THE SUNDAY SHORT STORY NO. 3

BARTLEBY ON MARS
By Bill Mel Hurman

"Call me imprudent", said Commander Terkuy, to his daily digital journal, "but I think there's something seriously the matter with Bartleby, and I'm increasingly concerned about him". And so he had been, for the last several weeks of a voyage that was taking him and his fellow voyagers towards the distant planet Mars, Bartleby had become more distant and indifferent as the mission dragged on. Liftoff from Cape Canaveral had been flawless, and the precision of the trans-martian injection burn had exceeded the flight planners carefully calculated expectations. Terkuy was sure this first attempt to land on the red planet would go off without a hitch. The crew, consisting of himself, fellow Navy pilot Lieutenant Commander Spernip, Computer Technician and only civilian, Ishmael Bartleby, and their spacecraft computer, nicknamed 'Ginger Nut', had been working well as a team, as so they must, seeing as it would be about nine months from liftoff to man's first landing on the red planet. Bartleby had been a last-minute addition to the crew because it was felt that his expertise in helping to build and program Ginger Nut would be invaluable in case of any computer problems on such a long voyage. The delay in communications with earth in deep space required an on-board tech, and no one was more capable than Bartleby. But in spite of the computer's mainframe platform being based on a Microsoft design (the low bidder - not necessarily the best - gets the contacts at NASA), there hadn't been a single problem with either the hardware or software that was so vital to the success of the mission, and, of course, the safety of the crew.
As the weeks wore on inside their spacecraft, named the PE-QUOD (an acronym for Piloted Environment - Quality Utility Outerspace Device, as NASA had designated it), Bartleby had next to nothing to do, as the two experienced Navy-trained pilot-astronauts handled all the technical duties in guiding the ship towards their destination. At first, Bartleby had made an effort to help with meal preparation, do a little photography and keep a journal of the voyage, but he soon became aware these activities were make-work redundancies, (Ginger Nut had been programmed to do all of that) and he fell increasingly into a depressed and silent funk. Commander Terkuy had racked his brains to try and find something for Bartleby to do, but each time he was offered a task, the reply was the same - "I'd prefer not to".
Eventually, after months of incident-free space travel, Mars had been reached, and the PE-QUOD was in orbit around the planet. Landing was scheduled to occur in just a few hours, and after touchdown, the crew would exit the spacecraft for a few days of exploration of the strange new environment. Terkuy and Spernip had a long list of tasks to perform - setting up experiments, installing measuring devices, excavating samples and the like, but concerned about their task-less computer expert, they had decided to include Bartleby in the extra vehicular activities on the schedule. Instead of staying in the PE-QUOD, Bartleby would also suit up and join the astronauts on the surface, perhaps helping to ferry instrument packages from the storage bays on the Mars lander, or being on hand to pass them a needed tool. It was a risky idea, but the Commander wanted to keep a watchful eye on his moody charge, and felt it was better than leaving him alone in the spacecraft, where his feelings of alienation might get worse.
Thanks to the skill of the two pilots and the flawless performance of Ginger Nut, the PE-QUOD made a perfect landing on Mars and after contacting flight control crew in Houston with the good news, Terkuy gave the order to begin donning their pressure-suits and helmets for the journey outside the ship. Not surprisingly, Bartleby said "I'd prefer not to" when asked to prepare for the EVA. Spernip looked to Terkuy to see if he was going to enforce crew discipline, and the Commander, without hesitation, ordered his Lieutenant to "assist Mr. Bartleby to prepare for crew cabin egress". Bartleby said nothing, and without too much resistance - and no help whatsoever - allowed Spernip (and with more than a little backup from Terkuy) to dress him in his spacesuit and helmet. Terkuy almost changed his mind about allowing Bartleby to join them when asked by Spernip to switch on his life-support system - "I'd prefer not to", Bartleby said, looking down at his spacesuited feet. But Terkuy and Spernip went ahead and completed donning their own suits and helmets and then de-pressurized the spacecraft to they could open the hatch and climb down the five ladder-rungs to the Martian surface. Terkuy was first out and would have liked to have taken a moment and marvelled at the view of the yellow-clouded, rusty panorama, but as he reached the bottom of the ladder, he instead closed his eyes prayerfully and spoke calmly into his helmet-microphone system - (which allowed the three suited men to communicate with each other) - "Mr. Bartleby, you come down the ladder next". Terkuy opened one eye and waited for the dreaded answer, and it came promptly. "I'd prefer not to", said Bartleby, having been pushed to the spacecraft door by Spernip, who, standing right behind the reluctant explorer, was himself anxious to get to the surface and begin the historic work that lay before him. Terkuy put his right boot back up on the last rung of the ladder, "Spernip", he said, "help me with Mr. Bartleby". Spernip groaned but complied, and with difficulty, because of the spacesuit's boxy life-support backpack, was just able to reach under Bartleby's arms as Terkuy grabbed him by the boots and between them, they carefully levered him down the ladder to the surface of Mars. "I'm sure glad that this is not being televised", Spernip said testily. Terkuy agreed, and was thankful that, even at the speed of light, communications from their position took about thirty minutes to make it back to earth. By necessity, conversation was brief and to the point, as real-time dialogue was impossible. In more ways than one, they were on their own. No TV cameras had been carried on the PE-QUOD to save weight for vital comestibles, but Ginger Nut was digitally filming the events outside the ship, which, thankfully, could be saved and edited for later viewing. Even though they all had identical spacesuits, Bartleby was instantly distinguishable from the other two spacemen, standing stock-still in his now-familiar slouch, as Terkuy and Spernip paused to take in the amazing Martian landscape. "Bartleby, just look at all this!", Spernip said as he patted him on the shoulder. "I'd prefer not to". The Commander, seeing that Bartleby was probably, after all, going to be of little practical use, looked around for someplace to park his reluctant charge. Spotting a sofa-sized boulder a few dozen feet away, he gestured to Bartleby and asked him over the three way circuit to go over and sit down on it. "I'd prefer not to", he heard Bartleby say, remaining stationary at the foot of the spaceship ladder.
With help again from his co-pilot, Terkuy managed to half-drag, half-frogmarch Bartelby over to the boulder and, as gently as they could, sat him down on it. The dead weight winded the two Navy men. Bartleby's shoulders slumped as he bent slightly forward, his gloved hands resting on his pressure-suited knees. The two men looked sadly at one another and turned and walked back to the base of the PE-QUOD, where they set about unpacking the delicate instruments that would collect vital data and samples to bring back to earth.
Hours passed as Spernip and Terkuy performed the tasks they had spent months in rehearsing and perfecting, and all went smoothly. Every so often, Terkuy would steal a glance at Bartleby, but he barely seemed to have moved since being placed on the rock in his defeated-looking posture. Terkuy, usually an unemotional, practical man, began to feel a great sympathy for his depressed crewmate. There they all were, on the surface of another planet, the most extraordinary trek ever taken, seeing sights no human being had ever witnessed first hand, and all Bartleby would do was to fix his mournful gaze on nothing in particular in the middle distance. Terkuy felt both exhilarated - and sad.
After about six hours , A wearied Terkuy decided they should all return to the spaceship for some food and rest. Spernip reported that he was too exhausted to lift his arms, even in the lesser gravity of Mars. There were two more days of spacewalks left to complete the work, and then they would prepare to blast-off and begin the nine month return to earth. Terkuy wasn't much looking forward to that, seeing as how things were turning out, but, once back inside spacecraft, he had made the decision to leave Bartleby in the PE-QUOD for the remainder of the stay on Mars. He was very worried about him, but realized he was unlikely to do any harm left on his own inside the spaceship. It didn't look like he was going to do much of anything, anywhere, anytime soon, such was his complete apathy. Terkuy almost hoped that Ginger Nut would have some sort of crisis, feeling that it might rouse Bartleby from his melancholy, giving him a renewed sense of purpose. "Spernip, Bartleby, back to the ship", Terkuy announced, tapping the watch strapped to his spacesuit glove. "Aye-Aye, sir", Spernip came back, snappily. Then, Terkuy held his breath as he waited for Bartleby's reply. Seconds passed. The nine months of eventless space travel seemed shorter to him than the waiting for a response from the direction of the ancient, red-tinged boulder where the motionless technician sat in his frozen slouch. Then, static that breathed like an electric sigh was audible and the dreaded, expected, feared words crackled into the commander's earpiece, "I'd prefer not to...sir".

This is all the text that was sent to us by Mr. Hurman, so our editor called him yesterday to ask if he could he please send us the conclusion to this thrilling 'Sunday Short Story'. His sister, Mrs. Iris Ecclescakes, answered the phone, telling us that Mr. Hurman has written the conclusion, but would prefer not to send it to us. We're making further inquiries.