Don't forget to join the newsletter! 💌

New New York

There is no grass on Mars. He knew frozen bovine embryos were likely a pipe dream. Also, he didn't know the first thing about raising water buffalo. But mozzarella is mozzarella. He would figure it out somehow like he had everything else in his life. He didn't know when to quit.

He came alone in a homestead fleet. During the months-long journey, he listened to recordings on repeat until he could "fuhgeddaboutit&auot; like a Manhattan native.

When the fleet arrived at the Red Planet, all the self-contained homestead habitations scattered across the surface like dandelion seeds in a breeze. He settled in Arcadia Planitia on an ancient volcanic hill a few kilometers past the outskirts of a cycler shuttle port.

· · ·
View Discussions on Twitter

Rob Skidmore writes science fiction and non-fiction about being human.

More about Rob

Join the weekly newsletter

Get early updates on my writing, peek behind the scenes, get exclusive deals, read humerous personal anecdotes, and more. No spam. No sharing of your email. Just straight awesome.