meeting of all department heads.
And everyone in the conference room, himself included, had had clean hands, neatly manicured nails, and the faces there had been optimistic, and the air had smelled sweet because the British Arean Company had still been able to afford things like air fresheners. He had set up his buke’s holoprojector and shown them his renderings for the canal and aqueduct system.
“We bring the water to the surface and we keep it moving in enclosed canals,” Manco had explained. “We’ll need a network of them,circling the planet, extending up to the poles. Here and there they’ll feed into artificial ponds, domed over with vizio. I thought we’d just use craters for ponds, maybe line them with concrete shells, see? And when there are accessible water sources everywhere—”
“But we won’t be farming the whole planet for centuries,” Sub-Director Thorpe had objected. “Why waste all those resources delivering water to the uninhabited parts
now
?”
“Because this isn’t just a water delivery system,” Manco had explained. “It’s part of a terraforming machine. The ponds will be used to grow algae.”
He had looked along the row of faces, trying to recognize one he had noted in the personnel files. Far down the table he had spotted a younger and more shapely Mary Griffith, and in those days she had still owned things like lipstick and perfume, its floral scent dissipating quickly in the thin air.
“Ms. Griffith,” he had said, “I was reading about your work with Martian algae and lichens. You were experimenting with gene splicing, trying to develop varieties that might help out terraforming.”
Mary had nodded. “Martian lichens are photophobic. I’ve got one now that’s phototropic, look you, and I’m trying to make the little bastard produce oxygen like an Earth plant.”
“What about an algae that produces methane? I read you’d produced a strain of algae that did that.”
“I have.”
“
That’s
why we need the ponds and canals,” Manco had said, turning back to Sub-Director Thorpe. “We stock them with methane-producing algae. The methane outgasses into the atmosphere through vents in the vizio domes. Install the ponds planetwide and we have a greenhouse effect. The planet gets warmer, the water thaws, storms occur, and electrical currents in the air build up an ozone layer.”
“Just a moment,” General Director Rotherhithe had said. “I thought a greenhouse effect was a bad thing.”
Someone had stifled a giggle. Sub-Director Thorpe had rolled hiseyes and, turning to the general director, said “On Earth, sir, yes, sir. But we
want
a greenhouse effect here on Mars.”
“Oh.”
“More to the point,” Financial Officer Goodwin had said, “how much would all this cost the Company?”
“It won’t be cheap,” Manco had admitted. “On the other hand, we won’t need to import any building materials from Earth. Martian grit makes good cement. Martian stone is good for cutting and shaping.”
“But you’d need hundreds and thousands of miles of high-grade vizio, wouldn’t you? To say nothing of all the casting units and work crews to build this thing.”
“It’s
the
terraforming system, sir. It has to be built planetwide for there to be enough methane generated for the job, but it’ll require very little maintenance once it’s built and have virtually no moving parts.” Manco had sensed the tide was turning against him, then, but he’d kept on. “Furthermore, once the system is up and running, colonies can be seeded along the canals. The water will be their lifeline. They’ll be able to farm the land between the canals, with a little more expenditure on vizio. The day will come when it’s warm enough to grow crops without vizio domes over them!
“And from Earth, people will look up and see Mars the way Lowell thought he saw it, crossed with water-bearing canals, seasonally green with crops.”
It had been a nice image, but the wrong
And everyone in the conference room, himself included, had had clean hands, neatly manicured nails, and the faces there had been optimistic, and the air had smelled sweet because the British Arean Company had still been able to afford things like air fresheners. He had set up his buke’s holoprojector and shown them his renderings for the canal and aqueduct system.
“We bring the water to the surface and we keep it moving in enclosed canals,” Manco had explained. “We’ll need a network of them,circling the planet, extending up to the poles. Here and there they’ll feed into artificial ponds, domed over with vizio. I thought we’d just use craters for ponds, maybe line them with concrete shells, see? And when there are accessible water sources everywhere—”
“But we won’t be farming the whole planet for centuries,” Sub-Director Thorpe had objected. “Why waste all those resources delivering water to the uninhabited parts
now
?”
“Because this isn’t just a water delivery system,” Manco had explained. “It’s part of a terraforming machine. The ponds will be used to grow algae.”
He had looked along the row of faces, trying to recognize one he had noted in the personnel files. Far down the table he had spotted a younger and more shapely Mary Griffith, and in those days she had still owned things like lipstick and perfume, its floral scent dissipating quickly in the thin air.
“Ms. Griffith,” he had said, “I was reading about your work with Martian algae and lichens. You were experimenting with gene splicing, trying to develop varieties that might help out terraforming.”
Mary had nodded. “Martian lichens are photophobic. I’ve got one now that’s phototropic, look you, and I’m trying to make the little bastard produce oxygen like an Earth plant.”
“What about an algae that produces methane? I read you’d produced a strain of algae that did that.”
“I have.”
“
That’s
why we need the ponds and canals,” Manco had said, turning back to Sub-Director Thorpe. “We stock them with methane-producing algae. The methane outgasses into the atmosphere through vents in the vizio domes. Install the ponds planetwide and we have a greenhouse effect. The planet gets warmer, the water thaws, storms occur, and electrical currents in the air build up an ozone layer.”
“Just a moment,” General Director Rotherhithe had said. “I thought a greenhouse effect was a bad thing.”
Someone had stifled a giggle. Sub-Director Thorpe had rolled hiseyes and, turning to the general director, said “On Earth, sir, yes, sir. But we
want
a greenhouse effect here on Mars.”
“Oh.”
“More to the point,” Financial Officer Goodwin had said, “how much would all this cost the Company?”
“It won’t be cheap,” Manco had admitted. “On the other hand, we won’t need to import any building materials from Earth. Martian grit makes good cement. Martian stone is good for cutting and shaping.”
“But you’d need hundreds and thousands of miles of high-grade vizio, wouldn’t you? To say nothing of all the casting units and work crews to build this thing.”
“It’s
the
terraforming system, sir. It has to be built planetwide for there to be enough methane generated for the job, but it’ll require very little maintenance once it’s built and have virtually no moving parts.” Manco had sensed the tide was turning against him, then, but he’d kept on. “Furthermore, once the system is up and running, colonies can be seeded along the canals. The water will be their lifeline. They’ll be able to farm the land between the canals, with a little more expenditure on vizio. The day will come when it’s warm enough to grow crops without vizio domes over them!
“And from Earth, people will look up and see Mars the way Lowell thought he saw it, crossed with water-bearing canals, seasonally green with crops.”
It had been a nice image, but the wrong
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