
Wake up, Pogo, we've landed.
What? Who? Oh, Sally! Have we finally landed! That was the longest trip to Mars I have ever taken!
Stop yammering, and suit up: We've got to explore the planet.
Right you are, Captain, My Captain.
Double time, Pogo. We only have two hours until perihelion.
Of course: Two hours until perihelion!
Exactly.
Uh, what's perihelion again?
Oh, Pogo!
No, I know it -- it's something to do with the sun, right?
It's a planet's closest point to the sun while in orbit.
See? I knew that. Say... have you seen my helmet?
You're wearing it, dufus. Now button your vest thingie... I'm about to open the hatch.
My vest thingie?
Well, at least I know what perihelion means.
Point taken -- point taken and swished around in one's mouth like mouthwash. Point then spat out in disgust.
Point then picked up off the floor again by yours truly and rammed down your throat if you don't shut up. Now get ready: I'm opening the hatch on 3:
1, 2, 3....
What's wrong?
Nothing: That loud "whoosh" noise just spooked me, that's all.
Pogo! You should never have become an astronaut if you can't handle a few loud "whoosh" noises. Now follow me down these steps -- remember, there's three of them so be careful!
After you, my dear Sally. Oh, this is swell. I haven't been on the surface of Mars in years!
Okay, I'm down, Pogo. Now back down slowly: Remember to count the steps.
Right, one-a-penny, two-a-penny...
Oh, why can't you just count like any normal human being?
And down -- WHOA! Have no fear, Pogo is here.
Can it, would ya? This is a serious mission.
Yeah, what is this mission, anyway? It seemed pretty hush-hush back at the space station.
Well, I guess I should tell you now.
You know what, Sally? After mature deliberation on my part, I find that I am in total agreement with that last sentiment of yours: In fact, you should have told me yesterday, when it comes to that.
Promise you won't laugh?
What do you mean?
Well, NASA wants us to find out if there is...
Yes? Yes?
If there is...
Say it: They want us to look for life on Mars, right?
Not exactly, no.
What?
They want us to look for (and I still can't believe it myself)... They want us to look for...
Yes?
Well, Love.
What? Well, this is a new one, Sally: You've always been the straight man in these missions: Now here you are making with the jokes.
I'm not joking: They want us to see if it's, well, possible to fall in love on Mars.
Ha ha! Very funny, Sally: now what's our real mission?
Believe you me, I wish I were joking.
How can this be? A stodgy old bureaucracy like NASA....
You forget that that "stodgy old bureaucracy," as you call it, has been superfunded for the last 100 years, ever since the appearance of that so-called "Death Comet" that was supposed to destroy the Earth in 2207, but ended up missing us by light-years.
So?
So? NASA has money to burn these days, so they're able to satisfy any space-related research whim that comes into the head of any Ph.D. Ivy Leaguer, never minded how off the wall the project in question.
Well, nothing personal, Sally, but you are not exactly My Favorite Martian, so...
Nor you I.
What?
I mean the feeling is mutual -- but I think that's the whole point.
What do you mean?
Well, NASA wants us to quote-unquote "explore" for a few days -- or at least make a show of exploring, to give us a plausible cover for being here so they don't have to explain the real reason to Congress.
Yes?
And then...
And then?
Well, apparently, we're to see if any fires are lit in, as it were, either of our....
Hearts?
Yes. Or whatever.
Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do. One studies their whole life to be an astronaut, and when they finally set foot on Mars, their research mission has been countermanded by the Kinsey Institute.