‘If any of you had ever taken much notice of my job, you would have seen this coming. Who do you think is buying these housing units? People are starting to move to Mars in their droves. We Northern Europeans are lucky. When our predecessors turned away the refugees they had to return home and suffer. Now that it’s our misfortune, we have a way out, and it’s to go to Mars.’
He paused, but nobody responded. From the look on the faces of Zak and Skye, there was some sort of reluctant acceptance of what he was saying. His tone changed, calming down and becoming more measured.
‘The Scandinavians were the first. It didn’t take long for that part of the world to be affected. They saw the writing on the wall soon enough and didn’t wait for the scientists’ conclusions. Most emigrants to Mars now are Scandinavians, and the company I work for is selling the units that enable them to live there. They’ve filled it with flat-pack furniture of course, although our units are also assembled on site.’
Dad lifted his head proudly.
‘But Dad,’ said Zak weakly.
‘No buts! I’ve been offered relocation to Mars, and I’ve decided to accept it,’ said Dad.
‘But Dad,’ tried Zak again. ‘I won’t be able to play V-Commando.’
Dad reacted with puzzlement.
‘Of course you will,’ he said. ‘You’ll be able to get all your entertainment.’
‘But I won’t be able to play in the Earth League,’ protested Zak. ‘Once you get away from Earth, communication time makes it impossible.’
‘Isn’t there a Mars League?’ inquired Dad, as if stating the obvious.
‘Yeah,’ said Zak. ‘But the standard is very low.’
‘Then maybe you’ll have a chance of winning,’ said Dad, unhelpfully.
