Winning Mars | Page 7

Sponsors love it. They just look properly horrified and give
some insignificant percentage of their profits to the survivors and
everyone's happy. Your big problem is legal."
And the fucking risk managers, Jere thought, thinking of 411, and the
conniption they would have if he ever told them about this. "Tell me
why we should take the chance. Pretend I'm stupid. Convince me."
Evan made a gesture and remapped the screen with colorful data,
demographics, charts, multicolored peaks spiking like some impossible
landscape. Stuff he had seen before, but this was far out of proportion.
The audience was far larger than he'd seen in a good long time, and the
engagement numbers were hitting the top of the screen. Jere thought of
those impossible charts they threw at him, back during that single

semester of college he'd endured. This was too perfect.
And yet it still bore the stamp of 411, Inc. The fuckers. But it might
make them more likely to back it, Jere thought.
"Why?" Evan asked. "Three reasons. First, the Chinese."
"Didn't the Chinese stop at the moon?"
"Yeah. That they did. But they said they'd go to Mars, and apparently a
whole lot of Chinese still want to go to Mars. And Koreans. And
Japanese. And even Americans." Evan pointed out separate spikes on
the chart.
"Then why didn't they?"
Evan shrugged. "Cost. They just don't go for spending on a US-style
scale. They don't have the tax base. Even using Russian tech, the
missions woulda killed them."
"And it won't kill us?"
Evan held up a hand. "Patience, my friend. You know the budget
numbers are always hidden in the back."
"So skip to the bottom line."
"No. Another reason is NASA. They're dead. Gutted. After the Twelve
Days in May, all the money is going to Homeland Security.
Everything's being folded into the new Oversight thing. And people
know that's where it has to go, so the polls show 'em being OK with the
Kevorking of the Mars flights. By the US, anyway. But they still want
to do it. They might not bitch about the all-seeing eye, but underneath it
all they have a pent-up need to see some great endeavor, not just
utilitarian defense. It's the Frontier Factor."
"Never heard of it."
"Henry Kase. New pundit. Blames the lack of a Frontier Factor for

most of the world's problems."
Data scrolled in Jere's eyepod, fast-ref video cap with contextual icons
showing a balding little man, talking to sleepy rooms of unshaven and
poorly-dressed people.
Evan winked. "Complete crap, of course, but it maps well on the
audience we're looking at."
"Good. He doesn't look particularly convincing."
"He's not a charismatic. It's a real trend, real as 411. Put someone
behind it who could work a crowd, and we'd nuke Russia so we could
make it into our new frontier. Or go into space."
"Sounds stupid."
"Third reason, the Rabid Fan. That's real. You know it."
Jere nodded. Everyone dreamed of creating a new Star Trek, still in
syndication after all these years, or a new Simpsons, a new show that
made people dress up, go to conventions, meet in real life, found
languages, change dictionaries.
"They'll think this is too game-show," Jere said.
"Yeah. But they'll watch, anyway. They'll bitch, they'll moan, but
they'll watch. What else do they have? All the trekkies and scifi nuts
and people who dream about getting out, getting away, people who
hate their lives for real and imaginary reasons, they'll all watch, and
they'll clamor for more. You don't have to take it from me. Look at the
numbers."
Jere looked at the projection, peaky and perfect and tantalizing. If they
could create something like that... he sat silent for a long time, thinking,
dreaming, imagining himself at the forefront of a movement. Evan
stayed still, like a statue, as if he was holding his breath.
"There are problems," Jere said finally.

"Of course."
"Death is still one. I'm less than confident we can get the whole idea
past the risk-management sharks. And even if we do, and even if I can
buy a platoon of lawyers to armor-plate our ass, but the shitstorm that
follows may still take us down. Especially if all the actors kick it. As in
Neteno is a goner. Done. Stick a fork in it."
Evan nodded. "I know, it's a stretch."
And his grin said, But you're really considering it, aren't you? I have
you on the hook. You're actually running the objections through, as if it
was a real proposition.
And, Jere realized, he was. Because the idea was... monumentally
stupid, and ballsy, and dangerous, and it probably wouldn't work... but
you didn't get ahead without ideas like that, you didn't revive an entire
industry, you didn't pull a Neteno.
How realistic