After Earth, Part 3

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 31st July 2008. (commentary)

This is the third installment in the second sequence of the Trailing Edge story. Read part one here, or part two. I once again leave you in the very capable hands of Mr. Leon Winter.

In the century before the riots, many of the cities on Earth were incased in large series of domes. The “pro-Earthers,” for lack of a better term, thought the domes were the solution to all of Earth’s problems. he idea was that a dome would help stabilize the increasingly erratic weather patterns, solve many resource concerns by making urban cities nearly closed environmental systems. As it turns out, closed dome systems made colonization–not life on Earth–viable.

It was almost as if, people were so entranced by the possibility of space colonization that they couldn’t wait to get to space so they decided to bring space colony-like environments to Earth. Earth, however, unlike the early colonies made no effort to monitor or control the birth rate, and life under the domes was considerably easier than it would be for any of the colonists. A baby boom followed in short order, the domes–built for centuries, based on historical population growth curves–overcrowded in a generation, and the integrated systems fell apart.

Somehow, Marrakesh Dome didn’t riot. The dome was built bigger, the population density was lower, the baby boom hadn’t been so intense, the visa controversy wasn’t taken as an attack on the citizenry. All of these factors, likely, combined to save Marrakesh, though I’ve never been to suss out what happened in enough detail. It’s hard to find historical records of something that didn’t happen, particularly when the records of what did happen were destroyed by the event.

In any case, Marrakesh became the seat–and focal point–of the last significant age of Earth politics and culture. And while that era has come to a seemingly abrupt end, there’s something that almost passes for a community underneath this dome–London and New York domes (and others) have been totally abandoned for decades.

And so this is where I always come looking for answers, when I need to make sense of this part of our past. I’ve recovered vast amounts of pre-riot history, some records from the mirror of the spaceport authority, and although it has never been central to my own interests, I’ve taken advantage of my trips here to record interviews and accounts of contemporary life in the dome. I’ve thought about sending this material in a tight beam to the outbound fleets and convoys, but I don’t see the point really. Maybe I can put it in my will.

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After Earth, Part 2

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 30th July 2008. (commentary)

This is the second installment in the second sequence of the Trailing Edge story. Read part one here. I once again leave you in the very capable hands of Mr. Leon Winter.

Earth is where our history–in a very real sense–still lives, even if we no longer do.1 This is complicated by the fact that, not much of Earth remains.

This is a superficial effect: much of the planet has simply been abandoned. A generation or two after the riots, Titan and Europa sent in withdrawal teams that tried to consolidate the Earth population in a number of key population centers. For the general safety, or some such.

But more importantly it’s a historical effect: for hundreds of years humanity to rebuild Earth, to fix the problems, and though some small gains were made, Earth never really recovered from the Visa Riots.

The Visa Riots, or more precisely records from that time are what have brought me back to Earth on this occasion.

It’s almost too obvious in retrospect. There were too many people on Earth–not based on survival. Humans, we’ve found, can survive much in closer quarters than the estimated average space allotment on Earth at that time., but there were only so many resources, only so much space, only so much opportunity.

So when the colonies and outposts started opening up to people. Colonies with equity clauses in their charters. Going to Mars or the Moon wasn’t just the chance of a lifetime as it had been for the initial explorers and scientists, but it was–quite literally–the chance of generations. And understandably, when the Colonial Consortium tried to limit what everyone had expected to be “open colonization. The people of Earth Rioted.

The issues that sparked the riot were quickly resolved–though arguably the result was a disaster in its own right–but the damage was never really resolved, but that is the way with such historical explosions.



Notes:

  1. While it’s very true that I’m concerned about the point at which we stop belonging to one moment in time or location in space–When did the Martian Colonists become Martians and not Earthers?, for instance–I’m not sure that I have an answer. Particularly as it relates to our own ties to Earth. ↩

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After Earth, Part 1

A Trailing Edge story, by tycho garen
on 29th July 2008. (commentary)

This is the first installment in the second sequence of the Trailing Edge story. I once again leave you in the very capable hands of Mr. Leon Winter.

So here I am, sitting here, on a bench in an urban park in the Marrakesh Dome, on Earth. It seems so quaint to sit on a bench and wait for someone to come by with a file, a physical record. I deal with a lot of files but they’re never really physical, and they never take this long to arrive. But I’m in no particular hurry.

The massive dome that still encases the city clashes somehow with all of the stone masonry that predates the dome by a millennia and some change. You could almost smell the age of this place, it was easy to get lost in the history and just sit and watch time pass. That wasn’t such a bad thing: despite the general ruin, I never felt more alive and connected as I did here. That clash probably kept most people away from Earth, though: stewing in the middle of so much history–and an often unpleasant history at that–can turn the stomach. And yet I keep coming back.

Not many of us come to Earth any more, sure some people still live here–I couldn’t fathom more than ten million world wide, probably less, and all under the domes. Most of the people left in the system were born off world–myself included–and are used to a lighter gravity. But I’ve been coming pretty regularly for more years than I really want to talk about, and by now I have friends that I enjoy seeing that expect me to visit. I like to see how the people are doing pretty regularly: for a world that is supposedly so degraded, the places and faces of Earth society change very fast quickly.

Most importantly, it was in the way. It helped that I was, as they say, “in the neighborhood.”

The domes were built over the mega-cities to consolidate populations when it became clear that the ozone layer was a lost cause, but the exoduses started soon after, and as a result all the domes seemed too big and too empty and too far apart. It was a big planet and while there were raw materials Earthside that you couldn’t mine space or Titan for, but there were fewer and fewer of them and thanks to automation, no one had to make the trip unless they wanted.

With the exodus, the new habitats throughout the solar system and a few hundred years to detach it was like Earth had become impractical: too much space, not enough infrastructure, and enough history and guilt to make it downright uncomfortable for most.

Why then, am I on Earth? Funny you should ask…

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Station Keeping #2: Arrival (Part 2)

A Station Keeping story, by tycho garen
on 28th July 2008. (commentary)

This is the second and final part of the second episode of the Station Keeping serial. You can read Part 1 here.

Docking

David Conrad and Marc Perrin stepped off the shuttle they owned onto the docking ramp to find the entire cavernous bay devoid of people. They stood on the other side of their air lock in silence, waiting for something to happen.

Marc rubbed his eyes, which had begun to tear from exhaustion: “Aren’t we supposed to have a landing party, here? or something?” Marc whispered, leaning slightly toward David.

“I guess not, we’re just normal folk now, I guess.”

“Speak for yourself, I actually have a job here,” Marc said, pinching his shirt where the rank pin would have been, had he been wearing a uniform. Actually, given that he was in civvies he almost hoped that there wouldn’t be a welcoming party.

David chuckled. A uniformed figure trotted briskly across the far side of the docking bay and he waved. “I guess that’s your welcoming party,” David said as they began to walk down the ramp.

“Sirs, sorry. We’re still a bit short staffed: the real crew doesn’t get here till the beginning of the week after next–our time.” Joshua was still a bit out of breath from his heroic run down from the command center. “I’m Joshua Sian, Lieutenant. I’ve been keeping the lights on, and organizing the last construction details before the crew gets here. Is there anything I can do to help you move in? A tour?”

“It’s David,” David responded looking distracted by the wall behind Sian.

“Sir?” Sian asked, looking quickly over his shoulder.

“It’s just David these days, none of this sir stuff.”

“Oh, right, sir–Daivd.” Sian corrected himself, and suppressed a squirm. There was silence.

“We have some crates that should probably be unloaded before we move the shuttle out of this bay, if you could arrange for that it would be great.” Marc said, taking charge of the conversation. “The deceleration was a bit longer than we expected and I for one am a bit too tired for a tour right now. Can we schedule one for tomorrow?”

“Sure, that would be great, s-” Sian stopped and looked puzzled for a moment.

David, was by now far more interested in inspecting the facilitates–albeit from a distance–than just about anything, including awkward young commissioned officers.

“Are the crates marked?” Sian asked.

“Should be.” Marc confirmed, before swallowing a yawn.

“I’ll get someone down here to take care of that right away.” Sian made a note on a micro-tablet that he seemed to produce from thin air. “Can I show you to your quarters now?” He offered.

“That would be great,” Marc said. When Sian turned around, Marc glared at David and mouthed “Way to be the strange one, fix it would you.”

David looked quizzically at Marc, and then getting a clue stepped up next to Joshua; “What’s the construction schedule looking like at this point?” he asked.

“We’re doing pretty good, but nothing is really fast enough. Ever.” Sian was caught off guard by the sudden interest, but as David asked more questions about the station and the Lieutenant fell more into his comfort zone, he relaxed.

Marc smiled, and yawned again as they made their way to their quarters. He watched the two men talk, and tried to track the conversion, but he quickly admitted to himself that he no interest in keeping up with the discussion. He could hardly think about anything except the amount of time between the present and the soonest opportunity to sleep.

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Station Keeping #2: Arrival (Part 1)

A Station Keeping story, by tycho garen
on 25th July 2008. (commentary)

This is part one of the second episode of the Station Keeping serial. The second and final part will be posted on Monday.

Office Space

“Damnit!” Taila exclaimed throwing her notes on the desk. She had sent a message to Joshua Sian on Hanm Centre, without attaching the crew rotation that she had promised. Normally such an error wouldn’t have caused much of a problem, but the time delay between her ship and the station for messages was still too long for comfort. She had to wait for the response before she could go off duty, so Talia’s shift just got a little bit longer: “it’s not like there’s anything worth doing, cooped up on the ship like this anyway,” she said to no one in particular and leaned back in the chair.

The doors opened to the skipper’s office with out warning and Talia sat up with a start.

“Skippers’ office, eh?” Eli Banner said, surprised. Though he attempted to act as if he was expecting to find Talia in his office.

“Sorry, sir.” Talia moved to vacate the chair in a rush, but when the skipper sat down in one of the other chairs, she relaxed and stayed in the chair. “I was just coordinating our arrival with Joshua Sian on the station, and wanted some quiet to write the messages–because we’re still text-only. Besides, the computer and crew don’t need me to watch over them while they slow down… so slowly” she reported, still somewhat uncomfortable sitting on this side of the desk.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, it’s just a room,” Eli said. Had there been actual business for the day, he might have been more interested in reclaiming his office, but it was just as well, the entire crew was engaged of tedious game of appearing busy while trying to hide the fact that they were all bored out of their minds. “What did Sian have to say for himself? Keeping the station in one piece I trust?”

“It’s not fin–” Talia began, but of course Banner knew that already. “More or less, I suppose: I have to resend some data to the station before I can go off duty, but I think we’ve made all the necessary arrangements for docking,” she said, offering a printout report of the docking plan.

“The other ships aren’t going to be happy about having to wait so long to disembark.” He commented and handed the paper back.

“It happens, they’ll deal.”

Eli chuckled, “We’ll make a station governor of you yet.” Talia didn’t quite manage to stifle a glare. Eli continued “relax, get some sleep: I don’t have anything scheduled for this shift so I can I’ll send the message.”

“It’s alright, really, my mistake.” Talia paused, but before Eli could agree “I can’t decide what’s worse, the thought of staying on this ship for another instant, or the thought of spending the next several years of my life on a station in orbit of Hanm.”

“Easy; this ship is worse than the station. Now give me that paper, before I put a mark on your record for sitting in my chair,” he joked. They stood and he grew serious for a moment “It all different, it always is, but you’ll do fine.” He punctuated his sentence with a smile, as he took her stack of files.

“You’re probably right. Good shift, sir,” she said, before turning to leave the office. “Lets avoid doing that again, shall we?” she thought after the door shut.

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Taban and Kalian Morgan, Part 2

A Knowing Mars story, by tycho garen
on 24th July 2008. (commentary)

This is the continuation of the two part sequence from the Knowing Mars story. Read Part 1 here.

I fear that in several years I’ll be remembered only for my work as an elder statesman of the Mars Republic, with my involvement with Taban and Kalian Morgan a footnote in my own story. But in truth, I am on Mars because of Taban and Kalian. I have stayed here because of their work.

The complex web between myself, the Mars Colony, Taban and Kalian, the rest of the telepaths, ISA, and Thom Busby–now, there’s a name that I’ve banished from my memory for years, but we will get to him later–has lead me to construct this story in a specific direction.

It’s my hope that the story of Mars, the story of Taban and Kalian Morgan, my own story will all compliment each other, and lead to a more complete understanding of the time for you dear reader. Though I certainly can’t assume that you’re as interested in my life as I am at this point! In any case, I feel that complete disclosure of my position within these moments, is preferable to any of the other methods at hand to tell these stories.

As part of my own journey through memories of the time when I knew Taban and Kalian, I was amazed by the distance that human society has come to accept telepathy–or at least grudgingly tolerate them. Situations remain complicated, of course, but before Taban and Kalian in the common experience telepathy was the thing of stories and myth.

Indeed telepathy remains the province of stories for many humans, of course due to population densities, and the the disproportionate number of telepaths on mars these days, it’s not difficult to avoid encountering telepaths in day-to-day life. And though many contemporary stories about telepaths are indeed fictional, they have long since lost their fantastic edge.

Although telepathy is no longer a laughable notion, the often apparent hostility that telepaths endure belays the fact that many still find it completely fantastic, perhaps more so now that it’s no longer simply the province of imagination. While this story could never supplant the writings of Taban and Kalian–which remain required reading for any student of telepathy or telepaths–my hope is that this story will expose what remains fantastic in these memories after all these years.

Matthew Connor, MD
Mars, 2597

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Taban and Kalian Morgan, Part 1

A Knowing Mars story, by tycho garen
on 23rd July 2008. (commentary)

This is part one of a two part sequence from the Knowing Mars * story.*

There have been a number of biographies and studies of Taban and Kalian Morgan in the last several years that attempt to use Taban and Kalian merely narrative devices to explain one of the most–admittedly–fascinating historical moments of recent times, and in a certain respect this volume cannot avoid falling into this very trap. At the same time, I hope that this project grows out of a very different place, grows out of a desire to understand not the recent history of governments and politics, but rather the Morgans themselves: the projects that were most important to them, their motivations, and values. In this direction, the politics and contexts of their–our–era have become a backdrop for my understanding of what Taban and Kalian have come to mean for me, and I hope to you as well.

Taban and Kalian Morgan were different, I can think of no other way to articulate this. They both had small frames, and while they had a way with words on the page–and occasionally could be encouraged to orate in proper situations–they were for the most part very soft spoken. No one described them as imposing, but they had a curious charisma that almost radiated from their presence. After telepathy came out, and they became leaders in the telepath community–or at least were recognized as such by the population at large–many dismissed their widespread popularity and success as being the result of their “charisma” which could only have been the result of their telepathic abilities. I feel fairly safe in maintaining that the telepathy and the charisma came from different places in side of them. When I first met them, very early on, before they had begun to develop and “train” their minds, their personalities and charisma were as vibrant as it was during the height of their success: the two attributes seemed to be distinct.

I initially attempted to separate Taban and Kalian from the story of Mars, but have since given in to the impulse to tell one story. Although, particularly in the time since Taban and Kalian, my personal reputation has been tied very closely to the contemporary history of Mars, this world has become my home. Understanding what Taban and Kalian mean, in the largest sense, requires knowing Mars.

Matthew Connor, MD
Mars, 2597

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