Infinite Goats

"I wish I could kill whoever designed this thing!" Mike said as he chucked the hammer out into the Martian landscape. It twirled lazily through the air, dipping below the next cliff.

"Careful with that," I said.

"The hammer is fine! It doesn't matter; none of this matters anymore! The drills are dead." He slumped into a crouch, head in his hands. "There was supposed to be ice here."

"I meant the wish."

Mike looked up at me indignantly. "What?"

"They come true sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. You'd never forgive yourself if you wasted that chance."

Mike stood. "Wishes can't save us now, Juan!" He waved his hands like an umpire calling an out. "It's over! We were wrong about the ice, and the drills need the hydrogen from the ice to run."

I sat on a rock and looked out over the landscape. "I had a wish come true once." Mike gave me a look of utter disbelief and insult, unable to come up with a response. "It was my sixth birthday. I wished for infinite goats."

"Infinite..."

"...goats, yes."

"Well, the universe is still here, so I guess it didn't come true," Mike said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I got lucky there. I could control it. I just imagined goats, and poof, they were there.

I started with five. My parents were pissed; they never could figure out where I got them from. The novelty wore off quick, but that wish... it haunted me. I couldn't believe that the one wish to come true was so stupid. I felt like I had wasted the opportunity of a lifetime. As things got worse I just... blamed myself. Every new disaster was something I could have helped in some way." I kicked at the ground. "I know it's dumb, I was six. But I still wanted to make up for it. I poured my life into my studies. I wanted to help with whatever came next. I made it to an American college, became an astronaut, and now I'm here."

Mike pointed at the ground with both hands. "You came _here_, on a suicide mission to Mars, because of a wish you made when you were _six_?"

"Yeah. Every few years, I would start to believe it was made up, just an overactive imagination. There was a forest I would drive out to, and it always still worked. So, I kept working hard. I was driven."

"That's the whole reason you came out here? Not something like, I don't know, a dead family or something?"

"Oh, I have one of those too."

Mike softened. "Sorry. What was it?"

"Wildfires."

"That's a rough one. I'm mostly hurricanes, but I have some tsunami on my Mom's side. One day you wake up, look at the news, and they're gone."

"I was in college already when the fires hit back home, so I didn't experience it. I still don't know for sure, but I haven't heard anything and nobody has been collecting the money I send home."

Mike looked at me. "You know, most people, when they reminisce on why they're here, they usually start with their family, not some bullshit."

I shrugged. "I know it's crazy. Sure, it helped motivate me, but it didn't drive me like the wish did." I point at Mike's wristband console, changing the subject. "Is it really that bad? There are no other options?"

Mike tapped at the console, double-checking what he already knew. "All our sensors say there is ice, but what comes up after thirty meters or so isn't. Drill B9 made it eighty meters, but that's it."

"So there's a chance?"

"No. Once news got out, teams started watching the drills closer. A few managed to pull the plug soon enough after hitting the not ice that they could move and restart, but they're already running on fumes. It takes at least 200 meters of ice to make up for the initial bore through the surface. Even if one drill gets lucky, it won't be enough to support a migration."

"It's going to be okay."

"I don't know about this time. I really don't know if it will be." Mike looked out at the setting sun. "At least it's beautiful out here."

"Could be better."

Mike snorted. "How so?"

"Imagine all this, but at the bottom of an ocean." I gesture at the horizon. "An ocean over the whole planet."

"I suppose that would be better. We wouldn't need to bother with the drills. We could just... sip mojitos from our ship, looking out over the clear blue ocean—"

I shake my head. "No."

"I know you're a stickler for the rules, but can I at least have a drink in my dreams?"

"It's not blue," I clarify, smiling at Mike. "It's a red planet, Mike. _The_ red planet. It doesn't need to be blue." My smile fades. "Or clear."

"You're starting to creep me out, Juan."

"I'm sorry it had to be like this, Mike."

Mike stood suddenly, pointing at me. "That's not helping! So I recognize that we are in a bad spot, like an apocalyptically bad spot, and I did lose my cool there for a second, but you're talking like you've just snapped and are about to murder us all."

I sigh and look out over the landscape. "I hadn't thought of it that way. But yeah, I suppose I am."

Mike looked around at the barren red clearing we were in. He gestured at the nothingness around us, at a loss for words. Finally he pointed out at the canyon. "Well, I threw the hammer down there, and I'm not getting it for you. I don't know what you're planning—"

I laugh. "It's going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay."

"Still not helping," Mike said as he started to take some steps back, genuine concern building.

"Oh, I think it might." I look up at the stars, imagining the migration ships arriving. "They're going to have water. It won't be pretty, but they'll have water." I give him one last look. "I'm sorry, Mike." I hold both hands up, palms to the sky, and imagine it: "Infinite goats."