Old Mars

It appeared that a sandstorm was brewing in Mesogaea, the drylands adjacent to the Zephyria region. This sort of weather isn’t uncommon in the summer; we call them haboobs, the Arabic name for sandstorms on Earth that somehow found their way to Mars. From the looks of things, it would reach the Zephyria outback sometime tomorrow afternoon. Good thing I’d come home; the last thing anyone would want is to be caught out in the desert during a bad storm.

A waitress strolled by, adjusting a strap of her costume bikini top. I raised my glass and silently jiggled it back and forth, and she feigned a smile as she nodded and headed for the bar. I was searching my pockets for another quarter so that she’d see that I was still pretending to be a gambler, when my cell buzzed.

“Jim? Are you still here?”

“In the bar, professor. Come down and have a drink with me.”

“No! No time for that! Come upstairs right away! I need to see you!”

“What’s going on?”

“Just come up here! It’s better if I show you!”

Dr. al-Baz opened the door at the first knock. Spotting the cocktail glass in my hand, he snatched it from me and drained it in one gulp. “Good heavens,” he gasped, “I needed that!”

“Want me to get you another one?”

“No … but you can buy me a drink when I get to Stockholm.” I didn’t understand what he meant, but before I could ask he pulled me into the room. “Look!” he said, pointing to one of the computers set up on the bar. “This is incredible!”

I walked over to the bar, peered at the screen. Displayed upon it were rows of A’s, C’s, G’s, and T’s, arranged in a seemingly endless series of combinations, with smears that looked a little like dashes running in a vertical bar down the right side of the screen. A five-line cluster of combinations and smears was highlighted in yellow.

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Professor, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to …”

“You have no idea what you’re looking at, do you?” he asked, and I shook my head. “This is the human genome … the genetic code present in every human being. And these”—his hand trembled as he pointed to the highlighted cluster—“are strands that are identical to the partially sequenced genome from the aborigine specimen.”

“They’re the same?”

“Exactly. There is no error … or at least none that the computers can detect.” Dr. al-Baz took a deep breath. “Do you see what I’m getting at? The hypothesis is correct! Human life may have originated on Mars!”

I stared at the screen. Until then, I hadn’t really believed anything that Dr. al-Baz had told me; it seemed too unlikely to be true. But now that the evidence was in front of me, I realized that I was looking at something that would shake the foundations of science. No, not just science … it would rattle history itself, forcing humankind to reconsider its origins.

“My god,” I whispered. “Have you told anyone yet? On Earth, I mean.”

“No. I’m tempted to send a message, but … no, I need to confirm this.” The professor walked over to the window. “We have to go back,” he said, his voice quiet but firm as he gazed out at the city lights and, beyond them, the dark expanse of the desert. “I need to get another blood sample, this time from a different shatan. If the same sequence appears in the second sample, then we’ll know for sure.”

Something cold slithered down my spine. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The chieftain …”

“The chieftain told us that he wanted to know what we discovered. So we’ll tell him, and explain that we need more blood … just a little … from one of his tribesmen to make sure that it’s the truth.” Dr. al-Baz glanced over his shoulder at me. “Not an unreasonable request, no?”

“I don’t think he’s going to be very happy about this, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He was quiet for a few moments, contemplating what I’d just said. “Well … that’s a risk we’ll just have to take,” he said at last. “I’ll pay you again for another trip, if that’s your concern … double your original fee, in fact. But I must go back as soon as possible.” He continued to gaze out the window. “Tomorrow morning. I want to leave tomorrow morning.”

My head was beginning to ache, dull blades pressing upon my temples. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. What I should have done was turn him down right then and there. But his offer to double my fee for a return trip was too good to pass up; I needed the money, and that would pay my rent for a couple of months. Besides, I was too drunk to argue.

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll head out first thing.”

I went back to my place, took some aspirin, stripped off my filthy clothes, and took a shower, then flopped into bed. But I didn’t fall asleep for quite a while. Instead, I stared at the ceiling as unwelcome thoughts ran an endless loop through my mind.