Chaos.
Utter pandemonium.
The planned press conference had gone ahead as scheduled, followed by a televised statement from the President. Now, as the truth was beginning to set in, the citizens of the world sat silent, glued to the ongoing live coverage. The various media outlets were responding in typical style, as the issue was split seamwise among conservative and liberal viewpoints.
Depending on what channel was showing, it was either the "end of the world" or "the greatest day in history" as the media feeding frenzy grew and grew. Mark Watney's survival and safe return was only a minor detail in the bigger picture, as the world's focus shifted to Washington. President Roberts was endlessly discussed, simultaneously lauded and despised, burning in effigy, while being praised to the sky. It was a dizzying turn of events, as public opinion formed, changed, and formed again.
Reporters demanded to see the invitation list for the most memorable state dinner in living history, as pundits weighed in with their opinions on who would be invited and why. A former White House social secretary estimated a hard limit of 500 guests, while others who claimed to be in the know, assured viewers that the actual number would far larger, or far smaller than that. As in previous times of stunning developments, there were never enough details to satisfy the public hunger, and rumor and hearsay ran rampant. Attention-seekers flagrantly invented details, and it didn't seem as if anything could stop the rushing tidal wave of controversy and elation.
x x x
"Mark, I'm turning on the recorder so that we can continue where we left off yesterday." Venkat gestured to his device, cleared his throat, and continued, "Can you tell us about your most recent communication with Oaiea?"
"Yes. Um, sure." Mark fiddled with his computer, pulling up the recent transcript of his conversations. Venkat photographed it, to add to the existing log.
"Give us your assessment of how you think she's doing. Do you think she's feeling anxious? Impatient?"
"Hmm. No, she doesn't seem anxious. Or impatient. She did find that passport application amusing."
"Amusing, how?"
Mark shook his head. "She just thought it was funny, all the questions about her place of birth, date of birth, proof of identity. Normal everyday stuff, for humans. You know, in her culture, that sort of question is like, incredibly rude. Offensive. A passport application is like a concentrated dose of it."
Venkat paused for a moment. "Well, okay. But how else are you supposed to find things out? She doesn't exactly seem to do much volunteering of information."
"Tell me about it." Mark shrugged.
"So I see that she has flatly declined our request for a tour of her spacecraft. Guess I expected that."
"Actually," Mark said, grinning, "She clarified her position about that."
"She did? That's excellent news, Mark! Good job!"
"Well, don't get too excited. She said that she didn't want any scientists or academics examining her ship. She did, however, add that she would allow President Roberts to come aboard for a private meeting, once she's landed the ship at Andrews."
Venkat blinked. "Secret Service is never going to agree to that."
"She'll probably get very offended if he doesn't. It's some kind of cultural thing, she'll give him some sort of gift. Might be technology. So my advice would be to make it happen."
They lapsed into silence for a few moments. Then Venkat spoke up.
"Do you think she would allow him to bring anyone else?"
"Doubt it. I'll ask, but you know where that usually gets us."
x x x
He needed a tree.
There was an old saying, a story that Mark had once read, about someone that had been chased by a savannah lion. "It was right on my heels, there were no trees I could climb, and I had nowhere else to go." The listener would ask anxiously, "How did you survive, then?" And the answer of course, "I found a tree." When your life depends on it, sometimes you just have to forge your own method for survival. Find that tree, even if you don't see it at first. "There's always a tree." was the moral of the story.
Mark was flipping idly through menu systems, as he and Oaiea did their daily quota of grammar, vocabulary, and categorization, followed by question time. They were nearly three months into the voyage by now, and their humble little communication app now included over 1,400 words. Enough that they could craft basic conversations, though these were usually one-sided. She asked; he answered.
Nearly all attempts that he'd made to turn it around, and ask questions himself had been met with stony silence. Very occasionally, a grudgingly brief answer, if the information it imparted was deemed sufficiently useless. Honestly, it pissed him off, more than anything. But it was her ship; her rules. And without her, he'd have died. So what choice did he have? He dutifully plowed ahead, trying to keep his mind on track. He checked his clock. It was nearly 11:30 in the morning. Soon, Oaiea would call a halt to this morning's category time and transition into question time. They'd been working on antonyms, and he had the word "make" highlighted. To make. Create. What was the exact opposite of that? Wait a minute. Suddenly that tree began to materialize. Oh, shit. Why didn't I think of this before?
He pushed the synonym menu away excitedly, pulling up the tool menu to create a new association category. Oaiea watched him, impassively, as he tried, for the first time, to explain compound words. Take two words, put them together, new word. Simple enough. She nodded briefly, as he rotated the symbols for "space" and "ship" and then joined them together, associating it with a third word, "spaceship". She inclined her head, nodding thoughtfully. She tapped on the new category. She looked at him expectantly.
Mark quickly pulled up the words for "life" and "time", and then joined them with "lifetime". Take two words, put them together, new word. Oaiea smiled, she had never noticed these word triangles. It was an entirely new facet of the language. She watched as "every" and "thing" were rotated and formed into "everything". The words stayed the same, but the meaning changed.
Now, Mark took a longer time, while he crafted a new word, and added a definition. Then, he brought up the words for "peace" and "maker". He joined them together with his new word, "peacemaker." The definition was her name, and his. His eyes met hers, and he smiled, expectantly. She nodded, still smiling, as she drew the correct symbol in her language and added it to the file. She brought up the audio capture, and gestured to Mark.
He cleared his throat, and spoke the word aloud, "Peacemaker". Then, for the first time, he sang out her name, as he'd heard it a hundred times before. His voice couldn't accommodate anything but the basic four notes, but he tried his best. Oaiea collapsed into laughter. Mark, grinning, pulled up the word for "embarrassing" and she nodded enthusiastically in agreement, still smiling.
Experimentally, she then tried to form his name, in response. The results were similarly hilarious. "Mark", minus the hard consonants that didn't exist in her vowel-based language, sounded like "Arrr!" Space pirate. He couldn't help it, he doubled over laughing, bringing his hands to cover his face.
