Squeee, squeee, squeak. The Welcome Centre desk attendant scanned, squeegee in hand, for more spots on the perfectly transparent exterior window and its freshly shined, centrally placed intercom. The Welcome Centre was an essential hub for all units arriving at Mercury Station III, regardless of their programmed duties. Here, mechanical citizens received assignments that collectively provided a crucial service to the human race: the maintenance of solar-energy turbines. The attendant proudly scanned the landing terminal through the window. “Starting the day off right: dust free. What’s this? Travellers approaching?” Astronauts, two large and two little, descended a ladder positioned underneath their craft, half-way across the terminal.
The travellers waddled clumsily through the terminal, looking down, struggling to make sense of the surrounding foreign signage. Directly in view of the window, a little one slipped. Feet flung into the air. They wriggled their limbs like a child making snow-angels. Low gravity and puffy, vinyl-coated space suits are a poor combination for stability. The information attendant gazed at the family, both amused and concerned. These were unlike any units the attendant had ever seen. The largest traveller knocked on the window. Their visor retracted, revealing leathery wrinkled skin and a few grey hairs. He shouted quite unnecessarily at the intercom, “What’ll y’all know about there being a hotel nearby?”
Mystified, the attendant took control of the situation. A silver cable protracted from its chest and connected to the intercom. “Human, your presence beyond Venus is concerning. State your business.”
“Of course. My business! Yes, my family and I are en route to a resort —”
The attendant interrupted: “Human travel beyond Venus is not allowed. You are clearly lost. We can chart you a path to Mars … Please hold, I’ll need a moment to coordinate your travel.” The attendant hastily disconnected from the intercom with a loud ‘Plug’, then shuffled cables around various terminals. The travellers watched the attendant speak into a terminal but heard nothing.
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The family conversed. “Sarc, what are we doing here? The little ones need to go potty and I don’t see anything here. No restaurants, no hotels. And you didn’t mention this was a Mercurian society! Are we safe? Oh, what you’ll do to save a buck.”
The attendant signalled the family’s attention. “Mhmm, yes … yes, thank you.” Plug. “Travellers! Thank you for waiting. Right now, it is early morning. The next possible Mars transport won’t begin loading until pre-evening. We can put you up in the Subsurface colony for the time being. I’ll arrange for your descent. One moment, please.” Plug.
The family resumed squabbling. “See? Subsurface Colony! I think we’ll really have a chance to bond during this trip.”
“Did you even call ahead, Sarc?”
“Hun, I thought you wanted to travel someplace warmer this year, and the Subsurface colony has great ratings.”
“4.1 out of 5? That’s not very high.”
The attendant, eavesdropping, smouldered with frustration. These tourists were oblivious to the struggling society around them.
Plug. “Travellers, you’ll be able to enter the colony soon. We are still locating a room for you. There are several vacancies, but that’s because the ceiling partially melted during the last flare up. You’d be directly exposed to the photosphere.”
The little ones oohed and aahed.
“Those rooms sound lovely. Our kiddos love science-y things,” Sarc boasted. “I paid extra for that view.”
The attendant, stunned, continued: “I must also apologize that our cafeteria is currently under construction. A crater suddenly collapsed above the previous dining hall. The patrons were liquefied by molten salt, and all that remained became crystallized.”
“A salt cave! Oh Sarc, you’ll be sure to book us a couple’s massage there at some point during our stay?”
The attendant could no longer maintain its professional demeanour. “Do you humans even have ganglia? People can’t come here. Can you comprehend the resources you waste by pretending to be explorers where you cannot live? Do humans ever consider the burden we would bear of deciding which planets should have power? Ugh!” Plug.
“Sarc, I will not be spoken to in this way, certainly not by a Mercurian. I’ll take the little ones out of earshot. Handle this.”
Sarc leaned into the intercom. “Look pal. I fully intend to contact your supervisor about how rude you’ve been. We, the customer, are paying your salary. I expect some compensation for this god-awful treatment.”
The attendant fell quiet for a moment, confused.
Plug. “I am afraid I have been too indirect regarding the precarity of your circumstance. A precisely guided transport to Mars can only happen if you survive this day. We never know when for sure, but at any moment, a solar flare will turn us into dust. For us, Mercury is a one-way ticket. Our society has safeguards for regeneration, of course. I replaced the prior attendant early this morning. You should’ve seen the dust on this window …”
Sweat appeared on Sarc’s face. “If we’re in danger we will, of course, leave. You said a transport could get us to Mars as early as this evening?”
Now the attendant was truly taken aback, having once again overestimated what humans knew about the societies that maintain their infrastructure. “You eat and sleep on a 24-hour cycle, correct? That daily schedule does not exist here. This side of Mercury won’t turn away from the Sun for 1,563 hours. On your cycle, that’s about 65 days.”
Sarc signalled the family to return. The family huddled.
“So? What did you say? What’s gonna happen?”
“Well first, I gave that Mercurian a piece of my mind. To compensate us, they’ve extended our stay by two whole months.”
