Page 75 of The Mars House

“I’m sorry, Senator, but the only way to make the energy last anywhere near long enough is rolling blackouts,” Dr Molotov said. “We think between nine at night and six in the morning every day, as well as significant electricity restrictions on day-to-day household activity. As much power as possible needs to go to shipping and essential industry just to keep supply lines open.”

“It’s cold out there,” Mx Francis protested. “We can’t leave people without power at night.”

Gale was quiet for a moment. “If we ask everyone else to do this, we do it too. Power goes off here at the same time as it does for everyone else. And we are not monetizing this scarcity. Power prices freeze as of right now, or we’re hurling most of Tharsis into poverty. We make people pay what is necessary to use the infrastructure and run the sun fields. No more. If I see we’ve made a single yuan profit out of this, someone’s head is going in a jar.”

“Senator,” an accountant-looking person tried, “that isn’t how this works—we have to profit in times of scarcity to tide over in times of plenty—”

“We’re not American,” was all Gale said.

There was a general murmur of “Yes, Senator” from everyone.

“Mx Francis, if the communications department can sit down with Dr Molotov and put together a friendly sounding script explaining what’s going on, we’ll get it broadcast as soon as possible, that would be much appreciated. The rules need to be clear and we need to explain them straightaway. What are the numbers, will rolling blackouts alone keep us afloat?”

“No,” Dr Molotov said miserably. “There will still be a considerable power deficit, but at least it will be delayed. We’re working it out.”

“Good. And what do we need to get the new array into orbit?”

“Given the dust,” Dr Molotov said, looking paler than ever, “we don’t think a normal wireless energy transfer will work. We need to actually—bolt it and wire it into the ground.”

Gale frowned. “How do you mean?”

Dr Molotov swallowed. “I mean we need to build a rig from here to the upper atmosphere.”

“How far is that?” Gale asked.

“To get it above the dust—fifty kilometres.”

January had never seen Gale at a loss before, but they were now. “A vertical structure of fifty kilometres.”

“Yes, Senator,” Dr Molotov said, but they sounded more solid about it now. “It can be done.”

“What do we need?”

“Engineers, a lot of steel, and as much manual labour as we can get; preferably Earthstrong, it’ll go a lot faster. We build first, and then the final stage is sending up the new panels.”

“Fuck,” Mx Francis said suddenly. “You need to see this.” Their lenses flared gold as they projected a news story into the middle of the table.

The Consul was giving an announcement.

“—rationing, effective immediately. Every citizen in Tharsis will receive a ration card. The allowance will be simple, but it is plenty to live on. Nobody will receive more than anybody else. We have enough to get through this until aid arrives from Earth, but only if we are extremely careful. Everyone needs to do their part. I’m very confident we can do this. This is a country that was founded in an airless desert: we can certainly do this.”

“Fuck’s sake, they stole that from January!” Mx Ren snapped, and January had an unexpected swell of belonging.

The Consul was still talking and everyone was still watching, but January didn’t hear any more, because he had suddenly heard it properly. Every citizen.

He wasn’t a citizen. Nobody he knew outside Songshu was a citizen. What were they all supposed to do?

“Start sourcing the steel,” Gale said. “I’ll set up a meeting with House Tesla to see if we can borrow their engineers. Go to work.”

January didn’t move, and waited for everyone else to leave. Gale was getting up slowly, clearly the worse for wear from last night.

“Senator,” he said quietly.

Gale gave him a questioning look. A drone swept down to film them.

“Earthstrongers—we aren’t citizens.”

“We’ll call the Interior Ministry, see what their plan is,” Gale said. “But I need to—”