Red Harvest
Pierre looked out at the rusty dunes of his new planet. The sun cast long shadows across the red desert, filtering through the geodesic dome of New Eden. The hydroponic rows were bathed in amber light. At this point he turned out the noise of the life support systems, recycling every imported molecule of air and water.
There was just one rocket in the field and he knew it would be their last shipment for a while.
Earth had teetered on the brink of ecological collapse for many years, but progress had been steady and hopeful. Rapid developments in carbon capture had allowed billions of tons of carbon dioxide to be removed from the atmosphere. Thousands of pipes were built to store the carbon deep underground.
Air temperatures fell. The coral reefs regrew. Oceans became less acidic. Things were looking up.
Until the pipes burst. Years of stored-up carbon was released all at once. By the time the first responders and their drones managed to stop the release, the damage was done. Heavy storms struck every coastal city. Intense droughts dried up the farmlands.
The climate chaos plunged the global economy into crisis. Supply chains collapsed. Financial markets were flailing.
Pierre and the other Martian colonists could only watch in dismay as the world they came from turned inward. The spaceports fell silent as the rockets became grounded indefinitely. There was just no money left for space.
That put them in a precarious situation. They had relied on regular supply missions to keep themselves alive. Now what were they going to do?
Pierre wiped his brow with a worn sleeve.
“Pierre, do you have a moment?”
Dr. Autumn Baker had cut her auburn hair recently, as she did the first of every Martian month. Her usual stoic mood wavered.
“The latest crop yield projections are grim,” she stated, showing him a datapad.
“How much time do we have?”
“Not enough.”
His heart sunk. They had spent months meticulously cultivating lettuce and kale and without another supply of fertilizer and water they wouldn’t have enough food to feed everyone.
“We need a breakthrough. A miracle,” her voice barely above a whisper.
“We’ve been adapting,” Pierre tried to rationalize to himself. “We’ve been experimenting with genetically modified strains…”
He turned back to the window, staring out at the abyss in the hopes of a miracle. The Martian soil was a sterile regolith, lacking the nutrients and microbes that plants needed. The once-promising dream of Martian agriculture… If they just had more time to perfect it.
“We came up here because we believed in ourselves, not in miracles. We didn’t ask for permission. Maybe we just need to take a closer look at what we already have.”
He led her to a secluded corner of the dome, in the Old Neighborhood. Dr. Ricardo was a brilliant but reclusive geneticist who was one of the first settlers. His lab was a mess of bubbling beakers, glowing bacteria cultures, and unusual specimens frozen in glass.
“Ricardo, my friend, we need your help,” Pierre said, his voice full of desperation.
Ricardo swiveled around in his chair with wide, curious eyes.
“Pierre, how long has it been?”
Ricardo was genuinely curious.
Pierre and Autumn explained the situation, describing the dwindling supplies and the failing crops. Ricardo listened intently. His fingers tapped lightly on his knees. He didn’t believe in reading the media, so this was all news to him.
“Interesting, very interesting,” he muttered. “Finally, a challenge worthy of my intellect. Tell me Pierre, have you ever heard of extremophiles?”
Pierre shook his head.
“Yes, yes. Let me see.”
After tiptoeing around the messy piles, he came back with a physical book. It was thick, and he opened it up to a page with diagrams and words in a tiny font.
“Extremophiles thrive in the most extreme of environments. The hardiest life forms are capable of surviving in freezing temperatures, boiling acid, and even the vacuum of space. Life finds a way!”
“How is that supposed to help us?” Dr. Baker asked.
“We have some right here on Mars.”
Ricardo led them to a series of petri dishes. Each one contained its own vibrant culture of microbes.
“These little beauties are the key to our survival,” he declared.
Pierre glanced over to Dr. Baker, hoping she understood what he was saying.
“You want to splice their genes with our food?” she asked, slowly starting to regain a spark in her eye.
“I can produce new tomatoes able to grow outside.”
“Dr. Baker?” Pierre was hoping for good news.
“I think this can work,” she answered.
“How fast can you do it?” Pierre demanded to know.
“Three weeks maybe? If it all goes right,” shrugged Ricardo.
“We don’t have much time. It needs to go right. For all of our .”
“I’ll need some things,” Ricardo looked around the room.
“Let me know whatever you need. And Dr. Baker, you should help him too.”
He returned to the lab three weeks later. Pierre had been spending his time trying to find ways to ration everything as long as possible, mediating arguments among the colonists. As things grew worse, everyone was on edge.
“Give me good news,” he came in, his voice cracking.
“Eat this,” Dr. Baker handed him a sandwich.
“I’m not in the mood for games.”
“Just eat it.”
He grabbed the sandwich and bit down into it. There was a sweet taste of tomato and a pleasant flavor of kale.
“What do you think?” Ricardo asked, appearing suddenly from behind a shelf.
“I want answers, not lunch. Did you succeed in splicing the extremophile genome?”
“Pierre, where do you think those tomatoes came from?”
“What do you mean?”
“Pierre, we grew the tomatoes. We figured it out!” Autumn exclaimed.
He looked down at the half-eaten sandwich. Had he eaten lunch, or a green revolution?
Word of this success rapidly spread through the whole colony. There was a new hope as everyone rallied to lend a hand with these new cultivars in the growing hydroponics lab.
Months passed quickly as they managed to work their way out of their crisis. New Eden transformed into a true oasis. Their determined spirit had managed to forge their own destiny, one that didn’t need to rely on Earth for survival.
One evening, Pierre watched from the observation deck over the dusty red surface. Stars twinkled in the sky, but his eyes were fixated on the pale blue dot suspended in the vastness of space.
He felt a wave of pride. They had made it. Not just surviving here, but thriving. As he turned around to return to his sleep pod, he knew this was just the beginning.
I think it would be very cool to be able to live on another planet. Yet I also recognize the immense difficulty of doing that. Pioneers have braved hostile lands throughout all of human history, but Mars is truly inhospitable. We’d be dependent on Earth for supply missions for generations, without a guarantee that autonomy Is even possible.
Economic downturns are less common than in the 1800s, but if there was some financial crisis on Earth, funding a few people outside of the planet may easily be dropped. It’s probably important to achieve sustainability before that happens.