Spaceport West (12 page)
MARS COLONY ONE
His Majesty’s Government has joined forces with television production company Moldiend Ltd to jointly fund the Mars Colony as part of a Private Finance Initiative or PFI. By incorporating the rollout of the colony into a reality TV show, so the argument goes, most of the enormous expense of the project can be met by advertising revenue, merchandising tie-ins and other commercial spin-offs.
Mars Colony One
went on air on 1st January 2025 with the launch of the first fleet of ships headed for Mars, and has continued to follow the stories of colony recruits and other key personnel, with daily instalments watched by billions of viewers worldwide.
The use of PFI for a project of such national importance has not been without controversy, and many claim it is simply a way to shift large amounts of public debt off balance sheet. The Government’s position, however, is quite clear: without private finance, the budget deficit would reach such alarming levels that we would be forced to sell off large tracts of land such as Scotland, Northern Ireland, or heaven forbid, Essex.
UK Guide to Space, 2025 Edition
Bob Shuman, ever on the lookout for a diverting new angle, had suggested that Aster and Susan might like to do a video log together. Aster agreed as she reasoned it might make the daily chore a little more interesting. Susan was delighted with the idea.
“Camera’s rolling Susan. Want me to start?”
“Yes please Aster, you’re more used to this.”
“Fair enough. Video Log, number - whatever. I have a special guest on my log this morning - none other than the Minister for Space, Susan McKenzie. Minister, what are your impressions of the Mars Colony?”
“Thank you Aster. It’s been fascinating visiting the colony. The sense of camaraderie, dedication and teamwork is palpable. Clearly, there are ongoing challenges. And that’s partly why I’m here, to help in any way I can, and on my return to Earth, to fight your corner for any resources and extra assistance you may require. What I would like to know Aster, is why did you come here in the first place?”
“Well, you know my father was one of the UK’s first astronauts?”
“No, I didn’t, go on!”
“Yep, I’ve not mentioned it to anyone before. He was involved in the early experimental launches from the British Isles, years before
Spaceport West
was built. Then there was quite a big accident…”
“Ah, the tragic loss of the
Theseus
on take-off. That was a dark day for British Space exploration. Hang on, Commander Madly was your father?”
Aster nodded sadly. “My mum was heartbroken. Well, we all were of course.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, at such a young age. It must have been a traumatic time.”
“Yes, it was Susan. Not that we really talk about it.”
“You know, that accident had a profound impact on me too. I was a young cadet at the time. We lost the first Minister for Space, Barrington Fulbright, that day. I became terrified at the prospect of spaceflight and have been unable to fly anywhere since. Until, that is, Tiggy Beauchamp agreed to bring me to Mars. The aspirations of an entire generation were shaped and altered by that one event, wouldn’t you agree Aster?”
Aster didn’t reply. She had a faraway, confused look.
“Aster, are you okay?”
Aster focused on Susan but still didn’t speak. Susan turned off the camera.
“That’s how they started, the bad dreams. My father would kiss us goodbye, put on his helmet and board the
Theseus
. Then…”
“I’m sorry Aster, that must have been horrible. How long did you have these nightmares for?”
“Until I came to Mars. I think I was terrified by spaceflight too, but I couldn’t have articulated it. I’d forgotten what it was I was scared of.”
Susan gave Aster a hug. She was glad to have come to Mars, if only for the connection she felt she had made with Aster. What price a few months in frigosleep in return for a new close friend?
In truth, the colony was not in a fit state and it really did seem like it may have to be abandoned, but that was not to say the whole exercise had been an entire waste of time and money. If people weren’t prepared to make mistakes and occasionally get it wrong, what future was there for humanity?
Susan McKenzie had seen enough and it was time to head home. She had found no evidence of foul play or tampering. The Russians seemed, to her, perfectly reasonable and trustworthy. Quite what her recommendations were going to be back in Westminster was another matter. In all good faith, she couldn’t represent the colony as a success. It was barely viable and they might have to start planning for its abandonment, despite the sense of failure this thought engendered.
Tiggy Beauchamp had graciously agreed to make the return journey with Susan. Tiggy was resigned to all the months of frigosleep she was clocking up; she said she enjoyed ageing slower than her friends, although in truth it was pretty disorientating every time the calendar skipped forward by a few months overnight.
They had agreed to make a stopover on the Moon, as Tiggy wanted to visit Ian and Alan. There had been some developments and she wanted to see how they were adjusting to the new arrangements.
They touched down and made their way over to the base. Once inside, they were met by a figure neither of them had met before. At least, not in person.
“Greetings, Minister, Tiggy.”
“Alan, is that you?” exclaimed Tiggy, startled.
“Sure is ma’am!” said Alan.
Tiggy gave Alan a massive hug, feeling his warmth. Smelling the aroma of manly grooming.
His personality had been transferred into an incredibly lifelike humanoid body, the latest technological breakthrough from Russia. He was roughly average height, but athletic, strong and ruddy-looking, with a handsome face faithfully reproducing his on-screen visage. The sort of person you might feel jealous of, except Alan was so nice you couldn’t help but like him.
“Minister, I have you to thank for making this possible. You probably don’t appreciate how much this means to me,” said Alan.
“Nonsense Alan, don’t thank me. I just tugged on a couple of levers and leant on my Russian counterparts, which is my job after all. Thank Tiggy, she alerted me to your situation.”
Alan grinned at Tiggy affectionately.
“So how does it feel?” Tiggy asked.
“Difficult to explain really. A tremendous sense of freedom, I suppose is the biggie. No longer confined to those pathetic vis screens,” said Alan, indicating a nearby screen with a careless gesture.
“Well, I can see you two have some catching up to do,” said Susan, thoughtfully, “I think I’ll go and visit my old friend Commander Wilder.”
HUMAN-ANDROID RELATIONS
As androids become more sophisticated, their quantum brains more intelligent, and their bodies more lifelike, ultimately, we must ask ourselves, is it possible for a human and a robot to be friends?
Is it possible for a flesh and blood human being to have that feeling of affection, love even, towards a soulless piece of technology?
On one level, of course, we know that people can love the strangest things. Golf springs to mind. Or hedgehog flavour crisps. But that isn’t really love in the true sense.
Is it possible to have an emotional attachment to what looks and sounds and behaves like another person, but which is really just a clever collection of algorithms and programmed responses?
Most existing androids are unlikely to stir many emotions within us other than frustration and amusement, but in the future, who knows?
In the meantime, if a man or a woman can feel perhaps the same level of attachment toward an android usually reserved for creatures such as the tortoise or gerbil, which isn’t beyond the realms of possibility, then it, the android, should feel loved indeed. And who are we to deny them this?
After all, surely being loved by another being is an essential, some might say the
absolutely central
, part of an authentic experience of life.
UK Guide to Space, 2025 Edition
“How do you like it, Tiggy?”
“As it comes, thanks.”
Alan made them each a fluffachino using his new machine and they sat down by the viewport in his private quarters, where they could admire a huge, brilliant and friendly planet which was conveniently positioned at a fixed point in the sky.
“Cheeky question, but do androids need caffeine?” said Tiggy with a twinkle in her eye.
“Believe it or not, caffeine does have
some
effect on me as the outer layers of my body are real human skin and muscle, artificially grown of course. My brain is not like yours, but I still like to simulate a brief burst of enhanced processing from time to time,” Alan riposted.
“So, have you thought further about that idea you had?”
“Of moving to the Mars Colony? Yep, I’ve decided against it, at least for now. I’m needed here.”
“That’s a generous decision Alan. But don’t you feel the need to spread your wings, now you have them? Metaphorically, obviously.”
“It would be nice, perhaps in the future. But I can’t abandon Ian, I don’t think he’d survive without me.”
Tiggy was impressed with Alan’s resolve. She decided to leave it there - why try to talk him out of doing the right thing?
“Alan, do you remember you said you knew things about Ralph Hampton?”
“Ah, yes. You are the only human I ever let slip about that to.”
“Are you saying you made a mistake?” said Tiggy gently.
Alan gave a sad smile and looked down at his coffee, thoughtfully.
“No, I’m afraid my breed is condemned to never make mistakes. Everything is the result of a very careful calculation, even if that calculation only takes a millisecond.”
Alan looked up at Tiggy. His eyes seemed to glisten. Tiggy couldn’t tell if this was because he really was sad, or if he felt moved by spending time in the flesh with someone he loved.
“So, does that mean you always meant to tell me more?” She paused. “I understand if you would rather we talked about something else.” Tiggy placed a hand on Alan’s and gave it a little squeeze. She had to admit, he felt pretty lifelike.
“That feels nice! I’ve never experienced that sensation before.”
This time, Tiggy had to jerk back a tear.
Alan took a deep breath, or appeared to anyway. Finally, he said, “You know about Mr Hampton’s accident, here on the Moon?”
“Susan mentioned something about it. She wasn’t sure it was true. She thought perhaps the Russians made it up for some twisted reason.”
“It was real enough Tiggy, I witnessed it. And Ian caused it, at least partly.”
“Oh no!”
“Not on purpose. Remember I mentioned his mood swings? He was in a low place that day, when Hampton’s transport turned up, along with a couple of cosmonauts. Ian refused them a proper landing strip and they had to make an emergency landing in the middle of the helium mines.”
“What happened to Mr Hampton? Was he injured?”
“Do you really want to know Tiggy? You may find the truth somewhat disturbing.”
“I have to know now, you can’t leave the story hanging like that!”
“Ah yes, I forgot you humans seem to have an in-built desire to always know the end of the story. Well, if you’re sure. But first, finish your coffee, because you’ll be needing something a little stronger.”
Meanwhile, back on Mars, Aster was feeling positively bereft now that both Tiggy and Susan had left. She’d become quite attached to both of them during their brief time together.
There was only one thing for it. She needed to get to grips with her relationship with Freddie.
Freddie. His mere name was enough to send tingles down her spine, but, simultaneously, to fill Aster with nail-biting angst. She was seriously confused about the business with Katy. And, conversely, what if Freddie was really only interested in Sian, who almost entirely ignored him? It didn’t bear thinking about. Nevertheless, Aster resolved to do something. What this was, she didn’t yet know.
First things first, she must confront him. One to one, in private. Scrub that, there was no privacy in the colony. In a booth then. Maybe over a glass of something palatable. Like beer, or the closest alternative available on this barren rock.
Buoyed up by a GloopMatic caffeine hit, Aster cornered Freddie the next morning immediately after breakfast.
“Hi Freddie!” she said, enthusiastically.
“Oh, hi Aster. You seem bouncy this morning, what’s got into you?”
“Just pleased to see you I guess!” Aster said coyly.
“Whoa, take it easy, you know there’s a queue to be my girlfriend!”
“Is there?” Aster’s face dropped. She looked like she was about to cry, or kick an android or something drastic like that.
“Aster! I’m kidding you dork, do you see women throwing themselves at me?”
At once, Aster’s face lightened again and she reverted to excessively bouncy mode. “Great! I mean, for me that is. Oh bother, look can we just go for a drink later? I really
really
need to chat to you properly.”
“Fine, anything to help me forget how stupid I was coming to his planet of doom.”
“Great, see you at the Cantina after work?”
“Sure.”
Freddie trudged off, doing a remarkably convincing impression of a man entirely resigned to the fact that life had dealt him a raw hand.
Aster skipped off like a seven year old who’d just been promised a pony for her birthday.
DREAM INTERPRETATION
It has long been suspected that if you could interpret your dreams, life would somehow make a lot more sense. Whether you believe they are your subconscious telling you something that you are too stupid to realise for yourself, or that perhaps God is telling you something you are too stupid to realise for yourself; either way, the sensible thing might be to sit up and pay attention.
Most sleep scientists agree that it is impossible to dream during
frigosleep
or other forms of induced stasis. They back this up by pointing out that neuro-headsets have thus far failed to detect any significant brain activity in frigosleeping patients.
And yet, many space travellers have told strange tales of meeting, and conversing with, weird and wonderful messengers from the stars. Either these encounters actually took place, or they were simply dreams. Dreams occurring under supposedly impossible conditions.
Perhaps it doesn’t really matter how it happens. Perhaps the important thing is getting in touch with a deeper reality beyond conscious thought. It is therefore considered advisable to try and develop a receptive frame of mind, thereby leaving open the possibility of such an experience. For example, by eating a nice big wedge of cheese just before bedtime.
UK Guide to Space, 2025 Edition
