Journalist Report
Ben Durkee, Crew 236 Journalist
Sol 05
We’ve begun to develop our own Martian dialect. It sounds a lot like our collective worst impressions of a cockney British accent. I’m genuinely shocked that it hasn’t become annoying yet – I think the space madness has begun to set in and it manifests in the most mysterious ways. If the Health & Safety Officer had to write psychological reports, he would have A LOT of material at this point.
On the flip side, today was a relatively slow day on Mars which was a boon to our personal projects (and sleep schedules), but doesn’t give me a lot to work with. C’mon, Ben, think! Um… lovely weather we’ve been having..?
It actually has been a gorgeous evening, but unfortunately not for long enough. We woke up this morning to the tantalizing possibility of an EVA, however last night’s inclement weather didn’t subside soon enough and the ground was left rain-soaked and wind-battered, rendering it unstable for our entire EVA slot. If you can’t trust terra firma, who can you trust?
Instead, we spent the time grinding away on our research, adjusting to our new way of life, and oscillating in and out of latke-induced food comas. Kasey told us about her unsettling Stephen King novel. Vladimir taught us Durak, a traditional Russian card game that practically encourages over-the-top card-drawing theatrics. Cesare slaved over our Christmas Eve feast in the kitchen for hours, overwhelming the Habitat with some much needed pleasant aromas. Very much needed. We haven’t showered in 5 Sols.
I’ve been fasting since this morning so I can well and truly indulge in Cesare’s handiwork, but I think my stomach has begun to self-cannibalize. At a certain point, biological needs overpower literary ones. I’ve reached that point. Plus, what kind of crewmate would I be if I missed Christmas dinner?
And so, I bid you a wonderful Christmas Eve, and a jolly good pip pip cheerio!