c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(8-24)
Monday afternoon on Mars was bright and crisp at the New Cleveland metropolitan center. Technician Rand Farcourt stood at his console with a chatter of interstellar communications echoing through his wireless headset. A plastic view-visor tinted orange aided him in keeping watch over their mission. He could see the Morningstar III moving into orbit around Planet Earth. It’s stubby fins and glistening hull made the craft look like a flying sardine of some kind, as rendered by an artist’s imagination. Possibly after smoking an herbal hallucinogen for encouragement. Once a steady position had been established around the familiar blue ball, a Digger shuttle was dispatched with two astronauts on board.
They reached northeastern Ohio in about 45 minutes. Nature had reclaimed this uninhabited area after conflict and chaos sent the continental center into a death spiral. Something that virtual books detailing the history of their species now referred to as the Great Uprising. Civilization continued for a time, on the coasts, with much hand-wringing over the political landslide that had precipitated their societal downfall. Yet once new cities began to open up on other worlds in the solar system, a mass migration began. Even before this violent chapter in terrestrial history, mankind was destined to seek out the stars. More than the lure of open land and new vistas, the call of liberty made them restless. Few wanted to live in the wreckage of their failed, national experiment in self-rule. Wallowing in an inheritance of guilt, based on the wages of sin as defined by their bureaucratic keepers. Finger pointing and grandstanding meant little when there was no electricity, or running water, or edible goods left at their stores. No schools, no workplaces, and no churches. No clean lakes or rivers. No fresh air to breathe. Only a stench of collapsing buildings and decaying infrastructure.
But now all of that was behind them, as the spacefarer established communications with their control station, back on the Red Planet.
“NC Center? This is Morningstar. Commander Block at the helm, here, we’ve settled into place above the lost homeworld. I’ll be streaming live video in a moment. It’s quite a sight to see, this is where our ancestors lived. Generations before any of us were born...”
Farcourt scratched his head which was covered in a crew-cut swath of black hair. He adjusted settings on his projection display, and yawned from the fatigue caused by a dozen hours on duty.
“Roger that, sir. You’ve deployed the lander already?”
Block nodded and punched in an authorization code to certify the link between their mothership and its surface explorer.
“We sent a two-person crew, Lieutenant Kelly Strafe, and a scientist, Dr. Judson Baines. The professor has a research background in 21st Century civilizations. His bloodline comes from what was once a rural county, south of Lake Erie. I’ve been told that one of his forebears was a member of the MAGA Defense, a pivotal militia group that helped to spur the uprising that brought everything to a halt, 100 years ago...”
Technician Rand shuddered a bit at how casually his mission supervisor spoke about this calamitous part of human history.
“Was that wise sir, including someone with a personal connection?”
His distant contact laughed softly and shook his head.
“I didn’t think it would be a problem, really. If anything, it might give him the impetus to dig more deeply. You know, turn over some stones and do a thorough investigation. The climate has returned to more primitive conditions, what early settlers might have expected in frontier days. Earth is quite resilient, I think. Without people around to foul the air and muddy the water, that old planet does quite well...”
The lead technician fiddled with his board and sighed in response.
“That’s a sad assessment. But an honest one, I’d say!”
Both men stiffened as their two-way radios began to crackle, many miles apart. The surface explorer was just above its target, a deserted piece of property once known as a mobile-home park. Rusted hulks, overgrown with weeds, still sat in neat rows, inside of the perimeter.
Lt. Strafe steered the tiny vessel with skill acquired from years as a space pilot.
“Morningstar, this is Digger. We are about to touch down at Evergreen Estates. Dr. Baines chose this particular spot because someone in his lineage lived here for a time. Back when cars still ran on gasoline, and people grilled hamburgers outdoors, for fun. He hopes that some evidence of how those people lived can be found. Perhaps artifacts that we can bring home to New Cleveland...”
Commander Block surveyed their progress from his ship, in orbit. He felt an odd sense of déjà vu as the small craft found its mark.
“Roger, Lieutenant. You might say that all of us have been here before, in spirit if not in the flesh. Godspeed to you. Don’t get in a hurry. Look around and enjoy your work!"
Baines peered at the approaching greenery through his thick spectacles. Anticipation made him tingle. He was giddy and anxious, but ready to begin their mission, in earnest.
“Commander, we can see the sprawl of tarmac and concrete now. There was only one main entrance to this development, something I can’t imagine being acceptable. Didn’t they think of safety concerns? There is a great house of some kind up front, our historical files indicate that it was a maintenance garage. We will set down in a parking area, alongside. A print book I discovered in the Interspace Library at Texas City detailed how this anonymous patch of dirt helped birth the unrest that eventually brought down America. It’s exciting to think we will finally be able to poke around in the rubble of that infamous outpost...”
Strafe was breathless over the importance of their visit. She untied her long, golden mane and let it swing freely, as the digger craft landed.
“The air tests breathable, water looks clear and blue, things are growing everywhere. Though the flora and fauna have morphed a bit from what the original residents here knew as being normal. Background radiation is within safe limits. There are scars on the landscape, however. Craters from multiple explosions, scorched ground from fires that raged, even bloodstains that haven’t been erased by cycles of snow and rain. We could spend a lifetime here and probably not see everything. I know our intent is to be on-site for a week or two, and gone before the climate turns less friendly. Mother Nature must have been angry with the mortal souls that wreaked havoc here, but now, she has once again embraced her garden. Earth is alive, again. It is healing, and maybe, even happy for the song of living creatures that inherited her creation...”
When their footing was assured, both members of the survey team exited the vessel, with tentative steps. It felt refreshing to breathe air that had not been recycled and purified by a contained, HVAC system.
Dr. Baines stood for a moment beside a south wall of the maintenance garage that had remained standing, for many decades. A tactical uniform woven from synthetic fibers made him itch slightly, in the summer heat. Still visible in huge letters composed of spray paint, was a slogan from the Great Uprising. A message left to taunt those who might look back upon their dark history, and weep in reflection. Their hearts had been true, yet human frailties took hold in the balance. The yield was calamity, collapse, and corruption.
The scientist read this ancient inscription aloud, as he shielded his eyes from the glare of naked sunlight.
“MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! MAKE AMERICA GREAT!”
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