Ninety-Eighth Entry

March 17^th, 2037

1130

Dear Space Diary.

This is quite a large city. I say that because we’ve been walking for over an hour and we haven’t even gotten halfway to the fuel factory.

“Yeah, I apologise about. I was… quite angry, after landing, after they started building. I wanted to be as far away from NASA as possible. So I kind of ran. Lived in the suit for a while. Then, when the city caught up with me, I took one of the apartments. Kept to myself until the others turned up.”

Yeah. About that.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. You’ve seen two of them. You know what NASA did. It didn’t go as they expected.”

But…

“Just drop it. Please. I promise, I will tell you all about it on the flight home. I’m sorry.”

Ok, ok, I can respect that. But you must understand how this all seems to me. The things I’ve discovered.

“Believe me, I do. But… look, let’s get the fuel. Can we just do that, for now?”

Sure. Can I ask about the city?

“Not sure what to say. The units, wait, what did you call them?”

Lightdogs.

“Lightdogs. Nice. I like that. Well, they built this whole thing, in two weeks. Amazing, isn’t it? They get quite a production line together when they want to.”

Indeed. It makes me wonder what they’re building out in the rocks.

“Yeah. We’ll fly over it when we leave. Til then, happier that they’re there than here.”

Mm.

1200

“You’re very quiet.”

Just thinking. About what NASA is up to.

“Honestly, I found it just better to not worry about it. They’re hardly going to tell you. Ignorance, as it turns out, actually is bliss.”

Yeah, but somebody did tell me. Just before I ran into you, somebody sent me a mission document. A real one. About the other yous.

…Wow you turned around fast.

“They’re NOT me. Don’t you ever say that again.”

Ok, ok, sorry.

“You will be.”

And off she goes. Storming ahead. Have to run to keep up.

I’m sorry, Mary. Do you want to talk about it?

1245

That’d be a no, I take it?

1313

Well, on an emotional level, that was a really uncomfortable walk. But we’re here, at long last.

Mary seems calmer, but it’s pretty clear that she considers our previous conversation closed. I’ve decided it’s probably best to respect her wishes.

Plus, she kind of scares me.

She’s inside, checking the facility. I’m to keep watch for anything suspicious. Depending on your definition, around here that’s either nothing or everything. So I don’t actually know what I’m watching for. But I’m watching for it.

“Ok, come on in. You can meet the gang.”

…Gang?

“Yeah. Come on. Here. This is Larry, Curly, and Moe.”

I don’t understand, who off Earth… Oh! Lightodgs?

“Yup. Needed somebody to run the generator. These guys do a great job.”

Um. Mary.

“Yeah?”

Why are they in cages?

Ninety-Seventh Entry

March 17^th, 2037

0937

Dear Space Diary.

Despite our early morning conversations, I actually slept quite well. Maybe definitive action is the best medicine.

Mary’s currently availing herself of a last shower before we head out to the fuel plant. I’m availing myself of the opportunity of sitting in the corner with my chair facing away from the shower door and not moving an inch. Mary was very polite but extremely clear about this. The Zubrin is roomy, but when you’re building a ship for one person you don’t especially need to worry about such concerns as privacy.

1010

Gosh this wall’s interesting.

…hang on, how long has she been in the shower for? Hasn’t she heard of water conservation?

“The water supply is a special tank filled with “dense” water that’s been compacted down to effectively a kind of concentrate. I don’t pretend to understand the science, but basically they’ve managed to store a small ocean in a small tank down the back. All the system needs to do is add the decompression agent and bingo, near unlimited water, by our terms.”

How do you know all this?

“20 years. Reading time. I think I’ve covered that.”

So what’s the decompression agent?

“I think you’re going to like this.”

…It’s water, isn’t it.

“Yup. It mixes with the concentrate in minute doses, triggering a chain reaction that causes the water to expend to pretty much normal levels. Isn’t science wonderful?”

“So to make water, we just need to add water?”

Indeed. Only a tiny amount though. Otherwise we’d have a tidal wave that’s trying to fit in a small shower. It won’t end well. You can turn around now, by the way.”

Thank you. Do you mind if I use the shower now?

“Oh you won’t need to, really. I washed you just yesterday.”

…Um, what?

“Don’t give me that look, exfoliating is very important.”

When you’ve got lead poisoning?

“I dunno, maybe. But it’s good for your skin.”

…Right.

1020

And we’re off.

Mary’s taken the lead since she actually knows where we’re going. So I’m just strolling along behind, taking in the city sights for nearly the last time.

1025

Bored now.

1055

Are we there yet?

“How old are you?”

Old enough to be bored.

“But we’re going home soon! To Earth! You’ve plenty of time to be bored later. Like on the voyage home. Which reminds me, do you need any supplies from the Zubrin for the trip? Entertainment for example?”

Well, I did have a book.

“Really? When I looked in there all I found was a few dozen paper cranes.”

Yeah. Did.

“Right. Well before we go, help yourself to anything from the library. I’ve read most of it, and I can transmit the electronic ones.”

I dunno, they’re all science books. What if they’re boring?

“…Then I hijack your ship, sever the tow cable, and leave you drifting in the dark void of space.”

They sound great! I’d love to read them.

Ninety-Sixth Entry

March 17^th, 2037

0320

Dear Space Diary.

I can’t sleep. This seems to be a regular occurrence.

Lying awake on the floor of the Zubrin. There’s only one Bed and by seniority alone, Mary gets it. She made that politely quite clear. But we found a spare doona and a pillow, and the floor isn’t THAT hard I guess. Mainly though, I can’t sleep because our conversation last night keeps going through my head.

It never occurred to me that NASA might not be coming.

I’m sure that must be wrong. I’ve seen the newspapers, and pictures of the ship. It must be coming. I mean, Mary’s right, NASA have been lying to us. Kind of a lot. They probably think it was with good reason. But still. Honesty and NASA are not the closest of bedfellows.

Mind you, Mary has been stuck in space for 20 years, and on a mostly deserted planet for a couple more. That’s bound to do things to you. She could be insane. She could be irreparably pessimistic.

“She could be still awake.”

She could be still… oops.

0340

“You still awake?”

Yes.

“Ok. Look. Don’t give up hope. NASA could still be coming. But I still think we should look at our own options. We have a faster than light ship, that has more than enough fuel to get us home. I checked, that’s real enough. All we need is the fuel to get it into space. And I can make that.”

Why are you even making fuel?

“Because if nothing else presented itself, I could at least fly home the long way. And get to enjoy the remainder of my life on Earth.”

When you’re 60?

“I’ve met some pretty wild 60 year olds.”

…Tell you what; let’s end that particular avenue of conversation right there.

“Suits me fine.”

So my ship can take off. That’s great. But it’s a one person ship. And don’t get me wrong, you seem a lovely person, but I’m not sure I really want to spend several months in permanent physical contact strapped into the seat with you.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

All the girls on this planet, anyway.

“So very wrong. Anyway, I thought of that too. We use my tow cable to anchor the Zubrin to your ship. Then you simply fly us home. We’ll stay in radio contact, so we won’t be alone for the voyage.”

…That might actually work.

“It actually might. Both ships have enough food…”

They’re both sturdy enough to survive re-entry.

“We’re both used to long voyages.”

And it’ll show NASA we’re not to be pushed around anymore.

Exactly. You in?”

…Ok, I’m in.

“Right on. See? We have hope. We can go home.”

We can go home.

“I just said that.”

I was repeating it for emphasis.

“Oh.”

We can go home.

“Stop it. Now, the first step of our plan is most important.”

And that is?

“Shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”

Ninety-Fifth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

2250

Dear Space Diary.

…I’m not sure what to say.

“Hello would be traditional.”

Um, hello.

“Please to meet you. I’m Mary. The real one.”

I’m surprised. I didn’t think she was still around. And she’s a fair bit older than the last Mary I met. About 20 years older, in fact, which makes sense, given then whole 20 years lost in space.

“Not the fondest half of my life, if I was to be honest.”

No I’d imagine not. Still, it’s all kind of falling into place. The Mary I met before was… one of the other ones. I read about them in the mission documents. The purpose of this whole city was to test –

“Oh, you’re still doing the narration thing. That’s adorable.”

Thanks?

“You’re welcome!”

You’re a lot nicer than, um…

“Mary 2.0?”

Yes.

“Cut her some slack. She had a lot to be angry about.”

She did?

“You’ve no idea. And that’s not just a figure of speech. You really have no idea what NASA has done.”

I’m starting to.

“That’s the spirit. Now come on. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us. I’m afraid my tow truck act used up all the fuel I had on this side of the city. Up for some heavy lifting?”

You have fuel?

“Oh yes. Hacked a couple of lightdogs to do the construction. The formula’s my own, but they do the actual mixing. Sadly they were reprogrammed with the rest of the ones you saw. Don’t know how well the machine’s been running since then.”

Formula? You’ve made fuel? Like, actual fuel?

Well, not actual fuel. Actually, if you’ll forgive the lack of modesty, it’s a fair bit better than the dirty brown gunk they’ve pumped into the tanks. At least we’ve burnt off most of that now, should help clear the engines out a bit. This stuff is clean, slow burning, and lasts for donkeys. Bit proud.”

Well. That’s amazing. I’m sorry, this must sound rude, but I read your logs. You didn’t exactly strike me as the engineering chemical composition type.

“It does sound rude. But you’re forgiven. When I left Earth I was nothing like that. But I did have a lot of reading time, and the Zubrin’s digital library was well stocked.”

You became an expert in rocket fuels in 20 years?

“Oh goodness no.”

I thought not.

“I became an expert in rocket fuels after year three. At least in theory. Then I started practicing other things.”

Like what?

“Macramé, for one. But that’s less immediately useful.”

…right.

“Anyway, come on. Let’s go grab what we can, and then we can get out of here. Now we’ve got a faster than light ship, I’m anxious to see Earth again. I honestly thought I’d never return. You changed that. Thank you.”

You’re welcome. But… shouldn’t we wait for NASA’s rescue ship?

“Oh, you poor naïve man.”

What? I don’t understand.

“After all their lies, you actually thought they were coming?”

Ninety-Fourth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

2210

Dear Space Diary.

The Zubrin is floating in the air right above me.

I don’t mean floating in the magical pink unicorn sense. I mean the loud, smoking, burning smell of rocket fuel sense.

I guess I wasn’t dreaming. But Mary is almost certainly dead. I saw her drop into the pit!

…I saw her drop into the pit. Hmm. I guess I didn’t actually see her die. And I never saw the body. Could she have survived?

As far as I can see, either a) Mary Survived, b) Mary is a God, c) Mary is a Zombie, or d) Something less stupid.

If so, my actions must be either a) ask her how off Earth she survived, b) Convert, c) Scream, or d) Something less stupid.

Either way, I guess all I can do is see what happens next.

THUNK

What happens next is The Zubrin is shooting at me. I’m dead.

2215

I may not be as dead as I previously had indicated. No shot followed the first one. To be honest I’m not even sure what I was shot with. Tough to see from inside the ship. And I’m not entirely keen to go out when people appear to be shooting. Plus I’m not sure what’s up with that whole ‘dying of lead poisoning’ thing. If indeed that still is a thing. It may be not a thing.

Hmm. If I crane my head ever so slightly, I can just make out… something. Some kind of cord connecting the Zubrin to my ship. Like a mother with a baby, if the mother was a rocket ship and the baby was also a rocket ship.

The Zubrin hasn’t moved.

2220

Surely it’s going to run out of fuel at some point. How does it even have fuel? The whole reason it ended up 20 years later out here is that it had none.

And yet, above me it is.

2234

Well? Do something! I’m getting bored.

Bah. I wonder if there’s still solitaire on this thing.

2235

Typical. Moment I assume it’s not going anywhere, it goes somewhere.

And me with it. That’s a magnet, or an electronic latch, or a harpoon or something. The Zubrin is towing me along.

2239

Had a hunch, and seems I was right. It’s taking me back to the city.

Should be a short ride given how fast we’re – oh we’re here.

2246

Landing took a bit of fancy driving, given the Zubrin was trying to a) land me safely and b) not land on top of me, but must say it was handled pretty well. I am impressed.

Ok, we’re inside, we’re safe, now who the hell are you?

2249

Come on! Come out! I can bang on this door all day! Well actually, I’m pretty tired, so could you come out soon please?

Door’s opening. The spacesuit is looking at me. The visor’s opaque, so I can’t see who it is.

They’re raising their visor…

Oh.

Ninety-Third Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1815

Dear Space Diary.

Can’t… think… properly. Words… go… wrong… ish.

“Stop talking. Go back to sleep.”

1827

Ow.

“Sorry. You’re heavier than I expected.”

Don’t mention it.

“Shh. We’re almost back. Try and keep the oxygen mask on.”

…The what?

“Never mind. I’ll try and keep it on you.”

Oxygen… Good.

“Yes. Oxygen very good. Deep breaths.”

Ok. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

“I’m going to give you another shot.”

Is the lead… still there?

“Yes. Also, your talking is less than useful.”

Ow.

“Ow indeed. Don’t worry. I’ve almost carried you back. You can sit down soon. Back in your ship. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being back in your ship?”

Mary… was going to help me. But she’s not going to help me. Is she?

“…Mary is going to help you.”

I don’t understand.

“Shh. Nearly there.”

I’m going to pass out now.

“You do that.”

1903

“You’re in your ship now. I’m going to strap you in and get you set up.”

Thank you Mary.

“…You’re welcome. Ok, left arm up. And through the strap. Good boy. Now right arm. No, that’s your left arm again. Right arm. On your right. Hence the name.”

This one?

“No.”

Oh. This one?

“No, that’s still the same one.”

Oh. Really?

“I assure you, it is. There we go. Ok. Just clipping you in. Now, I’m just going to adjust your tubes.”

Glaaarhghghghabblle.

“Ok, that’s the food one in.”

ARGH!

“And there’s the other end. Now, just sit here. It’s going to take a while for the side effects to wear out. But when you wake up, your system will be clean. Back to normal. But don’t go outside again, ok? I’ve only got three shots left, and I’d prefer they went on emergencies rather than stupidity.”

Oooooookay.

“Right. Now wait here. I’ll be back to get you. I’m just going to empty the fuel tanks. They’re pretty empty, but hopefully I can get something.”

Fueeeel. Won’t I need that?

“It’s just to get back to the city. Don’t worry, I know where there’s more.”

Ooooooooookay.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Ooooooooookay.

“On second thoughts, don’t. Just… go back to sleep. I’ll be back to pick you up.”

Goodbye Mary.

“…Bye.”

2200

Ow, my head hurts. Feels like I’ve been drinking for weeks. Man.

…How did I get back in my spaceship? Last thing I remember was…

Oh Mary.

Had the weirdest dream that someone carried me here. But it must have been a dream. There’s nobody else left. I must have gotten back here myself and passed out.

Odd. There’s a note taped to the dashboard. ‘DO TOXICOLOGY TEST.’

I guess it would be good to know how bad the poisoning is.

2203

It’s… clear! No lead at all. I don’t understand. How?

Maybe it wasn’t a dream. But if I wasn’t dreaming, who was in the spacesuit? And where are they now?

…And what’s that noise?

2205

There’s something flying above me. Something big.

2207

…It’s the Zubrin!

Ninety-Second Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1738

Dear Space Diary

The Lead poisoning must be making me hallucinate. I’d swear I saw someone in a spacesuit standing over there.

But the only person who it could be possibly be is Mary, and she’s currently a) dead, and b) dead.

So obviously it’s a hallucination.

True, I don’t really feel any ill effects of lead poisoning yet, apart from a deep and gut wrenching depression. Also a tendency to exaggerate, although they possibly both started long before the lead poisoning. In fact, unless I specifically get up and go eat something, I’ll probably starve to death before the lead finishes me off.

But either way, unless I can do a ten minute run in about a minute, I’m doomed. Doomed as a dodo. A dodo that’s doomed.

Doomed.

Oh look, the hallucination is walking closer. I suppose it can keep me company while I lie here in doomed misery. Hello Hallucination.

“Hello.”

You’re looking very hallucinogenic today.

“…Are you ok?”

Oh yes. Just making conversation before I die. I’m doomed, you see.

“How long have you been out here?”

About half an hour.

“No, I mean, how long have you been out here. On this planet.”

Oh. Weeks. But surely you know that. You’re a figment of my imagination, after all.

“…Sure. Listen, you’re going to need some clear air. I’ve got an oxygen mask trapped to my air filter here. Take it.”

No point. I’m doomed, you see.

“Yes, you mentioned that. I can help. NASA left some medicine in the Zubrin. It should help.”

I never saw any medicine.

“That would probably be because I took it with me. I didn’t expect to be coming back to the ship.”

Coming back?

“Ok, you know what? Time is running out for you, so if it’s ok, I’m going to ask you to shut up now while I save your life.”

Seems a fair trade.

“Ok, just lie still and breathe deep. Here’s the mask.”

Sure.

…She’s dead, you know.

“Stop talking.”

I wanted to save her.

“I know. I’ve been watching. Listen, you’re going to feel a sharp, stabbing pain in your arm in just a moment.”

Why’s that?

“Because I’m about to stab you with something sharp.”

Oh. A needle?

“Bingo. It’ll help clear your system out. I’ll carry you back to your ship.”

Why will you need to carry me?

“Well, you’re about to pass out.”

From exhaustion?

“No, from what I just injected into your arm.”

I thought you said it was medicine?

“It is. The unconsciousness is just a happy side effect.”

So I can rest?

“More so that you’ll shut up for a bit. But hey, everyone wins.”

Oh. I’m starting to feel woozy now.

“Bang on schedule. Listen. Don’t worry. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You’re doing fine. There’s nothing you could have done to save her.”

I guess.

“Anyway. Plenty more where she came from.”

…What did you just –?

THUMP

“Thank goodness for that.”

Ninety-First Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1727

Dear Space Diary.

Mary’s gone. She just stepped off the edge of the pit. So presumably she’s down there, rather than simply vanished. But, she, um, is not exactly able to report on her findings.

Or maybe she is! She could be ok! Or even slightly mangled, which in the broad definition of alive vs dead, still counts as ok, if you remove enough decimal places.

Come on, get up! Stand up! You have to go check on her.

1728

Hmm. The edge looks stable enough to stand on. These lightdogs are good cutters. Just a perfectly smooth 90 degree angle. From horizontal to vertical, with no stops along the way.

…Right. That’s very deep. I wouldn’t go so far to call it bottomless (arguably you’d eventually come out the other side), but the light runs out before it does. I can’t actually see the bottom. The dust being kicked up the lightdogs – who are presumably all down there working – doesn’t exactly help either.

I think it’s safe to say that if I can’t see her, she can’t see me. Or indeed, anything.

She’s definitely gone. Barring the miraculous, she’s… dead.

…Mary.

I know we didn’t get on very well. At all. You did try and leave without me. Followed shortly afterwards by me trying and leaving with you. We both kind of failed in that department.

But still. You were the only other human around for light years and that meant you were the closest thing to a friend I was going to get.

You weren’t an enemy, anyway.

I’m… sorry you’re gone.

1729

There’s nothing I can do for her. I can’t even climb down to retrieve her body. The wall is as smooth as ice.

The smooth kind, not that rocky stuff.

I’d certainly never be able to carry her back up again. This pit, effectively, is a very, very large grave.

I guess I should head back to the ship. I don’t know how I’m going to move it, but I guess I’ll have to think of something.  Maybe NASA will have some ideas. Either way, I should be getting back before I’m exposed to too much lead.

…Which is in about 30 seconds.

Hmm.

Crap.

1732

Running like anything. But I’m not even close. I know it’s not an exact 30 minutes, but it’s close and I’m out of time.

I’ll never get back. The ship is at least 10 minutes run away at full breath, and I’m still worn out from the last run I did.

This appears to be it.

1735

Can’t… keep… running. Exhausted. Tired. Just need to… stop.

THUMP.

Now I’m lying down it seems. That’s ok. Might as well die comfortably. By the time I got back to the ship I’d still be doomed. May as well take it lying down.

1736

What a way to go. All alone. Dying and alone. Just me and that person in the spacesuit over there.

1737

Wait a minute.

Ninetieth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1715

Dear Space Diary.

Keep calm.

Keep really calm.

Ok, so Mary’s sitting in the spaceship. That’s ok. That’s fine. She’s looking at the computer. That’s fine. That’s ok. The computer you left open confidential mission documents that you were expressly asked not to let her see.

That’s less fine.

The documents are all about her.

That’s not ok.

Keep calm. She may not have read it. She may be looking at something else. Maybe NASA sent a new message. Something harmless. Like, the rescue ship is here! And we brought doughnuts.

Or she could be reading the confidential mission documents all about here that I left open, on the screen, in plain sight. Because I’m real smart that way.

I should go explain. Or pretend I don’t know what they’re talking about. Whichever of those is the less cowardly.

She’s seen me. She’s not smiling. Is that good? Or bad? She doesn’t look angry, either. She just… looks.

I’m getting pretty close now. Should I wave? No, that would look stupid. Or a friendly thumbs up? No, even more stupid.

I wonder what she’ll say.

Oh. As it turns out, nothing. Instead, she’s running away.

With the spacesuit.

I should go after her. But I’ve only got 15 minutes of safe time before the lead in the atmosphere starts getting dangerous. I should just sit the spacesuit. But she could be miles away before I can safely get back out again.

…damn it. I better go after her.

1717

She’s a pretty fast runner, but the spacesuit is pretty ungainly, and I’m a decent sprinter in my much less baggy uniform. I’m catching up, but she’s still fairly far away.

1719

Getting closer. Starting to get puffed though. I really should have exercised more back on Earth. Like, more than once.

She’s heading up the hill. This is my chance to catch her.

Agh. The light is blinding. We’re running almost directly into the sun, and it’s still pretty bright. In fact we’re heading just a little south of west.

Hmm, that’s back towards the light dogs. Is that deliberate?

Should probably save my breath for this whole running thing.

1724

Ok, top of the hill. I must be close behind her…

The lightdogs have been busy it seems. That’s quite the chasm. Is it a chasm if it’s man, er, robot made? Either way, it’s an extremely large, very deep hole.

And Mary’s running right towards it.

Mary! Stop! Come back!

I’ve got to keep – ahh!

Ow.

Erk.

Ouch.

Ooh.

Urk.

THUMP

1726

…Falling down hills hurt, who knew?

Can see Mary from where I’m lying. She’s right on the edge of the pit now. Please stop, Mary. Please.

Oh good. She’s stopped. She’s turning back. That’s good. Now start walking.

1727

Ok, take your helmet off first. That’s fine.

Sure, wave at me, fine. Nice to see you too. Now, slowly start to walk…

No, forwards! Not… back…

She… stepped off.

She’s… she’s gone.

Eighty-Ninth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1625

Dear Space Diary.

The mission parameter files have been unlocked. I can read them. Like, any time I want to. Any time at all. Now even. I could read them right now.

...I'm scared.

Not actually sure why, but I am nervous. There's clearly something cryptic that NASA has been hiding from me, artfully and masterfully hidden behind a veil of incompetence.

No, I'm pretty sure that was genuine.

1645

Well, it's a blessedly small 54 pages, instead of the 400 page document it was hidden within, but it's still a pretty dense read.

What I can make out so far is that the group that funded this mission (NASA still haven't said who) wanted to test out their new manufacturing systems. However certain laws at the time prevented them from carrying out tests on Earth. So they funded NASA to secretly launch their devices at Mars, under the pretext of the first human mission to another planet gone wrong.

Well, full points for determination I guess. Or stubbornness And being really, really rich. I guess they decided Mary was really, really rich.

I wonder what prevented them from building a city on Earth though? It's hardly illegal. In fact with the population levels as they are it's probably encouraged. We could all use a little extra leg room.

Also food.

In fact, why hasn't this nutritional paste been rolled out worldwide? Sure it's disgusting, but I know for a fact it's cheap to make. I've got enough on board hear to last me 50 years (I'm desperately hoping that was just generous overstocking on NASA's part). Plenty of people back home who are living like sardines. But without any actual sardines.

Probably a secret recipe or something. Bloody copyright.

1655

Strangely, for a secret plan to build a city on another planet, there doesn't seem to be much mention of, well, a city.

Hang on, I'll do a search.

Ctrl-F.

Oh good, that still works.

Enter Search word... c... i... t... y.

Searching, searching, searching, searching.

One match found.

ONE?! Really?

Footnote on page 37.

A city will be created by additional construction units to house manufacturing.

That's it. That's all it says. A city will be created... to house manufacturing. I thought the city WAS the manufacturing.

What's the footnote connected to...

1657

...Oh.

Oh my God.

I have to find Mary.

1700

Been a while since I've been outside without the suit. The air's worse than I remember.

She went that way, I think.

1702

...or was it that way? No, I'm sure it was this way.

1706

There she is! Just disappeared over the next hill. Mary!

1708

I don't understand it. She's gone. Where? She was here a moment ago

...Only 20 minutes until I need to be back inside. I should head back.

She'll come back. I'll talk to her then.

1711

Oh good! What a relief. She's back at the ship already, sitting inside reading the console.

...oh bugger.