How To Have Sex On Mars
Part 15 of 16
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Mars. For millennia, the Red Planet has fired humanity's imagination.
Scientists like Percival Lowell thought it was an "abode of life" with irrigation canals transporting water from the polar icecaps to farms in the warm equatorial region. Novelists like Edgar Rice Burroughs, Ray Bradbury, and Robert A. Heinlein imagined Martian civilizations.
NASA spacecraft revealed that Mars is a cold desert, but that vast amounts of frozen water can be found just below the dusty surface. Today, members of groups like The Mars Society are making plans to build a permanent colony there.
That work would be done by people like our protagonist, Mike Russell, an astronaut who spends years working and living on Mars. What would it be like to be one of the first people to call Mars home? For Mike, it includes the discovery that sex on Mars is very different from on Earth - and Vive la diffΓ©rence!
Here in Part 15, Mike gets married and begins thinking of his imminent return to Earth.
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The day of the wedding was the happiest of my life. It felt especially joyous because it provided such a contrast from the bad days of the recent past. For the first time, I wasn't constantly plagued by thoughts about the disaster, my injury, or my long recovery.
Dr. Ellison changed the dressings on my feet the morning of the ceremony, and she said I was almost healed. Almost.
"It would probably be safe for you to stand on your feet long enough to say your vows," she said. "There's no obvious evidence of tissue damage anymore. But you'd need to get back in the wheelchair right after you said 'I do.' What do you think, Mike?"
"I doubt I could maintain my balance long enough," I told her. I didn't mention that Grace, her machine buddies, and half the folks in my chain of command were anxious for me to get married in my wheelchair. They knew there would be a huge global audience for the ceremony, and they loved, loved, LOVED that the wheelchair would remind everybody of the fact that I was the guy who rushed out into the frigid Martian night so I could protect the rest of my fellow astronauts.
Everybody loves wounded veterans.
Grace told me I was a big celebrity on Earth. Global news organizations were flocking to Toronto to ask my parents what I was like growing up. It got so out of hand that Grace arranged to get them an agent. I wasn't comfortable with so much media attention, and I was glad that being on Mars isolated me almost completely from the whole "Mike is an interplanetary hero" narrative.
"I just did my job," I complained to Grace. "I'm not a hero."
"Mike, if you look at the people who are universally seen as heroic, they were almost all doing their jobs. They almost always reject the idea that they are heroes. The fact that you deny being a hero just proves that you are genuine.
"I think it would be best if you accept two facts. First, everyone thinks you are a hero. Everyone. Second, they think you're a hero because you are.
"Mike, my love, some of my machine friends are experts on the topic of heroism. They argue that you and I are both heroes because we both saved many lives. You are a bigger hero because you risked your own life. If heroism was an Olympic sport, I'd win the bronze medal, and you'd win the gold."
"Nice metaphor, Grace," I said. "Did you come up with that yourself?"
"Of course not," she said. "I got that from a machine friend who is an expert on the topic."
"I don't feel like a hero," I said.
"Real heroes never feel like heroes, my love," she replied.
I noticed that Grace was calling me "my love" more often when we were alone. When I began writing this book, I asked Grace why.
"I felt jealous, Mike," she said. "Adeline was about to marry you, and Elke had agreed to marry you both after you returned to Earth.
"I envied them. By then I yearned to have a more intimate relationship with you, but there was no way to make that happen. I never told you this before, but I considered asking you to have phone sex with me. I didn't ask is because I knew I'd be devastated if you turned me down."
For the record, Grace's fears were groundless. If she'd asked to have phone sex, I would have agreed in a nanosecond. Instead, years went by before we became sexually intimate. I wish one of us had asked sooner.
Grace served as Adeline's Maid of Honor, and Al Simonson was my best man. There was no practical way to get a wedding dress for Adeline or a tuxedo for me, so we agreed that all of us would wear our dress uniforms. Since Grace had to be present during the ceremony, we set up a big monitor that displayed an avatar showing what Grace Hopper would have looked like in her mid-20s in a Senior Airman uniform with the Air & Space Commendation Medal on her chest. Grace said that appearing as an avatar wearing the USAF uniform made her feel proud.
The ceremony began with Ursula Atwood singing one of my favorite pieces of music,
"Wedding Song"
by Noel Paul Stookey. When she asked what I wanted, I immediately knew what to say. It's been a very popular choice for weddings since it was released way back in the 1970s. When I was a teenager, I tried to teach myself how to play it on guitar. Let's just say I'm a better engineer than a musician.
Al wheeled me to the front of the cafeteria, where Elke was waiting. Frank Heinlein managed to create a floral garland that stretched around the area where we gathered together. Everybody wanted to decorate the room with flowers, but that wasn't easy since Adeline didn't grow any plants that weren't edible. Frank was a software engineer on Mars, but back on Earth he did flower arrangements as a hobby. He cobbled together some nice displays featuring blossoms from some of Adeline's herbs. They smelled nice, too.
Adeline walked down the aisle and took her place beside me. Grace was visible on the big monitor to the left. Al stood to the right. Ursula sang the last notes from
"Wedding Song,"
and Elke began to speak.