CHAPTER 1
MARS
SCRIPT:
It wasn't until we finally set foot on the red sands of Mars that we found what we had been looking for this whole time. Unequivocal proof of life on another world. It wasn't what we’re expecting though, not even close. It threw almost everything about the cosmos we knew, right out the window. At this point about the only thing we were 'sure' of is that we know how to build rockets. If that weren't true, we never would have made it to Mars in the first place. However, no expedition has been launched since then, what we found had so shaken us as to render any thought of going back as pointless.
I still remember stepping off the last rung of the ladder and feeling my boots stand firm on the rocky ground of an alien world. (FOND RECOLLECTION) The feeling was absolutely electric. There is nothing like it in the world, which is fitting, because it was not found on our home planet. If, indeed, it is even our home. There are so many more questions about who we are. But that can come later.
Back in the early days of the mission planning, there had been talk of many different landing sites. A lot of them had incredible potential as far as frozen water or scientific reasons were concerned. (EXPRESSIVE, LIKE STARTING A TALE THAT WILL BE HARD TO BELIEVE) The one that was eventually chosen, seemed to fly in the face of reason itself. (ANIMATEDLY, QUICKLY, LIKE WHEN REALLY INTO SOMETHING WHILE TALKING) It was geologically interesting, certainly, with several rather stark formations within driving distance of the landing site, but that was considered of secondary importance to other matters, such as securing water, or finding something to make the possibility of colonizing that desolate world, more palatable. Rocks, though our geologist may have disagreed, just weren't that important.
(REFLECTIVE) Yet the director had chosen that one. He had always been quiet in his reasoning. He would listen to differing points of view, yet expertly weave his argument back into the one that he ultimately gave the green light to. (EMPHATICALLY) It was always about averages. Any one of the other sites may have had much better chances of finding one or more specific items of interest, but this on had a average chance of having many little things of interest. On the surface of it, it was a clever argument, but the more I think of it, the more I am convinced that he insisted on this location. There is no way to know for sure though. I cannot ask him myself. No one can. He has not been seen since the return of our ship, the Prometheus. Another oddity in favour of my own theory, to be sure.
Back on the surface of Mars, as I stepped out further from our ship and looked around, I couldn't help but feel caught up in the spirit of the moment. It was something momentous, no longer were we trapped in our own immediate backyard, with only the moon within our reach. Now we had, like a youth learning to drive, managed to make it to the end of the block. Soon the whole city would be within our reach. Little did I realize just how momentous.
Our first mission, after securing the landing site, and setting up camp, was for a xeno-hydrology and xeno-geology survey of the surrounding area. While, on the surface, the search for water was the more important of the two, it's unlikely that the value of the geological survey was lost on the director.
We loaded up the necessary equipment on our rover and started our drive. We had landed in a very specific location of Hellas Plantia, and began driving in a north easterly heading, in the direction of Dao Vallis. The geological evidence of sedimentary layers was spoken of frequently before our departure, and the thought of finding evidence of previously flowing water was as good as any reason for us to head in that direction from where we had landed.
It's strange to reflect back, if our landing zone had been only a few kilometres north or south of where we landed, we never would have discovered what we did. Well, maybe that is a piece of hyperbole, it's possible later expeditions would have found it, but you'll excuse me if I resort to such tools of story telling. We now live in times that strain even the grandest of hyperbole.
As we drove along, our geologist, Elis Monroe, (MATTER-OF-FACTLY) a name no doubt to be permanently etched in our history books, cried out in surprise and demanded we stopped. Our Commander, Christian Won obliged, knowing Monroe not to be one given to sudden outbursts. As we asked him what had happened, he showed us the readouts to his instruments, which had been running while we had been driving. There was no mistaking those spikes on the graph, something had been detected near by. (EXCITEDLY) It was magnetic, and frightfully dense. Initial analysis suggested a density in excess of tungsten, and a magnetic force that was beyond the ability of mere magnesite.
We were slow to make any snap judgments, especially when whatever it was, was probably close enough for us to see for ourselves. Setting his devices to a more fine search, we began to drive in a grid pattern to try and pin point where it was, pausing periodically to take more exact readings, and to check in with our base camp.
After some time, we had narrowed, whatever it was, to a location of only a few square meters across. The exact location inside this space was unknown, the very things we were trying to detect, seemed almost indistinct, changing in strength and intensity as we moved. Such a phenomenon on a well known dead world, was... was... well I'm not sure what to call it. It was impossible, undeniable, and thoroughly exciting, all in the same moment.
As we stepped out of our rover, and onto the alien soil once more, I could not deny the heady expectation that was over me. There was something to be found, something unheard of and we would be the ones to find it. Yet, as my companions began to set up the area, and gather the equipment to take samples and do some digging, I'll admit I found my initial excitement giving way to something else. It was as though the weight of the moment was settling over me. (REFLECTIVE, STRUGGLING TO EXPRESS) Some weight, unknown, and incomprehensible, made its presence known on my shoulders. I felt small, almost insignificant, standing in that crater on another world, surrounded by the frenetic work of my companions eager for some grand discovery sure to set them in the history books along side the likes of Yuri Gagarin or Neil Armstrong.
Only they must have felt something too, for their speaking grew quiet, and their labours more deliberate. Only the barest of words were used to communicate, and all seemed focused. Somehow, we had all settled on one spot to commence our digging, the rest of the region ignored. No one had discussed it, no one had argued for another point. (EMPHATICALLY) This point, above all others, was the one, and we knew it on a level that could not be shaken. It was an absolutely contradiction of the kind of reasoning and logic that had got us to Mars in the first place, other than the cryptic certainties of the director. It was a hunch, but so much more than a hunch.
As we dug, our movements came together, our actions flowed as one. We dug through the Martian soil one ponderous scoop at a time, driven onward by an unspeakable need. We passed two feet, then three, then four. We got to five feet of progress, calls from our base camp were going completely ignored, and finally we slowed. No one spoke as to why, and even on our return, there was an uneasiness to the discussions of what had happened, and how it had come to be. I, as a ships psychologist, was faced only with uncomfortable facts, that defied my own reason. We stopped, because we had to stop. We all knew, though no one communicated it, no one said a word, we simply knew.
I knelt down in the hole we had dug, and with a small tool, began to softly and gently clear away more soil. Where our digging had been frenetic, now it was calmed, almost hallowed in nature. With swipe after swipe of my hand, I slowly revealed something hard and smooth. (AWE FILLED RECOLLECTION) It was an alabaster white, stained with the red dust of mars, and perfectly flat. As I continued to clear it, I revealed a square of material no wider than four feet across on either side. I began to dig around the edge of it, exposing the rest of the cube. It caught what faint Martian light there was, and glimmered with a intoxicating shine. Pandora’s temptation had never made so much sense until now.
The rest of my companions knelt down, and began to claw away dirt from the sides of the cube, digging further into the ground and finally finding the bottom of it. It was, rather curiously, sitting perfectly upright, it’s top seemingly perfectly level to the surface of the planet. If we had thought to check, we likely would have confirmed, though in hind sight, it simply feels right to assume that it was.
We were breathing heavily now, the exertion causing our suits to strain against our need for oxygen. We paused, as one, and looked at the faces of our group. Finally, seemingly broken from our spell, we could speak again. We knew that we would have to take it with us, somehow, but our initial findings had suggested terrific density, and consequently a great weight.
We discussed how to go about moving it, when our geologist, Elis, reached out and touched it. As he did, we all felt more than heard, a low hum. It was, (PAUSE) unusual. Though everything about the day had already well surpassed whatever expectations we may have had about the red planet. The cube, with a suddenness that startled all except Elis, began to rise out of it’s hole. Elis’ eye’s were fixed on it, unwavering and unflinching. He walked a few steps back, his palm against the side of the cube, and it, as though connected to him, moved with him, still floating over the surface of that dead world.
Commander Won, quickly instructed us to clear room at the back of the rover. The rest of us rushed to work, while Elis slowly guided the cube toward the rover. He was silent, though none of us though to question him about the experience. We did not feel the need to.
With space cleared, and even some equipment left where it dropped, he lowered the cube onto the bed of the rover, and climbed in beside it. He did not remove his hand, and did not take his eyes off of it.
As we drove back to the camp, I sat in the back near Elis, watching him carefully. My professional sensibilities caused me to be concerned for him. In the few looks I managed to steal of his face, I noticed he seemed serene, almost euphoric. His face had a perpetual soft smile. The whole trip to Mars, he had been rather conservative, socially speaking, and did not open easily. We had worked together for that long trip back, and had all come to know each other, though even still, he had always seemed the most distant of all of us.
He looked more at peace than I had ever seen him. Some part of me churned in jealousy of the expression on his face. How could one not want such a thing? Yet when I thought of reaching out and touching the cube, I was only filled with a sense of dread at the thought. It was not my place, I thought. It was not my time. Even though the thought did not make an immediate kind of sense to me, it felt correct, and so my hands stayed by my side.
(DRAW THIS OUT. REFLECTIVE PAUSES. END WITH KIND OF A ABSENT TRAIL OFF OF THOUGHT, THEN CARRY ON INTO THE NEXT SECTION) Though, I do wonder, what would have happened?
Much has happened since we returned to the camp, and then home to Earth.
The world I left on my mission, was not the same one I returned to, and it is no wonder. Like Pandora’s box, this one would never close again.
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