Red Planet Read Free Page A

I haven't. But not very long I should think.’
    'Let me see —’ His lips moved soundlessly. ‘Uh, around two hundred thousand years—Mars years, of course.’
    'James, you're teasing me!’
    'No, I'm not. Don't let big figures frighten you, my dear; of course we won't depend on one plant; they'll be scattered every fifty miles or so through the desert, a thousand mega-horsepower each. There's no limit to the power available, thank goodness; if we don't clean up the job in our lifetimes, at least the kids will certainly see the end of it.’
    Mrs Marlowe looked dreamy. ‘That would be nice, to walk outside with your bare face in the breeze. I remember when I was a little girl, we had an orchard with a stream running through it —’ She stopped.
    'Sorry we came to Mars, Jane?’ her husband asked softly.
    'Oh, no! This is my home.’
    'Good. What are you looking sour about, Doctor?’
    'Eh? Oh, nothing, nothing! I was just thinking about the end result. Mind you, this is fine work, all of it—hard work, good work, that a man can get his teeth into. But we get it done and what for? So that another two billion, three billion sheep can fiddle around with nonsense, spend their time scratching themselves and baa ing. We should have left Mars to the Martians. Tell me, sir, do you know what television was used for when it first came out?’
    'No. How would I?’
    'Well, I didn't see it myself of course, but my father told me about it. It seems —’
    'Your father? How old was he? When was he born?’
    'My grandfather then. Or it may have been my great grandfather. That's beside the point. They installed the first television sets in cocktail bars—amusement places—and used them to watch wrestling matches.’
    'What's a wrestling match?’ demanded Phyllis.
    'An obsolete form of folk dancing,’ explained her father. ‘Never mind. Granting your point, Doctor, I see no harm —’
    'What's folk dancing?’ persisted Phyllis.
    'You tell her, Jane. She's got me stumped.’
    Jim looked smug. ‘It's when folks dance, silly.’
    'That's near enough,’ agreed his mother.
    Doctor MacRae stared. ‘These kids are missing something. I think I'll organize a square dancing club. I used to be a pretty good caller, once upon a time.’
    Phyllis turned to her brother. ‘Now I suppose you'll tell me that square dancing is when a square dances.’
    Mr Marlowe raised his eyebrows. ‘I think the children have all finished, my dear. Couldn't they be excused?’
    'Yes, surely. You may leave, my dears. Say Excuse me, please, Ollie.’ The baby repeated it, with Willis in mirror chorus.
    Jim hastily wiped his mouth, grabbed Willis, and headed for his own room. He liked to hear the doctor talk but he had to admit that the old boy could babble the most fantastic nonsense when other grown-ups were around. Nor did the discussion of the oxygen project interest Jim; he saw nothing strange nor uncomfortable about wearing his mask. He would feel undressed going outdoors without it.
    From Jim's point of view Mars was all right the way it was, no need to try to make it more like Earth. Earth was no great shakes anyway. His own personal recollection of Earth was limited to vague memories from early childhood of the emigrants’ conditioning station on the high Bolivian plateau—cold, shortness of breath, and great weariness.
    His sister trailed after him. He stopped just inside his door and said, ‘What do you want, shorty?’
    'Well.... Lookie, Jimmy, seeing as I'm going to have to take care of Willis after you've gone away to school, maybe it would be a good idea for you to sort of explain it to him, so he would do what I tell him without any trouble.’
    Jim stared. ‘Whatever gave you the notion I was going to leave him behind?’
    She stared back. ‘But you are! You'll have to. You can't take him to school. You ask mother.’
    'Mother hasn't anything to do with it. She doesn't care what I take to school.’
    'Well, you oughtn't to take him,