Realms of Sci-Fi

The Quest Begins

"Have you ever considered why the surface of Mars is so barren?" the Professor's luncheon guest questioned over the rim of his steaming teacup. "If there was life here once, where did it all go that no trace was left for us to find when we got here?"

"I assume by your question, you have an answer," the Professor theorized.

"Of course," the guest confirmed, taking a tentative sip of his hot tea. "I posed the question to find out if you came to the same conclusion."

The two men sat in high-backed chairs of caramel brown on opposing sides of a small table where a silver tea pitcher let loose a slow curl of hot vapor from its spout. The ancient clock standing by the manual-style door ticked rhythmically in a relaxing manner. The walls, with the exception of the one holding a reinforced window looking out across the barren red soil of Mars, were covered in bookshelves. Old style books bound in varying shades of leather filled the shelves with the knowledge of many worlds.

Although computers held more information and had faster retrieval options than books, the Professor loved his books, even converting modern writings to paper as books were harder to change than a computer file, and when something was good or true, it didn't need to be changed. Books had a more tangible finality to them, and the Professor ardently refused to give them up.

"I suppose there are two possibilities," the Professor considered aloud. "Firstly, the storms of high winds and blowing rock and sand have, over time, worn down everything to dust. Secondly, the natives never lived on the surface because it was too inhospitable."

"I know the answer as to which it is," his guest announced, saluting the Professor with his cup.

"Indeed?" the Professor questioned. "If this is so, why haven't you announced your discovery?"

The guest set down his cup with a soft clink upon its matching saucer before leaning back in his chair and fixing the Professor with an appraising stare.

"The worlds have forgotten me," the guest informed his host.

"Nonsense," the Professor interrupted. "You're the foremost authority in several scientific fields."

"Don't flatter the ego of an old man," the guest dismissed, waving away the compliment like an annoying insect. "Although many of my accomplishments have been well received, my theories have more often than not been less than welcome, some of them inviting ridicule. As my name slipped from public notice, I found it offered a freedom I haven't known in some time. I am allowed to work without the constant expectation of delivering brilliant new findings on a regular basis. Although I may have found something tremendous, I would rather my name be kept out of it when you tell the worlds the truth of things."

"I can't take credit for another man's discovery," the Professor protested.

"I'm not asking you to," his guest denied. "I simply want you to go somewhere and tell people what you found there. That's all. No one needs to know I pointed you in that direction."

"I don't like it, but I shall respect your wishes," the Professor relented.

"Good," the guest accepted. He pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his brown suit. "Here, when you translate the code, you'll have all the information you need to get started."

"Code?" the Professor questioned.

"This will be no ordinary scientific exploration," the guest warned him. The thick gray mustache on his upper lip seemed to intensify his serious expression. "Such an undertaking requires a man intelligent of mind and resourceful in its application. If you can decode my message, I'll know I picked the right man for the task."