A MESSAGE from MARS.Pdf
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SYNOPSIS 2050: The settlement on Mars has been cut off from Earth for nearly 5 years. Its core electromechanical systems are compromised, and its people lack the resources required to make the appropriate repairs—let alone survive. In spite of their efforts to conserve what little food and water and oxygen they still have, all of them are running out of time... The Desperates back on Earth have mastered Darwinian survival, while the STEM-Heads have pursued a more discreet evasion of Death since the Collapse of 2045. Yet all of them dream of escaping from their overheated, overpopulated Hell called Home. As the mission to clean-up after First Mars and its never-completed Genesis Program leads a small STEM-Head band towards Kennedy Space Center, rumors of a distant paradise reach Desperate leaders, and, all of sudden, all eyes are back on Mars... WARNING: IQP PAPER AHEAD Believe or not, this book was written to complete a graduation requirement. At Worcester Polytechnic Institute, a haven for STEM-Heads in the heart of Massachussetts, the Interactive Qualifying Project (IQP) is assigned to students during their junior year to provide them with an opportunity to integrate theory and practice and apply what they are learning in class towards the betterment of society. In this case, we were given an opportunity to do research on a topic of our choosing and write a book about it. Being engineering students, the obvious choice was to go for a science fiction novel. Thus the research began. After learning about the technologies being developed today for the societies of tomorrow, we decided to altogether abandon Earth and join the earliest human inhabitants of Mars. Why? Because Earth has been ravaged by global warming, and people can no longer afford to abide by laws while simultaneously acquiring resources necessary to survive. Therefore, organized society has collapsed. Then we asked ourselves: Once Earth meets its end, will our species be able to start over on Mars? Then the writing began... The most difficult part of this whole process was meshing our stories together, given we are three different people with three conflicting schedules and three unique writing styles. In the beginning, we were rarely on the same page. Even towards the end, communication issues were still quite prevalent; however, we kept moving forward and managed to bring our story to life. All in all, this was a challenge and an adventure, unforgettable for so many reasons in so many ways, a true learning experience. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS First and foremost, we would like to thank our advisor and professor, Joe Farbrook, for giving this opportunity to write a book IQP! Thank you for being so patient with us; this process took a lot longer than we thought it would. Thank you for reading everything along the way and helping us improve our stores. We are proud of what we accomplished, and we hope you enjoy reading it at least as much as we enjoyed writing it. Next, we would like to thank our editors, Madeleine Longo, Lucas C. Zuccolo, Nayantara S. Chaisson, and Gabriella Oviedo, for taking time out of their busy lives a week before finals to help us fix our typos and grammatical mistakes and give us feedback on our plot. Your comments enabled us to bring out book to a whole new level. Thank you so much for volunteering to be a part of this. We hope you love it! We would like to thank the Writers’ Group of WPI, especially Alex Titus, Ian Shusdock, Johanna Santos, and Brie Baggaley, for helping Victoria with her sections; Elisa Escapa and Yejee Choi for motivating and inspiring Simon with his sections; and Sienna’s Rowan Roughan and Stephanie Rivard for helping with her sections. We could not have done this without you. We would also like to thank our families, friends, and teammates for bearing with us, as we holed ourselves up with our notebooks and laptops and wrote instead of hanging out with you, even during all of our breaks. Last but not least, we would like to thank our readers for giving this book a shot. Please enjoy! [PART I;; MISSED MESSAGES FROM MARS] [earth;; Cider] “Hey! Farea! Say goodbye!” Farea presses her nose against the little oval window. A reflective black building beyond it nearly blinds her, as she attempts to read all the letters of the word on top of the building. T-E- R-M-I-N-A-L. She returns her attention to the runaway and the wings of the airplane. The engines are starting to roar, but they do not hurt her ears. She glances down at her wristwatch. Its small screen reads ‘30 dB’1 in green lights. She does not know what the number means, but the green light surely indicates that it is good. “Mommy… why do we need to fly again?” “What do you mean?” “I mean, I made friends here. We were here for four years. Why do we need to move again?” She hears a faint grunt in the background, like a man clearing his throat. “Your dad needs to work, honey. He’s waiting for us in our new home.” She looks out the window again, reviving her happy moments. She tries to forget the sorrow of leaving everyone behind… It had been hard to say goodbye to Mr.Garcia and his dog Queda. “Miss,” says a male voice. “What’s home, mom?” she says, ignoring the voice. “We always move. We can’t even stay more than four years in one location. I lived in so many places.” She starts crying. “Do I have a home, mom?” Farea brings her head to her mom’s chest. “Home… is where we live.” “Hey there…” the male voice says, closer than before. Farea opens her eyes. “Hey there,” a male voice asks her. “Are you going to order anything?” She is lying on her extended arm, occupying the places of two people at the counter. She lifts her gaze and sees the bartender looking down at her. His eyes are deep brown, like the color of tree bark, and he has a pinkish-white scar on his left cheek. She figures that it has come from a 1 (Banke 2016) sharp blade. Maybe a knife fight. His sleeveless black shirt does not fit him well; his muscular deltoids and pectorals seem to be bursting out of it, and Farea can see the cuts of his abs outlined through the fabric. Blushing a little bit, she sits straight up. With a slight flick of her hands, she brings her long dark brown hair behind her back. “Sorry. Just lost in thoughts,” she says. Farea looks at the bartender again. His tan arms are flexed, balling his biceps, and veins are sticking out of his skin, giving her the chills. He is holding a transparent mug with his left hand, cleaning it with a white cloth. “There aren’t many people here now, but you should know that lying down like that is very impolite.” She glances around the bar. A few men are sitting at the counter, drinking down their sorrows. Several more are sitting at tables, some sharing laughs, others just playing cards and asking for more beer. She sees a group of ten people gathered at the far end. Not surprisingly, she is the only girl at the bar. “Was I lying down like that for long?” she asks, apologizing with her eyes. The bartender shakes his head, as he inspects the mug in his left hand. “For about a minute. Were you sleeping?” “More like remembering… Anyways, what do you have to offer to a young lady like me?” she inquires with a sweet smile on her face. “Hmmm…” He does not seem to be interested by her. “I have a couple of bottles of brandy; I have vodka, gin, cider, and, of course, beer.” “I’ll get some cider,” she says. “Cider it is.” He crouches and comes back up with a wide transparent container, filled about halfway up with a greenish liquid. Farea can smell the sweet taste of apples even before he removes the lid. He scoops some of the liquid into the mug he has just finished cleaning. Then he wipes the rim and the outsides with the same white cloth. “There you go.” He slides the mug in front of her. The liquid is sluggish. Unremoved pulp, traces of apple skin. She frowns at it and eyes the bartender. “The filter broke last night, sorry about that.” She nods and takes a drink of the cider. Closing her eyes, she remembers the apple pies her mom used to cook for her… The way the aroma of hot butter and cinnamon filled the kitchen, as each one baked. The way her mom would shoo her dad away from the cooling rack while she and Farea were choosing plates and utensils to serve with it. The way the warm crust melted in her mouth, as she took her first bite… Her thoughts alone are enough to make her mouth water. Five years have passed since Farea last saw her parents. ‘I wonder how mom is doing,’ she asks herself. She remembers the nights when she and her dad would sit out on the cliffs and watch the stars together. He would point to several, drawing beautiful pictures in the sky of people and animals. Then he would tell stories about each of them. Her mom would join them later, and they would all walk back towards the house together.