Read The SF Hall of Fame Volume Two B for Free Online Page A
Authors: Ben Bova (Ed)
learn to enjoy the privilege of
breathing air under an open sky? You once lived on Earth. You remember what it
was like."
"I sort of remember. Still, it doesn't seem to be easy
to explain. Earth is just there. It fits people and people fit it. People take
Earth the way they find it. Mars is different. It's sort of raw and doesn't fit
people. People got to make something out of it. They got to build a
world, and not take what they find. Mars isn't much yet, but we're building, and
when we're finished, we're going to have just what we like. It's sort of a
great feeling to know you're building a world. Earth would be kind of
unexciting after that."
The Assemblyman said, "Surely the ordinary Martian
isn't such a philosopher that he's content to live this terribly hard life for
the sake of a future that must be hundreds of generations away."
"No-o, not just like that." Sankov put his right
ankle on his left knee and cradled it as he spoke. "Like I said, Martians
are a lot like Earthmen, which means they're sort of human beings, and human
beings don't go in for philosophy much. Just the same, there's something to
living in a growing world, whether you think about it much or not.
"My father used to send me letters when I first came to
Mars. He was an accountant and he just sort of stayed an accountant. Earth
wasn't much different when he died from what it was when he was born. He didn't
see anything happen. Every day was like every other day, and living was just a
way of passing time until he died.
"On Mars, it's different. Every day there's something
new—the city's bigger, the ventilation system gets another kick, the water
lines from the poles get slicked up. Right now, we're planning to set up a
news-film association of our own. We're going to call it Mars Press. If you
haven't lived when things are growing all about you, you'll never understand
how wonderful it feels.
"No, Assemblyman, Mars is hard and tough and Earth is a
lot more comfortable, but seems to me if you take our boys to Earth, they'll be
unhappy. They probably wouldn't be able to figure out why, most of them, but
they'd feel lost; lost and useless. Seems to me lots of them would never make
the adjustment."
Digby turned away from the window and the smooth, pink skin
of his forehead was creased into a frown. "In that case, Commissioner, I
am sorry for you. For all of you."
"Why?"
"Because I don't think there's anything your people on
Mars can do. Or the people on the Moon or Venus. It won't happen now; maybe it
won't happen for a year or two, or even for five years. But pretty soon you'll
all have to come back to Earth, unless—"
Sankov's white eyebrows bent low over his eyes.
"Well?"
"Unless you can find another source of water besides
the planet Earth."
Sankov shook his head. "Don't seem likely, does
it?"
"Not very."
"And except for that, seems to you there's no
chance?"
"None at all."
Digby said that and left, and Sankov stared for a long time
at nothing before he punched a combination of the local communiline.
After a while, Ted Long looked out at him.
Sankov said, "You were right, son. There's nothing they
can do. Even the ones that mean well see no way out. How did you know?"
"Commissioner," said Long, "when you've read
all you can about the Time of Troubles, particularly about the twentieth
century, nothing political can come as a real surprise."
"Well, maybe. Anyway, son, Assemblyman Digby is sorry
for us, quite a piece sorry, you might say, but that's all. He says we'll have
to leave Mars—or else get water somewhere else. Only he thinks that we can't
get water somewhere else."
"You know we can, don't you, Commissioner?"
"I know we might, son. It's a terrible
risk."
"If I find enough volunteers, the risk is our
business."
"How is it going?"
"Not bad. Some of the boys are on my side right now. I
talked Mario Rioz into it, for instance, and you know he's one of the
best."
"That's just it—the volunteers will be the best men
breathing air under an open sky? You once lived on Earth. You remember what it
was like."
"I sort of remember. Still, it doesn't seem to be easy
to explain. Earth is just there. It fits people and people fit it. People take
Earth the way they find it. Mars is different. It's sort of raw and doesn't fit
people. People got to make something out of it. They got to build a
world, and not take what they find. Mars isn't much yet, but we're building, and
when we're finished, we're going to have just what we like. It's sort of a
great feeling to know you're building a world. Earth would be kind of
unexciting after that."
The Assemblyman said, "Surely the ordinary Martian
isn't such a philosopher that he's content to live this terribly hard life for
the sake of a future that must be hundreds of generations away."
"No-o, not just like that." Sankov put his right
ankle on his left knee and cradled it as he spoke. "Like I said, Martians
are a lot like Earthmen, which means they're sort of human beings, and human
beings don't go in for philosophy much. Just the same, there's something to
living in a growing world, whether you think about it much or not.
"My father used to send me letters when I first came to
Mars. He was an accountant and he just sort of stayed an accountant. Earth
wasn't much different when he died from what it was when he was born. He didn't
see anything happen. Every day was like every other day, and living was just a
way of passing time until he died.
"On Mars, it's different. Every day there's something
new—the city's bigger, the ventilation system gets another kick, the water
lines from the poles get slicked up. Right now, we're planning to set up a
news-film association of our own. We're going to call it Mars Press. If you
haven't lived when things are growing all about you, you'll never understand
how wonderful it feels.
"No, Assemblyman, Mars is hard and tough and Earth is a
lot more comfortable, but seems to me if you take our boys to Earth, they'll be
unhappy. They probably wouldn't be able to figure out why, most of them, but
they'd feel lost; lost and useless. Seems to me lots of them would never make
the adjustment."
Digby turned away from the window and the smooth, pink skin
of his forehead was creased into a frown. "In that case, Commissioner, I
am sorry for you. For all of you."
"Why?"
"Because I don't think there's anything your people on
Mars can do. Or the people on the Moon or Venus. It won't happen now; maybe it
won't happen for a year or two, or even for five years. But pretty soon you'll
all have to come back to Earth, unless—"
Sankov's white eyebrows bent low over his eyes.
"Well?"
"Unless you can find another source of water besides
the planet Earth."
Sankov shook his head. "Don't seem likely, does
it?"
"Not very."
"And except for that, seems to you there's no
chance?"
"None at all."
Digby said that and left, and Sankov stared for a long time
at nothing before he punched a combination of the local communiline.
After a while, Ted Long looked out at him.
Sankov said, "You were right, son. There's nothing they
can do. Even the ones that mean well see no way out. How did you know?"
"Commissioner," said Long, "when you've read
all you can about the Time of Troubles, particularly about the twentieth
century, nothing political can come as a real surprise."
"Well, maybe. Anyway, son, Assemblyman Digby is sorry
for us, quite a piece sorry, you might say, but that's all. He says we'll have
to leave Mars—or else get water somewhere else. Only he thinks that we can't
get water somewhere else."
"You know we can, don't you, Commissioner?"
"I know we might, son. It's a terrible
risk."
"If I find enough volunteers, the risk is our
business."
"How is it going?"
"Not bad. Some of the boys are on my side right now. I
talked Mario Rioz into it, for instance, and you know he's one of the
best."
"That's just it—the volunteers will be the best men