Mission to Mars

Manned Mission to Mars

It was Meretzky's turn in the exercise pod again. For reasons that IRIS, the ship's diagnostic computer, could not figure out, Meretzky had been losing bone density faster than any of his colleagues. For weeks now, IRIS had been rearranging the crew's schedule to accommodate Meretzky's extra time in the exercise pod -- Meretzky had also been forced to wear a tightened suit to increase the level of mechanical stress on his skeleton and stimulate the levels of bone growth. He wouldn't be much use if they landed on the red planet, as the first human beings to set foot on its surface, and with his first giant step for mankind the leg bones snapped like twigs. That would never do.

But IRIS was acting strangely, and she had been for months. It started after the blood test that revealed the elevated calcium levels in Meretzky's bloodstream -- the rest of the crew wasn't having those problems. And it would be strange to say this about an Artificial Intelligence system -- although before the mission all of the crew had been thoroughly schooled in knowing that IRIS wasn't really Intelligent, it was just a sophisticated series of algorithms and speech emulators -- but IRIS seemed to be flailing. It's not that the instructions were contradictory: it's just that Meretzky's sudden increased bone loss, after so much travel time, when they were almost at their destination, seemed to have triggered some kind of crisis mode. Or actually Meretzky was pretty sure what it was. IRIS had signaled to Mission Control on Earth that this was a medical problem beyond her pay-grade. Something had triggered her internal analytic algorithms to say: Meretzky's bone-density loss was beyond all expectations, so now we're operating in a realm where he's not an astronaut subject to expected medical protocols, but essentially an ongoing medical experiment. Except the available data doesn't tell us how to keep this patient alive. Meretzky was sure this had happened, and as a result IRIS was having to communicate with a team of medical specialists back on Earth. Hence the accelerated exercise schedule, and the increasingly frequent blood and serum tests.

Meretzky climbed into the exercise pod and began strapping himself in. The lights came on indicating that IRIS was listening. "You can seal the exercise pod, IRIS," said Meretzky. "I'm ready for whatever we're doing this time."

The flickering lights of IRIS's speech synthesizer appeared on the viewscreen. "You'll be exercising for an hour, then I'll probably do some tests. We'll see how you feel."

Meretzky remembered their training. The best thing was to be completely honest with the interactive diagnostic systems. Especially about your internal mental state. "The only thing that has me feeling funny, IRIS, is the way you've been handling this. The other crew members are practically working double duty, because I keep getting pulled for medical observation."

"Your fellow crew members haven't complained to me, Meretzky," said the flickering voice synthesizer. "They'd like to know why you're losing bone mass so much faster than they are. After all, you'll have a 500-day stay on Mars, then a flight home. None of you wants to be unable to walk when the ship gets back on earth."

"But it's not a problem on Mars, is it? Gravity's lighter there," said Meretzky. "Maybe my lighter skeleton would come in handy."

"It's a little over a third of the gravity you're used to on earth," said IRIS. "But we have no data on what a long-term stay on Mars does physiologically to humans. It's best if we have you in good condition when you make landfall, don't you think? You'll be in better condition when you get home."

"You're thinking farther ahead than I am, IRIS."

"That's what computers do, Meretzky."

"Why are you called IRIS, anyway?" he asked, even though he knew the answer to this. But a little cornball humor helped to make the months pass on this mission.

"You really need to ask?" said the computer, who had been programmed to seem as unpredictable and hesitant as a human interlocutor.

"I'm asking."

"Because it's Siri spelled backwards," said the computer, making reference to a well-known consumer product way back from Meretzky's childhood, an operating system that tried to hint at the sorts of things IRIS could do. "Now I'd like you to exercise, Meretzky. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Do I get a playlist?"

"Certainly. What sort of playlist are you in the mood for?"

"Ironic."

The instrumental opening of "The Final Countdown" by Europe began to play and Meretzky smiled. Most people did when they realized a computer could comprehend your own personal taste in irony. Meretzky settled in to doing the accelerated exercise routine for the next hour, while the ironic spaceflight music continued: a heavy amount of Bruno Mars, Sarah Brightman singing "I Lost My Heart To A Starship Trooper," Zager and Evans singing "In The Year 2525."

About halfway through the exercise routine Meretzky called out. "Iris, kill the music."

"Is something the matter, Meretzky?"

"I'd just rather do conversation. Think you can handle it."

"Of course. What would you like to talk about?"

"The mission."

"Of course. What about the mission?"

"Do I really need strong bones to do experimental lichen and bacterial farming? After all, I'm the trained mycologist on the team. I'm mostly going to be tabulating data on whether we can get anything organic to grow on that rock."

"You know you'll have more duties than that when you land, Meretzky."

"I know, I know. I'm on argon duty."

"There's only a limited amount of time to get the atmospheric equipment set up for the lab. You can't just mix any old gases from the Mars surface with the mission's oxygen supply. Too much methane and you'll all be dead."

"I know. I remember the training. I can set up the argon farm with Oblomov and Shen, while the other team does the nitrogen farm."

"There's heavy lifting involved. You wouldn't be much use with a broken leg."

"Don't remind me."

"Are you having doubts about the mission, Meretzky?"

"Actually, no. I'm fairly convinced at least one of the genetically altered strains of lichen stands a very good chance of managing photosynthesis up here. And if so, we could set up the dome and seed the right strain in the last hundred days here, and if all goes well, the next mission will arrive to a dome with a little bit of an atmosphere in it."

"What about the radiation?"

"We've done about as much radiation testing on the lichens as we can possibly do. I doubt it could do enough damage to kill off an entire colony. These things are tough. We genetically engineered them to grow here."

The viewscreen flashed the next set of exercises. Meretzky groaned.

"Something the matter?" said IRIS.