Sci-fi: To Mars!

When I heard that crews are being trained to fly to Mars, and that there was some monkey-business involved, I thought my application to NASA had finally been accepted. I started packing my bags immediately. Even those of you who haven’t been accepted to astronaut school know the first choice to be made: hot climate or cold climate?

As it turns out: cold. The Curiosity rover is recording temperatures that generally range between 0C and -80C. I’m glad they remembered to put a thermometer on that thing. Frankly, that’s the sort of detail that I’d overlook. When I bought our last car I forgot to specify a CD player, and as a consequence we’ve been captive to the same Buck Owens cassette tape for six years.

I guess that’s why they wanted me to be an astronaut and not an engineer. But, if I may share some confidential information with you civilians, we’re all on the same team in the space program, and that’s what really counts. And I don’t really want all the glamour, but it just comes with the job.

Anyway, after I was packed I told my wife I had to catch a flight to headquarters right away. I was going to make a dangerous mission to Mars, and she might never see me again.

“OK,” she said. “I’ll call you a cab.”

When I was in the cab Sparky called me.

“Before you say anything,” I said, “you should be aware that this is a non-secure line.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been called to active duty for the space program,” I explained, “so I have to be careful about divulging any mission details”

At this point, I noticed that cab driver’s eyes kept darting at me in the rear view mirror.

So I didn’t really talk directly about the subject with Sparky, but sort of danced around it, and told him I’d be going to the “fourth rock from the sun,” and that “primate-business” was involved.

“Did you bother to confirm this information?” asked Sparky.

“There’s no time!” I said. “They’ll want me to show up as soon as possible. That shows assertiveness. They like that.”

“Says who?”

“Sparky, it’s protocol, dude.”

“Whose protocol?”

“I dunno,” I said. “It’s just, you know, protocol.”

It was 2:13 am in Sparky’s time zone, and he was having coffee, grits and eggs at a Waffle House. His trailer doesn’t have cell reception, so Sparky saves up his phone calls for when he’s in town. Depending on how minutes he’s got left for the month, he might talk a little, or he might talk a lot. Either way, when you talk to Sparky, there’s always the clang and rattle of dishes in the background.

Sparky cleared his throat, like he usually does before he starts pontificating, and said, “I’m sorry to inform you that you’ve got this all wrong. First of all, it’s Russia, not the U.S., that’s in the news about the Mars training problem. And, secondly, they’re training monkeys for the mission. Not monkey-business, but actual monkeys.”
“So NASA doesn’t want me?”

“NASA doesn’t want you.”

“And a monkey is a better candidate than I am?”

“Apparently so.”

Over the phone I heard the clatter of a dish breaking. I was hoping that someone had dropped a plate on Sparky’s foot. It would serve him right for being such a dream-killing know-it-all.

So I told the cab driver to turn around. I said goodbye to Sparky, and I looked out the window and just sort of sulked.

Then the phone rang again. It was Sparky. I’ll bet he’s realized he’s made a mistake, I thought, and he’s calling to let me know my Mars gig is still on track.

“Dude,” Sparky said, “I’ve got six minutes left on my cell plan, and they expire today.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, I want to get my money’s worth, obviously.”

“Call somebody else.”

“I already did. You’re always my last choice.”

“Wonderful,” I said.

“I’m reading about the monkeys. The Russian program aims to get monkeys to Mars in 2017,” he said.
“Wow, that’s just a matter of months.”

“Yeah. Turns out, it’s a new wrinkle in an old method. Monkeys were a big part of the early space program. This started in 1948, when the U.S. put a rhesus monkey named Albert onto a V-2 rocket.”

“How’d Albert fare?”

“He suffocated.”

“What next?”

“Well, the U.S., France, the Soviet Union/Russia have all used monkeys in space programs. Some other nations have also launched monkeys on rockets, but I don’t think they made it to space. Many of the events I read about didn’t wind up too well for the monkeys, but the more recent Russian efforts seemed to have gone quite well, at least for the flight phase.”

“Indeed. So the first Earthling on Mars will be a monkey.”

“That’s the plan,” Sparky said.