Martian Time-Slip

Martian colonists fight for a better life. Especially appealing are their ideas about changing the past. That’s why they turn to the religion of the blikmen—the indigenous inhabitants of Mars. After all, if the spirit of a sacred rock called Dirty Head shows them favor, then the colonists will get what they ask for…

Through the thick haze of phenobarbital sleep, some voice reached Sylvia Bolen. Breaking sharply through the layers she had been drowning in, the call instantly destroyed the perfect state of selflessness.

— Mom, the boy on the street called again.

Sitting up on the bed, she took a sip of water from a glass, lowered her bare feet to the floor, and struggled to stand. The clock read nine-thirty. Finding her robe, she moved to the window.

“I have to stop. It’s better to submit to the mercy of schizophrenia, joining everyone else.”

Sylvia pulled up the curtain, and she was blinded by sunlight of the familiar reddish-dusty hue. She covered her eyes with her hand.

— What’s wrong, David?

— Mom, the canal inspector has arrived!

So today is Wednesday. She nodded and, turning around, walked—uncertainly—into the kitchen, where she managed to put an old, sturdy clay coffee pot on the stove.

“What am I supposed to do? Everything is ready for the inspector. Either way. David will take care of it.” She turned on the water and splashed it on her face. The water was cloudy and unpleasant, and Sylvia coughed. “I have to drain the tank water. Clean it out, add chlorine, check how clogged the filters are; maybe they’re all clogged. Can’t the inspector…? No, it’s not his job.”

— Do I need you? Sylvia asked as she opened the back door. Cold air swirled around her, filling her lungs with fine sand. She turned away and listened to what her son answered. His upbringing required refusing help.