Robert Sawyer - Red Planet Blues

In February 2004, Hugo Awardwinning author Mike Resnick approached me with an offer I couldnt refuse: write a science-fictional hard-boiled private-eye novella for an original anthology he was editing for the Science Fiction Book Club called Down These Dark Spaceways.

That story, Identity Theft, went on to win Spains Premio UPC de Ciencia Ficcin, which, at 6,000 euros, is the worlds largest cash prize for science-fiction writing. It was also a finalist for the Canadian Science Fiction and Fantasy Award (the Aurora), as well as for the top two awards in the science-fiction field: the World Science Fiction Societys Hugo Award (SFs Peoples Choice Award) and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of Americas Nebula Award (SFs Academy Award)making Identity Theft the first (and so far only) original publication of the SFBC ever to be nominated for either of those awards. In a slightly modified form, Identity Theft makes up the first ten chapters of this novel.

In 2007, my wife Carolyn and I spent the summer at Berton House, the former home of Canadian historian and author Pierre Berton. One of Canadas most prestigious writers residencies, Berton House is in Dawson City in the Yukon Territorythe heart of the Klondike Gold Rush. Although Id already established the Great Martian Fossil Rush as the backstory to Identity Theft, it was my time in the Yukonliving across the dirt road from Robert Services cabin, and just a block from Jack Londons old homethat made me want to really explore the madness and greed that drives stampedes of prospectors. My thanks to the Berton House administrator Elsa Franklin, and to Dan Davidson and Suzanne Saito, who looked after us in Dawson City.

For other help and encouragement, my thanks go to Ted Bleaney, Wayne Brown, David Livingstone Clink, Paddy Forde, Marcel Gagn, James Alan Gardner, Martin H. Greenberg, John Helfers, Doug Herrington, Al Katerinsky, Herb Kauderer, Geoffrey A. Landis, Kirstin Morrell, Kayla Nielsen, Virginia ODine, Ian Pedoe, Sherry Peters, and Alan B. Sawyer.

My working title for this book was The Great Martian Fossil Rush, but my American publisher wanted something that played up the noir angle. I asked for suggestions online, and hundreds of possibilities were put forth. Jeffrey Allan Beeler, Nazrat Durand, Andr Peloquin, and Mike Poole each separately proposed the title we ended up using, Red Planet Blues. My thanks to them, and to the more than one hundred other people who made suggestions. As it happens, the same title was used in 1989 by my great friend Hugo Awardwinning writer Allen Steele for a novella he later incorporated into his terrific 1992 Mars novel Labyrinth of Night; Im using the title with Allens kind permission.

Finally, huge thanks, as always, to the Aurora Awardwinning poet Carolyn Clink, who helped in countless ways; to my father John A. Sawyer, who encouraged my early interests in both paleontology and other worlds; to Adrienne Kerr at Penguin Group (Canada) in Toronto; and to Ginjer Buchanan at Penguin Group (USA)s Ace imprint in New York. And, of course, many thanks to my agents Christopher Lotts, Vince Gerardis, and the late Ralph Vicinanza.

The door to my office slid open. Hello, I said, rising from my chair. You must be my nine oclock. I said it as if I had a ten oclock and an eleven oclock, but I didnt. The whole Martian economy was in a slump, and even though I was the only private detective on Mars this was the first new case Id had in weeks.

Yes, said a high, feminine voice. Im Cassandra Wilkins.

I let my eyes rove up and down her body. It was very good work; I wondered if shed had quite so perfect a figure before transferring. People usually ordered replacement bodies that, at least in broad strokes, resembled their originals, but few could resist improving them. Men got more buff, women got curvier, and everyone modified their faces, removing asymmetries, wrinkles, and imperfections. If I ever transferred myself, Id eliminate the gray in my blond hair and get a new nose that would look like my current one had before itd been broken a couple of times.

A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Wilkins, I said. Im Alexander Lomax. Please have a seat.

She was a little thing, no more than 150 centimeters, and she was wearing a stylish silver-gray blouse and skirt but no makeup or jewelry. Id expected her to sit with a fluid catlike movement, given her delicate features, but she just sort of plunked herself into the chair. Thanks, she said. I do hope you can help me, Mr. Lomax. I really do.

Rather than immediately sitting down myself, I went to the coffeemaker. I filled my own mug, then offered Cassandra one; most models of transfer could eat and drink in order to be sociable, but she declined my offer. What seems to be the problem? I said, returning to my chair.

Its hard reading a transfers expression: the facial sculpting was usually excellent, but the movements were somewhat restrained. My husbandoh, my goodness, Mr. Lomax, I hate to even say this! She looked down at her hands. My husband hes disappeared.

I raised my eyebrows; it was pretty damned difficult for someone to disappear here. New Klondike was locked under a shallow dome four kilometers in diameter and just twenty meters high at the central support column. When did you last see him?

Three days ago.

My office was small, but it did have a window. Through it, I could see the crumbling building next door and one of the gently sloping arches that helped hold up the transparent dome. Outside the dome, a dust storm was raging, orange clouds obscuring the sun. Auxiliary lights on the arch compensated for that, but Martian daylight was never very bright. Is your husband, um, like you? I asked.

She nodded. Oh, yes. We both came here looking to make our fortune, just like everyone else.

I shook my head. I mean is he also a transfer?

Oh, sorry. Yes, he is. In fact, we both just transferred.

Its an expensive procedure, I said. Could he have been skipping out on paying for it?

Cassandra shook her head. No, no. Joshua found one or two nice specimens early on. He used the money from selling those pieces to buy the NewYou franchise here. Thats where we metafter I threw in the towel on sifting dirt, I got a job in sales there. Anyway, of course, we both got to transfer at cost. She was actually wringing her synthetic hands. Oh, Mr. Lomax, please help me! I dont know what Im going to do without my Joshua!