“Humanity’s greatest adventure: a footprint on Mars. We had enough to survive, but not, it turns out, to live. The rot was in our souls, sick for home, for green. Darkness took them one by one. Only I remain, marooned, looking to the stars for a final glimpse of home.”
Bill is from Aberdeen, Scotland. He is the end product of a centuries long breeding programme designed to produce the perfect human being. It didn’t work.
A hundred years on, tumble-weeds race along deserted interstate highways and a gigantic crater tells of unimaginable destruction. As we land and take readings of the surroundings, we discover our home is barely habitable.
“At least it’s recovered more than the red planet.”
“We’ll start terraforming this one first, Adam.”
Connell wrote this late at night.
The Sea of Tranquility made an excellent graveyard.
You can visit it any time, rows of delicately carved stone standing silent in the Earthlight.
It was surprisingly easy to set it up. A digger. A priest. A few vacuum-grown flowers.
Some people still doubt it was ever built at all.
William Shaw is a student, editor and amateur journalist. He is slightly obsessed with the moon. You can find him on Tumblr, where he writes haiku poetry about Doctor Who.
Joey was super great at bouncing on his trampoline. He bounced so high that he flew all the way to Mars, but they didn’t have trampolines there, because Martians are boring, so he had to build a giant slingshot to fling himself back home.
That’s what he told me, anyways.
Jim the Space Rabbit had always wondered what Mars was like.
One day, he flew his space rocket to Mars. He got out and looked around for a bit. It was cold and dry.
He told his friends he’d found diamonds and met aliens, but they knew he was lying.
This story was based on a title suggested by Al Gore.
It was Mars-ish. (Mars-like? Hmm. Red and dusty, anyways.) Regardless, it was his backyard, and he was proud of it.
Land ownership was one of the purest forms of power, and it felt good. He knew his great-great-great-great grandfather Karl would agree.
Now all he was missing were some factories.
This story is based on a title suggested by King Kool.
All the food was orange: carrot soup, pumpkin pie, and orange juice. I didn’t like any of it, but I ate it because I had been taught that when you are a guest you must show appreciation of whatever you are given.
I’m not going to like life on Mars.
Tanja Cilia lives in Malta, Europe, with her husband and three children. She freelances for print and online media in Maltese and English. You can read her latest blog post for the Times of Malta here