The Brightest Star
A sci-fi short story, unedited and written in just 20 minutes, based on a collection of four random prompts picked from a hat.
![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/j1a0awtvq5zo7iitzxzo.jpg)
[The prompts were "handful of bright red berries", "Martian vix championships", "identity" and "there's a storm coming..."For reference, "vix" is a twist on the original rules of table tennis, invented by me and my housemate!]
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Life on Mars wasn’t everything those dumb Earthers thought it was. Sure, the high earners had it alright, living it up in their lavish, lofty bubbles—but what about the rest of us? We never got much airtime back on Earth. Hell, if I’d just colonised a new planet, I wouldn’t have shared the horror stories either. Doesn’t take the sting out of it though.
Life on Mars was fucking hard.
There was a lot to struggle against—the solar radiation, sweeping dust storms, limited housing—but the biggest one wasn’t some unique Martian phenomenon. It was the exact same crippling divide that has existed throughout human history: poverty.
When you’re a below-average cargo-sleeper like me, there’s just no work out on Mars. They can’t legally refuse to feed you or anything, but guys like me got the absolute minimum. I was a nobody—a lonely, low-skilled shadow on the edge of civilisation.
Well, I was. Until a few weeks ago.
You see, back on Earth, I was a fairly decent vix player. Nothing exceptional—never even made the county team, but I could handle a paddle. But we’ll get to that.
So you remember that bit about how we don’t get much food out here? What we do, is we forage. Mostly we raid kitchens or threaten delivery boys, and a few weeks back I was particularly desperate.
I was starving.
So I did what no one with a sane mind would do: I raided the Protector’s bubble. I was caught instantly, and thrown out. You see, this guy was above the law, and he threw me out proper—into Mars’s atmosphere. As he dragged me to the hatch, I heard a servant say the words every Martian dreaded:
“There’s a storm coming,” she whispered.
It was like death speaking in my ears.
Not everyone knows it, but you can survive a few hours out there in the weakened atmosphere. I wondered, frantically searching for a way back inside—but nothing. On the point of total collapse, stumbling near-blind through the dust, I spotted a lonely bubble with a patch of scrubland outside. Planters would sometimes try and grow shit out here, but Mars always killed it in the end.
This Planter had obviously tried to get raspberries or something to grow out here— a publicity stunt to increase funding, no doubt—but I didn’t care what he was planning. I grabbed the bush out the ground, and burst into the bubble.
Dazed, starving and close to shock, I rammed a handful of berries down my throat, and collapsed.
…
When I woke, I couldn’t believe it. I expected to feel weak, choked from the storm and exhausted, but I felt great. Better than great. It was like my brain was firing on a thousand cylinders where before I’d had only 6. I was transformed.
I waited out the storm a few hours, and started to get hungry. At the same time, I could feel the sharpness of the morning drifting away. After eating another handful of those bright red berries, it came back instantly. What had I found?
Had someone grown these….or were they naturals?
I got back to the Entertainment Sphere just in time—my bout was in 15 minutes. After warming up my wrists and preparing for my probable round one exit at the Inaugural Martian vix Championships, I scoffed another handful of berries, enjoyed the warm buzz of my razor-sharp brain, and went out onto the floor.
I destroyed my opponent.
My reactions, my power, they were unlike anything I’d ever seen. Round two came in a flash, then 3, then 4—I was yet to drop a single point.
My reason for entering the tournament was simple: everyone who won a match got 50 credits, enough for 3 months of rations. Now, I was facing the final match of the day. I ate another berry, went out onto the grandest stage on Mars, and came away the victor.
The crowd exploded with applause.
After three years of scraping by, a lonely, low-skilled shadow on the edge of civilisation, I had become someone. The crowd loved me, and for just a few moments, I felt like the brightest star in the entire universe.
About the Creator
Jake Burgess
Always looking forward.
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