Mark Gulliver

As a news editor, you meet all kinds of strange people. Some days it seems that every nut on the planet wants their story published. I was used to dealing with people who came into my office making impossible and un-provable claims. The only reason I gave these nuts any of my time, was every once in a while they turned out not to be a nut, and they had a story worth publishing.

So when a man walked in claiming to be Mars 1 astronaut Mark Gulliver, I found it impossible to believe, after all, four astronauts were killed nine months ago when their ship crashed on landing. Yet the man before me looked so much like Gulliver that I had to hear him out. I figured that he was either his twin brother or a nut that got a good plastic surgery job.

Not only did my visitor insist that he was Mark Gulliver but he wanted me to publish the account of his adventures and eventual return to Earth. To support his claim he even offered to allow us to check his fingerprints, to confirm his identity.  I quickly arranged that and after taking his prints, we sat and talked while I waited for the results.

“So,” I asked, “Why don’t you go to NASA about this?”

“I did,” replied the man, “but you have already given me more time than they did.”

“So please tell me your story,” I said, “At least it should be good for a laugh.

Mars I

Before, beginning his account I would like to remind the reader that Mars 1 was the 1st manned mission to Mars. The ship and her crew were lost on landing with all communications lost and according to official records, there was no way for them to have survived.

 That plus the fact that even if there had been a survivor, there is no way he could have returned to Earth in just nine months, so his story was impossible. However, I need a good laugh and so I listened.

The Tragedy

The man began his story.

The first anomaly was that entry into the Martian atmosphere started at a higher altitude than expected. The second was that the deceleration rate peaked higher than expected. When the parachutes opened the shock was greater than anticipated, and that is when things really started going bad. For one thing, the computer was getting flight data that was so far outside the expected ranges that it failed to turn on the breaking rockets. Fortunately, it also did not jettison the parachutes, because it made the lading survivable even if quite hard.

However during the crash, the main equipment panel was jarred loose falling on top of and killing the other three crew members, I survived only because my seat was directly under the commander’s seat, which ironically protected me from debris. 

After realizing that I was not severely injured and able to move about the cabin,   I checked out my crew mates and found them dead. Since the control panel was shattered, I had only one way to see if the cabin’s air was still breathable, so I removed my helmet. Relieved that I had breathable air I checked out the cabin only to find that the lower deck had cracked open and that I was actually breathing the Martian atmosphere.

A quick look around outside the Lander reviled that we had crashed within sight of the supply an equipment vehicle that had landed two years earlier. This meant that I had enough food and water to last several months and a vehicle to explore with.

After burying my crew mates, I settled into the supply vehicle where I stayed for a time.

The Martians

A few months after arriving on Mars I outfitted the rover for a trip. Not being encumbered by a space suit made this easier but it was still a lengthy task for one person. After traveling for several days, I found something I never expected to find, Martians!

 The Martians were gray in color, with large heads and large dark almond-shaped eyes. What surprised me most was the fact that while some Martians seemed adequately fed; but many of them looked as though they were starving. They were surprisingly friendly particularly since it was obvious that I was from another planet. One of them; named Marvin; offered to take me to his farm for a meal and told me that he was willing to discuss their way of life.

 When we reached the farm, I noticed a field that had just been harvested.  In the field were a dozen pairs of grain piles.

“What’s with the piles of grain?” I asked.

“We’d divided the grain,” said Marvin, “between eleven workers and myself.”

“Why are there two piles, per person?” I asked.

“I have to deduct the taxes to the government,” replied Marvin, “before we can take our share.”

“The tax piles are nearly as high as, that of you and your workers,” I said.

“That’s what the Great One and his court jesters have decided they need to take from us to eat,” responded Marvin.

“But what about the starving people?” I asked.

“Pity, but there’s a famine, replied Marvin, “So there’s not enough grain for them to harvest.”

“I’ve noticed your field is surrounded by unused ground,” I said, “so why don’t you just expand the field to have a large enough crop to employ the starving?”

“If, I did the government would just take more of my grain,” said Marvin, “besides they have forbidden us from making our fields larger to protect the desert.”

“So let me get this straight,” I asked, “they limit how much grain you can grow and then take a large portion of that despite the fact that people are starving. Can’t you do anything about it?”

“Actually, we elect the Great One and his court jesters,” replied Marvin.

“So why don’t you elect people who won't do this to you so,” I asked.

“Well,” replied Marvin, “Every election the winner is a member of one of two families, the Tweetaldees and the Tweetaldumbs.”

“Doesn’t anyone else run?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Marvin, “but they have no chance of winning so no one votes for them. After all the Tweetaldees are not as bad as the Tweetaldumbs and so wasting your vote on the third candidate will only help elect a Tweetaldumb.”

“That makes no sense,” I said, “both families when elected make you miserable, but you won’t vote for a candidate that will relieve the burden they place on you because you are afraid of electing the candidate that will make you the most miserable. If you and enough other people voted for the third candidate he would win and relieve your burden.”

“It won’t happen,” responded Marvin “because they never do well enough in pre-election polls to even get mentioned in the press and my one vote won’t change that.”

“Who does the polling and the reporting?” I asked.

“Members of the Tweetaldees and Tweetaldumbs,” Marvin responded.

“Have, you ever been asked in one of these polls?” I asked.

“No,” replied Marvin.

“Then how do you, know, they are even including the third candidate?” I asked, “After all if the pollsters don’t include the third candidates, then they would never show up.”

“Well, ah…” responded Marvin

“I’ll take you to our capital tomorrow,” said Marvin, “Maybe that will help you understand.”

The Martian Capital

At the Martian capital, I was introduced to the Great One and his court jesters. Unlike the starving Martians I had seen the day before; they were not only well-fed but grossly fat from constantly gorging themselves on the food collected from the farmers.

“O Great One,” said Marvin, “This traveler from the third planet is marooned here and needs help getting back home.”

“Sorry,” replied the Great One, “But we can’t take you home but the Venusians can and I will ask them to help you.

“Who are the Venusians?” I asked.

“The Venusians are from Venus,” replied the Great One, “They regularly send ships with the food we borrow from them and they take back our interest payments from the food we collect from the farmers.”

“What do you do with this food?” I asked.

“We eat it,” said the Great One.

As I listened it became clear that the appetites of the Great One and his court jesters were so insatiable that the food they collected from the farmers was not enough to satisfy their hunger. So they borrowed ever-increasing amounts of food from the Venusians. They then in turn need to devote an ever-increasing portion of what they collected from the farmers to pay the interest.

“Great One,” I asked, “Don’t you realize that this is unsustainable? If you guys don’t stop eating so much you will reach the point you can’t collect enough food to pay the interest.”

“How dear you suggest we eat less,” declared the Great One, “We’re still hungry. Guard! Take him to the spaceport so he can get a ride from the Venusians.”

The Venusians

The Venusians were reptilian and were happy to take me back to Earth because the Great One was so eager to get rid of me that he had paid them with some of the grain they had borrowed from the Venusians only increasing their debt.

Once onboard the Venusian ship I had a chance to talk to the captain.

“Sir,” I asked, “Why do your people keep lending to the Martian? It’s obvious you are never going to pay them back.”

“True,” replied the captain, “But someday they will no longer be able to make the interest payments and then we will own them. Then we will dine on the Martians themselves. We will feast on the Great One and his court jesters alone for months.

Earth

Upon arriving back on Earth Venusian ship left off in the middle of no were. I then found the nearest road where I managed to hitch a ride into town. Once here, I found someone who would let me use their phone and called NASA. When they would not believe me or even come here to check out my story I came to you.

Ending

It was about this time the report on the fingerprints came back. This man’s story could not possibly be true but yet his fingerprints showed him to be Mark Gulliver. It was then that I realized that his incredible story had to be true.
After all, as Sherlock Holmes used to say “Once the impossible has been eliminated, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”