Hi, I'm Dan

Hi, I'm Dan Therman. I run a hot dog stand on Mars. This may sound a bit fantastic to you ( though not really sure anyone would describe selling hot dogs as “fantastic” ), as I’ve been told that when you read this no one will have lived on Mars yet, but it’s true just the same. As you are probably assuming, I’m writing this in your future, and if that’s the case how could you be reading it now ( your now, not my now, because your now is my past )? Well, I did mention the hot dog stand, didn’t I? It may shock you to learn that advanced degrees in timey machinations ( or whatever ) aren’t normally listed under the education section of a Hot Dog Stand Operator job description. I may be from your future, but don’t ask me to explain how all these futurey things work because I don’t have a fucking clue.
You could ask me what goes into making the best hot dog, but honestly, I’m not very good at my job so I couldn’t really give you an educated answer on that either. Personally, I can’t stand this shit, have no idea how it’s made, and really just plain don’t give a fuck. I heat up the ‘dogs, put them on a bun, and let you pick your own condominiums (you know; ketchup, mustard, relish, whatever). The job is crap, the pay is crap, and not many people on Mars really even want hot dogs; but here I am, trying to make my way the best I can (or at least with the least amount of actual effort) here in Hebes, Mars.
You may be asking yourself, “Why Mars?” ( Then again, you may be staring at the tight sweater on that girl from the Sixth Floor who just walked by and wondering just how pink those nipples poking through so obviously are, I know I was ). Ahem, so, Mars. My parents are both scientists. When they were younger, they were part of a group that was working on terrafirming Mars so other humans can live on it without all that space-suit nonsense. The project went on for a looooooooooooooong time. Seriously, it took generations from what I’ve been told. It’s not like my parents showed up and single-handedly, overnight, Mars became just like Earth. No, transforming a planet ( maybe it was “terra-forming” rather than “firming” now that I think about it ) is a long, slow, complicated process that takes a huge team of people, supercomputers to track and calculate a HUGE amount of data ( or is it data? looks the same, but they sound different. ), there was a lot of mining, asteroids from the asteroid belt were involved for something or other, and so on and so forth with all that boring sciencey bullshit that I never could give two fucks about that took lots of years and even a few generations of people in lab coats working together for the betterment of mankind, yada, yada, yada, and so on and so forth, and you get the point.
Yeah, so, my parents were part of the team. They continued work that others did. Just another couple of lab coats in a sea of lab coats. They came here near the end of it all, so the work was pretty much done. No more domes, no more habitation centers, no more space suits. We have air we can breath and green growing everywhere, and of course, I obviously have to be the only Martian to develop terrible allergies for all the Martian flora and fauna. The one thing we still don’t have, is the same gravity as Earth. Supposedly, gravity on Mars is about ⅓ of what it is on Earth. Because of this, it is vital for pregnancies, births, and early childhood development to occur on Earth or the resulting child will develop a weak heart, weak bones, weak mind, weak-ass everything, and going to Earth would be extremely difficult on said person, if not fatal.
Hi, I’m Dan, the only natural Martian. My parents conceived me on Mars, my mother stayed on Mars during her pregnancy, and I was born on Mars. I have never left Mars and thanks to my “awesome” parents, Mars is the only place in this shit-hole solar system I can really live. I suppose I could travel the stars in zero-G, mine the asteroids, whatever, but Earth would be a terrible idea. And as we all know, all the interesting shit happens on Earth. Why were my parents so careless you may wonder. Well, in my opinion, it’s because they’re dicks. Both of them.
All the interesting work had been done on Mars years before my parents joined the Martian Terra-whatever Project, like I said my parents showed up to just monitor the ending stages of programs that had been going for a century or so. As young biologists looking to make a name for themselves ( or is it theirselves? …thereselves? whatever! ), they wanted to see first-hand the effects of giving birth in ⅓ G as well as the actual result of gravity on early childhood development. It’s one thing that had never been done before. I mean what kind of dick would perform experiments on real life human kids? (Yes, that’s a rhetorical question, but it does have an answer. My parents.) Typically, scientists who worked on the Mars Terraforming Project ( ya, spell-check seems to like that better than terrafirming ) took appropriate measures to prevent career-crippling moves such as childbearing. But my parents got permission to be the first since they decided it would make a great experiment that somebody had to get around to doing at some point. Conceiving and raising a child in a potentially dangerous environment as part of an experiment; morally questionable you say? Well, yes, probably, but the “government” of Mars is made up of scientists and they tend to favor experimentation over things like morality, or the well-being of a child, and when you measure the distance to the next actual official Earth government office based on how far light travels, people up here don’t really feel compelled to submit to any oversight.
The result of their experiment was me. There were several problems they had to overcome. First of all, even after all the work everyone had done, the atmosphere on Mars is not the same as it is on Earth; it’s a bit thinner. Also, there’s less of a magnetic field around Mars than there is around Earth. All this mean that people of Mars have to deal with higher radiation levels than people of Earth. Believe it or not, all of us are constantly being bombarded with radioactive particles from space, even on Earth. Earth’s atmosphere and the magnetic field around earth help protect Earthlings from the worst of it. It’s not as bad as it used to be now that we have an atmosphere. In fact, the level of radiation on the surface of Mars is something adult humans can live with without any complications, but a fetus is much more likely to suffer. In fact, early tests showed the level of radiation to be fatal in the early stages of gestation.
There were two ways my parents could have dealt with the radiation issue. One, is to create a safe container in which to gestate the fetus, think test-tube baby. This method seems to me to be the most likely method to work and produce a normal human baby. Re-create conditions on Earth in a contained environment. But, my parents wanted to revolutionize something, so they sought a way to produce a “natural” Martian baby. So, in their opinions, the only answer lied in genetic manipulation. Yep, they re-wrote my genes so I’d naturally be more durable and more likely to survive on Mars. The result is that I have thicker skin than your average human, and one that contains more water. They did something to mom’s uterus as well. The result for me, is that I have thick, blubbery skin. Oh, and the extra water my skin holds protects me from radiation, but also made my skin a bit more translucent than is normal. No, it isn’t transparent, BUT I am a bit more pink than an Earthling. Oh, and the thicker skin led to a few other “abnormalities” in my extremities. My fingers, for example, grew together. Yes, I have all the bones for five fully functional fingers, but the skin around my middle and ring fingers grew together, so I only have four fingers on each hand. My ear also received more than their fair share of extra skin which resulted in ears about twice the side of a normal Earthlings, that tend to droop down a bit like a bunny. I also have a large bulbous nose, though that could be due to my father's Italian heritage.
Mars also affected my development after birth. Without the normal weight of gravity, my limbs grew longer. I’m about two and half meters tall. I’m told that’s about eight feet for those of you still using the Ancient’s system for measuring. Since my bones stretched beyond what would have been normal, they’re also thinner. Thin enough that they would easily break under normal gravity. My heart and lungs are also a bit small for my body, or at least they would be under normal Earth conditions. They work fairly well here on Mars. Essentially, a new species of humanity was created when I was born; a true Martian, homo marsien rather than homo sapien. Perhaps a breakthrough in science, but not something anybody wanted to create more of.
Based on my parents’ results it was decided all pregnancies, birthing, and early development are legally required to occur on Earth. If you get pregnant on Mars you have the choice of getting your ass to Earth ASAP, freezing the embryo until a more convenient time, or terminating the pregnancy. Yes, my development on Mars was such a colossal failure, that the limp-dick Martian Council of Lab Coat ( I just call them the Limp Dick Council, or LDC) decided it was something that could NEVER happen again, under any circumstances. I turned out to be such a weak, pathetic, slow piece of shit that the entire 150 members of the LDC voted fucking unanimously that they could not risk “me” ever happening again. But I’m not bitter.
Yes, I grew up without any other kids my age to play with. Yes, I spent a large portion of my upbringing with sensors taped to my body as part of one experiment or another. Sure, my parents never spent any time with me unless they had a clipboard ( I think I was about 6 when I saw my Mom put her clipboard down, and I flipped the fuck out because I thought part of her arm just came off ). And, sure, I may be the only member of a new species, but, yeah, I’m not bitter at all. Not even a little. My general apathy towards life has abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with my upbringing. I’m just naturally a dick.

“Hey Dan, could I have two hot dogs, please? One with ketchup and relish, and one with just mustard.” I look up from my ‘Pad to see who dares interrupt my musings. It’s some random guy and his kid. OK, maybe not quite so random, this guy ( Dr. Hughes, astrophysicist ) comes by about once a week and orders the same shit. I scan his pay chip and pull two freshly opened from the vacuum-packaging, re-hydrated tubes of random meat bits, and stick them in the reheater.
“The condominiums are over there,” I point to the row of ketchup et al on the other side of the cart. He and the mini-version of himself have a little snicker. Yes, I know it’s not “condominiums”, but whatever, I don’t give a flying fuck. That’s what I say. The white coats around here enjoy their snides and nose-looking-down-upon, but I’ll be damned if I change who I am just to fit in with a bunch of dickwads who have their heads shoved so far up their asses… <<DING>>> The little wieners are warmed up. After finishing my preparations I pass them on to Doctor Weiner and Little Wiener Junior, and with a forced smile and maybe a bit of over-the-top sarcasm, “Have a nice day! Please, come again!” The asshats grab their meat sticks, then pick up their hot dogs and leave me be.

Yeah, so, this is my life. Low gravity made me physically weak with a number of genetic mutations and a lack of any real personal contact probably led to my slightly below average IQ, not to mention I seem to be lacking in many of the social graces. I reheat hot dogs for people in white coats and their kids ( the kids are all born on Earth, no one under 10 is allowed on Mars due to fear of them becoming like me ). After 10 hours of this, I go home to my little hole in the ground, drink myself to sleep, wake up, rinse, repeat. Life is grand in the future, as long as you aren’t Dan Therman, the only true Martian.