Mars One-All 4PTS TOGETHER by Spiritual Echo |
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READERS: FOR THOSE WHO HAVE READ ONLY ONE OR TWO PARTS OF THIS STORY, I POST ALL 4 PARTS TOGETHER FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE. Part 1 Susan sat on the floor, albums scattered around her as she pawed through the pictures looking for the selfie they'd snapped on their first date. She was almost in tears when she finally found the picture, just a copy made on an ordinary printer and laminated for posterity. At the time, she did not understand how prophetic the night would become; only that she was romanced in a way she'd never experienced before. Mark was a set-up; a friend of a friend suggested the two would make a good match. Susan was game, an adventurer at heart, but she was still surprised by Mark's evening plans. "I'm taking you on a picnic," he said when he arrived at her door. "You'll need to change." "A picnic? At night?" "The best time, but I'd suggest some jeans in case the mosquitoes are out." Susan almost called it a no-go right there. She'd spent hours preparing for the date and she knew she looked alluring in her simple black dress that hugged her figure, giving the man ample reason to want to get to know her better. Maybe it was the air of easy confidence Mark wore like a second skin, or maybe it was the way he looked at her with those shocking green eyes, never glancing at her assets, but seemingly communicating on some deeper level. "Come on, it'll be fun. There's a meteorite storm tonight and we get to make dozens of wishes as we watch the light show." Susan changed, but wondered what kind of man took a woman out to the middle of nowhere on a first date. Was she crazy to go along with his plan? Would they find her mutilated body in some ditch in the morning? Had it not been for her friend's exemplary recommendation of Mark, and the two-hour pre-date phone call they'd shared, she would never have agreed to such an outlandish plan. But she admitted to being intrigued and came back out into the living room where Mark was glancing at her book titles. "At least tell me how good I look," Susan laughed, thinking she was dressed for yard work, definitely not a date with a handsome stranger. "You look fabulous," Mark said and guided her out the door to his waiting pick-up truck. "You've got to be kidding," Susan mocked, rolling her eyes as she climbed into the cab of the truck. "Is this the limo I was expecting?" For a moment, Mark lost his smile, but she gave him a playful poke to his arm. "I'm joking, but do you really drive this sucker around the city?" "No, I ride my Harley to work, but there's no room for the supplies, and anyway, I wasn't sure how you'd feel getting that close on our first date." The way Mark said first date made Susan's heart flutter, as if in the handful of minutes they'd come face-to-face, Mark had already decided there would be other dates, possibly a future together. She wondered about this handsome man sitting beside her, a biker by day and a trucker by night. It somehow didn't jive with the information she had about Mark. According to the initial information they'd shared on the phone, Mark was a doctor, but he'd never practiced medicine, preferring research and the comfort of a laboratory to general practice. The conversation was easy, light and probing as they asked questions and traded simple anecdotes. Susan felt a pang of anxiety as Mark pulled the truck off the road, pushing tree limbs as the Ford ploughed into the forest. As if alert to her nervousness, he reached over and squeezed her hand. "Don't be afraid. This is an old logging road that will take us up to the top of the escarpment. Trust me, the view is magnificent." It seemed odd to Susan that less than an hour outside of the city it could be so pitch black without streetlights. She relaxed slightly when she saw the road ahead was obviously leading to somewhere, but she was totally unprepared for the dazzling beauty she saw when they reached a clearing and Mark shut off the engine. Below, the city with all its marvelous lights looked like a miniature village though it housed millions of people. Susan was totally entranced until Mark opened the door and led her out, pointing to the sky. "Star power. It's meant to impress," Mark said. Susan was awed, hardly noticing Mark hauling the picnic supplies out of the back of the truck. The shooting stars were already turning the heavens into a living canvas, providing so much beauty that she felt captivated by both the man who showed her this marvel and the brightness of the stars that seemed to dare her to look away. Mark had thought about everything; real china and cutlery and crystal glasses for the chilled Chardonnay he poured before inviting Susan to sit down on a chair beside the linen-covered card table. "I've never seen such an elegant picnic before," Susan said as Mark dressed her plate with roast chicken, an endive salad and roasted peppers. "Who catered this affair?" Although Susan was adept at flirtation, saying the word affair made her blush. She knew this complicated man could indeed become her lover and the awareness suddenly clipped her usual glib style, instantly silencing her. Mark noticed. He held eye contact for a moment before answering. "Guilty. I made everything myself. I hope you enjoy my cooking." So much to process, Susan thought, yet she tried to slow down her wandering mind and stay in the moment. Mark seemed to sense the change and filled in the silence, acting like a tour guide as he pointed out the constellations. The meteor shower was beginning in earnest by the time they finished their meal. Mark pulled out a double air mattress, covered it with a soft blanket and beckoned Susan to join him to watch the light show. She had to give the guy full points for creativity, assuming this was the plan all along, a make-out spot on top of a sort-of mountain, but by then she didn't care. She was ready to let Mark seduce her. He replenished their glasses with wine and pulled out a container of strawberries, setting the dish between the two of them. She waited for him to make a move, but all his excitement and interest was riveted towards the canopy of stars; dazzling, falling, shimmering against the black August sky. She soon forgot about the potential of physical intimacy as she listened to his narration of the spectacle, the explanation of what they were watching. He could point out satellites that Susan thought might be UFOs and he directed her to the faint glow he said was the space station. "How do you know all this?" Susan asked. "To be surrounded by all this and not be fascinated is harder to understand. Down there, living in the city, no one can see the stars. Our view is not just some celestial, stagnant screen; we are staring through a keyhole, a doorway to a universe that we know nothing about." In hindsight, Susan remembered Mark pointing towards a planet in the sky and telling her it was Mars. "Do you think there are any Martians up there," she joked, having returned to her earlier comfort level. "Well, if not up there, then certainly here. You're on a date with a Martian." She'd thought it was all silliness, meant to amuse her, but of course she found out differently. Pulling out her cell phone, she snapped a picture, their smiles, their lips just inches apart. She remembered how he'd rolled over to face her and ever so gently brushed her lips softly with his own. "Would you come to Mars with me?" Feeling the electricity between them, Susan stretched her arms and drew his lips back to her own. "No, but I'll let you take me to the moon," she said, surrendering any pretentions. They made love until dawn. PART 2 Susan sat on the living room floor, clutching the selfie, the picture she took on their first date. She fought the wave of grief, struggling to push it back, trying to live up to the promise she made to Mark when they married. "When it's over, you must close the cover, be willing to start again, love again. Can you promise me that, Susan?" "Yes," she lied. Susan was so absolutely in love with Mark, she would have agreed to anything, but there was only a small chance for a happily-ever-after in their future. Their marriage had a shelf life--ten years. At the end of the decade, Susan was to sign divorce papers. It was all legally documented in the prenuptial agreement. She would be awarded all family assets and Mark would simply leave. It was all the time Mark could promise his bride. There was no doubt about the depth of his love; Susan was the one thing he loved more than anything on earth, but there was something beyond their world, he wanted more. He wanted to go to Mars. Months later when Mark first told Susan he had applied to become part of Mars One, a privately funded expedition to create the first colony on the red planet, she laughed. Despite his insistence, she said goodnight while still laughing at the absurd notion. By morning, she was no longer amused. She Googled some of the names Mark spoke about during dinner and the screen lit up with sites validating the authenticity of the project. She read voraciously through the night. By morning Susan was heart sick. The project set to launch in 2025 would send twenty-four civilians to colonize the planet. Two-hundred-thousand applicants worldwide were volunteering for a one-way ticket to Mars. Coming from all walks of life, the successful astronauts would make history. Each would die on Mars. How long they lived was speculative. Some articles Susan read estimated life expectancy as low as sixty-eight days based on the technology that would offer life-support systems. Debating scientific arguments painted a more optimistic picture, some even speculating that the colonists might die of natural causes and old age. An entire web site was devoted to the lucky finalists. One hundred men and women had made it to the short list. Of those, a final selection would be made in 2024, a year before the mission was launched. Mark's smiling happy face and his biography stared back at Susan as she wept. "You can change your mind." Susan sobbed in Mark's arms, begging him to remove himself as a candidate, but he wouldn't. "Don't you love me enough? Isn't what we have worth holding onto? Oh, Mark, please don't do this to us." "I must, Darling, and I do know what I am losing if you walk away. Maybe you should leave. We can end this, knowing, remembering the love. Perhaps it's easier now, but this mission is my destiny. I knew when I put my application into the pool that I was going, no matter how many others threw their hat into the ring. I just knew, and I was right." When Susan finally accepted that Mark would not, could not change his mind, she chose to accept the love, the reality of knowing she would begin to count the days, but live completely within the hours and minutes they had left. Their marriage vows took place at a private ceremony, under the stars with a few close friends as the only witnesses to the candlelight service. The only strain between the lovers was the inevitability of their ultimate separation. Mark's eyes would flash with an eerie passion when conversation brought them close to the mission while Susan's filled with tears. While they were celebrating their third anniversary, Susan developed a sudden aversion to stargazing. The night caressed the couple with balmy breezes and the scent of Hydrangeas that grew wild on the tropical island. The ocean waves were bare ripples, lapping at their feet as they walked the beach. "Look! Make a wish," Mark said, watching a shooting star drop over the horizon. Susan began to tremble uncontrollably, suddenly feeling chilled despite the warm night. "Darling, are you sick? What's the matter?" Mark had carried Susan back to the room, summoned the doctor and paced the sitting room waiting for the verdict. "It's a simple anxiety attack; nothing to worry about. I see this often in young brides. I've given her a sedative, but be patient and gentle, young man. Many women take longer to adjust to the intimacies of marriage." "But we're not newly-weds," Mark protested, but the doctor laughed. "You could have fooled me," he chortled as he left the room. Mark didn't invite Susan to look at the stars again, and they made a pact to refrain from discussing the mission or talk about the future. For every day of their marriage, they remained totally connected and in the moment. There were times when Susan was alone that she wallowed in self pity, cursing a God who could give her so much joy only to take it away. It seemed like a cruel joke, one that intensified when she decided to abandon birth control and try to get pregnant. Month after month she added an unborn child, infertility to her grief. She prayed that if she could birth a baby, Mark couldn't leave a child born of love. But as the years passed and she remained barren, the last thread of hope left was that of the one hundred remaining hopefuls, Mark would be eliminated. Only twenty-four people would form the colony. During the last year, the reality of the future began to intrude, forcing Susan to set aside her denial and begin her mental preparations to become a widow. Not for one second could she accept a divorce, although the papers were signed by Mark and in safe-keeping with their attorney. Mark was being sent for training, leaving Susan for a week at a time as he flew to different corners of the earth to take courses. She knew, though they never discussed the actual situations, there were team-building studies and psychological examinations of each candidate to determine his capacity to survive solitary confinement. Susan spent the time 'pretending' Mark was never coming back, but his return from each segment of the final preparations disabled Susan. The anxiety attacks she suffered were increasing in severity and happening more often. Angry with herself for wasting precious time, none-the-less, she found it difficult to function, spending days in bed while Mark was working. Twice the symptoms were severe enough that she went to the hospital in an ambulance with a suspected heart attack. Each time, she was released, her heart showing no evidence of any damage. She began to see a psychiatrist. "The issues you have presented to me, coupled with your medical records, show severe conflict you are finding impossible to deal with on both a physical and psychological level." The doctor was baffled how to assist his patient to survive this unique situation. Try as he did to find some correlation between more common events, the only analogy he could dredge out to comfort the woman was that of a soldier going to war. "If that were the case, Doctor, I would still have hope. When my husband leaves next month, I know I will never see him again." "You have described a most enviable love affair, a marriage that by all standards is remarkable in today's world. You understood from the beginning Mark's dream and commitment to this space odyssey, yet you married knowing your marriage was doomed to end--by choice. If your husband will not consider abandoning the mission, you have little choice except to learn your own survival skills." While the doctor could offer no solutions to the increasing distress Susan was experiencing, her twice-weekly visits gave her purpose to leave the house. The doctor was humbled by his inability to relieve Susan's pain and found himself in the role of sympathetic listener, occasionally offering up a thought or two meant to distract her from the departure date. "I have counselled many patients whose spouse was terminally ill. Each had time to prepare for the inevitable, but they endured months, sometimes years of watching the loved one deteriorate. You still have the gift of good health and the opportunity to enjoy your final weeks together. I think you must focus on creating new memories that will soothe your mind when your time together is over." Both Susan and Mark seemed to come to the same conclusion independently. Mark was no longer working, having enjoyed a spectacular going-away party hosted by his colleagues. It wasn't the only celebration, and Susan found herself angry, livid that revellers were stealing her time by latching onto Mark's dream. She could see it in their eyes, the envy mixed with awe. People were groping, touching him for no other reason than to have the bragging rights of shaking the hand of a man who would become a legend. The media frenzy made it impossible to leave the house without cameras and microphones jammed into their faces. But inside their home, the tenderness and love-making became bittersweet. "Doctor, how will I grieve when the entire world has become obsessed with this mission? Every astronaut has become a super star, their faces smeared across the television and glaring at me from the cover of every magazine." "Perhaps you should consider going into seclusion for some time following the launch. Susan, the media will pursue the survivors, look to family members to feed their greed for a story. You can either decide to embrace the attention you will get or you need to formulate an escape plan to avoid the press. Have you given any thought as to your own future?" The doctor's question shocked Susan. "I've never had a future. Since the day we met, we have been living, waiting for his dream fulfillment. It has defined our entire marriage. What future could I possibly have without Mark?" "Has it ever occurred to you that the reason your marriage was so successful was based on the opposite side of the coin. Knowing it was finite and absorbed by a dream may have saved you from an apathy common in long-term marriages. We call it 'taking things for granted.' You've never had that luxury. You've put all your energies into your love affair. Without the dream, who knows, Susan, perhaps you might have discovered your own interests. Maybe those divorce papers sitting on hold would have been executed years ago. I have no doubt you would have found something outside your marriage that aroused passion for a cause or a career." Susan left the psychiatrist's office knowing she would not return. She didn't bother telling the doctor it was her last visit. What would be the point? If nothing else, her sessions helped clarify a fundamental truth. Knowing what was going to happen made it easier to cherish each moment, but it intensified the pain of loss. PART 3 Two days before their separation, Susan awoke from a fitful sleep to a cool breeze. Billowing drapes floated in the bedroom from the windows Mark had opened. He was sitting on the edge of the bed watching his wife sleep. "What are you doing?" "Remembering," Mark said with an impish smile. "I have an entire gallery of memories in my mind; pictures of you sleeping, laughing and my favourite, the way you look after we make love." "It's freezing in here. If you want to update that photograph, come back to bed and I'll give you a new image to capture." Susan was using all her strength to remain stoic and tried to keep her words light-hearted. They had begun to talk about the mission again, a subject hard to avoid. Susan could not understand how Mark retained the excitement of his adventure and was not melancholy or frightened about leaving Earth for the last time. "It's the first day of spring--no time to loll around in bed. We need to celebrate the equinox." "Do you think you'll be alive to see the next one?" The minute the words left her lips, Susan was sorry. She had no idea where they came from, but suddenly she wanted to know whether Mark was expecting to live or die. Instead of answering her question, he answered one they'd never discussed. "Darling, I believe in life after death. I don't know whether I'll meet God on Mars or whether I'll meet him when I die--whenever or however that happens. But I absolutely do know that if I die tomorrow, I will continue to live in your heart and soul. Your love, my love for you is all the proof that I need to believe in forever." The moment was tender, untarnished by the resentment germinating inside Susan's mind. Now that the time had come, she wanted to scream at Mark, torture him for his selfish dream, but she knew it would be self-indulgent. Nothing was going to change his mind, and her histrionics would simply end the marriage with words that could never be erased. They had promised each other there would be no drama, no tears when they parted, but on the final day, Susan could not control her grief. She clung to Mark, hearing his heart beat in his chest as her tears streamed down the front of his shirt. He pulled her into his lap as they sat on the bedroom floor and rocked her like a baby, murmuring soothing comfort into her ear. It seemed like minutes, but it was more than an hour later when Mark pulled Susan to her feet and brushed her hair back from her swollen face. "My sweet angel, tell me it was worth it to you. Please tell me you are willing to endure the pain; that our marriage was worth the cost. I never wanted to hurt you. I was selfish, but now I need you to hear what I am saying. Someone named Victor will come to see you after I am gone. He has information to share, and I ask you to listen with your heart." Susan was all cried out. She felt a numbness sinking into her very core. Her knees felt weak, but she broke away from the embrace and walked to the bedroom door. "Goodbye, my darling," she whispered. "I'd like to think we will meet somewhere again, beneath a shooting star or in our dreams. Smile for me, my angel, and kiss me again." She felt Mark's lips brush across her own, reminding her of their first kiss. "It was worth it," Susan said. She didn't open her eyes right away, but when she did, Mark was gone. She heard the front door close and only then sank to her knees. Susan's sister watched Mark leave. No one wanted Susan to deal with Mark's exit without having some support. Janet waited in the living room for some signal from the bedroom that Susan was ready to emerge. She respected Susan's privacy and wanted to give her the space to sort through the emotional departure. After ten minutes, she tapped on the door. "Sue, are you okay?" After a second knock, Susan opened the door. "I think we should dig out the booze. Isn't that what women do when their husbands leave them, drink and eat Hagen Daz?" For the rest of the weekend the two women drank wine, cried together and ordered Chinese-take out and pizza. Susan pulled out the albums and reminisced over each snapshot, repeating endless stories Janet already knew, but listened to again, laughing, sighing and smiling when Susan recited their wedding vows, word for word. "You both love each other so very much. Maybe one day I'll meet my own Martian." The one thing they did not do was turn on the television or answer the phone. Endless requests for interviews filled the answering machine, but the sisters ignored the outside world. The first rocket launched on Monday. For the next two weeks, weather permitting, the rest of the astronauts would be taking their turn as a series of launches took place every two days. Each rocket and pod, the habitat that was part of the spaceship, and the Martian home they would inhabit, contained four people. Susan did not know which day Mark would leave Earth or the names of his shipmates. By Friday, she could no longer avoid the television. She was compelled to watch. CNN was on a continuous loop, replaying the first two launches as they waited at Cape Canaveral for the countdown of the third rocket. Janet and Susan, still in bathrobes, were curled up on the sofa with their coffees. "It's like a circus," Janet said, commenting on the relatives who were willingly participating in the sideshow. "Look at that guy, all dressed up like an insect or something. Is he trying to look like a Martian?" Susan didn't answer. The silence between the sisters was natural, and Janet was caught up with the coverage and the celebratory mood. Susan was content to allow her to narrate, keeping her thoughts to herself. The crowd was filled with people waving signs, some with good wishes, other placards with names and pictures of the astronauts. Occasionally, the camera would pan the elite group permitted in the prestige viewing gallery and catch someone sobbing, but they quickly moved away from the person, keeping the festive mood intended for the broadcast. "Are you sorry you didn't accept the invitation to be part of that?" "No, we've said our goodbyes. CNN is exploiting those families. I want no part of that." The numbness that overtook Susan a few days ago was still a physical crutch she was comfortable to lean into. The sisters had their wallow, and surprisingly, Susan had risen from her overdose of alcohol and junk food with a new-found calmness. "You know, Sue, there are all kinds of book deals on the table. I've written down all the offers and cleared the answering machine. Maybe you should consider how this could affect your life. You could wind up being more famous than the Kardashians." Susan laughed, but felt a wave of nausea as Mark's picture filled the screen. "Oh, God. He's going today." She never saw the lift-off. The wave of nausea rolled in her belly as she held her hand over her mouth, but finally it overcame Susan and she ran for the bathroom. "Oh, Sue," Janet Said, following her sister into the bathroom. "I know it's hard. Do you need your pills?" Susan heaved, leaving the dregs of her coffee in the toilet. When she caught her breath, she sank to the cold tile floor and stared at Janet. "It's not anxiety. I don't know what came over me. Maybe I need to eat something." "Sure, let me make you something while you have a shower and get dressed." But when Susan sat down to try to eat the simple breakfast, she was barely into her second bite of scrambled eggs before the nausea returned and she barrelled back down the hall to the bathroom. It was almost noon before Susan felt normal again and was able to eat a few crackers and sip on some ginger ale without her stomach turning. Janet was concerned, but accredited the sudden attack to nerves. She tried to dissuade Susan from turning the television back on, but she wanted to watch the repeats of the morning launch. "I'm okay, really Janet. In a way, I'm glad that Mark's on his way. It's what he's wanted for a very long time. I'm happy for him--I really am." A tenuous normalcy returned over the next week. The sisters turned the channel, no longer absorbed by the hype of the Mars Mission, and watched sit-coms in between making plans for the future. Janet began to help Susan de-clutter the house, preparing it for sale. Susan would move in with Janet when the house was sold until she could map out a future for herself. Mark had provided well for his wife, with enough capital investments that Susan could live comfortably for the rest of her life It was enough for Susan, liquidating their marital home and a decade of possessions would keep her busy. She tried not to think about Mark. The flight would take seven months before it arrived at its destination, a long arduous journey. All the rockets were functioning without any in-flight emergencies, and Susan gave herself permission to start living without Mark. The psychiatrist's words about living with a terminally ill spouse came back to her. 'People, who accept death as inevitable, begin their mourning before their partner passes.' She knew her willingness to begin living a separate life, did not diminish how much she loved Mark. Her resolve was marred by the waves of nausea that plagued her sporadically, but she continued with determination to pack up her house. When Susan answered the doorbell a week later, she was expecting the real estate agent, but found an odd man standing on her porch. At first she thought he was a child, less than four feet tall, but when he looked up as she opened the door, she gasped. He flashed a familiar smile, but it was his emerald-green eyes that caught her off-guard. They were identical to Mark's. "I'm Victor. I believe you were expecting me." For a brief moment Susan was immobilized. The eyes were riveting and she stood mesmerized until she remembered Mark's final words. 'A man named Victor will come to see you. Listen with your heart.' "Yes, of course," she said, recovering. "Please come in." Victor made himself comfortable, sliding into one of the wing chairs across from the sofa where Susan sat down. "I take it you have been to the attorney's office and received all the documents?" "No, I haven't. I don't think I can divorce Mark." "Oh, dear, oh dear. Perhaps my visit is premature. I was sure you would have received the briefing and explanation." "Briefing?" Victor was agitated, squirming in the chair. "Perhaps I should return after you have had a chance to review the documents left for you by your husband." "I was in no hurry to end my marriage. I'm confused. What relation do you have to my husband? What documents are you referring to? Is there more?" Though still fidgeting, Victor seemed to come to a decision before he spoke. "In part, if you had retrieved the papers from your attorney, you would have learned that you are pregnant, but then maybe you already know this. I'm told women have an uncanny relationship with their bodies, some instinct that alerts them to new life." Susan's jaw dropped as she fumbled to find her voice. "Pregnant? How would you know such a thing?" "I activated the seeding, though against my better judgement. Mark is obliged to reproduce to confirm the results of his research. We naturally expected the coupling would take place on the way to Mars, assuring our planet two heirs." "Wait, just wait a minute..." "Of course. Without the preliminary information you were supposed to read, this is all overwhelming. My apologies." Susan had not heard half of what Victor had said. Her mind was still reeling with the thought of pregnancy. Seeding? "Maybe you should start at the beginning. And before you say another word, please explain how you know Mark and how it is that you both have green eyes. Are you related?" The little man looked confused. "Surely you know the beginning, don't you? I did not expect to relate the complete details of the experiment." Every word Victor uttered sent Susan deeper into a spiral of uncertainty. "Experiment?" "Oh my, my, my. You don't know anything, do you?" Susan shook her head. "No, I don't. I married a doctor and he is on his way to Mars. Is that the experiment you mean?" Victor clucked his tongue, a disapproving noise that spurred him to climb out of the chair and begin to pace the room. "Perhaps we should have some refreshments, some water, if you don't mind. I have a sixty-year legacy to condense. I need just a moment to gather my thoughts." "Of course," Susan said, rising to get the water. When she returned, Victor drank the water slowly then asked Susan a single question. "Did you know your husband was born in Roswell?" Part 4 For the next few hours, Susan would mentally stumble from one shock to the next as Victor shared information that no American could ever unearth. The actual secrets of the UFO crash in New Mexico in the late forties was buried behind so many firewalls that not even the current president had access to all the information. The full truth remained in the hands of a scientific committee, already in its second generation of stewards, and the survivors, the aliens who fell to earth. Victor and Mark were third generation, two among dozens of Martians that walked Earth, like any other global citizens. "As best I can define my connection to Mark by Earth's familial relationships is that Mark is my brother. We carry enough cross-over from the genetic engineering that a DNA test would bear out the relationship. In actual fact, our entire fetal development took place in an artificial womb. We have no physical mother or father. Our parents were scientists who studied us like specimens." "But Mark was human. He was a perfect man. How?" Susan stuttered, not knowing what questions to ask. "The recipe for Mark's embryo also included a human element, cells that were harvested from living donors--several scientists volunteered." "I'm sorry. This is hard to take in. I feel like Mark lied to me. Why wouldn't he tell me, and why would he want to go to Mars if he was born on Earth?" The conversation was interrupted by Janet coming in the front door. Juggling the grocery bags she was carrying. She raised an eyebrow, asking a silent question when Susan introduced Victor as Mark's brother. She excused herself to put away the groceries. "I'll put on some coffee," Janet said as she disappeared into the kitchen. Victor seemed grateful for the interruption. He excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Susan realized he'd been talking for over two hours without explaining why he had come. The break gave Susan a chance to sort through her thoughts. She had not had a moment to think about the possibility she was pregnant. It would explain the nausea, but after ten years of being barren, it was hard to believe that now, especially now, she could be pregnant. Before she could ask herself whether she was happy or frightened by the prospect of becoming a mother, Victor returned to the room. "In answer to your question, Mark wanted to have a normal life. Until the Mars One Mission was announced, that seemed his destiny. An intense homing instinct is part of our physiology, but there was slim hope with Earth's minimal space exploration any of us would get the opportunity to return. The Mars Mission made that possibility happen. Between Mark's lineage and his research, he was the prime candidate and the only one who could guarantee the success in repopulating Mars." Janet came back into the room carrying a tray with coffee and biscuits. "Repopulating?" She laughed as she poured coffee. "That sounds like you believe there was life on Mars before," "There still is," Victor answered, reaching for a biscuit. Both women stared at the little man. He was spooning sugar into his coffee and didn't notice the intensity of their glares until he looked up and went on to explain. "Ah, yes, one exploratory mission by NASA and the world thinks it has a definitive answer about a planet. Yes, there is still life on Mars, perhaps even some of my blood relatives." "But..." Susan stuttered. "It is far too complicated to explain in one afternoon, but most of the life forms exist in the core of the planet, not the outside shell visible through a telescope." He sipped his coffee, but noted the rigid posture of the women caught between confusion and disbelief. "Scientists can't even tell you what lies at the bottom of our oceans. How can you expect them to know anything about Mars?" "Victor tells me I'm pregnant," Susan said, turning to her sister. "I'm still not sure how he could know such a thing, but somehow he is claiming responsibility." "Oh my God," Janet gasped. "That would explain why you're throwing up. Really?" Both women wanted the answer to what part Victor played in this information. They swung back around on the sofa and began firing questions at the man. "Usually it is the biological parents who activate the fertility cycle, but as neither Mark nor I have any family to be our sponsors, the responsibility lay with me. Our biology is quite evolved, even with the human elements mixed into our gene pool." "You turned Mark's fertility on? What? Like a light switch, you suddenly made him fertile?" Janet was incredulous, spitting the words out like they were foul in her mouth. "What are you saying? Are you trying to tell me my brother-in-law is a real Martian?" Susan grabbed Janet's hand. "Yes. Hush. I'll fill you in later." "You over-simplify the procedure, but essentially, yes, I transferred the code knowing his obligation to reproduce." "Obligation? I was trying to have children." Susan was choking on her sobs, gulping air as she talked. "Why didn't you throw the switch earlier? Maybe Mark would have stayed if he knew I was having a baby." "He knows you're pregnant. The reason for my visit is to ask whether you would honour him by birthing his child." "He knows?" Susan was verging on hysteria. "Don't even bother telling me how he would know that fact. Just answer me this; what difference does it make to him whether I have his baby or not? He's gone and he's not coming back." "Perhaps I should come back tomorrow," Victor said rising from the chair. "Please do understand, Susan, I expected you would be aware of the basic facts before my visit. I did not expect to upset you, not at all. It's just that there is a great deal riding on your decision." The sisters were huddled on the sofa, each trying to find equilibrium in a swirling vortex of information that was hard to digest, but Victor's words brought Janet to full alert. "What exactly is riding on my sister's decision, Victor?" ~~~ After Victor left, Janet and Susan sat waiting for the aftershocks to subside before they could talk. "I'm going to the drug store to get a pregnancy kit. I don't know how much of what we heard is true, but one thing we can verify. If you're pregnant, I want to see the evidence myself." Susan retrieved the first-date picture after Janet left and sat staring at Mark's smiling face under the laminate. "You knew--and you still left me?" As if he'd actually answered her, she heard the words; 'You're on a date with a Martian.' He'd actually told her the truth before they'd shared a first kiss. Restless and nauseas again, she went to the kitchen for ginger ale. Somehow, she had already accepted what Victor told her; she was pregnant. What she had not allowed herself to experience was how she felt about having a baby--Mark's baby--a Martian infant. Would he have antennae or pointed ears, a cone-shaped head? She had not asked Victor if all Martians looked human. The pictures she remembered from her childhood always showed emaciated bodies with over-sized heads. Were those diagrams just an artist's rendition, plucked from his imagination, or were they based on the descriptions offered by witnesses who saw the Roswell aliens? "Let's have a drink before you do the test," Janet said after her return. The box was sitting on the coffee table. Now that they had the means to verify at least one thing Victor said, Susan seemed in no hurry to take the test. "I probably shouldn't drink. I think Victor was telling the truth--about everything. Why would he come here with such an outlandish story unless it was true?" Janet walked into the kitchen wordlessly, not bothering to reply. She wasn't sure what she felt except that she could use a stiff drink. She brought back a glass of wine for Susan and a tumbler with a generous serving of scotch. "Bottoms up." She said, clinking her glass against Susan's goblet. "That would be almost funny if..." "Yeah, maybe we'll wake up tomorrow and the whole thing will be hilarious." They drank in silence, staring out the window watching the sun slide towards the horizon. Susan disappeared into the bathroom while Janet went back to refresh her drink. She dropped onto the sofa and waited, hoping the scotch would calm her nerves. Every word Victor said was etched in her brain and the frightening part was that Janet had missed half the conversation. What hadn't she heard? "It's positive. I'm pregnant." Susan held out the stick that showed the results. "Now what?" Janet asked. "Tomorrow I'll go to the lawyers. I need to see what documents Mark left for me. I might find the answers there." Susan was surprised she was able to book an appointment the same day she called the attorney's office until Janet reminded her she had become 'the astronaut's wife,' gaining celebrity status through the Mars One Mission. Spending less than fifteen minutes in his office, she waved away the lawyer's attempts to review the divorce papers. "I'm not signing them. I came here to collect all documents Mark left with you, not to dissolve my marriage." She returned to the parking garage with several thick manila envelopes. One was sealed with wax, a security procedure to assure a client the contents were not tampered with or opened. Susan knew the information she needed was inside, but she did not open it until she was safely back home. Janet and Susan sat staring at the envelopes, hesitant to break the seal. "I'm afraid to open the envelope; afraid to find out our marriage was nothing more than a field study, that I meant no more to Mark than a laboratory rat." "That's not true and you know it. The two of you were so in love that everybody who knew you two would have cut off their right arm to have what you two shared," Janet said. Susan took a deep breath, reached for the envelope and cracked the seal. Written in Mark's handwriting, Susan held the letter, put it next to her heart and whispered. "I'll always love you, Mark, even if I wind up being nothing but a rat in your laboratory." My Darling, Perhaps you will forgive me for not sharing my birthright when you understand that you have already changed the course of history with your love for me. Victor will tell you whatever you need to know, but there are some things he is not equipped to understand. Our 'alien' blood line has evolved to embrace many attributes humanity still labels as paranormal. Telepathy and telekinetic attachment to our race are two basic functions all Martians share. We can communicate, heal one another and transmit our knowledge while separated by light years, but our sponsors govern our evolvement and the use of our powers. In a world where all inhabitants have the same innate abilities, it is considered normal. On Earth, we are considered freaks and demons. Martians are not aliens to Earth. When our own planet began to die, The Ancients seeded Earth and allowed creation to begin anew, but some of our most learned teachers accompanied the pilgrimage and made it possible for Earth to thrive by infusing critical knowledge that would accelerate the evolvement. Mars committed suicide, destroying its resources in its race to compete intellectually with guides who were sent to our galaxy from other dimensions and star circles millions of light years beyond anyone's comprehension. We are not alone. Other worlds may one day welcome us into their federation, but for now, we are contained, imprisoned by our ignorance. The Ancients, the survivors of the outer world, live inside the core of my planet. Though the current mission seems destined for failure, we will not fail. Mars One is but the vehicle for me to repatriate with my ancestors and bring a new gift to my planet. I am the key. I hold the knowledge to enter the inner core. And you, my precious wife, gave me the strength to heal our galaxy. What Victor cannot understand, despite his complex intellectual properties, is simply love. Not since the dawn of time has a Martian experienced love as I have. Logic, risk analysis, methodology and impetus are all built into our genes. Martians will forge ahead systematically towards a goal that embraces survival for the race with sacrifice built into the equation as a known factor, ignoring individual pain and suffering. Individual life was never valued, until the race was so badly decimated that individuals began to shine like beacons, the glaring spotlight depending upon reproduction. The fear of repeating the errors of the past, recreating a new population of mathematical thinkers who worshipped progress at the cost of squandering of resources, led to the harvesting of humans. Yes, the abductions and UFO sightings were all real. As a result of introducing a new bloodline, love is beginning to grow inside Mars. It baffles The Ancients. Martians do not understand love, but I do. Am I Martian or am I human? The question has no simple answer, for I am both by virtue of genetic engineering, but in all my years, until I met you, I never experienced love. My biggest challenge will be to describe to The Ancients what this 'love thing' is all about, but though I am a walking dictionary, I have no words to explain. For you, I have no need for words. For ten years we walked and danced in love. I thought of lovemaking as propagation, a functional coupling, but you slipped into my arms and consumed my logic, destroyed my rationality and anchored me to Earth. There was nowhere else I wanted to be except in your heart. I know how badly you wanted a child, a protege of our love and I mourned the decision to leave my fertility in dormancy. For you, a baby would be the ultimate expression of our love. For me, it would have been a frightening target. Our child would have been abducted soon after birth and no amount of investigation would find the baby. To add such misery to your life was an unthinkable torture. I have left you with my greatest gift, a piece of me, my seed grows inside you. I also took a memento of our love with me when I left. The seconf fertilized egg I am carrying to Mars has already been planted in an artificial womb, just like the one where I grew from fetus to infant. Should you love enough to birth our child on Earth, I promise I will nurture the child who is forming and growing during my journey to Mars. Our daughters or sons will be the heirs of the greatest love ever known and you, my precious wife, will be the mother of a new civilization. You must give Victor your decision. Should you decide to not continue your pregnancy, I will disconnect the incubator. It would not be righteous, fair or honourable to bring a child to life without his mother's love. I am with you--still. Touch me with your dreams. Mark. "Susan, Susan, are you still with us?" Janet's voice pierced the cloud that had cradled her while she read Mark's letter. Susan felt like she was returning from another world, a place where she could feel Mark's warm breath on her neck and his arms around her body, rocking her, telling her everything would be alright. "Susan, Victor's come back. Are you okay? Can I get you some water?" "Yes," Susan said and looked up into Victor's eyes as Janet scurried to the kitchen. "The answer was for you, Victor. Please tell Mark we are having babies. The answer is yes."
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