«Resolutions»

01-05-2309

     Standing in a stagnant security check point line I begin to come up with my list of resolutions. It’s the appropriate Earth tradition this part of the year, but I just start doing it to kill time.

     The first is to be more assertive. This is only at the top of the list since I’m currently struggling to strike up a conversation with the redhead standing before me in the queue. There’s a painless dialogue with this attractive stranger that could be had right now, easing both of our nerves before a long space flight to Mars, or whatever destination she was going to that I was too shy to inquire about. Instead we play that game of continuous nervous glances, keeping each other in our respective fields of vision while seeming to pass cynical, possibly just exhausted, messages back and forth. Punctuating each of our sentences with inviting smiles that , perhaps, read as just coy smirks. As she steps up to hand her passport over she peeks over her shoulder as if to say ‘Nice talking with you’.

     The second resolution comes to me while sitting in a car of the subway system connecting the concourses from beneath the tarmac. The next time I walk into a room, acting and dressed ostentatiously, I have to be prepared with enough confidence to actually speak to someone. It’s a little like the first resolution, but anything that needs to be reiterated is certainly something I need to work on. If I’m going to share my talents and success, or try to rub off some undeserved sense of self-importance on others, I have to be able to feel comfortable enough with my assets to actually deem them valuable. The first key to making someone interested in what you have to say is being captivated enough with your own words that they can’t help but be too. I slump back in the nylon seat and hide behind my thick, dark green shades.

     The third resolution is a freebee, I came up with it before the others–don’t be so much of a pushover. Playing ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ can only be so helpful, and doesn’t seem to be paying off in all the years I’ve put it into practice. From now on, if there’s something I need or just want I’m going to speak up and take it. It’s really simple: what life does not give me I will get for myself. I push up my shades and cut into the line to when they call to board my row. It’s kind of a wide line though, and I end up letting the elderly Saturnian couple I would have cut go ahead of me anyway.

     As I’m walking up the aerobridge to where it meets the wide door of the red Perseus-Class that will take me back to my excuse for a life on mars, I realize that all three of my resolutions are all kind of the same one. As I ponder now how to kill three birds with one stone I come to my lot. My heart suddenly jumps into my throat, as to say hello to the girl from the security checkpoint, who is seated next to my empty chair. How I plan to carry out my resolutions throughout the year is no longer a matter at this moment–I take off the sunglasses and prepare to tackle all three at once.

«Rocket Red»

06-24-2308

     The Perseus-class ship I’m boarding is a brand new, top-of-the-line star cruiser. Trimmed to match the rest of the Rocket Red fleet, the paint job makes it appear as a giant crimson phallus, standing erect on the tarmac.

     I’m normally not a fan of masculine symbols, being a feminist and straight myself, but this one appeals to me. It just screams power to anyone with colored vision and it has a certain comforting fortitude. She looks strong and safe, and I feel a little more secure about hurtling through space inside 20 tons of metal and explossives knowing it looks as menacing as this.

     I’ve traveled within much larger vessels though, the Perseus are a series of mid-size economy liners. Most commonly used for interplanetary commuting, travel to an adjacent planet system. They were designed with the highest passenger yield for minumum size and fuel consumption, and she boasts a capacity almost twice as large as her sister, the Danae-class, a luxury liner of the same size. Regardless, in a small port like this where they don’t have an aerobridges, where you actually have stand on sea level with the craft and ascend a series of stairs to your hatch, you have to feel at least a little awe for the ship no matter how small it really is.

     After our slow moving milling of a line made its winding procession among the seats up the whole spacecraft, I found my lot by a window. Putting my carry-on in the overhead compartment, I flopped exhausted in my seat and breathed a long needed sigh of relief. Finally my journey home begins without any further ado, I remember glancing out the window at a Danae beginning ignition as my heavy eyes sealed.

«Still Stuck on Mars»

06-23-2308

     Sitting stifled, watching the ships get to depart. Surface Skimmers, shuttles and starliners take their turns arriving and embarking. And I’m stuck here on Mars still.

     I woke up late, hungover and burnt out from another last hurrah. It took more than a second to realize my alarm was sounding, and that’s what the shrill noise filling the room was from. Frantically, I threw the evening’s clothes back on and began that last minute dash to make sure everything I needed was in my carry-on. At first I snuck around the bodies lining the floor downstairs, careful not to disturb them before I left. I don’t know what I was thinking, this tip-toeing went on for a good 15 minutes before I remembered they were giving me my ride. So with an hour left before my ship would board I woke everyone up and tried to share with them as much of my panic as possible.

     It only took 20 minutes to travel about half the way to Novus Angelicas. Allan’s lifetime of experience living on Mars gave us the edge to slice through the ground traffic in his sister’s open topped buggy. I’d left my sunglasses in and carry-on stuffed it in the tiny boot, so I had the pleasure of my hair cutting at my eyes the whole ride. I was slightly distracted by my decreasing deadline.

     Just inside the NA county limits lies a small space port at Porro Beach. I feel attached to it, since it was the first plot of Martian soil I ever set foot on, and it’s the closest port that extends service to my favorite spaceline, Rocket Red. After that terrorist attack in New Tros and DT at the end of 2301, a negative stigma was affixed to space travel, and the aeronautics industry took a huge hit. In it’s collapse many companies completely went under, opening a niche for start up corporations to get a hold. All the new liners are flashy and bright, years more advanced and aesthetic than the aging fleet of clunky starcraft feebly holding our planets together.

     An Oedipus-class ignites it’s engines and erupts into the atmosphere as I grudgingly sip my coffee. I’m sitting in a smoking area outside of baggage claim right now, cursing myself for wearing black on a day like this. An unexpected meteor shower passing Luna is the focus of my frustration right now. I was supposed to stop over on my old moon for an hour before catching a connecting shuttle down from Earth orbit. The weather has all departing craft grounded on her surface for the next few days. I didn’t even know that meteor showers could impede space flight.

     So instead of hanging out on the moon for a few days, a dangerous idea for anyone with an affinity to flashing lights and a tendency to lose all their money on one hand, I was placed on standby for the last flight leaving Mars tonight. A non-stop Perseus straight to Goddard, the spaceport just outside of the capital. This of course means that I won’t actually leave until about the same time I was supposed to arrive there.

    I glance at my texti and give a sigh. With another seven hours to go, I watch another space ship blast off and light myself another cig.

     Sitting stifled, watching the ships get to depart. Surface Skimmers, shuttles and starliners take their turns arriving and embarking. And I’m stuck here on Mars still.

     I woke up late, hungover and burnt out from another last hurrah. It took more than a second to realize my alarm was sounding, and that’s what the shrill noise filling the room was from. Frantically, I threw the evening’s clothes back on and began that last minute dash to make sure everything I needed was in my carry-on. At first I snuck around the bodies lining the floor downstairs, careful not to disturb them before I left. I don’t know what I was thinking, this tip-toeing went on for a good 15 minutes before I remembered they were giving me my ride. So with an hour left before my ship would board I woke everyone up and tried to share with them as much of my panic as possible.

     It only took 20 minutes to travel about half the way to Novus Angelicas. Allan’s lifetime of experience living on Mars gave us the edge to slice through the ground traffic in his sister’s open topped buggy. I’d left my sunglasses in and carry-on stuffed it in the tiny boot, so I had the pleasure of my hair cutting at my eyes the whole ride. I was slightly distracted by my decreasing deadline.

     Just inside the NA county limits lies a small space port at Porro Beach. I feel attached to it, since it was the first plot of Martian soil I ever set foot on, and it’s the closest port that extends service to my favorite spaceline, Rocket Red. After that terrorist attack in New Tros and DT at the end of 2301, a negative stigma was affixed to space travel, and the aeronautics industry took a huge hit. In it’s collapse many companies completely went under, opening a niche for start up corporations to get a hold. All the new liners are flashy and bright, years more advanced and aesthetic than the aging fleet of clunky starcraft feebly holding our planets together.

     An Oedipus-class ignites it’s engines and erupts into the atmosphere as I grudgingly sip my coffee. I’m sitting in a smoking area outside of baggage claim right now, cursing myself for wearing black on a day like this. An unexpected meteor shower passing Luna is the focus of my frustration right now. I was supposed to stop over on my old moon for an hour before catching a connecting shuttle down from Earth orbit. The weather has all departing craft grounded on her surface for the next few days. I didn’t even know that meteor showers could impede space flight.

     So instead of hanging out on the moon for a few days, a dangerous idea for anyone with an affinity to flashing lights and a tendency to lose all their money on one hand, I was placed on standby for the last flight leaving Mars tonight. A non-stop Perseus straight to Goddard, the spaceport just outside of the capital. This of course means that I won’t actually leave until about the same time I was supposed to arrive there.

    I glance at my texti and give a sigh. With another seven hours to go, I watch another space ship blast off and light myself another cig.