An Impossible Question

Curinn set down his cane and stood up from his crepe to greet the boy. “Oh no.” said the boy. “Don’t stand on my account.” and the boy sat down across from him at the cafe table. 

“Will you have anything? The coffee’s good but at my age it doesn’t sit well.” asked Curinn. 

“I’m alright, but thank you.” said the boy, pulling out his phone. 

“Are you sure?” asked Curinn, “I wouldn’t make a student pay.” 

The boy waved a hand. “Oh it’s not that.” he grinned. “I’m too excited for coffee right now, I’d vibrate right off the planet.” Curinn laughed. 

After an unnatural, but expected and not unpleasant pause, the boy placed his phone on the table. “So, if I may?” 

Curinn nodded graciously. “Anything. You’ll want to know about Ben’s packet.” 

“Actually.” said the boy. “I wanted to start by asking how you decided to get involved with your brother during the first referendum.” 

Curinn began to sweat. 

---

Curinn sweated. It was June, according to the calendar, but he wasn’t sure what season it was on Mars. It was always the same temperature inside the colony. Curinn wasn’t sweating in the heat. 

Curinn got up to fill a glass of water for the third time. He hesitated at the sink and turned to look out the window without thinking. Even with his back to the table, the brochure folded there dominated his thoughts. There were really only two options; go to war with his brother, or go to war with his wife. 

He sat down at the table again and read the brochure again. 

There was going to be a referendum. A sticker had been fixed to an empty part of the page which showed a polling center a few blocks away. The date was set for July. The options were total secession, or the creation of a Martian state with membership in the UN. Not explicit was the corollary that the UN would continue to enforce all the current treaties governing Mars and the property rights of the magnates who owned the colonies. 

There was a third option, but nobody wanted the status quo to continue. Curinn didn’t want the status quo to continue. He wanted a free Mars. Most of all, he wanted to carry on his own life in his own home. 

The bell rang, and Curinn snapped up, knocking over his chair and losing his balance as he lunged for it. With a crash he fell and took one leg of the table with him. The dishrack was still ringing as he shot back to his feet. 

“Who is it?” asked Curinn. Then he started, “Hey google, bell.” a chime sounded. “Who is it?”

“It’s Ben.” He sounded pleased. 

His brother. 

---

January. A dozen different cameras feeding to a dozen different transmitters stood between the staff and Galbraith. The timing was set so that no party would get the message before the others. Even as the timers were starting to hit zero, time inside the room felt like it stood still. Anticipation was palpable.

The lighting was too bright, but it was too late to fix it, so Galbraith started the address. The tension was broken, but instead of relief, the staff could only watch like passengers strapped to an out of control jet. 

“The most important thing is that the people of Mars have the power to decide their own destiny.” The staff were stock still. Galbraith was paraphrasing. “We are all human before anything else. Earth may not be our common home any more, but we all share at least that. I hope that the people of Mars remember that brotherhood, and choose a relationship that brings us closer, recognising the unique aspects of Martian life and respecting the principle of self determination.” 

The words were out. Whether it took four years or twenty, Mars would be independent. Galbraith had done his job, but he’d torn the bandage off in a way everyone had warned against. 

---

Ben was visibly startled as he entered the kitchen. “What happened?”

Curinn smiled sheepishly. “I just tripped. Wet floor.”

“Are you alright?” asked Ben “You’re not just saying that because Ceri is beating you?” he added in a tone that was supposed to be playful. 

Curinn scowled. “That’s not funny.” 

Ben held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, I can only say it because Ceri is so good for you.” As he dropped his hands, he noticed the flier on the floor, and stooped for it. “Or did you go berzerk when you saw this?” he asked under his breath. He was still smiling, but his face was stiffer. 

Curinn shuddered and tried to hide it. “Just don’t smash my dishes now that you’ve found it.” he muttered. 

Ben tossed the brochure into the trash. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” he said. They exchanged a look. “I just wanted to check in on you. Did you see the news?” 

“Yes I did.” said Curinn. He glanced sideways at the port above the freezer which interfaced with his home system. Ben’s face didn’t falter, but he nodded slightly. With the look exchanged, Curinn let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I think it’s a step in the right direction.”

Ben looked thoughtful. “I suppose. But Galbraith still wants to manage things from Copenhagen. This referendum only legitimizes Earth as the one deciding things.” 

Curinn glanced at the port above the freezer again, meaningfully. “Well sure, but they’re talking about self determination now.” he smiled apologetically. “I think Galbraith is someone Mars can at least meet on equal terms with.” 

Ben stifled a laugh. “I certainly hope so.” he said, turning a fraction of a degree towards the port. “Anyway, I’ll stop harassing you. I know politics isn’t your first love.” he winked at his brother. 

“Thank you for stopping by.” Said Curinn. He fixed his brother with a stare. 

“I mean that. Thank you.” 

---

“I suppose it was because he asked me to.” said Curinn. After a long pause, he added “It was a hard decision. He chuckled. “I guess even when a young man asked me about myself, the story is still about Ben.”

The boy smiled. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

“Hah!” said Curinn. “Someone needs to keep an eye on my ego, and I’m the only one who can do it.” he winked. 

Another polite pause, for punctuation. “What made that decision difficult for you?” asked the boy. 

---

“Don’t you dare try to make this my fault.” spat Ceri. 

The basement was dark, lit only by stem lights. Ben and the others sat resolutely in the corner pretending to play cards using only a small folding chair as a table. The table that dominated the room was covered in the dismembered guts of a home system, disarmed, or else they couldn’t talk openly. Curinn and his wife faced each other across it. Behind Ceri, a row of guns were unevenly leaned against the wall. 

“This isn’t your fault.” said Curinn, sullenly. 

“You’re damned right it’s not!” Ceri replied. Curinn waited. “There could have been peace.” she hissed. “And now even if we win this referendum, the whole thing is covered in blood.” 

Curinn glanced at his brother. Part of his wished that he would stop pretending to play cards and intervene. He decided to thank him later for refraining. 

“I did not marry a murderer.” said Ceri, beginning to cry. At that, Curinn balked. 

“I should have told you.” said Curinn. “I’ve put you at risk, and that’s not fair to you.”

Ceri sobbed. “Don’t apologize to me, you shit. Apologize to the people you just killed.” Curinn glanced at his brother again. “This is not about them!” shouted Ceri. 

“Of course not.” said Curinn. “It’s just hard to know where to look right now.” he said, with an honesty that surprised him by welling up in his chest. 

“Look me in the eye.” said Ceri. He did. “Look me in the eye and tell me why.” she said. 

With tears in his eyes he looked his wife in the eye. “Because I believe in a free Mars.” 

---

Curinn sighed. “You know, professional reporters will usually leave that kind of question for later in.” he said. He looked the boy in the eye. “They’re worried they’ll scare me off.” 

The boy blushed. “You don’t have to answer if it’s hard memory.” he said in a rush. He startled himself. “I mean, of course it’s a hard memory, I don’t mean to imply that it’s not.” 

Curinn couldn’t help but smile. “It’s ok.” he said, offering the boy his hand. They shook. 

“I am a fan of you, not just your brother.” said the boy. “I mean that, and all I meant by the question was to show interest in your career. Not just his.” 

Curinn nodded. “I know.” he said. 

There was another pause. The boy, awkwardly, opened his mouth to ask another question. 

“It was hard because killing is always hard.” said Curinmn softly. “And because we didn’t know we were going to win.” he nodded, and added. “We didn’t know if it was going to be worth it.”

The boy, in awe, asked “Was it?” 

“Pardon?” asked Curinn

The boy blinked. “Was it worth it?” 

"Yes." said Curinn solemnly. Then he laughed, incredulous. "Look around you!" he said. "It was worth it."