. Once we get there and we're all warmed up, we'll have a chance to grab a bite, and then I'll go over the programme for the next few days. All aboard!”
A thin wire mesh covers the truck windows, protecting the real people from the rabble outside. The newsfeeds had reported on increased rumblings from the local savages just before they'd left. Mullen considered cancelling the trip, but it's been years since there was any real trouble, and he didn't want to disappoint Hannah. The sight of the mesh brings back his fears. He shakes them away. It's only a week. Nothing is going to happen in a week.
Long thin boards have been laid across the mud, leading towards the truck. Hannah pulls at his hand, and the boards creak and bend under Mullen's weight. Unsurprisingly, Hannah takes the seats right at the front. They are cold, made of some smooth yet unfamiliar material, worn in some places and patched in others. Mullen slips in beside her and stretches his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, her side warm and snug against his.
“See there?” Hannah says. Mullen follows her pointing finger. “See the smoke?”
He doesn't at first, but then he picks out a darker patch of grey sky roiling up against the horizon.
“That's one of the Harbin-Beck mines. One of yours.”
Hardly. He just works for them, as does a full fifth of the Martian population, but he doesn't argue the point. Instead, he snuggles closer to her and grunts in acknowledgement.
Hannah points in a different direction. “And there's the Valadez space elevator. I still can't believe they're going to tear it down. It's a landmark.”
An ancient, decrepit, and expensive landmark that no one uses any more. Mullen nods anyway. If Hannah thinks it's worth saving, then it is, for no reason other than she says so.
The Kozlows settle into their seats. Fisher takes the passenger seat beside the driver, looks around to make sure everyone is on, then nods at Arnou who reaches down and twists something to his right. The truck rumbles to life.
It's a small group, much smaller than it should be. The remaining nine places had been reserved for a large family of Lunans. Fisher had refused to let them on the shuttle when they couldn't provide proof of vaccination.
Idiots. Mullen can almost feel the Earth's germs burrowing into his skin. He imagines the clear liquid of his vaccinations rising to the surface, providing a bright and shiny barrier that turns golden as it meets the filth.
Fisher, that little grub, had stood unexpectedly firm at the shuttle port, repeating the same line about insurance and liability over and over. Eventually one of the Lunans had stormed off, presumably to find someone to appeal to. Fisher had just put everyone else on the shuttle and left. Mullen wonders if they'll get a refund. Probably not.
The truck vibrates and rocks over the grubby terrain. Mullen's eyes start to adjust to the brown and grey landscape, and he begins to make out the road beneath the thin veneer of mud, smoother than the churned-up sludge around it. Arnou
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