Kaylee and Alan sat on the couch, shoes discarded, feet tucked up beside them on the cushions, arm in arm. The video screen in their living room was dark.
“I’m just glad you got out of there,” Kaylee said. “If you’d gotten better seats…”
“No one was killed,” Alan replied.
Kaylee pushed back, shooting him a look of incredulity. “Is that our threshold now? Not dying at a soccer game? Where does this end?”
Alan shook his head and slumped against the arm of the couch. “I don’t know. I mean, is it awful to think we need a prison?”
“Political prisons?” Kaylee asked with a scrunched nose. “What are we, Marxists?”
“We’re not talking about imprisoning people for their political views. This is about locking up dangerous and volatile miscreants who attack referees at soccer matches.”
Kaylee crossed her arms. “You think there’s a difference? I bet you a week’s worth of foot rubs that everyone involved in attacking Brent104 was a Humans First voter.”
“C’mon, Kay. You of all people should know better than to—”
“Call a spade a spade?” Kaylee challenged. “You might teach political science to ten-year-olds, but don’t think you can talk circles around me about stereotyping movements.”
“You think Andy Wilkes’s Unity Keepers aren’t soccer fans?” Alan replied.
“This isn’t about soccer!” Kaylee shouted.
Both of them looked to the door in a panic.
The walls were only mostly soundproof. What if the neighbors overheard?
Kaylee left Alan on the couch to pace the living room. She hugged her arms close. “This whole planet is a powder keg. You don’t see it dealing with kids all day.”
Alan kept his voice measured. “I see it. Even the teachers aren’t immune. There are only so many lessons you can teach about political theory and history without addressing the issue of colonial independence. The first settlers on Mars considered themselves adventurous Earthlings. More than half the population was born here, now. Many of them have never even been to Earth. I’m one of two teachers on staff who’s taught at Oxford—out of twelve!”
A chill ran through Kaylee. “Part of me wants to just go home.”
“Me too,” Alan admitted quietly.
“But how do I look Athena and Stephen in the eye and tell them that things on Mars got hard, so we quit?”
“I’m sure we can think of something,” Alan quipped.
Kaylee cast him a baleful look. Normally, the humor he injected into their daily lives was a welcome shine on the dull red planet’s drudgery. But this just wasn’t the time.
“No more soccer games,” Kaylee said firmly.
“Oh, come on.”
“We stick to our jobs. We help Andy’s people put a lid on the revolution brewing here. We avoid big public gatherings with inflamed passions. We make Mars the kind of place where we’d be proud to raise kids. Deal?”
Alan got up from the couch and took Kaylee in his arms, looking her square in the eye. “You’re crazy, and I love you.”
“Deal?” Kaylee asked again.
“Deal.”