People of Mars Read Free Page A

powerful voice of
the bartender filled the room and caused a burst of hilarity among
the bystanders.
    While everybody joked
around and celebrated, Jan let himself drop to his knees, emptied
of any strength.
     

2
     
    How long has
passed?
    I must have lost
consciousness again, for who knows how many hours. I feel relaxed,
but at the same time almost euphoric. I’m smiling. It’s ridiculous,
I have no reason to smile. Or maybe I have, because I’m alive. Am I
alive? I cannot contain a guffaw.
    Okay, I must be
sensible, I must reason.
    I’m not cold anymore.
I’m lying in a warm and comfortable place. It’s dark around me. No,
I can catch a glimpse of a far light. My eyes accustomed to
darkness show me the outline of an unknown place, but yet somehow
familiar. It seems there’s nobody here except me.
    I rise slowly into a
sitting position. A blanket slides from my chest. My muscles are
sore, but otherwise I’m all right. I run my hands down my body. I’m
still wearing my working clothes, those I had under the suit. My
fingers move along my legs. Even my ankle doesn’t hurt so much; I
feel it wrapped by something tight. It’s been bandaged.
    “Is anybody there?” I
call out, regretting it immediately. I don’t know where I am, who
or what is in here with me. Maybe it isn’t a good idea to let them
know I’m awake. Then I recall a name. “Jack?”
    I prick up my ears, awaiting an answer that
doesn’t come, though. I get down from the bed with caution. I guess
it’s a bed. Everything is so absurd. I was in the canyon, I was
dying of exposure and now I’m here. It is a nonsense that here exists. It is nonsense that
whatever saved me exists. But it was a nonsense that I travelled
hundreds of kilometres from Station Alpha looking for something.
But I did, and I think I’ve found that. And I believe I’ve
understood what it is. Except that it isn’t possible.
    I’m able to walk. It
hurts a little, but it’s bearable. There’s a glow, I move towards
it with caution. I don’t want to bump into any of these weird
objects surrounding me. I have a slight dizzy spell. I’ve stood up
too quickly. My pupils dilate, the light is blinding me. I turn my
face to avoid it hitting my eyes and, since it is now behind me, I
can better distinguish the place where I am. I see some shelves, a
bed, a trolley, some medical instruments. It looks like an
infirmary, but it’s all so rudimental, so outdated.
    At least thirty years
old.
    It doesn’t make any
sense. Nobody could have endured for so long in Mars, without all
the necessary equipment. Without water, a lot of water. Perhaps I’m
really dying and my brain is offering me this last lucid dream,
before switching off. Nonsense. I’m alive and I’m here. Whatever it
is, there must be a logic explanation.
    I turn to the light
again. It’s coming from a small opening. I get closer and reach
out. I touch a smooth, plastic surface. As I put my fingers on it,
it draws back a bit, widening the glow. It’s a folding door. As I
open it, I find an even bigger room, dimly lit by an emergency
lamp. There are two large counters, with some bottles scattered on
them, along with a sink, flasks, beakers, Bunsen burners, burettes.
A small fridge grumbles in a corner. On another piece of furniture
is a cylindrical instrument: an old centrifuge. That thing beside
it seems to be a mass spectrometer. On the opposite side of the
room is a chemical hood. I’ve never seen one like that; perhaps
only in some photographs. I’m no doubt in a laboratory. Everything
is clean and ordered, as if it’s used every day. A classic periodic
table of elements is hanging on the wall. The NASA logo is
imprinted on it. If I didn’t know it’s impossible, I would say I’ve
travelled back in time. It would be more probable than any other
explanation that comes to mind.
    At once I feel a
slight tremor coming from the floor. The glassware clinks. Then
silence again, followed by a strange noise, like a deep