Is There Life On Mars? (part five)

Note: This is the fifth part of the story Is There Life on Mars? If you missed the beginning, maybe you should start there (just click on the link.)

 

Day 133

I was interrupted yesterday and didn’t get to finish my entry. I wanted to say that unfortunately things are not going so well between Sally and me at the moment.

There’s a growing divide between the crew members who are busy working in space (that’s most of the scientists and some of the technicians) and the rest of us (the majority) who are just passengers.

Our primary task, aside from our respective mundane professions, is to colonize Mars. For us, this journey is a necessary evil, since Noel hasn’t invented teleportation yet (he mentioned that he envisions it in our lifetime). However, the busy people are slowly but surely getting annoyed with the rest of us. I can see the resentment building. I understand them, but… hey, it’s not our fault.

The thing is, Sally is extremely busy and stressed from taking care of the plants. And that’s why she’s easily frustrated with me right now. Especially when I spend the whole day playing Catan with Philippe, Rob, and Sergio. Once again, I understand her. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the “keep the plants alive” part of her diatribe three days ago sounded a little worrisome. I’m not sure what she meant. And I can’t tell you more because “visitors” are no longer allowed in the Gardens.

 

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Day 153

I haven’t written here in a while. The reason is not a big secret. Things are not good.

I had a big fight with Sally and… I’m pretty sure it’s over between us.

Fuck! Is it my fault that I have nothing to do right now when she’s so busy and tense? Yes, I play games all day long. What else can I do? Write this fucking diary all day? I offered to help, but apparently I’m useless. Silly me, why didn’t I think of getting a PhD in agronomy while preparing for this mission?

 

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Day 154

Sorry about the previous entry; this diary is supposed to be a historical document for future generations, not a place for me to vent my frustrations.

So, what’s going on besides my love life is that the plants are not growing as well as they should and not producing enough seeds. The heating and ventilation problems have caught up with the Gardens.

It’s now either too hot or too cold in every part of the ship, including where the plants are growing.

And it smells like shit everywhere.

Oh God, it stinks! Plants don’t care, but it affects all the humans on board. And every time you go to another part of the ship, there’s a new kind of stench. So the only way to get used to the smell is to stay in your section most of the time. Which is what most of us do more and more. Which, of course, means we socialize less and less. There are still some people here that I barely know. At the beginning of the trip, I thought we’d get to know each other better later, and now… Well, they’re in their part of the ship and I’m in mine.

But I digress.

The crops are not growing well. Not only is there not enough seed for the future, but a more pressing problem is that we have fewer vegetables to eat now.

Growing our own food was always part of the plan. Early in the planning of the mission, it was decided that we wouldn’t use the animals on board for food, except for eggs and milk. The reasons were mainly practical. We couldn’t really have a slaughterhouse on board. There are also psychological reasons.

For that reason, all the animal-based food on board comes from Earth, and we have enough to get us to Mars.

It’s the plant-based food that’s getting scarce, because we’re supposed to grow a significant amount of it, and we’re not producing enough.

That creates a number of problems.

The vegetarians are getting hungrier than the omnivores. Some of them are being reasonable and have started to eat some of the meat we have in stock. However, the number of portions was set in proportion to the number of vegetarians on the ship. We also brought some plant-based food from Earth, just in case. We’re at the “just in case” stage now. And this extra food is almost gone.

You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?

Food will probably have to be rationed soon.

Now you know why the farmers and botanists are a little tense.

Also, the chickens have laid fewer eggs than planned. The stress of the trip is affecting them, too. And we’ve had less milk since Gertrud died. We never worried about that before; now it is on the list of concerns.

Noel and his specialists on Mars are helping with the situation, but there is only so much they can do from there.

 

 

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Day 168

I’ve been trying to find something to write about in this journal, but what can I say? The mood is just gloomy. More and more people keep to themselves most of the day.

Only the hardcore players still play multiplayer games. The “brothels,” as we ironically called them, are pretty much a thing of the past. Many couples have broken up and there are no new couples that I’m aware of.

Sally and I no longer speak. If she could see me, she’d see that I’m no longer a “lazy ass” (her term). I joined the small group in charge of managing the food. I have to admit that I only volunteered to fight boredom and to try to get close to her again.

The second part failed.

 

We had to resort to sacrificing the weakest chickens. They no longer laid eggs and had become useless mouths to feed. We froze them, and we’ll be able to cook them when we get to Mars. It was better that way. They probably would have died anyway, but this way, their meat will remain edible.

We decided to do this after three chickens died in two days last week. The vets couldn’t figure out what killed them. They were weak and malnourished, but not that weak and malnourished. It couldn’t be an external pathogen. Even if some bugs had gotten on board despite the quarantines, they would have affected the birds sooner, not after five months.

Is long-term low gravity affecting them in unexpected ways? Team 1 never reported anything like that during their voyage. Neither did the lunar orbit tests.
We just don’t know what happened.

 

What I do know is that Sally does not talk to me anymore. We don’t even run into each other anymore. She moved to the Gardens. Pretty much everyone who works there has. I don’t blame them; it’s the part of the ship with the best air quality.

Personally, I’m moving to the garage section of the cargo bay.

I made myself a little living space between some crates and a container. I’m writing from here now. It smells less and I see fewer people. They don’t get on my nerves and vice versa.

I heard there was a fight in the “construction” quarters yesterday.

 

(to be continued)

 

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