Life’s Lemons
The red sand pounded against the resin skin of the plane as Johnny steadied it over through the Martian sandstorm. Whenever he did a bubble jump during a sandstorm, the Feds were less likely to follow through with what many see as certain death.
Johnny had been flying through these kinds of storms ever since he got his license twenty years ago. The first time was scary, now it was routine. Just another jump between a rural bubble and the main hub.
His plane was one of the most common aircraft on Mars, with a resin fuselage and solar panels on the wings that turned the titanium propeller.
With the lack of atmosphere and significantly lower gravity than that of Earth, solar-powered propeller-driven plans were the most efficient means of travel, at least until the Metro was completed, connecting all the largest bubbles to the main Hub.
Plans would probably stay the primary shipping means for those on the outskirts. They were the modern pioneers traveling out to unoccupied Martian territory to claim land for themselves and their kin.
Most claims were taken on the same way. A family is sponsored by the Fed or a private company to live in a designated area and to produce a certain product. By doing the Martian government can spread the population over the desolate planet and reduce the chance of ever having an uprising.
For hundreds of years, people would pilgrimage from the blue planet to the red in hopes of a better life. What they got instead was indentured servitude.
Unlike the pilgrims who left the “old world” for the “new world” in the 1500s, these pilgrims were indeed on a new world. A new world without oxygen, atmosphere, water, or abundant food.
Still, pilgrims came in hordes, and with them came the technology to create artificial atmospheres called bubbles by the Martians, constructed with Ice using a 3D printer the size of the Empire State Building. The starter bubble would be formed, and several families would move in.
As the families expanded, the bubble would be added onto. Growing as clusters until there was enough space to connect the cluster under one dome.
This resulted in Mar’s surface being covered with what appeared to be snow globs over its red desert landscape. Because of water scarcity, producing any crop the federation had not approved was strictly forbidden.
Instead, each bubble had an assigned crop or material that it was tasked to produce. The Federation collected foodstuff and distributed food supplement pills to the bubbles.
In the federation's eyes, this fairly distributed the planet's wealth to all Martians. It also kept the federation in power. If no one bubble were completely self-reliant, they would always be reliant on the federation to survive.
Man can not survive on nutrition capsules alone, however. This resulted in the black market of luxury foods. The network was constructed primarily of smugglers like Johnny, who hopped from bubble to bubble to deliver food to the black-market vendors.
As the black markets grew, the federation immediately began to hunt down members of the network and punish all participants with cruel and unusual punishments.
The idea is that if people do not know what they are lacking, then they will never want it. Once people tasted real food with real flavor, they would not go quietly back to their labors and payments of food caps.
Johnny could see the bubble growing on the horizon. It began as just a blue dot against the red landscape. It then grew into what appeared to be a fishbowl. Eventually, it grew into a globe taller than all the buildings in New York City and just as wide.
“Bubble 254 Ground control, this is Red Rider 24 Zulu”
“24 Zulu this is Ground control We have you Lima Charlie”
“Ground control 24 Zulu requesting landing at port site 4 how copy?”
“24 Zulu good copy begin approach for Port site 4 now the runway is clear”
“Ground control that’s a good copy beginning decent into port site 4, time now.”
Johnny began his descent for the runway that stretched out from the globe like a black tongue. It led under the lip of the dome where the fueling and rail station were located.
Pilots had to be careful not to begin their descent too late or their take-offs too early; otherwise, they ran the risk of crashing into the side of the massive ice wall.
With the experience that came with a lifetime of bubble hopping, Johnny guided his plane under the ice lip and gently kissed the tarmac with its wheels.
He followed the indicator lights on the pavement and took all directions from the control tower as he maneuvered to the cargo hanger. When the plane finally came to a stop, he logged the flight in his computer, hit the overhead switches and disconnected his oxygen line from the aircraft, and attached it to the portable tank beside him.
As he walked down the steps from the pilot hatch he was greeted by the usual customs agent who knew him all too well. He filled out the required transportation forms stating that he only transported federally approved goods and attached a 50 credit note to the paper to ensure the customs x-ray machine was broken.
The customs agent took back his clipboard, secured the note in his pocket, and looked Johnny in the eye. “The X-ray machine is broken, but I will personally see to it that these boxes are examined and transported through the proper channels. Thank you, and have a nice day.”
Johnny bowed slightly with his head and put his right hand to his forehead in a Martian salute. “You have a good’n too.” Johnny headed to the elevator and pushed the button for the main level. As the platform rose, he was greeted by a robotic voice welcoming him to the Bubble, who gave him a list of destinations that he could enjoy during his stay.
He mostly drowned them out when he heard the all-important sentence, “The air is now safe to breathe; you may now remove your mask.”
He removed his mask and inhaled the fresh bubble air deeply. Taking in plant-generated oxygen after a long flight of canned air was always satisfying. He closed his eyes and thought back to the forest in the bubble he grew up in.
He remembered it being much larger than it was. Most of all, he remembered the great tree in the center from which the rest of the forest stemmed.
His family farm was on the magnetic West side of the forest. They were soy farmers. He remembered the day the federation came to arrest his father and the rest of the commune.
The agents had rounded up all the children and shot anyone who resisted. Once they had what they thought surely were all the children, they took off and popped the bubble, killing everyone left inside.
The platform came to a halt. “Again, Welcome to our Bubble; we hope you enjoy your stay.” The doors opened, revealing the bio city of Bubble One.
The buildings were all modular, allowing the bubble to grow and adapt quickly to the change in population. It was a beautiful balance between organic rain forest and modern architectural design,
On the main level, there were only two forms of transportation. One either had a bicycle, or they got on the trolly. On the lower level, a metro could get someone anywhere in the bubble within 10 minutes.