Author : Iain Macleod
Here come another fresh load off the shuttle. I hate them, bloody smug rich earther kids here to “give something back”. Dragging their wheeled suitcases behind them, taking selfies wearing sunglasses. We’re inside a dome, morons! The sunlight is fake and nowhere near bright enough to warrant shades!
I have to greet them though, and pretend that them fucking round with patching kits or half assing a geotherm pump is really super helpful. The money they bring in makes it just tolerable.
The local dock rats watch them from further back, sneering at them and me for associating with them. Theres no shortage of labour here and many people are unemployed.
If these people thought for five minutes about the reality of what they were doing they wouldnt come here, they’d just donate cash. Instead they fly out here bringing tools and materials with them instead of buying them on mars and contributing to the economy. Then these unskilled idiots need to be babysat through the most basic jobs and pussy out as soon as they break a nail. A decent martain boy would work 12 hours a day for half the price and could support a family. His money would be spent in martian shops boosting the economy and the skills he learned could be passed on to other martians. Those willing to learn, desperate to help build a real community here, and give their lives meaning in the process.
I take a quick look at the photographs inside my wallet, my wife Claire and our daughter Marina. This is why i do it. I hate myself but i’ll do anything to keep food on the table.
Ok, deep breath in. Fake smile on.
“Hi guys! Welcome to Mars, are we ready to help some people?!”
The slackjaws all cheer and high five each other.
God i hate them.
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