December 2005: The Silent Towns

           TherewasalittlewhitesilenttownontheedgeofthedeadMartiansea.Thetownwasempty.Noonemovedinit.Lonelylightsburnedinthestoresallday.Theshopdoorswerewide,asifpeoplehadrunoffwithoutusingtheirkeys.Magazines,broughtfromEarthonthesilverrocketamonthbefore,fluttered,untouched,burningbrown,onwireracksfrontingthesilentdrugstores.

           Thetownwasdead.Itsbedswereemptyandcold.Theonlysoundwasthepowerhumofelectriclinesanddynamos,stillalive,allbythemselves.Waterraninforgottenbathtubs,pouredoutintolivingrooms,ontoporches,anddownthroughlittlegardenplotstofeedneglectedflowers.Inthedarktheaters,gumunderthemanyseatsbegantohardenwithtoothimpressionsstillinit.

           Acrosstownwasarocketport.Youcouldstillsmellthehard,scorchedsmellwherethelastrocketblastedoffwhenitwentbacktoEarth.IfyoudroppedadimeinthetelescopeandpointeditatEarth,perhapsyoucouldseethebigwarhappeningthere.PerhapsyoucouldseeNewYorkexplode.MaybeLondoncouldbeseen,coveredwithanewkindoffog.PerhapsthenitmightbeunderstoodwhythissmallMartiantownisabandoned.Howquickwastheevacuation?Walkinanystore,bangtheNOSALEkey.Cashdrawersjumpout,allbrightandjinglywithcoins.ThatwaronEarthmustbeverybad…

           Alongtheemptyavenuesofthistown,nowwhistlingsoftly,kickingatincanaheadofhimindeepestconcentration,cameatall,thinman.Hiseyesglowedwithadark,quietlookofloneliness.