Subject 103.C
The yellow atmosphere was filled with despair. Red dust floated down, coating the oppressive metal structure. It dominated the carefully crafted Martian landscape, projecting shadows even in the furthest of places. It was a bunker, crafted out of the finest materials. Dwarfing the mountains around, surely it would last for thousands of years.
"Gavin! For the last time, pick up your bloody books!" His Mother screamed.
"Yes, Mum," he whispered, shoulders hunched.
“Disappointing.” She struck him in the face, "You know, I wasn’t brought up here for my child to be messy, and if people ask,” She pointed to his face, “then tell them you fell down the stairs."
"I never asked to be born here!" He huffed, his face burning, and shut the deep blue door, carefully. He leaped onto his bed, and buried himself in the covers.
Gavin's mother was a fantastic engineer. She was only twenty (now thirty-eight) when NASA sent her up to Mars along with ten other families. They were tasked with setting up a base colony, and preparing it for future inhabitants. They were some of the first, but there were other groups, other bunkers. Perhaps my mother’s time on Mars had driven her crazy.
Gavin had never seen the surface of Mars, he was told that it is horrible. Everyone knows about the foolish person who once did. The story goes that one day a young man by the name of Samuel left the bunker, and disappeared into a giant dust storm. He was never seen again, but the rumours say that he made it to another bunker. Gavin envied him, wishing it was himself in a different bunker, or maybe even the storm would be satisfactory. He resented the freedom of a different life. During dinner, while everyone was in the cafeteria, he swiped his mother's key from her dresser. Not a big key, even so it felt heavy in his hand.
During the night, Gavin wandered down the endless maze of metal hallways. Dressed in only his bright red PJs, he shuddered. But from fear or the cold of night? He did not know. The air tasted metallic, artificial. The regulated system ensured that the air was a near perfect mix of oxygen, nitrogen and other gases. The gentle hum of the lights was consistent, yet offputting. Finally, the steps were before him. They would take him to the surface, away from his miserable life. He stumbled up.
At the top there was a large room, with an air lock. Three sets of large blue suits leaned against the wall. Each was secured with two large metal cuffs. Gavin pulled out the small grey key, and inserted it into the large lock fastened onto the centre chest. The cuffs fell down with a CLANG! Pulling himself into the leftmost suit, Gavin's heart started to race. He breathed, hard and sharp. The suit shut with a hiss, lights flickered and buzzed all around. He entered the airlock. "Gavin, what on earth are you doing?" Staring at him with utmost horror, his mother stood.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "you treated me like a parasite for 16 years"
"Gavin… There’s nothing out there for you," her voice quivering with anger, “you’ll die,” but the door behind him had already opened. “Maybe so,” he stepped out, the door shutting behind.
The rumble of the airlock faded, it felt harder to move. Giant red clouds floated in the distance. The atmosphere was heavy and dry. He stepped down. He felt the rocks crushing under his weight. The clouds in the distance grew larger. It was amazing. As he peered over the ledge, his breathing slowed. Mountains and Valleys stretched before him. Caverns bore deep into the planet. Yes, this is it. This is a beautiful planet. But he knew why he was here; he was going to find the other bunker.
He walked across for what felt like hours. The licks of a storm were brewing, and the first dustings of sand wafted over him. Yet he moved forward, searching. His eyes started to well. Now, he was completely surrounded by the rusty dust. The winds blew, dragging at his feet. The bunker, where is it? He staggered forward, determined. The storm tugged and pulled. A rock flew past, cracking the glass of his helmet. Dust rushed in, choking him. He pushed forward, weeping with every step. Even as the unstoppable winds whipped slashing into his face, his legs moved forward, carried only by his willpower. Why did it have to be like this? Why me? Why my family? Why couldn’t I just be a normal kid, living on Earth? Tears streamed down his face. WAMP! Suddenly, he slammed into a hard metal frame. He fumbled around. A doorknob. He turned it and stumbled through.
The room was almost completely white, Gavin squinted. Bright fluorescent lights hung low off the ceiling. Rows of unorganised chairs and computers lined the room, each covered by coffee mugs, stacks of files, and various pieces of stationery. Ten or so men and women were seated, each dressed in white lab coats. They stared at him in silence. An emblem was stitched onto their chests, it read: NASA simulative personnel. A photo of himself was pinned to a board, under his photo there was a thick sheet of paper. Gavin reached for it.
Subject 103.C
Birth Name: Gavin Wilson.
Birth Parents: David and Elizabeth Wilson, (deceased)
Given Name: Gavin B Wilson
Age: 16
Simulated Conditions: Mars
Objective: research on mental/physical effects of being brought up on Mars.
Plan: The subject will stay in the simulation until death, this will paint a picture of the psychological and physical effects of living on Mars for an extended period of time. Particularly from birth.
It was all a lie. He fell to the floor in defeat. Everything. The Mother that beat him, the people who let it happen. He pulled himself up, his face crumpled, his fist curled. The scientists around him huddled back. Gavin bared his teeth, ready to make these people pay. The memory of his mother beating him channeled into a primal rage. The smells were overwhelming, he slumped over, muscles loosening. Because now, Gavin realised. Now, he was on Earth, he was free. For the first time in years, Gavin smiled.
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