The First Mann on Mars - Chapter Three
Chapter Three of the hilarious new science fiction novel, The First Mann on Mars by best selling, multi-award-winning author Mark Watson...
The First Mann on Mars
©Copyright 2024 by Mark Watson
THE STORY SO FAR…
Moronic Billionaut Derek Mann, along with his snarky, silver AI sidekick Barry Wilkinson, are hurtling toward Mars in a somewhat questionable spaceship. Back on Earth, things have gone predictably wrong…
Chapter Three: Nole
Barry looked busy—hunched over the console, tapping away as if the fate of the universe depended on his ability to master an exceptionally stubborn word processor. This left Derek with only one logical course of action: abandon any pretense of usefulness and go exploring. Somewhere, buried deep in the foggy recesses of his mind, he vaguely recalled a briefing—something about a quantum supercomputer—but he'd tuned out most of it in favor of pondering whether or not he'd left the toaster plugged in back home.
"Right, the quantum thingy," Derek muttered to himself and set off in search of it. He didn’t have to go far. The center of the spaceship housed a circular room, with a sign that read: NOLE: Quantum Supercomputer.
"This must be it," Derek thought, proud of his deductive prowess. "NOLE must be some sort of... keyword."
He paused, considering the possibilities. “Nice Out,” he said aloud. “Lovely Evening.” He felt rather pleased with that.
A large red arrow appeared, floating in midair as if by magic, and pointed directly at a green button with the words “Push to Enter” printed beneath it.
“Oh,” said Derek, mildly surprised. Buttons were simple. Buttons were comforting. He could do buttons. He pressed it.
The door swished open with the kind of self-satisfaction only an advanced spaceship door could manage. Derek stepped into a tiny, claustrophobic elevator that felt as though it was designed by someone who had never heard of the concept of personal space.
A new sign appeared, flashing politely: “Close your eyes.”
Derek, trusting as ever, closed his eyes. There was a brief whooshing sound, like the universe was sighing deeply, and when he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a room that was far too enormous to fit inside the ship. This had to be some sort of virtual reality—or perhaps he'd accidentally walked into a parallel dimension. That seemed more likely.
Before him floated a colossal ball of crackling energy, fizzing ominously as it pulsed with some sort of cosmic electricity. The energy ball leaned toward him and began to morph, shifting and shaping itself into a disturbingly familiar face…
It was Noel. His best friend. Well, mostly.
“Noel!” Derek shouted, thoroughly convinced he'd uncovered something incredibly important.
“Nole,” corrected the giant floating head in a voice that reverberated through the room like the bassline at a rock concert. Unlike the human Noel, this version had white hair and a beard, giving him an air of godlike authority. "It’s an anagram of Noel, you see,” the head boomed, radiating smugness. “He’s the Earth-bound, human super-genius, and I’m the intergalactic quantum supercomputer version. We’re essentially the same.”
“Oh,” said Derek, who was still struggling to reconcile the fact that his best friend now existed in both human and floating-head energy form. "Someone destroyed Earth."
“Yeah, that was probably Noel,” Nole said casually, as though the complete obliteration of a planet was a minor hiccup in the day’s schedule. “Nothing to do with me.”
“Didn’t you just say you were the same?” Derek asked, his brow furrowing.
“Yeah, but not quite in the, um, literal sense,” Nole responded, his voice a little wobbly now, as though the logic circuits were overheating. “I’m more the... philosophical side of things.”
Derek, having learned over the years to recognize when someone was deflecting responsibility, narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you recently buy the Large Hadron Collider? Sack 90% of the staff and say you were going to ‘disrupt the fuck out of it’?”
Nole’s giant head shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, again, that was Noel. Human Noel. I’m NOLE. Completely different... dude... altogether.”
Derek wasn’t buying it, but before he could probe further, Nole brightened up considerably, his voice returning to that irritatingly confident boom. “Anyway! I have good news. Earth isn’t, like, completely destroyed. It’s more... a bit destroyed. Think of it as a cosmic burp, not a bang.”
Derek blinked. “A... burp?”
Nole nodded, looking far too pleased with himself for someone relaying the partial obliteration of a planet. “Only the northern countries—Norway, Sweden, that lot—they got totalled. But everywhere else is just a bit crisped. You know, slightly singed. There’s a big, ominous black cloud—lightning, fireballs, the usual—covering the rest of the Earth. And sure, there are some, err, earthquakes. Tsunamis. Tornadoes. Standard post-apocalyptic stuff. But complete destruction? Nah, not even close.”
Derek, whose emotional range in the last five minutes had swung from mild confusion to utter bafflement, just stared. “So... Earth is mostly fine?”
“Relatively speaking!” Nole said, beaming with pride as though this was a massive win. “It’s just a little... crispy around the edges.”
“Brilliant,” Derek muttered. “And here I thought pudding was the worst thing that could happen today.”
“The Moon is completely untouched,” said Nole brightly. “And all my satellites still work, even the internet. Hey, do you want to talk to your mum?”
“She… er, they survived?”
“Most of the rich folk did. They have bunkers, dude. Let me patch you through.”
Nole spun around and changed into a large floating screen.
There was a ringtone.
Then Derek’s mum appeared, peering into what must have been a camera on a laptop.
“Hello?” she said. “Hello, is this bloody thing on?”
“MUM!” yelled Derek ecstatically. “I thought you were dead!”
“Not quite, Derek,” she replied. “How are you?”
“Not bad. I mean, there’s no pudding and I’m halfway to Mars, but forget about me—how are you?”
“Well, the weather’s awful. There’s a big cloud covering everything, even during the day, and sometimes fire falls from the sky, but it’s not as bad as that horrible week we spent in Wales. You know how vulgar it is to complain about the weather. Apart from that, everything’s not too bad. They say there’s been some sort of mass extinction event or something, but it’s all been rather fun. Your father and Uncle Frankie have formed a post-apocalyptic biker gang and are ravaging the countryside. We’ve got a marquee on the front lawn, and it’s been terribly exciting. Look, I’m sewing on patches as we speak...”
She held up a leather jacket with a half-sewn patch on the back featuring a flaming skull and crossbones, along with the words "Mann Motherfuckers, Half-Wittson Parish Chapter" in fiery gothic letters.
“Oh, and Sweden’s gone, I believe. But we never did shop in Ikea, so there’s no great loss there. Auntie Olivia was crucified by a rival gang from Little Bentley—but not nice Auntie Olivia, the one on your father’s side. So...” She shrugged. “That’s her off the Christmas card list anyway.”
“I, errr, I’m sorry,” stuttered Derek.
“It’s all part of the merry pageant of life,” his mum said cheerfully. “Anyway, I have to go. I’m cooking up a big cannibalistic stew for the boys. They’ll be back any minute from wrecking Cambridge. Do take care, speak again soon.”
“Yes, err, bye Mum,” Derek said.
“Bye. Is this still on? Bloody thing, how do I switch it off?”
“Press the X, Mum,” Derek said.
“What bloody X? Oh, hang on, there we go. Done.”
“I’m still here, Mum.”
“Bloody hell. Why is the sodding X so small? Hang on—bye, sweetie. Take care. Love you.”
“Err, I’m still here, Mum. Click the X.”
“Fucking hell, stupid bloody...”
She clicked off.
Nole reappeared with the smug satisfaction of a toaster that had just perfectly browned a piece of bread. “See? Not so bad, right? She’s fine, your dad’s a post-apocalyptic biker warlord, and your mum’s got Wi-Fi. Could be worse.”
Derek was still staring at the now-blank screen, trying to process the fact that his mother was currently sewing patches onto a leather jacket in preparation for serving a cannibal stew. “Could be worse?” he echoed, his voice betraying the distinct tones of someone teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. “How exactly could it be worse, Nole?”
Nole, whose vast computational powers apparently didn’t extend to comprehending rhetorical questions, took the query in stride. “Well, for starters, the internet could’ve gone down. Or Sweden could’ve survived. I mean, who needs that kind of furniture in a post-apocalyptic wasteland?”
Derek’s eyes twitched. “My aunt was crucified.”
“Yes, but it’s the other Aunt Olivia,” Nole said brightly, as if this somehow negated the severity of the situation. “The one everyone found a bit... you know, insufferable. It’s practically a win!”
Derek sighed, the weight of the entire, absurd universe pressing down on him. “And my dad is leading a biker gang now?”
“Oh, absolutely. Seems to be doing quite well for himself. ‘Mann Motherfuckers, Half-Wittson Parish Chapter,’ they’re called. Quite the name, isn’t it? Very Mad Max meets Downton Abbey.”
Derek rubbed his temples. “This is insane.”
Nole flickered in a way that suggested he was nodding, if an omniscient quantum supercomputer could nod. “Insane? Perhaps. But really, Derek, you should focus on the positives. You’re alive, halfway to Mars, and you’ve still got your mum around. Sure, she’s in a bunker, cooking up a stew of questionable origin, but think of it as... character-building. And your dad, well, he’s finally living out his midlife crisis in a truly spectacular way. He didn’t even need to buy a Harley!”
Derek blinked. “You’re telling me that my dad’s midlife crisis has been upgraded to a full-on apocalypse?”
Nole’s holographic face beamed. “Precisely! It’s the ultimate adventure. Some people get sports cars, others form gangs and lay waste to small towns. It’s all relative, really.”
“But Sweden is gone,” Derek muttered, shaking his head.
“Well, yes,” Nole admitted, “but let’s be honest, the loss of Ikea is a small price to pay for the sheer drama of a global cataclysm. Plus, you’ll never have to assemble another bookshelf, and isn’t that a win in itself?”
Derek stared at the floating head of the supercomputer for a long moment. “So let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “The Earth is mostly destroyed, my parents are living in some sort of dystopian paradise, Aunt Olivia—thankfully, the annoying one—has been crucified, and Sweden has been obliterated. But I should be happy because the internet still works?”
Nole’s face gleamed with digital optimism. “Exactly! And who knows? With all the rich people in bunkers, the world might actually improve. Fewer yachts, more biker gangs. It’s a whole new paradigm!”
Derek groaned, leaning back against the cold, metal wall of the spaceship. “This was supposed to be a simple trip to Mars,” he muttered.
“Well, yes,” Nole said, “but where’s the fun in that? Life’s all about the unexpected twists, Derek. Think of this as a... detour. A slight detour into the apocalypse.”
Derek looked up at the quantum supercomputer, a dull expression of resignation on his face.
“I’m going back to bed.”
END OF CHAPTER THREE
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