Living Beyond

If there’s one thing I’m going to miss about Mars, it’s the sunrise. The Red Planet, as it’s been known through human history, glows brightest first thing in the morning. The stark clean white inside the compounds actually dulls in comparison. Call me biased, but nothing on Earth could possibly compare. I guess I’ll find out.

My parents were some of the first humans on Mars. They didn’t have much choice. Living on Earth was impossible unless you were born rich. As Space X success expanded, the newest experiment was the ability to sustain life on other planets. Mars, being the only one they could reach by 2027, was the first such guinea pig. There was a global volunteer draft, and if you could prove that you’d had previous education and employment, but still couldn’t maintain a sustainable income, you were eligible for the Mars Experiment. You’d be paid $100, 000 USD a year essentially just to live on Mars. All you had to do was have at least one kid and send a report to the scientists in charge once an Earth month detailing how you went about your life – what was easy, what wasn’t how did you adapt, and how Space X dealt with it. Apparently, it worked, because I was born here eighteen years ago, and have never had to leave the planet - until now.

There was an incentive put in place the very first year any children born on Mars attended the school – our entire population on the planet could fit inside a football stadium on Earth, so there is only one school – for all children to perform well in their classes. The highest graded student of each graduating year would be granted a free university education on Earth.

Any subject you wanted, all four years of your Bachelor’s degree, completely free. A lot of people pressured their kids to go for it – I never felt pressured.

I wanted it.

Sure, I might have also wanted friends, but friends didn’t get you ahead. I always told myself, I can make friends later.

My mother, a childcare worker on Earth, is considered essential on Mars. She was often brought in to consult on children’s developmental programs, and she had strongly opposed the incentive.

My father, a Canadian Infantryman, permanently sidelined due to an injury, is considered inessential, except to my mother. He didn’t oppose the incentive, but he always told me that it wasn’t the most important thing.

“Why not? Why shouldn’t I try to win?”

“I never said you shouldn’t - but what if you don’t? What will you be without it?”

I didn’t like to think about that. I had to win. So, I did.

I didn’t understand why most of my classmates weren’t more disappointed. As far as I know, after the graduation ceremony when it was announced, they all went straight to the after party. I went home with my parents, where their own congratulations felt utterly silent after the pomp and circumstances of the ceremony. I was standing in my sleeping quarters when my mother glided into the room.

“Aren’t you going to the party?”

I frowned.

“I…I wasn’t invited”.

My mother shrugged. “When I graduated, nobody was straight out invited. We just all knew to show up.”

I looked around my pristine room. The desk was the only thing that looked remotely disturbed, with all the tabs on my monitor still open. One was an information on Oxford – the university I would attend when I won. Another was a correspondence course on the French language. The third was open to chapter twelve in an old Earth leisure text called Harry Potter.

“I really should pack…”

“Isla, you don’t leave for two months.” My mother’s patience with me was wearing out in her voice. “This is why I never liked the incentive.”

That stung. My entire life’s focus had just been realized, and my mother wished it was never possible.

“Why is that?” I snapped, self-righteousness surging through me as a I squared off with my mother.

“You chose not to be a regular kid, all for a slim chance.” She countered measuredly.

“You left your planet for something better! Why is it okay for you, but not me?”

“Isla, when you leave, who will you miss?”

I forgot how to speak in that instant. I blinked rapidly, silently scrambling for an answer that I didn’t have.

“Will you miss anyone?” I wish I hadn’t noticed the silent anguish in her face. My mother knew my answer without needing to hear it. Because it was true; I wasn’t going to miss her, or my father – but a dull trigger in my chest flipped something around.

“We left,” My mother continued, taking advantage of my stunned silence, “because we wanted to live with you without having to pay through the nose for normal things.”

“Like what?” I said thickly, like my tongue had turned to lead.

“Like food. Or a house. Or medicine.” She listed. I frowned again – my parents had never complained over the cost of anything before.

“We had to make a hard choice; we said goodbye forever to a lot of friends and family, because otherwise we couldn’t afford to take care of ourselves – let alone you.”

My mother’s expression was more serious than I’d ever seen it – she was not looking at me like one of her charges, but more like one of their guardians.

“You have the chance of lifetime – but what are you doing it for, if your life only has you in it?”

She left the room then. I slumped onto my bed. I had two months still until I would leave Mars. I had another two months to see if I mattered at all to my peers.

Out of the corner of my eye, my mother reappeared in my doorway, holding a silvery garment.

“It’s fitting for you to wear a dress from Earth to this party after this victory.”

I sat up straight then. The dress was simple in concept, but the sheen of the silver imitated starlight.

“How come I’ve never seen this before?” I manage to whisper.

My mother shrugged. “You’ve never had a party you couldn’t find an excuse not to attend.”

I shake off the unsettling sentiment.

“Everyone who attends parties regularly is staying here.”

“Have you ever wondered if that’s what they want?”

I sneered. There’s no way that can be true. Mars, despite its beauty, is not a natural environment for humans. I’ve never been outside without being suited up. I’ve never breathed natural oxygen. None of my peers have. What could they possibly have to stay for?

“Call it an experiment.” My mother pushed as if reading my mind, “And go find out.”

Soon after, I sat in my desk, in the shimmery dress, allowing my mother to doll me up. Makeup didn’t exist on Mars, unless you were willing to pay the export taxes to have it shipped from Earth. “If you can make even one friend before you leave,” she told my reflection as she finished braiding my hair into a crown, “It would be your crowning achievement.” I seriously doubted that.

Compound City only had one event space and was entirely connected by a bullet train. I spent the entire ride with my arms crossed, legs shaking, and my eyes darting everywhere. I occasionally noted my classmates boarding the train, but none of them noted me. They all boarded in groups, engaged in chatter. They had all gussied up too. Many of the girls wore similarly fantastic dresses to me – heirlooms from their Earth-born mothers. The group immediately in front of me were the most beautiful of all. I knew them all of course. Greg, tall with sparkling blue eyes, was considered the most handsome boy in our grade. He and Madeline, a petite girl who rivaled me for the incentive, had been a committed item since grade eight. Lucas, the dark-skinned boy was considered the quiet one next to Greg, was going to Earth too – but on his parents’ dollar. How they’d managed it, I didn’t know. The prettiest girl in school, was Simran of course. Why no one had the audacity to ask her out confounded me. Her brown skin glowed in her deep blue dress – her mother was one who’d invested in Earth makeup and clearly taught Simran how to use it. My clean face, ginger crown felt subpar, and in my dress lost some of its sparkle. Darting my eyes away for my own ego’s sake, I accidentally locked eyes with Simran.

“Isla?”

Her loud and questioning tone made me the centre of attention. They eyed me up and down like scientists in the field.

I had just won the incentive – I was going to Earth to be educated in one the best schools on the planet for free.

And “Hi.”, was all I mustered as I stared stupidly back at them.

“Congrats on the incentive.” Said Madeline, in a tone I couldn’t read, but I was confused to be congratulated by her.

“Thanks?”

Madeline read my tone though.

“No really – it couldn’t have been given more appropriately. I mean, I was upset at first, but then I realized if it has to go to only one person, give it to the one who actually wants to leave everyone they know behind.”

Greg snorted, Lucas’ face fell open, and Simran smacked Madeline backhanded across the arm.

“What?! Madeline protested unapologetically, “Tell me I’m wrong! Isla, you’re not offended right?” Her friends cringing behind her back. “You can’t wait to leave.”

I was about to agree with her when Simran cut across –

“Isla, you don’t have to answer that, Maddie what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Greg interjected. “It’s why she has friends.” Madeline laughed, pretending to stifle herself. Lucas took his turn to smack Greg, Simran merely cringed at me.

“Just ignore them.” she began apologetically.

“It’s what I usually do.” I replied coldly. Simran was about to follow up when the train stopped. “Ensemble Station” announced the cool AI train voice.

I jumped up and through the doors before another word could be uttered.

The lights glowed neon pinks and greens on the ceiling of Ensemble Square. The floor was pitch black, and simulating starlight – as if we were waltzing through space. A floating simulation kept flashing “Mars Class of 2050”.

One side of the room boasted my year hologram image, above a caption that read “2050 Incentive Winner”. One by one my peers spotted me – and more congratulated me than I’d counted on. Suddenly I was surrounded by a small crowd, all people who wanted to know what school I was going to, what was I studying, could I correspond with them and tell them what Earth was like, and if they transferred me money, could I bring them back things that they didn’t want to pay taxes for?

The glamourous group from the train hung by the fringes of the crowd. Madeline and Greg staring at me, whispering and giggling; Lucas had made a beeline to the refreshment table and was now double fisting from the punchbowl, and Simran had been invited into a new group – presumably to share the drama.

I answered people’s questions with as little awkwardness as possible and eventually extracted myself towards the punch. I downed the first glass. The second disappeared just as quickly. It wasn’t until I had filled the third when I remembered Lucas was still there, still holding his original two glasses.

“You know these are spiked right?” He asked me incredulously. My eyes flicked between him, my glass, the bowl and back. Then I shook my head slowly back.

“Everyone chipped in months ago to get liquor specially shipped in for this – Greg’s dad placed the order.” He laughed. I rolled my eyes, about to walk away.

“No wait – I’m not laughing at you-” To which I fixed my most withering stare. He corrected himself, “Okay I am, a little, but I’m not making fun of you – I mean – everyone has their first drink at some point, right? I just -” I just stared at him – how could someone of his popularity status suddenly be rendered so socially stupid?

“I just, want to make sure you know what you’re drinking, that’s all.” He finished, flustered. I couldn’t help it – I snorted and giggled. Apparently, that was the right move, because Lucas recovered himself.

“See? It’s all good.” He smiled with all his perfect teeth. “So how come you’ve never come out before?”

“Oh, well, you know…” I gestured to my admittedly haughty hologram across the room. “Eyes on the prize.”

“I think we always knew it’d be you.” He shrugged. “Don’t tell Maddie that, this is the first time anyone’s ever told her no.”

“Aren’t you going to Earth anyway?” I asked. Lucas nodded in mid slurp. “My parents never bought what they didn’t need. Every spare cent went to me, in the event I didn’t win. I got into biology studies at the University of Alberta.”

I don’t know why, but I was disappointed not to be in the same school as him.

“At least we’ll both know one person on the planet.” Lucas waved to Simran across the room, who was gesturing him over. Lucas made to join her, but not before insisting I go with him. Maybe it was the drinks, but I didn’t think about school all night. It could have been finding out that Simran had plans to go to Earth too. I had never felt more alive than the night I made friends.

I woke up the next morning, my crown disheveled, still in my dress, to the glow of my home planet beaming through the window. My communication panel had a message from Simran – She and Lucas were going to the pavilion hall for breakfast, please come join them.

We spent much of the next two months together. We were altogether when Greg and Madeline announced they would be getting married. We compared our school accommodations and made plans to convene during breaks. Simran, ambitious as she was beautiful, intended to use her experience to start a university on Mars. Lucas was going to make his own fortune, so his parents could come back home to the family they’d left behind. I learned just how narrow my own ambitions had been; and how much I had yet to learn from my new friends. On the day of our departure, we bid our parents’ farewell. We climbed into our cryotubes, sad to be apart for the five months it would take to arrive, but eager to wake up to the sight of each other. When we did, we were greeted with the blue and green hues of Earth that we had only seen in images. I cannot imagine that moment being the same, let alone better without them. Whatever our futures held, we would face them together.