Things will get better, eventually.

Life on Mars is not all it's cracked up to be. When I first heard the term "virgle pioneer" I had this cool vision of an adventurous space traveler discovering uncharted, grand Arizona rock-formation style vistas. I pictured myself driving a Skywalker-style landspeeder full throttle leaving a glorious spray of red dust in my wake. The reality however, is not so glamorous.

I've been stuck in a drab, grey-walled base camp building constructed in a huge Martian volcano tube. There's only one window in the whole place. A monster thick viewing window in the Phobos cafe. It's the hippest place to hang in Mars. Actually, it's the only place to hang. Basically, it's the cafe or my small dorm room or the counceling rooms where we have to go twice a week for a shrink pep talk.

The window offers a small taste of freedom, when it's open. The constant dust storms call for thick titanium shutters to seal it tight much of the time. Still, there's a semi-cool, albiet desolate, view of a vast Martian plain dotted with rocky pillars that stretches into the dusky orange distance.

Most of the other "pioneers" are ansy. Being cooped up in here when everyone was ready to stretch their spaceman legs has brought on a general feeling of "this is not what we expected" that hangs thick in the hallways. Our councelers keep assuring us that it's temporary until the seasonal rock winds die down. There favorite phrase seems to be, "things will get better, eventually."

I've met with "Dr. Ben" my assigned counceler several times now. I liked him at first because he was mellow and didn't seem like he was picking my brain too much. His latest sessions have proven a bit stranger though. He seems more edgy and keeps insisting that I call him Ben. He asks in a creepy, fake calm kind of way. It reminds me of a girl I used to date that asked me to call her "cuddle bear" on our second date. Despite that fact that it was a lame name I just thought it was being forced on me and way too soon at that. I told her that nicknames are supposed to happen naturally and that it wasn't something you assign yourself. I thought this was a really logical point of view. She however, hated it. She was silent for an hour. Worst date ever. We went out once more after that and it was over. No tears shed over that one. Although she was very hot so that kind of sucked. I'm sure some poor sap is calling her "cuddle bear" through gritted teeth right now. But I digress...

Anyways, like I was saying I'd been calling Dr. Ben "bones" in honor of Dr. Mcoy from Star Trek. He seemed okay with it at first but now he's getting all irritable. Next thing you know he'll be bombarding me with questions about my childhood.

Meanwhile, Frank and I have become professional level backgammon players in the down time. We're thinking of starting a Mars league. All in all, it beats hard labor. It's a bit boring here but I could be stuck in a cubicle all day so I'm trying to look on the bright side.

I do have one troubling phenomenon. My dorm room is located near the cafe and sometimes at night I hear weird clanking noises coming from the roof. It's almost like an army of guys on metal stilts are tap dancing up there. They tell me it's just Martian rock pelting against the building but I don't buy it. There's a strange rhythm to it that creeps me out. I've asked around but no one else seems to hear it or they're just not admitting it. One of these nights I'm going to sneak into the cafe and sit by the viewing window all night. If it's anything living, maybe I'll catch a glimpse of it.