The Emperor of Mars

The Emperor of Mars

By Allen M. Steele

Out here, there`s a lot of ways to go crazy. Get cooped up in a passenger module not much larger than a trailer, and by the time you reach your destination you may have come to believe that the universe exists only within your own mind: it`s called solipsism syndrome, and I`ve seen it happen a couple of times. Share that same module with five or six guys who don`t get along very well, and after three months you`ll be sleeping with a knife taped to your thigh. Pull double-shifts during that time, with little chance to relax, and you`ll probably suffer from depression; couple this with vitamin deficiency due to a lousy diet, and you`re a candidate for chronic fatigue syndrome.

Xx

Folks who`ve never left Earth often think that Titan Plague is the main reason people go mad in space. They`re wrong. Titan Plague may rot your brain and turn you into a homicidal maniac, but instances of that are rare, and there is a dozen other ways to go bonzo that are much more subtle. I`ve seen guys adopt imaginary friends with whom they have long and meaningless conversations, compulsively clean their hardsuits regardless of whether or not they`ve recently worn them, or go for a routine spacewalk and have to be begged to come back into the airlock. Some people just aren`t cut out for life away from Earth, but there`s no way to predict who`s going to lose their mind.

The Emperor of Mars. Photo by Elena

When something like that happens, I have a set of standard procedures: ask the doctor to prescribe antidepressants, keep an eye on them to make sure they don`t do anything that might put themselves or others at risk, relieve them of duty if I can, and see what I can do about getting them back home as soon as possible. Sometimes I don`t have to do any of this. A guy goes crazy for a little while, and then he gradually works out whatever it was that got in his head; the next time I see him, he`s in the commissary, eating Cheerios like nothing ever happened. Most of the time, though, a mental breakdown is a serious matter. I think I`ve shipped back about one out of every twenty people because of one issue or another.

But one time, I saw someone go mad, and it was the best thing that could have happened to him. That was Jeff Halbert. Let me tell about him…

Back in `48, I was General Manager of Arsia Station, the first and largest of the Mars colonies. This was a year before the formation of the Pax Astra, about five years before the colonies declared independence. So the six major Martian settlements were still under control of Earth-based corporation or another, with Arsia Station owned and operated by ConSpace. We had about a hundred people living there by then, the majority short-timers or short-term contracts; only a dozen or so, like myself, were permanent residents who left Earth for good.

(Read the full text in The Best Year’s Science Fiction Anthology 2011, edited by Gardner Dozois)