Going Home

Going Home (A Short Story)

Going Home

A Short Story

For as much as the world sucked anymore, Matt really didn't want to leave Earth.

He wanted to write the really in huge capital letters. In ink, right across his dad's forehead.

Matt shifted in his chair, searching the waiting room. There weren't any stores in Space Port Nine that sold ink pens. Heck, they were hard to find online anymore. The closest store in the terminal had some cheap solar tablets for sale out front and some T-shirts, but not much else. He wished he'd kept all his art supplies with him, but they were all in their luggage. It could be getting loaded onto the ship by now.

All he had was his small sketch pad, the one with the rip in the cover, and a few regular pencils. Matt couldn't help but wonder if his dad had put everything else in one of his own briefcases to make sure he got on the ship. All of his prize drawings were packed away, including his first ones, the ones of his Aunt Cecily's greenhouse. Maybe he shouldn't have said he hated the idea of spending the rest of his life on Mars.

He'd have his supplies for the two week journey, but what good would it do? He wouldn't have crap to draw on the ship. Walls, sinks and hallways. That was it. And then what? Dead, rolling hills and pink skies. He'd have some greenhouses to sketch at the colony, of course, but that would get old fast. The air outside on Earth could be hard to breathe sometimes, but at least here, he could go outside.

Matt sighed and added another line onto his drawing of their house. Home, where he could pretend he was sitting. Man, he missed it already. The weird patterns in his bedroom ceiling. The funny noise their heating system made that helped him fall asleep every night. He stared harder at the image, trying to melt away into it. It helped calm his nerves.

"Cheer up, Matt," his father said, shifting and holding up his tablet. He scrolled through some text. Probably something about stocks or money. If it wasn't for his dad investing in some biochip company a few years ago, they wouldn't be moving in the first place. "You'll make new friends. This is the way of the future. Besides, I'll make us a lot of money on one of the terraforming projects."

Matt gripped the sides of his chair. "Why are we trying to make Mars all nice when we could be fixing our own planet?" He glanced outside at the smog that hung over the buildings. It looked green in the setting sun. A bunch of noxious stuff from the old mines had to be leaking out. Some methane or ammonia or whatever they said it was. Why didn't anybody try to stop that? Matt wondered sometimes if the government was polluting on purpose to force everybody to leave Earth. They probably made money that way.

"Why are you so serious at your age?" His father smiled at him. "You should be worried about girls and sports at this time in your life."

"And there's lots of girls here." Sports, he could care less about. "There aren't a lot of teenagers over in the colonies. You said so yourself."

His father sat back in his chair. Matt had made a good point, and they both knew it.

"Dad, there's still time for us to go back home," Matt continued. He had to keep the momentum up. "It'll be easy. Just grab our luggage, and we go." His heart pounded. This was his last chance to convince his dad. The rest of his life depended on this.

His father coughed. "Matt, you don't understand. We are going home. They have nice quarters set up there for us already."

He still didn't get the point. Why did his dad want to go to Mars so bad? He could make money here. If Matt didn't know any better, it seemed like his dad was nervous, too.