2157: Blue Skies on Mars

After almost forty years of trial and tragedy, Mars is officially classified as an oxygen-sustaining environment. A memorial to those who passed in the Great Mars Tragedy of ’25 is unveiled after the official declaration with Senator Stephen Nguyen as the keynote speaker.

This is a transcript of his speech:
My brother Sean loved to build. When we were kids, I was the one who played sports and ran for Student Congress, he was always tinkering with things. It wasn’t weird in our house to suddenly come home to the DistroBox disassembled and arranged on the living room floor or Sean crawling around the ventilation shafts because he heard a clicking. There was one time, and I could never prove it, but I think he got to the dog. He was ten, mind you, ten years old and already that gifted. Maybe gifted is the wrong word, because it wasn’t just his talent, it was his curiosity and the absolute joy he got from breaking something apart and seeing how all the pieces mattered. As the years went by, we sort of drifted apart. He was just my weird, nerdy little brother who kept taking apart my stuff. We went to school on opposite sides of the world. He studied engineering and physics, a surprise to no one. I did my thing.

As adults, we would check in from time to time but I wouldn’t say we were particularly close. More like acquaintances than brothers. We were just too different. I liked the Phoenix Five, he thought they were derivative. I thought the new Citizenship program was an important way to reward the people who actively want to build a stronger nation. He thought it was elitist. And so it went.

Many years ago, when I won my first district seat, Sean showed up to the victory party. I think an aide must have invited him. To be honest, it never occurred to me to even try. Someone on my staff said they saw him in the corner, obviously uncomfortable around the crowd. He didn’t even come talk to me, just wrote a note and asked someone to give it me. Here’s what it said:

“Hey Stephen, you looked like you had a lot of people to talk to so I didn’t want to interrupt. But I just wanted to say, you’re awesome, man. I know we bicker and fight but it gives me hope that someone who really believes in their convictions is going into government. It’s really exciting and I’m so happy for you. Just remember, no matter what ugliness surrounds you, be brave, be yourself, and you’ll be fine.”

My brother Sean. Sean the destroyer. Sean the rebuilder. Sean was one of the many lost in the Tragedy of 2125. Since then, I’ve never been able to hear one of his aggravating rants on politics or one of his ridiculously dull ramblings about alloys and stress-points. It is a solace that the project that claimed my brother’s life has now been completed. This monument, a small consolation compared to the loss of these people, will at least keep their names alive for the rest of humanity to see forever.

You know what? Forgive my bluntness but screw that. I don’t want people to look at this memorial and be quiet and introspective. I want the names chiseled into this rock to spark a fire in them, a fire to challenge themselves, to challenge humanity. I want the names on this rock to be a battle cry for all of us to excel, to burst out into the universe and find our destiny.

So in the words of my stupid little brother, be brave everyone. Be yourself. And we’ll all be fine.

Nach fast vierzig Jahren der Erprobung und Tragödie wird der Mars offiziell als sauerstoffhaltige Umgebung eingestuft. Ein Denkmal für diejenigen, die in der Großen Mars-Tragödie von 25 Jahren verstorben sind, wird nach der offiziellen Erklärung mit Senator Stephen Nguyen als Hauptredner enthüllt.

Dies ist eine Abschrift seiner Rede:

Mein Bruder Sean baute gerne. Als wir Kinder waren, war ich diejenige, die Sport trieb und zum Schülerkongress rannte, er bastelte immer an Dingen. Es war nicht seltsam in unserem Haus, plötzlich nach Hause zu kommen, um die DistroBox zerlegt und auf dem Wohnzimmerboden angeordnet zu bekommen, oder Sean, der um die Lüftungsschächte kriecht, weil er ein Klicken hörte. Es gab ein Mal, und ich konnte es nie beweisen, aber ich glaube, er kam zum Hund. Er war zehn, wohlgemerkt, zehn Jahre alt und schon so begabt. Vielleicht ist Begabung das falsche Wort, denn es war nicht nur sein Talent, es war seine Neugierde und die absolute Freude, die er empfand, etwas auseinander zu brechen und zu sehen, wie alle Teile wichtig waren. Im Laufe der Jahre haben wir uns irgendwie auseinander gelebt. Er war nur mein seltsamer, nerdiger kleiner Bruder, der immer wieder meine Sachen auseinander nahm. Wir gingen auf gegenüberliegenden Seiten der Welt zur Schule. Er studierte Ingenieurwesen und Physik, eine Überraschung für niemanden. Ich habe mein Ding gemacht.

Als Erwachsene kamen wir von Zeit zu Zeit vorbei, aber ich würde nicht sagen, dass wir uns besonders nahe standen. Eher Bekannte als Brüder. Wir waren einfach zu unterschiedlich. Ich mochte die Phoenix Five, er dachte, sie wären abgeleitet. Ich dachte, das neue Citizenship-Programm sei ein wichtiger Weg, um die Menschen zu belohnen, die aktiv eine stärkere Nation aufbauen wollen. Er dachte, es sei elitär. Und so ging es weiter.

Vor vielen Jahren, als ich meinen ersten Kreissitz gewann, tauchte Sean bei der Siegesfeier auf. Ich denke, ein Berater muss ihn eingeladen haben. Um ehrlich zu sein, hätte ich nie daran gedacht, es überhaupt zu versuchen. Jemand aus meinem Stab sagte, sie sahen ihn in der Ecke, offensichtlich unbehaglich in der Menge. Er kam nicht einmal, um mit mir zu reden, schrieb einfach eine Nachricht und bat jemanden, sie mir zu geben. Hier ist, was da stand:

"Hey Stephen, du sahst aus, als hättest du eine Menge Leute zum Reden, also wollte ich nicht stören. Aber ich wollte nur sagen, du bist fantastisch, Mann. Ich weiß, dass wir uns streiten und kämpfen, aber es gibt mir Hoffnung, dass jemand, der wirklich an seine Überzeugungen glaubt, in die Regierung geht. Es ist wirklich aufregend und ich freue mich so für dich. Denke nur daran, egal welche Hässlichkeit dich umgibt, sei tapfer, sei du selbst, und es wird dir gut gehen."

Mein Bruder Sean. Sean, der Zerstörer. Sean, der Wiederherstellende. Sean war einer der vielen Verlorenen in der Tragödie von 2125. Seitdem konnte ich nie wieder eines seiner erschütternden Geschwätz über Politik oder eines seiner lächerlich langweiligen Geschwafel über Legierungen und Spannungspunkte hören. Es ist ein Trost, dass das Projekt, das das Leben meines Bruders gefordert hat, nun abgeschlossen ist. Dieses Denkmal, ein kleiner Trost im Vergleich zum Verlust dieser Menschen, wird zumindest ihre Namen am Leben erhalten, damit der Rest der Menschheit für immer sehen kann.

Weißt du was? Verzeih mir meine Stumpfheit, aber scheiß drauf. Ich möchte nicht, dass die Leute sich dieses Denkmal ansehen und ruhig und introspektiv sind. Ich möchte, dass die Namen, die in diesen Felsen gemeißelt sind, ein Feuer in ihnen entfachen, ein Feuer, das sich selbst herausfordert, die Menschheit herausfordert. Ich möchte, dass die Namen auf diesem Felsen ein Schlachtruf für uns alle sind, um zu übertreffen, in das Universum vorzudringen und unsere Bestimmung zu finden.

Also, um mit den Worten meines dummen kleinen Bruders zu sprechen, sei tapfer zu allen. Sei du selbst. Und es wird uns allen gut gehen.

After almost forty years of trial and tragedy, Mars is officially classified as an oxygen-sustaining environment. A memorial to those who passed in the Great Mars Tragedy of ’25 is unveiled after the official declaration with Senator Stephen Nguyen as the keynote speaker.

This is a transcript of his speech:
My brother Sean loved to build. When we were kids, I was the one who played sports and ran for Student Congress, he was always tinkering with things. It wasn’t weird in our house to suddenly come home to the DistroBox disassembled and arranged on the living room floor or Sean crawling around the ventilation shafts because he heard a clicking. There was one time, and I could never prove it, but I think he got to the dog. He was ten, mind you, ten years old and already that gifted. Maybe gifted is the wrong word, because it wasn’t just his talent, it was his curiosity and the absolute joy he got from breaking something apart and seeing how all the pieces mattered. As the years went by, we sort of drifted apart. He was just my weird, nerdy little brother who kept taking apart my stuff. We went to school on opposite sides of the world. He studied engineering and physics, a surprise to no one. I did my thing.

As adults, we would check in from time to time but I wouldn’t say we were particularly close. More like acquaintances than brothers. We were just too different. I liked the Phoenix Five, he thought they were derivative. I thought the new Citizenship program was an important way to reward the people who actively want to build a stronger nation. He thought it was elitist. And so it went.

Many years ago, when I won my first district seat, Sean showed up to the victory party. I think an aide must have invited him. To be honest, it never occurred to me to even try. Someone on my staff said they saw him in the corner, obviously uncomfortable around the crowd. He didn’t even come talk to me, just wrote a note and asked someone to give it me. Here’s what it said:

“Hey Stephen, you looked like you had a lot of people to talk to so I didn’t want to interrupt. But I just wanted to say, you’re awesome, man. I know we bicker and fight but it gives me hope that someone who really believes in their convictions is going into government. It’s really exciting and I’m so happy for you. Just remember, no matter what ugliness surrounds you, be brave, be yourself, and you’ll be fine.”

My brother Sean. Sean the destroyer. Sean the rebuilder. Sean was one of the many lost in the Tragedy of 2125. Since then, I’ve never been able to hear one of his aggravating rants on politics or one of his ridiculously dull ramblings about alloys and stress-points. It is a solace that the project that claimed my brother’s life has now been completed. This monument, a small consolation compared to the loss of these people, will at least keep their names alive for the rest of humanity to see forever.

You know what? Forgive my bluntness but screw that. I don’t want people to look at this memorial and be quiet and introspective. I want the names chiseled into this rock to spark a fire in them, a fire to challenge themselves, to challenge humanity. I want the names on this rock to be a battle cry for all of us to excel, to burst out into the universe and find our destiny.

So in the words of my stupid little brother, be brave everyone. Be yourself. And we’ll all be fine.