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Authors: Greg Bear

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Science Fiction, #High Tech, #Mars (Planet), #Space colonies

Moving Mars (11 page)

BOOK: Moving Mars
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This section grew into the fissure about half a billion years ago. Loess and flopsand filled the branch because it ran counter to the prevailing winds. Cling and jetsand covered the aqueduct, but didnt stop it from pumping water to the south. When the Ecos failed and the water stopped, this part died along with all the other pipes, but it was protected. Come on.

Charles urged me deeper. We stepped around and under the internal supports for the vast organic pipe. Water once carried by this aqueduct had fed billions of hectares of green and purple lands, a natural irrigation system greater than anything humans had ever built.

These had been the true canals of Mars, but they had died long before they could have been seen by Schiaparelli or Percival Lowell.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. Its beautiful, I said as we walked deeper. Is it safe?

Its been here for five hundred million years, Charles said. The walls are almost pure silica, built up in layers half a meter thick. I doubt it will fall on us now.

Light ghosted ahead. Charles paused for me to pick my way through a lattice of thick green-black filaments, then extended his arm for me to go first. My breath sounded harsh in the confines of the helmet.

Its easier up ahead. Sandy floor, good walking.

The pipe opened onto a murky chamber. For a moment, I couldnt get any clear notion of size, but high above, a hole opened to black sky and I saw stars. The glow that diffused across the chamber came from a patch of golden sunlight gliding clockslow across the rippled sand floor.

Its a storage tank, Charles said. And a pumping station. Kind of like TrHaut Mc.

Its immense, I said.

About fifty meters across. Not quite a sphere. The hole probably eroded through a few hundred years ago.

Earth years.

Right, he said, grinning.

I looked at the concentric ripples in the sand, imagining the puff and blow of the winds coming through the ceiling breach. I nudged loose dust and flopsand with my boot. This went beyond confidence. Charles had guided me into genuine privilege, vouchsafed to very few. I cant believe it.

What? Charles asked expectantly, pleased with himself.

I shrugged, unable to explain.

I suppose eventually well bring in LitVid, maybe even open it to tourists, he said. My father wanted it kept in the family for a few decades, but I dont think any of my aunts or uncles or the Klein BM managers agreed. Theyve kept it closed all these years in his memory, I suspect, but they think thats long enough, and there is the resource disclosure treaty to consider.

Why did he want it closed?

He wanted to bring Klein kids here for a history lesson. Exclusively. Give them a sense of deep time.

Charles walked to the spot of sun and stood there, arms folded, his suit and helmet dazzling white and gold against the dull blue-green shadows beyond. He looked wonderfully arrogant, at home with eternity.

That sense of deep time Charless father had coveted for his BMs children stole over me and brought on a bright, sparkling shock unlike anything I had ever experienced. My eyes adjusted to the gloom. Delicate traceries lined the glassy walls of the buried bubble. I remembered the paleoscape mural in Seans hospital room. The natural cathedrals of Mars. All broken and flat now except here.

I tried to imagine the godly calm of a planet where an immense, soap-bubble structure like this could remain undisturbed over hundreds of millions of years.

Have you shown anybody else? I asked.

No, Charles said.

Im the first?

Youre the first.

Why?

Because I thought youd love it, he said.

Charles, I dont have half the experience or the awareness necessary to appreciate this.

I think you do.

There must be hundreds of others

You asked to see my Mars, Charles said. No ones ever asked before.

I could only shake my head. I was unprepared to understand such a gift, much less appreciate it, but Charles had given it with the sweetest of intentions, and there was no sense resisting. Thank you, I said. You overwhelm me.

I love you, he said, turning his helmet. His face lay in shadow. All I could see were his eyes glittering.

You cant, I answered, shaking my head.

Look at this, Charles said, lifting his arms like a priest beneath a cathedral dome. His voice quavered. I work on my instincts. We dont have much time to make important decisions. Were fireflies, a brief glow then gone. I say I love you and I mean it.

You dont give me time to make up my own mind! I cried.

We fell silent for a moment. Youre right, Charles said.

I took a deep breath, sucking back my wash of emotions, clutching my hands to keep them from trembling. Charles, I never expected any of this. You have to give me room to breathe.

Im sorry, he said, almost below pickup range for his helmet. We should go back now.

I didnt want to go back. All of my life I would remember this, the sort of romantic moment and scene I had secretly dreamed of, though stretched beyond what I could have possibly imagined; the kind of setting and sweeping, impassioned declarations I had hoped for since such ideas had even glimmered hi me. That it aroused so much conflict baffled me.

Charles was giving me everything he had.

On the way back to the tractor, with ten minutes before we started using reserves, Charles knelt and chipped a square from the Glass Sea bed. He handed it to me. I know you probably already have some, he said. But this is from me.

Leave it to Charles, I thought, to give me flowers made of stone. I slipped the small slab of rock into my pouch. We climbed into the tractor, pressurized, and helped each other suck dust from our suits with a hose.

Charles seemed almost grim as he took the stick and propelled the tractor forward. We circled and climbed out of the canyon in painful silence.

I made my decision. Charles was passionate and dedicated. He cared about things. We had been through a lot together, and he had proven himself courageous and reliable and sensible. He felt strongly about me.

I would be a fool not to return his feelings. I had already convinced myself that my qualms before had come from cowardice and inexperience. As I looked at him thenhe refused to look at me, and his face was flushedI said, Thank you, Charles. Ill treasure this.

He nodded, intent on dodging a field of boulders.

In a special place in my heart, I love you, too, I said. I really do.

The stiffness in his face melted then, and I saw how terrified he had been. I laughed and reached out to hug him. We are soweird I said.

He laughed as well and there were tears in his eyes. I was impressed by my power to please.

That evening, as the temperature outside the station dipped to minus eighty, the walls and tunnel linings of the warrens creaked and groaned, and we dragged our beds together in the bosss sleeping quarters. Charles and I kissed, undressed, and we made love.

I dont know to this day whether I was his first woman. It didnt matter then, and it certainly doesnt matter now. He did not seem inexperienced, but Charles showed an aptitude for catching on quickly, and he excited and pleased me, and I was sure that what I felt was love. It had to be; it was right, it was mutual and it gave me a great deal of pleasure.

I delighted in his excitement, and after, we talked with an ease and directness impossible before.

What are you going to do? I asked him, nested in the crook of his arm. I felt secure.

When I grow up, you mean?

Yeah.

He shook his head and his brows came together. He had thick, expressive eyebrows and long lashes. I want to understand, he said.

Understand what? I asked, smoothing the silky black hair on his forearm.

Everything, he said.

You think thats possible?

Yeah.

What would it be like? Understanding everythinghow everything works, physics, I guess you mean.

Id like to know that, too, he said. I thought he might be joking with me, but lifting my eyes, I saw he was dead serious. How about you? he asked, blinking and shivering slightly.

I scowled. God, Ive been trying to figure that out for years now. Im really interested in managementpolitics, I guess would be the Earth word. Mars is really weak that way.

President of Mars, Charles said solemnly. Ill vote for you.

I cuffed his arm. Statist, I said.

Waiting for sleep, I thought this part of my life had a clear direction. For the first time as an adult, I slept with someone and did not feel the inner bite of adolescent loneliness, but instead, a familial sense of belonging, the ease of desire satisfied by a dear friend.

I had a lover. I couldnt understand why I had felt so much confusion and hesitation.

The next day, we made love againof courseand after, strolling through the tunnels with mugs of breakfast soup, I helped Charles inspect the station. Every few years, an active stationwhether deserted or nothad to be surveyed by humans and the findings submitted to the Binding Multiples Habitat Board. All habitable stations were listed on charts, and had to be ready for emergency use by anybody. TrHaut Mc needed new arbeiters and fresh emergency supplies. Emergency medical nano had gone stale. The pumps probably needed an engineering refit to fix deep structural wear that could not be self-repaired.

After finishing diagnostics on the main pumps, still caught up in yesterdays trip and my deep-time shock, I asked Charles what puzzled him most about the universe.

Its a problem of management, he said, smiling.

Thats it, I said huffily. Talk down to my level.

Not at all. How does everything know where and what it is? How does everything talk to every other thing, and what or who listens?

Sounds spooky, I said.

Very spooky, he agreed.

You think the universe is a giant brain.

Not at all, madam, he said, letting a diagnostic lead curl itself into his slate. He tucked the slate into his belt. But its stranger than anyone ever imagined. Its a kind of computational system nothing but information talking to itself. That much seems clear. I want to know how it talks to itself, and how we can listen in and maybe add to the conversation. Tell it what to do.

You mean, we can persuade the universe to change?

Yeah, he said blandly.

Thats possible? I asked.

Id bet my life on it, Charles said. At least my future. Have you ever wondered why were locked in status quo?

Cultural critics and even prominent thinkers in the Triple had speculated on the lack of major advances in recent decades. There had been progresson Earth, the escalation of the dataflow revolutionthat had produced surface changes, extreme refinements, but there had not been a paradigm shift for almost a century. Some said that a citizen of Earth in 2071 could be transported to 2171 and recognize almost everything she saw This, after centuries of extraordinary change.

If we could access the Bell Continuum, the forbidden channels where all the universe does its bookkeeping He smiled sheepishly. Wed break the status quo wide open. It would be the biggest revolution of all time much bigger than nano. Do you ever watch cartoons?

What are those?

Animations from the twentieth century. Disney cartoons, Bugs Bunny, Road Runner, Tom and Jerry.

Ive seen a few, I said.

I used to watch them all the time when I was a kid. They were cheappublic domainand they fascinated me. Still do. I watched them and tried to understand how a universe like theirs would make sense. I even worked up some math. Observer-biased realitynobody falls until he knows hes over the edge of a cliff Instant regeneration of damaged bodies, no consequences, continuous flows of energy, limited time, inconsistent effects from similar causes. Pretty silly stuff, but it made me think.

Is that how our universe works? I asked.

Maybe more than we realize! Im fascinated by concepts of other realities, other ways of doing things. Nothing is fixed, nothing sacred, nothing metaphysically determined-its all contingent on process and evolution. Thats perfect. It means we might be able to understand, if we can just relax and shed our preconceptions.

When we finished the survey, we had no further excuses to stay, and only a few hours before we had to return the tractor to Shrinktown.

Charles seemed dispirited.

I really dont want to go back. This place is ideal for being alone.

Not exactly ideal, I said, sliding an arm around his waist. We bumped hips down the tunnel from the pump to the cuv

Nobody bothers us, theres things to see and places to go

Theres always the wine, I said.

He looked at me as if I were the most important person in the world. Itll be tough going home and not seeing you for a while.

I hadnt given much thought to that. Were supposed to be responsible adults now.

I feel pretty damned responsible, Charles said. We paused outside the cuvhatch. I want to partner with you.

I was shocked by how fast things were moving. Lawbond?

Id strike a contract.

That was the Martian term, but somehow it seemed less romanticand for that reason barely less dangerousthan saying, Get married.

He felt me shiver and held me tighter, as if I might run away. Pretty damned big and fast, I said.

Time, Charles-said with sepulchral seriousness. He smiled. I dont have the patience of rocks. And you are incredible. You are what I need.

I put my hands on his shoulders and held him at elbows length, examining his face, my heart thumping again. You scare me, Charles Franklin. It isnt nice to scare people.

He apologized but did not loosen his grip.

I dont think Im old enough to get married, I said.

I dont expect an answer right away, Charles said. Im just telling you that my intentions are honorable. He hammed the word to take away its stodgy, formal sense, but didnt succeed. Honorable was something that might concern my father, possibly my mother, but I wasnt sure it concerned me.

Again, confusion, inner contradictions coming to the surface. But I wasnt about to let them spoil what we had here. I touched my finger to his lips. Patience, I said, as lovingly as possible. Whether were rock or not. This is big stuff for mere people.

BOOK: Moving Mars
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