SOL 505
Mark went about his business, in a sort of hazy, absentminded fog, as he unpacked the pile of canvas for his bedroom tent. He'd spent a few minutes shuffling around making as smooth a surface for himself as possible, since this time he was going to be here for the long haul.
Last time I'll ever be doing this, the thought occurred to him, as he carefully laid the folded form out onto the sand. Gone were the days of just tossing the tent out there and quick-inflating it. He had to be careful with it now. He no longer had a nice Hab to lay it out inside of, for easy repair if he popped a seam on it. He no longer had extra resin, either.
The landscape was quite different down here in the crater; all soft powder and ashy-textured sand with the odd patch of gravel or jagged little pebbles. None of the alluvial-looking rocks and boulders of Acidalia Planitia or Ares Vallis. It was a good thing that he no longer needed to gather rocks for a nightly status update, because there were, quite literally, no rocks larger than golf ball-size here, and even those were few and far between.
He was the first person to see it in person; the very first person to set foot in Schiaparelli Crater. And even if NASA had to decree that he couldn't bring his geology samples back to Hermes with him, he simply had to bring back a sample, even if it could only be a tiny one, from Schiaparelli.
Pretty soon, though, it was going to be more lasts than firsts, as his time on Mars came to an end.
Just forty-six more days, and then he got to have his life back. Maybe. If he didn't accidentally blow himself up getting there. He'd get to go home, maybe, but his life was never going to be the same after this. You can't fight primary succession. Adapt or die.
The sun was low on the red sands, and Mark watched as the red skies began their nightly ritual. Sunset on Mars was a quick thing, compared to Earth; there was very little atmosphere. When the sun set, pitch blackness set in, almost immediately. But there was a moment, when the lightwaves angled just right, for a blue aurora to appear around the setting sun.
Beautiful blue.
He watched as the blue sank into the distant horizon, and the shadowy midnight purple skies quickly faded into blackness. But he made no move to go into the bedroom tent, or the MAV. He just stood there in his EVA suit, lost in thought.
He had a son now. I'm not gonna get scared; I like a good challenge. He was someone's… Dad, now, and it was strange, and scary to think about. Could he be someone's father, and possibly do a good job at it?
How did other people even do this, he wondered. Did people really just wake up one morning and say, 'Yup, okay, sure, I'm totally ready for this parenthood thing now, bring it on!' Because he had never felt, even a little bit, that he was remotely ready for any of that. The idea scared the shit out of him, honestly.
And then, there was Mindy. The real, actual person. And as much as he'd fantasized about her, the revelation that they shared this connection together, their son, it was jarring to realize that she was part of his… family… now. Forever. And they were strangers, he and Mindy. His parents loved her; they'd had a son together. He'd spent the last year kicking himself for letting her get away.
Fate had seen fit to give him another shot.
I like a good challenge. He found that there was no internal decision-making process to work through; he already knew what he wanted to do.
Mark had had a great-grandfather that had been a pilot during the second World War. One of Mark's earliest exposures to love, or romance, in any sort of relatable way, had been his childhood discovery of a box of letters in the attic. Letters from the front, from Charles to his beloved Alice; if one started at the beginning and read them all the way through, it was an interesting window into another world, telling the story of a wartime romance between a small town farm girl and a pilot.
Dear Alice, each of the early letters had started; the ones that his great-grandmother had sent in response had been lost to history. The letters had been sweet, and funny sometimes, but just the words on the faded old pages had been thick with greater meaning. Some of the letters had been censored, with big inked-over patches where Charlie had mentioned places or future plans.
Charles Watney had written to his future bride faithfully; sometimes just a short diary-like entry of what he was doing; his training with the Army Air Corps, what they ate and where they slept, and the music he'd listened to that day. Funny things that he'd heard, and little jokes among the flight corps. Other times the letters were almost embarrassingly sappy and wistful, as Charlie counted the days until he hoped to see his Alice again. And as the months and years passed, Dear Alice had given way to Sweetheart, and then, after they'd married during his Christmas leave in 1942, Darling Wife.
They'd had their first child, a daughter, while Charles was still away flying missions against the Japanese, and except for photographs, he didn't get to see his baby daughter, Adele, until after the war had ended. He'd made it home safely, though. Charles had noted, in one of his later letters, that he'd spent just sixteen days with his bride in the five years he'd known her.
One thing that had always stayed with Mark, was how Charlie had often written about the 'blue horizon'. That was how he'd referred to his future. When he was flying a mission, he'd stare off into the horizon ahead, thinking of Alice and Adele, instead of the danger that he was flying himself into. His girls were waiting for him, at the end of his mission, the blue horizon beyond, if he kept flying the plane, didn't make any mistakes, and didn't run into any bad luck. They were his promise, his reward.
When they won the war, he'd get to go home to them. And that's just what Charlie had done.
They'd made it work, somehow. They were married for sixty-odd years, before Alice had died, when Mark was just barely old enough to have a few memories of her. They'd made a good life for themselves together, and they'd started it all with a long-distance romance.
And now, their great-grandson was going to follow suit, Mark had decided.
He would court his future wife from the surface mission site of Ares IV, and on Hermes, too, if that's what it took. He'd win Mindy's heart with words on a screen.
Everything comes back into style, eventually. Even long-distance romance. He had the beginnings of a smile as he brought up a new channel and started typing.
Houston
Johnson Space Center
CAPCOM had gone to the trouble of setting up a separate channel for Watney's personal communications, but after he had signed off to go check his personal drive, he'd never replied on it. The com had gone silent entirely.
Eventually, shortly before Martian sunset, he had reappeared in the latest round of satellite images, as he put out the solar panels, and set up his usual camp.
What are you thinking right now, Mindy wondered, as she saw a last glimpse of Mark, with an elongated shadow in the final minutes of Martian sunlight. The next satellite pass showed total darkness.
Unwilling to leave her desk for more than a few minutes, she bolted to the SatCon break room for more coffee and a bowl of noodles.
Now that it was dark, he'd have to go back into the MAV or the tent, and Mindy could only assume at this point, that he'd had more than enough time to read through all the messages on his personal drive.
He knows, she thought, amazed. He really, actually, finally knows.
[19:12] WATNEY: I'm back in the MAV for the time being.
Mindy jolted to attention, noodles forgotten, as she replied.
[19:27] PARK: Okay. Good to hear. You um… you doing alright?
[19:27] PARK: This must have come as quite a surprise.
Now who was the master of the obvious, she grinned.
[20:03] WATNEY: Mars has been nothing but surprises.
[20:03] WATNEY: This one, though. Wow.
[20:03] WATNEY: This is what Mom was trying to tell me.
[20:04] WATNEY: Wow.
[20:04] WATNEY: So, Henry? I like it.
[20:19] PARK: Um, yeah. Henry.
[20:20] PARK: Glad you approve.
[20:35] WATNEY: You could have named him My Dad Is a Thoughtless Ass, and I would have been totally fine with that, too.
[20:51] PARK: Doesn't have the same ring as Henry. So sorry. Overruled.
It was funny how they fell right back into their easy banter, two years later, even with an awkward fifteen minute time elapse between messages, and despite everything they'd been through, Mindy thought. She could almost hear the sound of his voice as she read his words. She smiled.
[21:07] WATNEY: I am curious where you got the name, though.
[21:07] WATNEY: Family name, maybe?
[21:25] PARK: No.
[21:25] PARK: There were a couple of reasons I decided to go with Henry.
Mindy hadn't yet told anyone from where Henry's name had actually originated; but now, a year after the fact, the moment of truth had arrived. Hopefully Mark wouldn't be too weirded out by it.
[21:40] WATNEY: Is one of them because I'm the King of Mars? Henry is a good name for a future King of Mars, I have to agree with you. Good call, there.
She paused for a second to catch her breath from laughing. It was heartening to discover that Mark's sense of humor was still as goofy as ever.
[21:56] PARK: Seriously, Watney?
[21:56] PARK: Do you remember the night we met, when you said that everything comes back into style, eventually?
Mark pushed himself back from the MAV's console, in surprise. It was almost as though she was reading his mind, here.
Everything comes back into style eventually.
He stared at the words for a long time, before he started to respond.
[22:09] WATNEY: It is really funny that you should mention that, because yes, I do remember saying that. I remember it very well, in fact.
As he waited for her to respond, he used the time drag to open the picture files on his personal drive, and oh… Pictures of his parents. His mom and dad, together with Mindy, holding little Henry. He blinked, a little shocked at how natural they all looked together. Henry was almost impossibly cute; big blue eyes, a few wisps of dark blond hair, and a dimple in his chin. He looked equal parts stubborn and sweet-natured. Mark studied the picture intently, noting all of the smaller details that he hadn't seen on the first pass.
They appeared to be standing on the front porch of a house he'd never seen. Red brick, with white trim. Mindy looked different now; her hair was shorter, and she was dressed casually, instead of the sexy black dress he always remembered her in. His parents, too, looked different. Mom was a little more grey, her hair more wavy. Dad looked amused, the corners of his eyes crinkled as though he already had his next few pranks planned out. They looked happy, and healthy, to his relief. It was kind of amazing to see them as grandparents, finally, after all the years they must have thought that it was a lost cause. Not that they'd ever given him any crap about it; they never had.
He was still staring at the same image, minutes later, when Mindy's reply arrived.
[22:26] PARK: Well, Henry seemed like that sort of name.
[22:27] PARK: So old-fashioned that it's come back into style.
Mark chuckled at that. How appropriate. Apparently she'd been remembering that night, too, if her memory of what he'd said to her was that good, after all this time.
[22:44] WATNEY: What was the other reason, then?
[22:45] WATNEY: Also; it's getting late here.
[22:45] WATNEY: One more round of messages here and I'm going to have to bow out and get some sleep.
Like he was going to be able to sleep, after all of this. Not fucking likely.
[23:01] PARK: Understood. So there's this poster of yours.
[23:01] PARK: Hanging on the wall in my living room, actually.
[23:01] PARK: Your parents brought it with them, when they moved in.
Mark actually stiffened in shock, as the incoming messages continued to appear. She couldn't actually mean…
[23:02] PARK: It's a black and white photo of sand dunes.
[23:02] PARK: With a quote about the penalty for lack of adaptation.
[23:02] PARK: I don't know why, exactly.
[23:02] PARK: But every time I saw it, or thought about it, even…
[23:02] PARK: I'd think of you, out there on Mars, and me, here on Earth.
[23:03] PARK: Both of us running into all these unexpected situations.
[23:03] PARK: Adapting like crazy.
[23:03] PARK: Everything always changing and all unpredictable.
[23:03] PARK: And all you can do is just roll with it.
[23:04] PARK: Anyway, it seemed appropriate.
Jesus Christ. And…. primary succession, there it was. Maybe she'd never even heard of succession, but she got it. She understood. They were the same, he and Mindy. Maybe a lot more so than he'd ever realized before.
[23:19] WATNEY: Henry Chandler Cowles.
[23:19] WATNEY: Wow.
[23:19] WATNEY: Mindy Park, you are a total nerd, and um…
[23:19] WATNEY: I kind of love you right now.
[23:20] WATNEY: Signing off.