Letter from Mars.

Hi Mom, I hope this email gets to you, and that you are ok. I’m fine, sorry you haven’t heard from me sooner, but it turns out there is not a consistent Wi-Fi here on Mars, or internet, or actually, anything. It turns out you can only send an email when there are at least 2 space craft journeying between Earth and Mars, so that when you hit “send” on your computer to launch your email to earth, it will be boosted off the nearest craft and forwarded onto the second craft which is closer to earth which will then boost the email on to Earth and finally will make it to your computer. But only if the powers be let me send my email, if there is enough bandwidth to carry mine. Government emails get preference over civilian correspondence. I’m not a tech geek, so I don’t know if I am explaining this right. Anyway, now that I’m here on Mars, one of 100 first lottery winners that won the chance of a lifetime opportunity to be a settler on Mars, and make history, I think I have made a huge mistake. I don’t think I fit in, I don’t want to explore the desert out there in a clunky spacesuit. I want to breathe fresh air, not bottled oxygen. It’s scary out there. You have to worry about solar flares and radiation all the time you are outside of your dome. Speaking of which, I miss stick built houses and windows that open, and doors that slam. I miss grass, and trees. Heck, I even miss mosquitoes and flies, and you know how much I hate flies. There’s nothing here. Nothing to do except watch videos on t.v. Nothing new, anyway, just old reruns. And the food is miserable, turns out I hate crickets. Yes, they are our main source of protein here. I must have been asleep when that was mentioned to us. I do have a window to look out of, a thick porthole, actually. Not that there is anything to see. I’ve inserted a picture I took of the view.

Are you excited yet. Can’t wait to go for a stroll? Not me, I would rather poke my eye with a needle. Oh, and there is no chance of coming home to Earth. This was a one way trip. I know you told me that I should think hard about that, but I really wanted to go, and this was my only chance to make history as one of the first settlers on Mars. Back home, the towns, cities and streets are named after the early settlers. I wanted that, to be remembered for ever by being named for something here on Mars and mentioned in history books. I didn’t realize that I would be dead and gone before that would happen. If at all. It turns out you have to go out and climb a crater or help build a road or something to have it named after you. No way am I doing anything like that. And another thing, I hate exercising all the time. Because of the difference in gravity here, you have to do serious treadmill running and bicycling for hours everyday, for ever, until you die, to keep your body from falling apart or turning into a puddle of sludge or something. Being a settler is not what I expected it to be. At least the early settlers and explorers where we were in California could hunt and fish and fight Indians and go to to rondavous with other mountain men, and have fun. Pan for gold, drink a cold beer in a bar with cowboys, smoka cigar. Here you can’t do anything like that, there aren’t even any green martians to find. I think I screwed up, big time. You were right. Your son, Guy.