COMING SOON! History, setting, korporace a vůbec. Zatím úryvek původní povídky, ze které to všechno vzniklo... a zároveň něco o Educational System na Proctoru :o)

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The shouting incident didn’t end as well as Ysobelle had hoped. The head nurse had evidently been embarrassed by the scene and wanted to keep the young trainee out of her sight for as long as possible. Although Ysobelle still needed a month to fulfill her practical study session, Lady Maidlyn wrote a report stating that she had acquired all the experience needed, and was ready for another dose of medical theory.
Ysobelle had no choice but to agree, although she wasn’t happy at all. She lived in an age during which mankind had finally reached one of its dreams – painless learning - and turned it into reality. Thick, fact-filled textbooks and pages of complicated algebra gradually disappeared, making place for a special platinum microchip, constructed with precision and care, that was imbedded in every Martian’s head. Instead of spending hours trying to remember at least some fraction of what they were supposed to know, students now underwent a four-month therapy, during which they lay in a deep sleep while their brains were fed information.
One could say the microchip substituted the brain in some aspects. For example, it was a large storage place. When the brain wasn’t laden with gadgets and trifle memories – all this went on the chip – it could work quicker and better, which resulted in a higher intelligence quotient of all the bearers.
At first, of course, there were doubts. The citizens were hesitant about letting anyone mess with their brains. When, however, the first experiments (conducted on volunteers) showed only positive results, and some time elapsed, the public meaning changed. As it often is with things that are unthinkable to the older generation, the youngsters make a boom out of it. In the xxx year after the colonization of Mars, having a chip implanted in one’s head became fashionable. Over ninety percent of the population accepted the new method of learning and in Ysobelle’s days, there were but few individuals who refused to get the implant.
The young girl scowled as she removed her clothes and sat down at the edge of the coffin-like cot where she would spend the oncoming four months. The price for gaining knowledge easily hadn’t gone, it was just somewhat reduced. Immediately after waking up, the patient would mentally break down for a few days. It was to be expected – it is never easy to fish out long-forgotten memories and not know where they come from, and that’s talking about one little thought. Imagine finding tons of mysterious knowledge in one’s mind one day, appearing just out of nowhere. One understands it, but has to get used to it and explore the new possibilities.
That takes time – two months to be exact. After one’s comfortable with the new dates, figures and formulas nestled in their mind, they use the newly gained information while they work as trainees in their future surroundings.
Ysobelle lowered herself into the cot, the glass lid sliding shut above her. In a few minutes, a nurse will come and the sweet-smelling somniferous gas will cast her into a deep slumber. Nurses, she grumbled to herself, I’m surrounded by them. I will be surrounded by them for the rest of my life!
She shut her eyes and pictured the night sky in front of her. In the distance, far enough to be seen yet as small as the farthest star, a blue diamond twinkled in the velvet blackness. Earth. The planet of her ancestors, of everyone’s ancestors, even though most of the Martians pretended they’d never heard of their mother planet. There was even a new belief spreading around, talking of how the Martians were born out of their own planet, moved to Earth many centuries ago, and then returned in the near past. It was a very popular theory, for the hate of Earth went very deep. However, it didn’t contain a single true or provable word. As much as they hated the thought, Martians did originate from Earth. Ysobelle could understand the masses’ distaste. Earth was in some aspect a “mother” to the people on Mars, but it was a cruel and vain woman. Even after xxx generations, when it was evident Mars was not just a little colony but a sprawling, buzzing planet filled with life, the terrestrials claimed power over it. Every twelve months – half of the Martian year – the dreaded ships from Earth would appear, the haunting emblem of power (blue stars on a red background) glinting on their sides.
These tax-collectors (more popularly called Inquisitors) took a large percent of all Mars could offer, be it raw metal, ultra-light plastic flax or new technologies. As much as the red planet could afford to lose part of its goods, the sudden disturbance of the fragile equilibrium between gain and loss twisted the whole production system upside down. The prices shot up – and the masses grumbled. During the next few months, the system calmed down and started working again, but the loathing of terrestrials only deepened.
The situation worsened when a new series of wars broke out on Earth, almost xxx years ago. Little autonomies squabbled over a few acres of land, and they mauled each other and everything around without as much as a backward glance. Of course, this call to arms led to an increased demand of Mars. Ship after ship landed on the red planet, each bearing the rusty sign of their mother planet, each claiming part of the Martians’ property. Temperatures rose, emotions grew, forgotten feelings stirred. Mars began to plan a rebellion. The government claimed they had a few aces up their sleeves, new technologies that the terrestrials had no notion of. They were being polished, ready to be put to use within the next few weeks.
However, the clash of the two planets never occurred. Before Mars had the chance to bare its teeth, Earth twitched in agony and fell onto its back, surrendering before the battle hadn’t even began. A catastrophe occurred on the blue planet – one of those unpredictable and completely ill-timed disasters. A large cloud of space dust and chunks of rock hit the Earth, covering it in a black veil for the better part of two terran years. People retreated underground to evade the destructive rain of stones, and lived in a tensed peace, their thoughts completely distanced from fighting and wars.
When the network of cameras and periscopes showed that it was safe to venture outside again, the terrestrials hardly recognized their home planet. The never-ceasing rain of stones and metal shards had filled up many of the ocean beds, causing the sea level to rise. Instead of covering seventy percent of the surface, water now climbed over ninety. The planet’s face was an endless expanse of blue, only occasionally disturbed by a small island or archipelago in the place of a used-to-be high mountain.
The people adapted themselves to their new home. Under the watchful eye of Martian spy satellites that patrolled Earth’s atmosphere, they mastered the art of sailing and built small communities on the islands. Wars were forgotten, as was a large part of science. Since the catastrophe, not a single spaceship had left the planet’s surface. Which meant that Mars was free.
All the same, though, Ysobelle thought, Earth didn’t deserve such a fate. She had a soft spot for the twinkling blue dot in the heavens above her. Mars could be more technologically and intellectually advanced, but it was a young world. Mankind lived on its surface and partly underground, but people still hadn’t managed to tame the wilderness outside. Their mundane lives took place under a low and widespread network of domes and glass roofs, where the temperature and weather was revised and prepared by the Ministry of Environment and the gravity level set to 1 G. This was necessary – if people were left to live in the lower Martian gravity, their bones and bodies would internally deform, making it impossible for them ever to return to Earth. The only place where they could enjoy the mere 3/8 G was a special game hall (prohibited to everyone below ten Darian* years of age) and, of course, outside.
No one could venture out of the glass prison without a spacesuit, otherwise they risked freezing to death, getting a large dose of radiation and possibly being blinded by the dancing red dust. Anyway, there was nothing really worth seeing. Only rolling red plains, a few craters, and sometimes the steep hills that led to Mount Olympus, the highest mountain in the Solar System.
Earth was different. Ysobelle had never been there herself, but the libraries of Proctor held a vast number of books on the subject. The girl greatly enjoyed placing different disks into her portable reader and leafing through pictures of all the relics and monuments the blue planet offered. She was greatly intrigued by Earth’s history, especially mythology. Mars was interesting in its own physical way, but it was empty. In Ysobelle’s imagination, Earth was a peaceful planet covered in lush forests and alabaster cities, where fauns scuttled between marble statues and the djinn fulfilled peoples’ every wish.
What started out as a hobby slowly grew into a passion. Ysobelle found out more and more about the mother planet. Sadly enough, her romantic visions were wiped out by a dose of Earth History she voluntarily chose to undergo. The difference between her peaceful imaginings and the horrors and brutality of events that really took place on Earth was drastic. After sifting through the facts about all the world wars, religious terrorism and the slow but persistent destroying of environment, Ysobelle decided to stick to mythology instead.
She was overjoyed to discover that there was a practical course on this subject at Proctor Educational Centre. However, she was the only one who signed up, so the course was cancelled. Ysobelle was asked to pick another in its place, and she half-heartedly chose the medical one. She had her doubts then about whether it had been a good choice. Twelve months later, she was positive it hadn’t.

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