Pangia

Stephanie Gaudinier
Nov 5, 2018
4 min read

I recently joined a writers group at my local library. Earlier today we had a writer's salon where we each shared our pieces. The theme of this event was a door opens, a door closes. The inspiration behind my piece included Muse's Exogenesis Symphony, NASA and the idea that we may one day live on Mars because we continue to destroy our planet. Muse's symphony was really where my story came from. For those that aren't familiar the symphony is in three parts. Part one is a jaded acceptance that civilization will end. Part two is a desperate hope that sending the astronauts to find and populate other planets will be successful alongside the recognition that this is the last hope. Finally, Part three is when the astronauts realize that it is just one big cycle, and recognize that unless humanity can change it will happen all over again. Take a listen below:

Here are some images that inspired my description of the red planet:

A car window opens as it travels down an empty dirt road. A little boy sticks his head out the window and screams “Daddy come back!” as a rocket launches in the distance. The little boys mother pulls him back in the window. The rocket breaks through the Earth’s atmosphere our astronaut watches the Earth grow smaller and smaller. The once distinct blues and greens now morphed into one solid color ball. Similar in size to its moon. He turns around and looks ahead at the vast universe before him, knowing he can never return home. His final mission to ensure life on Mars is viable.

The rocket steadily soars through millions of stars and comets. Space shrapnel dings off the rocket as it breaches Mar’s atmosphere. Red, orange and pink dust swirl around the rocket like a moving sunset. Out ahead the planet’s surface is becoming more visible. Vibrant reds, purples, yellows, blues and greens scour across the ground for miles and miles. Its breath taking. The astronaut looks like a kid on Christmas; his eyes wide with joy and wonder. Suddenly, the rocket begins to shake violently. Lights flash and beep. The rocket goes dark and crashes into Mar’s surface.

A ramp comes down off the rocket and the bruised astronaut slowly makes his way down it. “The first man to live on Mars. Who’dve thunk it?”, he says as his feet touch the ground of the red planet. Off in the distance robots are hard at work building what seems like the bare-bones of living spaces. Tools zip and crank away as the astronaut examines his rocket. It’s been through a difficult journey and is now covered in soot. The once titanium steel is as black the vast universe that surrounds it. There are holes and dents along with space shrapnel on the sides of the unit. The astronaut places his hand on the rocket and quickly pulls it away; it’s still hot to the touch. He turns around and takes in the beauty of his new home.

The red planet is more vast and beautiful than in any of the pictures we’ve seen. Variant colors of red and orange swirl around the man as a small dust storm passes by. The planet is reminiscent of the Grand Canyon. Layers of colorful bedrock have formed hundreds of dunes and other rock formations over the years. The man continues to walk and stumbles upon a small stream of water. Inside the stream are tiny, living particles. They are complex and colorful creatures. The man follows the creatures until the stream disappears into a hole within the ground. He bends down to listen and can hear a larger flow of water beneath the ground.

He pauses and pulls out a torn photo of the little boy and his mother from the inside pocket of his space suit. He touches each of their faces with his finger, places the photo back in his pocket and gets to work.

Time passes by and living spaces are no longer frames. They are full-fledged, air tight, domes equipped with protection from Mar’s harmful radiation. Attached to each of the domes are decontamination units. There are crops growing in an enclosed greenhouse below the surface where Mars’ main source of water lies. Pipes that connect the river to water cleansing tanks are fully operational.

The man, now old and feeble, collapses to the ground. He grabs the photo of his family, places it on the inside of his air helmet and exhales one final breath. A sandstorm engulfs the man and his photo, burying their existence. The domes are all that remain.

More time passes and another rocket lands next to where the first one stood. The little boy, now grown with a family of his own, takes his first steps on Mars along with many other families. He and his family begin exploring their new home. The little boy’s son runs ahead of him. He chases his son down and finds him staring curiously at helmet. “Look what I found Daddy!” The boy begins digging it out of the sand. His father kneels down to help him and uncovers a scratched-up photo. The little boy turns the photo around and takes a deep breath. “Stop digging.” His son looks up at his father confused. “This is grandpa’s helmet.” He places a hand on the helmet and his son does the same. “Thank you”, he whispers. He picks up his son and walks back to their new home. There they are greeted by his wife and daughter. His son runs inside while he remains outside.

The wind picks up as he pulls the missing piece of the photo from his space suit, making the photo whole once again. He closes his eyes and places the picture on his heart. A tear trickles down his cheek. He wipes it away and heads inside, closing the door behind him.

Here is a clip of me reading a portion of this piece at my writer's salon: