People of Mars (2 page)

“In the past you
would’ve jumped me without hesitation. What am I saying? You
would’ve fucked any vaguely passable woman.” She pointed an
accusing finger at him. “Are you going to tell me that you played
the inconsolable widower here, for eight months, for a woman who
left you?! I wouldn’t believe it even if you swear on your sister’s
life!”

By now she was
uncontrollable; she didn’t want to, nor could she, stop
speaking.

Jan looked at her,
dismayed. “Please, Mil, don’t do this.”

“
And don’t call me Mil!” she interrupted him.
“
Jan-Willem
.” She
enunciated his name, shaking her head. “You’re just a dick. You
really deserve that the slut left you.”

At that point she realised she was still holding
that stupid brooch. “I wish you had gone to
snuff it
on Mars,” she concluded, trying to compose
herself. Then she threw the jewel at Jan’s feet.

Before she left,
slamming the door, she darted a last glance at him. While doing
that, she noticed he wasn’t even looking at her; his attention was
focused on the table.

“Ooh, I wish I’d been
there!” Kirsten almost shouted, as she paused, sipping her beer and
opened her limpid, blue eyes wide. “You didn’t film that scene with
a camera, did you?”

Seized by a sudden hilarity, Jan almost choked on
the bite he was swallowing. His coughing attracted the attention of
the other customers yet again.

His sister could never
stand Milja. That uppish bitch, as she called her after the
separation, always seemed to her to be a fucking egotist. And Jan
didn’t feel like contradicting her, nor had he been too sorry when
he’d realised that there was disharmony between the two of
them.

Kirsten was like that.
If she felt the slightest dislike for a person, she didn’t do
anything to hide it. And he loved her also because of that untamed
but pitiless sincerity of hers.

“But when did this
happen?”

Jan shook his head,
trying to recall the precise day, while he caught his breath.
“Well, last week, on Wednesday or Thursday.”

“So do you mean that
you didn’t meet for four years and that bitch jumped at you as
though nothing had happened in the meantime?” She tilted her head
backward, whilst emitting a cry of exclamation. “I’d have paid to
watch her face when you told her to fuck off.”

Another guffaw; and
another nasty look from the people on the next table, who were
having dinner with their preteen children.

“Okay, okay, but calm
down or they’ll throw us out.” To tell the truth, he couldn’t be
quite convincing while reproaching his sister. When they went out
together, they would become like those pestiferous kids who used to
drive their parents crazy, but they couldn’t use their youth as
excuse now.

Finally she fell
silent and resumed eating. Jan’s eyes lingered on her. She had the
round, pale face of a porcelain doll, with raven-black hair put up
into two pigtails on both sides of her head. Her dark look gave her
an aggressive appearance, but seen close up she seemed younger than
her twenty-two years. In the last few months they had spent a lot
of time together. He would miss her so much.

“You definitely do
well to put an ocean between the two of you again. She’s such a
lunatic; who knows what kind of harm she would’ve done to you.” She
sighed, glancing back at her brother. “But I’ll miss you.”

It was as if she’d
read his mind. He felt like an open book before her.

“
Are you sure this is the right choice?” She put a
hand on his arm. Her nails were very short, black polished, and
with a tiny, white skull painted on each of them. “I mean, going
back there, where you’ve been with
her
.” She wasn’t talking about Milja anymore.

Jan suffered the blow
in silence and looked around, searching for an excuse to change the
subject of their conversation. Talking about that still hurt him,
in spite of the long time that had passed.

“I won’t go back to
Texas. I must go to Los Angeles.” As if the location would make any
difference. “It’s a whole new world.”

Kirsten seemed to
scrutinise him like someone who would have liked to object, but
didn’t want to rub salt in an open wound.

“
Everything here in Brussels reminds me of her.
Every street corner where we stopped, where we took pictures …
where we kissed. Since I’ve been back, it’s like I’m living with
her ghost.”

“Save that she isn’t
dead.”

His sister didn’t
approve of the fact that he had decided to leave her after
discovering she had been selected for the mission. She had clearly
told him: he shouldn’t have given up that way, he should have
fought for her.

“Well, it’s too late
now. She’s gone,” Jan commented. “It’s like she is dead.”

Kirsten reacted as if
she was about to say something, but she refrained, and that made
him curious.

“Guys!” A shrill voice
behind him abruptly interrupted his train of thought. Both siblings
froze as they recognised it.

“
Mum!” Kirsten exclaimed eventually. She stood and
hugged her. “We thought you couldn’t come.” While doing that, she
darted an eloquent glance at Jan, who just shrugged, and then
concealed the gesture when his mother turned to him.

“Say what?” She
clasped him with enthusiasm, and then took a seat just beside him,
while gesturing for the waiter to come closer. “I sent a message to
your brother.”

That one Jan had
deleted, hoping she believed they had postponed. He’d wanted to
spend an evening in peace with his sister, without any parental
meddling. Since he’d announced his departure to Hollywood, to
follow the production of the first film inspired by one of his
novels, their parents had become much too intrusive.

“I haven’t received
your message, sorry.” He could be an actor himself.

“Say what?” she
repeated. “I’ve also called you, but you haven’t answered!”

“I haven’t heard the
phone ringing.” It looked like he really believed his words, while
he checked his jacket pockets searching for his mobile.

“
Look,” he said, showing her the display. “There’s
no missed call. There must be some connection problem in here.” It
was an Academy Awards performance.

“Because you rejected
it!” his mother insisted, who didn’t seem particularly hurt by her
son’s action.

Kirsten’s gaze
shouted: you’re in trouble now, Bro.

“I’m afraid your cell
phone is faulty, my darling. It’s already the second time it’s
happened.”

‘
She really believes that!’
He was feeling a bit guilty
about making a fool of his mother this way. Or was it the
opposite?

“But, where have you
left Dad?” his sister stepped in, with the evident intention of
changing the subject.

“Seriously, I said I
called you. Check it out!”

Reluctantly Jan tapped
the call history icon. He had to please her and admit she was
right; otherwise she wouldn’t drop the subject.

“So, where is Dad?”
Kirsten insisted.

“He’s parking.”
According to her tone she deemed it irrelevant.

“What would you like?”
the waiter asked, hesitating.

Latest received calls.
A long list of names appeared on the screen, beside each a small
photograph. His mother was at the top.

“Don’t you see I was
right?”

But Jan’s gaze had
been attracted to the last photograph, a part of which appeared at
the bottom of the screen. He became breathless when he saw it.
Immediately he scrolled up and tapped the image, which enlarged.
Anna’s smile, the one on the day they met for the first time,
welcomed his incredulous look. Beside it, her name, her telephone
number, her user id, the date and time of her call, and a check
indicating it was answered.

“What the …?” he
muttered.

Kirsten rushed to his
side. She grasped his wrist to get a better view of the screen.
“When did she call you?”

“She didn’t,” Jan
protested.

“I told you that cell
phone is faulty,” his mother commented. She turned to the waiter;
“An Orval, thank you.”

“It isn’t faulty
…”

Then Jan connected the
date and time with the weird sensation he’d had after the quarrel
with Milja. It couldn’t have been she who answered the call, could
it?

“Jan, call her.” His
sister seemed to have regained her composure after her initial
surprise. “Now.” She clasped his shoulder, forcing him to listen to
her. “Perhaps it isn’t too late.”

At first he didn’t
understand what she meant. Anna had left for Mars. She couldn’t
answer his call.

“She’ll think I didn’t
want to talk to her … Will she have recognised her voice?”

“The launch is
today.”

Kirsten’s voice struck
home. A sensation of warmth and an urgency to do something. Without
pondering, he tapped the calling icon and put his mobile phone to
his ear.

Silence. Then a female
voice with a strong American accent; “The user you have called
isn’t currently reachable. Please try again later.”

Then he saw the TV
image that occupied most of the wall at the bottom of the room. The
caption read: ‘Live from Cape Canaveral’. He felt a sudden rush of
cold blood. He let the phone slip to the table and approached the
appliance like a zombie. He barely felt his sister stopping beside
him and squeezing his hand. On the screen an enormous rocket had
just lifted off and started to gather speed. The cameras followed
it as it dived into the blue sky, becoming smaller and smaller.

Only now did he
realise why the pub seemed half empty. Most of the customers were
crowded in front of the TV set.

“Have a good journey,
guys, and say hello to the little green men!” The powerful voice of
the bartender filled the room and caused a burst of hilarity among
the bystanders.

While everybody joked
around and celebrated, Jan let himself drop to his knees, emptied
of any strength.

2

How long has
passed?

I must have lost
consciousness again, for who knows how many hours. I feel relaxed,
but at the same time almost euphoric. I’m smiling. It’s ridiculous,
I have no reason to smile. Or maybe I have, because I’m alive. Am I
alive? I cannot contain a guffaw.

Okay, I must be
sensible, I must reason.

I’m not cold anymore.
I’m lying in a warm and comfortable place. It’s dark around me. No,
I can catch a glimpse of a far light. My eyes accustomed to
darkness show me the outline of an unknown place, but yet somehow
familiar. It seems there’s nobody here except me.

I rise slowly into a
sitting position. A blanket slides from my chest. My muscles are
sore, but otherwise I’m all right. I run my hands down my body. I’m
still wearing my working clothes, those I had under the suit. My
fingers move along my legs. Even my ankle doesn’t hurt so much; I
feel it wrapped by something tight. It’s been bandaged.

“Is anybody there?” I
call out, regretting it immediately. I don’t know where I am, who
or what is in here with me. Maybe it isn’t a good idea to let them
know I’m awake. Then I recall a name. “Jack?”

I prick up my ears, awaiting an answer that
doesn’t come, though. I get down from the bed with caution. I guess
it’s a bed. Everything is so absurd. I was in the canyon, I was
dying of exposure and now I’m here. It is a nonsense that
here
exists. It is nonsense that
whatever saved me exists. But it was a nonsense that I travelled
hundreds of kilometres from Station Alpha looking for something.
But I did, and I think I’ve found that. And I believe I’ve
understood what it is. Except that it isn’t possible.

I’m able to walk. It
hurts a little, but it’s bearable. There’s a glow, I move towards
it with caution. I don’t want to bump into any of these weird
objects surrounding me. I have a slight dizzy spell. I’ve stood up
too quickly. My pupils dilate, the light is blinding me. I turn my
face to avoid it hitting my eyes and, since it is now behind me, I
can better distinguish the place where I am. I see some shelves, a
bed, a trolley, some medical instruments. It looks like an
infirmary, but it’s all so rudimental, so outdated.

At least thirty years
old.

It doesn’t make any
sense. Nobody could have endured for so long in Mars, without all
the necessary equipment. Without water, a lot of water. Perhaps I’m
really dying and my brain is offering me this last lucid dream,
before switching off. Nonsense. I’m alive and I’m here. Whatever it
is, there must be a logic explanation.

I turn to the light
again. It’s coming from a small opening. I get closer and reach
out. I touch a smooth, plastic surface. As I put my fingers on it,
it draws back a bit, widening the glow. It’s a folding door. As I
open it, I find an even bigger room, dimly lit by an emergency
lamp. There are two large counters, with some bottles scattered on
them, along with a sink, flasks, beakers, Bunsen burners, burettes.
A small fridge grumbles in a corner. On another piece of furniture
is a cylindrical instrument: an old centrifuge. That thing beside
it seems to be a mass spectrometer. On the opposite side of the
room is a chemical hood. I’ve never seen one like that; perhaps
only in some photographs. I’m no doubt in a laboratory. Everything
is clean and ordered, as if it’s used every day. A classic periodic
table of elements is hanging on the wall. The NASA logo is
imprinted on it. If I didn’t know it’s impossible, I would say I’ve
travelled back in time. It would be more probable than any other
explanation that comes to mind.

At once I feel a
slight tremor coming from the floor. The glassware clinks. Then
silence again, followed by a strange noise, like a deep puff. On
the opposite wall is an airtight door, with a window. In the end
this room isn’t so different from my laboratory, with the exception
of the obsolete equipment. I can imagine what’s beyond that
door.