Strong cosmic forces could sweep you
off your feet this week. Whether that feels euphoric or dangerous or even both,
you need to find a way to steady yourself. Meeting what happens in a grounded
way means that you retain your earthy practicality. Even if your spirit wants
to fly.
The wind was so strong! Who knew how much damage could
happen in such a short time – and with nothing more than dust. I daren’t go out
to change the sun filter – I’d end up sliced and diced in no time. But the
views! Looking out of the 10cm thick viewing port, the swirling of the red dust
was just spectacular – the landscape changing every moment. I wanted to be in it
– to feel the wind pushing and tugging – but it would be suicide. These suits –
good, but not that good. And as for my weight – on this planet? Oh boy, not
only would I be torn to shreds, but I’d be up and away like a child’s lost
kite.
But it was beautiful. It was tempting. It was gorgeously
dangerous! I heard a grunt from behind me and my colleague muttered something
inaudible and irritating. If only he could see what I see when I watch the
winds, the dust, the amazing red murmurations that pattern this strange sky.
But he just wants to do the next experiment, analyse the next bit of dirt, and
test for this, that and the other.
Oh I know I have work to do, but I can’t pull away from the
viewing port – not with this spectacular show outside. Deadly, delightful. The
view now so clouded with dust that I can almost see the very particles as they
spin at the mercy of this unimaginable force of wind. And then a window through
the dense redness – the comms station – destroyed. It was designed to withstand
anything this planet could throw at it – but nothing prepared us for the wind.
I turned briefly to tell my colleague, but he was at the com desk – I guess he
knew by now that the com wasn’t working, but he probably didn’t know why
like I did.
It’s mesmerising. Even as it’s destroying our most important
resources, I can’t tear my eyes away from it. And the weird thing is there is
no noise. This supposedly indestructible bubble that keeps us alive shuts out
the sound. But I can still see – and imagine the shredding noise as the skin of
our home is slowly ripped and torn and turned into more shards so that it can fly
like the red dust.
I think carefully whilst watching. This is probably critical
for us, probably the last straw. There have been so many problems, so many
challenges, but this unexpected wind storm and it’s destructive force – well,
it’s likely to be the end of our occupation here in a reasonably short time. I
feel distanced from the emotions I know I should be feeling. The view is too
compelling. The storm has moved and I can now see the clouds of dust dancing in
the sky further from us – and it’s taunting, hesitating as it moves around the
landscape and hints, merely hints, that it will come back and finish us off.
A tap on my shoulder, but I can’t turn, I just answer with a
vague noise of enquiry. But I know we have to do something. I tear myself away
from the view port and see his anxious face. I tell him about the Comm tower. I
turn back to the view port briefly – the clouds and dust and wind are
disappearing from view. We need to plan. It’s a very long way home.
Mars photo courtesey of phys.org
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