Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles first appeared as a series of short stories published in the late 1940s; in the fictional “future history” depicted therein American economic strength and technological prowess grew rapidly in the second half of the century, but society slid into increasing fascism and repression. In this world the ‘60s brought no civil rights movement, but rather a stifling political correctness that enshrined “rational” thought and resulted in the brutal censorship of imaginative fiction. After the first explorations in 2000, humans descended upon Mars by the thousands from 2001-2005, dotting the red landscape with towns and farms; Bradbury wrote, “The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke. And from the rockets ran men with hammers in their hands to beat the strange world into a shape that was familiar to the eye…” Many who came were poor or oppressed, including black Americans in search of a world of their own. But in November of 2005 there was a mass exodus back to Earth in support of a nuclear war, leaving only a few scattered individuals and small settlements behind.
Years after The Martian Chronicles was published, Robert Heinlein proposed that since the universe is infinite, every world of fiction describes an actual parallel reality. In this story, I imagine an episode from my own life in the world depicted by Bradbury, the world’s greatest living writer of fantasy…
“It’s time to go.”
“I told you, I’m not going.”
“Maggie, you can’t stay here; the whole town is going. And if you change your mind later, there isn’t another rocket within driving distance; most of the others have already left.”
“I don’t live in town, and you should know by now I don’t change my mind once it’s made up.”
Bill sighed a sigh that came all the way from his shoes, and fidgeted with the brim of the hat in his hands; I watched warily against the possibility of his attempting to physically force me to his truck, and congratulated myself on having had the foresight to place my shotgun within easy reach behind the door.
“Damn it all, woman, if you aren’t the stubbornest…what you got worth staying here for? Your husband’s already gone.”
“Against his will, and even if I went with you I wouldn’t be able to see him on Earth. When he eventually gets free, he’ll come looking for me here.”
“Is that the only reason you’re staying?”
“Even if it were, it’s Earth that has nothing for me; everything I have I’ve built here in the last three years. Even my business is illegal there.”
“It’s not like you’re gonna have many customers here, either,” he spat sarcastically.
“It’s not like I’m going to need many, with all the bill collectors gone. And even though I won’t have any field hands any more, I reckon there’s enough food stored in town to keep me alive for decades.”
“You could get a different job on Earth; you’re the smartest person I ever met.”
“What different job? I was trained as a librarian, and that’s an obsolete profession in a world where books are banned.”
“Not all books are banned!”
“No, only the ones worth reading. I was eight years old when they had the Great Burning, and I’ve watched the number of banned genres, the penalties for being caught with them, and the powers of the Moral Climate Monitors growing ever since. When I was twenty-eight the burning crew came to destroy the library where I worked after they discovered we were keeping a secret collection, but we were tipped off and had time to hide the books elsewhere. After I came to Mars, I got in touch with the underground and they’ve smuggled tons of contraband here, where it isn’t illegal yet…and never will be if I have anything to say about it.”
“You mean you’re staying because of a lot of stupid books full of nonsense and fairy tales?” he asked, genuinely incredulous.
“Somebody has to guard our cultural legacy against fanatics, control freaks and the people like you who don’t have the spine to stand up to them. Especially if you all incinerate yourselves in an atomic war.”
He lunged forward to grapple me, but I anticipated it, grabbed the shotgun and had it leveled at him before he closed half the distance. “You won’t shoot me,” he scoffed.
“Try me.”
With a mix of anger and exasperation he exclaimed, “How long do you think you can wait here alone?”
“Penelope waited twenty years for Odysseus.”
“Who are they, more storybook characters?”
“Something like that,” I answered quietly. “Now, please get out of my house.”
He crammed his hat back onto his head and stalked out the door, turning at the bottom of the porch steps to yell, “I hope the Martians get you, you crazy whore!” Then he climbed into his pickup and roared off down the drive, leaving a huge cloud of red dust in his wake.
I didn’t even wait until he was out of sight, but went for the satchel hidden in my storm cellar, adding a few perishable food items to the things already in it. I made sure my cat and livestock had enough food and water for a few days, shouldered the satchel, picked up the gun and walked out the back door, calling my dogs to follow. By the time Bill returned with a posse to “rescue” me against my will, I had already reached the secret sanctuary I had prepared several weeks ago, when talk of returning to Earth began. I figured they might look as long as 24 hours before giving up, so I made sure I had enough provisions for a week just to be on the safe side.
Apparently, they had enough respect for my competence to recognize that they wouldn’t find me if I didn’t want to be found, at least not in the available time with the few men they could spare for the search. Early the next morning I was awakened by the sound of thunder, and I watched as the rocket rose swiftly on a pillar of flame, carrying the prodigals back to the world that, in the end, they had never really left. I figured I’d wait until late afternoon to go home, and after breakfast I opened up a volume of Homer to pass the time, mentally preparing myself for what I knew was apt to be a long, lonely vigil.
One Year Ago Tuesday
That was the day last March’s fictional interlude was published, and considering its premise I thought it most appropriate I call your attention to it today rather than two days from now.
Maggie,
On the topic of demon summoning, have you ever run across David R. Palmer’s “Threshold?” He has an interesting take on the technology of interacting with demon universes.
My favorite demon summoning story is Larry Niven’s Convergent Series. A very creative way of dealing with an infernal bargain. More directly on topic, a very nice take on Bradbury’s themes. Martian Chronicles was one of my favorite books growing up. I couldn’t wait to see the mini series and then it was not only very boring, but they didn’t even include Usher II. How can you not film the best story in the book? And of all the stories to pull from the Illustrated Man, a bastardized version of The Fire Balloons? Really?
Thank you, KHorn! I sent the great man himself an email with a link; I don’t reckon he’ll have the time to look at it but I thought it only right to at least try to let him know. 🙂
My favorite Mars stories are “Night Meeting” (from MC) and “The Other Foot” (from The Illustrated Man).
KHorn,
I’ve not read Niven’s Convergent Series. I’ll have to give them a look see.
I’m referencing your fictional interlude callback from last March, of course.
I rather figured that. 😉 No, I haven’t read it; I’m afraid I don’t read a lot of fiction these days, unless you include proofreading my own!
Also, check out “Remnant Population” by Elizabeth Moone. It’s not a great example of her work – I prefer the “Vatta’s War” series, but it does have a certain congruence with today’s fictional interlude.
Vatta’s war is one of my favourites. I think Maggie and all would give those pirates a whuppin’ too. 😏
Trust me Maggie, you’re not a shotgun momma.
I always pictured you as more of an MP5 girl myself. 😀
Awesome story!
Thank you! I do have a shotgun, you know, but I mostly use it to scare off coyotes that are annoying me by making too much noise too close to the house. One good BOOM into the dark and they take off like bats out of hell.
Just in case you’re interested, my preferred sidearm is an IMI “Baby Eagle” .40 caliber automatic that I keep loaded with hollow-points.
That is SOOOO HOT!! 😀
I like those “Baby Eagles”. I have one in 9mm. I keep it loaded with hydro-shocks. Been looking for an upgrade kit to go to .41AE.
Maggie, I’m disappoint in you! I went on a trip to Yellowstone NP years ago during the winter. I think it was in Hayden Valley where I and a group I was with could hear but not see a pack of coyotes howling and barking. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever hear. The group of us just stood there mesmerized by the coyotes.
They’re not so beautiful when they’re as common as rabbits and kill anything they can surround, including domestic dogs they catch alone. There are plenty of predatory animals I find beautiful around here (including hawks, snakes and cougars), but coyotes are not among them.
Couldn’t agree more about the coyotes. No one who lives any amount of time in coyote country has anything good to say about them, except for the bounties some counties pay for them. As for guns, I’m too much my father’s son and rely on my old 1911 or H&K USP in .45 ACP when outside the city or when wearing a jacket to help conceal. My other choice is a S&W 360 .357 magnum in a pocket holster.
I’m with you, Maggie. Part of the reason I left Earth is because this shit.
By the way, if you ever want to visit me, I’m in the hippy commune on the north side of Olympus Mons.
We have an indoor aquaponics system to sustain ourtselves because the atmosphere isn’t quite breathable up here.
We used to trade mined metal with the turkeys, but the turkeys went back to Earth so we only work for ourselves.
And no, they didn’t try to force us to go back. Nobody cares about hippies.
You see, before the turkeys went back to Earth, they said to us:
“You can either stay on Mars and die in a nuclear war, or go back to Earth and live. Your choice.”
Well, we chose to stay, and so here we all are—dead as a doornail.
Perfect. 🙂
Excellent taste in firearms, Maggie.
The fact that law enforcement allowed themselves to be herded into buying Glo.cks is just another sign of dysfunction, imho. There were all sorts of “studies” that were done to show how great they are but no one seems to have noticed that they are born fully cocked and have no safety. There is an epic video on YouTube where a cop is lecturing school kids about how good they are with guns just seconds before Glocking himself in the thigh.
Funny story about my uncle …
He was a part of the US forces that liberated several concentration camps toward the end of WWII. Horrible tales but …
He once showed me a Nazi P38 Walther pistol he “liberated” from a concentration camp. He told me that he actually “liberated” a whole case of them – but on the way back to the states, on the ship – they announced that only one “souvenir” firearm (per person) would be allowed off the ship once it reached the states.
So my uncle went to every one of his buddies to see if they wanted one of his pistols – he gave away one – but everyone else already their one “souvenir”.
So a case of at least 10 pistols went overboard in the Atlantic.
When he left the brow on the ship – NO ONE checked his duffle bag – so he could have kept them! 😛
I actually can’t claim credit for choosing it; Jack wanted to buy me a gun but he knew nothing about them, so he asked Jeff and we all went together, and that’s the one Jeff chose for me. 🙂
I just watched “John Carter” in IMAX3D today. Made me want to read all the Barsoom stories again.
I watched it in regular old theatre projection on Friday. I’m curious what Sailor Barsoom’s take on the movie is…
Funny you should ask…
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2261707/board/nest/196034996?d=196034996#196034996
Thanks Xeno!
You’re welcome.
Really, if you aren’t a book purist (and I never claimed not to be) it’s a fine movie.
Some international conspiracy has made this a dead link. I’m sure that cats are involved somehow. It’s always the cats……
LOL 🙂 You are something Maggie, you really are.
I couldn’t get enough of Heinlein in my 20s. I think I read Stranger in a Strange Land at least five times.
But my fave “sci fi” novel of all time, and one of my three favourite books of all time, is The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. Have you read it?
I haven’t read a lot of Vonnegut, but Sirens of Titan and Cat’s Cradle are both on my “read one of these days” list. 🙂
Recommend Sirens of Titan. I think you will love it… keep me posted.
Is there a wine dark sea on Mars?
Dean Clark
And canals. Lots of canals. 😉
Great story Maggie! I love all the little touches that highlight the ugly attitudes that are always hiding just barely out of sight. That’s what makes SF so great, and is nowadays something that is often lost amongst the CGI and fantasy/horror elements that have been blended into SF, especially in films.
The Barsoom series was probably the first SF I ever read, along with Heinlein, Andre Norton, and Edmund Cooper. Nowadays I am more into military SF like David Drake’s “Hammer’s Slammers” series and David Weber’s “Starfire” books. James White’s “Sector General” series is still a great favourite of mine. Where else can you read about a handsome doctor getting the hots for his nurse, who happens to be a giant crab shaped alien 🙂
I have never, in my life, owned a gun. I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to.
Does any one read Terry Prachett? I love his Discworld books.
My friends Frank and Olivia swear by him, and got my husband the first eight books for Christmas so he’ll be starting on them fairly soon. We were introduced to it when they gave us the TV miniseries of Hogfather a couple of years ago.
Avid Pratchett fan here, but kind of lost my way with them after “The theif of time” since by then I was on incapacity benefit (rheumatoid arthritis) and had to reduce my book spending almost by 99%.
But by god, the man is a Ledgend. “Rest well, old friend, and dream of large women”.😎
PS. In case you missed this one.
It was a great story and, as usual, beautifully written but, Maggie, do you really believe you would be able to survive, alone, on an alien planet, with all those Marsians watching and waiting to pounce, for up to twenty years.
I wouldn’t last twenty minutes.
Bradbury’s Martians weren’t actually hostile; sometimes they could even be friendly. The fear colonists had for them was, as usual, based in prejudice.
But no, I don’t think I could do it alone; I think alternate-Maggie figured she’d eventually find other obstinate souls to help, and that her husband’s odyssey wouldn’t be quite as long as the original one. And the doggies, of course.
I loved this story so much I had to overcome my social ineptitude, delurk and compliment it. Well done.
Why do I have a sudden vision of you in a Catholic Schoolgirl uniform singing for Ray Bradbury? 🙂