Showing posts with label H.G. Wells. Show all posts
Showing posts with label H.G. Wells. Show all posts

Friday, 24 May 2024

Red Weed

On Earth, a view of plant life may envelop a person in warm, serene feelings. Plants are organisms we take for granted as helpful, passive creatures, sometimes even viewing them as if they exist solely for our own purposes, more tool than lifeform.

On Mars, a view of the local flora may cause, if it is capable of feeling, a sense of dread in the local wildlife. Perhaps in the distant past, the vegetables of this planet used to be just as passive and generous as our own, but millions of years of environmental deterioration have made even the flora savage. In the last savannah can be found giant, sponge-like growths that digest microorganisms from the air in cavernous guts while in the sparse shrublands there are bushes that send out their offspring to feed on other plants.

Arephyta, the Martian taxon most similar in morphology to Earth’s Plantae, once used to make up the majority of the planet’s flora, as the fossil record attests. But unlike our planet’s algae and plants, arephytes never evolved oxygenic photosynthesis. They are stuck with a much more archaic metabolism, where sunlight is used to turn hydrogen sulphide and carbon dioxide into sugar, the waste-product being elemental sulphur instead of oxygen. When Mars was young, this dependence on H2S was no problem. Volcanoes regularly nourished the atmosphere with sulphuric gases while the waterways and wet soils were likely filled with microscopic sulphate-reducers that created H2S as a waste product. But as the planet has aged and dried, so have the conditions which have allowed these organisms to flourish. Many arephytes have gone extinct eons ago, the last survivors of the most basal types now desperately cling to the hangs of volcanoes and hot springs, where conditions still provide a faint echo of the elder days. The thrones of the plant kingdom have been usurped by former “planimals”, the spongisporians and fractarians, which have bet on the right horse and engage in symbiosis with oxygen-producing chloroplasts.

However, one group of arephytes has managed to adapt to this changing world. Arthrophyta is a clade characterized by bilateral symmetry and segmentation, traits we usually associate with animals. But the major characteristic that differentiates them from their archaic forebearers is that they have gained an additional type of endosymbiont: sulphur-reducers. These are anaerobic areont-cells that the plant houses in tightly-sealed bulbs along its stem. The deal is simple: The plant provides anoxic conditions inside its body and waste-sulphur, the symbionts reduce this sulphur back into hydrogen sulphide. An ingenious cycle. With this, the arthrophytes have been able to maintain a wider distribution than their cousins, and in the past grew into their own forests in a world already dominated by fractarian scale-trees. Still, they were and are limited compared to their competitors. Being able to recycle one’s own sulphur is an excellent adaptation, but it is not truly the same as producing H2S. It is a closed cycle and so the arthrophytes are still dependent on any additional hydrogen sulphide they may receive from the soil.

One peculiar group of arthrophytes has found a solution to this problem: Carnivory. The ancestors of this group likely started out not unlike Earth’s sundew, growing in nutrient-poor soils and trapping smaller animals as an extra-source of nitrogen. As they did, putrefying microorganisms must have fermented the sulphurous molecules of the prey’s body and created waste H2S, which immediately came in handy. Over millions of years a close endosymbiosis was forged, which eventually resulted in diets far more sophisticated and terrifying than that of any venus flytrap on Earth.

When an animal steps into the tentacle-like leaves of the red weeds, it immediately becomes ensnared, each attempt at escape triggering more proto-nerve reactions in the plant to hold onto the prey firmer, eventually tiring and choking it to death. In an ordinary carnivorous plant from Earth, this is where digestion would already begin, with enzymes secreted from the plant surface decomposing the food. But these plants digest their prey with microorganisms inside their body, in fact in the anaerobic chambers that formerly housed the sulphur-reducers, now transformed into something that could be called a true stomach. And it is by the method that these plants get food to their stomachs that they have earned their sinister reputation… and colour. These are vampire plants. Each leaf is adorned by tiny needles, much like the hairs of Earth’s stinging nettle, but instead of injection, these needles are adapted towards suction. Through osmotic processes, a pressure difference is created between the stomachs and the veins leading up to the needles. Once a prey animal breaks away the needles’ seal and gets stung, they work like syringes and draw out the blood and other fluids from the organism, sucking it dry over time. It is a gruesome process, sometimes an audible slurping sound has been recorded by observers. Some plants even inject their prey with an acid that aids in decomposition of body tissues into a digestible sludge, much like a spider. The nutrients from the victim’s fluids are digested in the stomachs, leading to the production of H2S, nitrogen and other helpful resources. The excess water now courses through the predator’s xylem, an excellent boon when living in the dry wastes of Mars.

Due to the abundance of iron in the planet’s crust, many of the higher animals use haemoglobin, myoglobin and erythrocruorin to transport oxygen, much like many organisms on Earth do. This means their blood is likewise red and, now stolen, tints the natural colour of these arthrophytes from the inside. As many of their metabolic pathways do not require oxygen, it remains unknown what the plants use the globins coursing through their vessels for. Its colour, together with its aggressive, choking nature, is how the plant has earned its colloquial name: Red Weed.

By going on the offensive, these remnants of a forgotten flora have burned their way across the ecosystem, growing with an astonishing vigour and luxuriance. Whole areas of the sparse shrublands have become their own microbiome where the cactus-like red weeds form dense carpets and miniature carmine forests. Many different species and morphologies exist. Some have the typical broad, tentacular leaves like a sundew, others broadcast long, thin strings from their stems almost like tripwires. The latter’s tendrils creep like slimy, wet animals across the wasteland, covering field, ditch, shrubs and sleeping animals with living, scarlet feelers, crawling, crawling… A third type of red weed, the vampire-waterlilies, is only very rarely encountered, as it lies dormant for most of the year. But during the thawing season, wherever this extraordinary growth encounters a stream of water it straightaway becomes gigantic and of unparalleled fecundity, clinging and growing with frightening voraciousness. Its diaspores are simply poured down into the water to be deposited and covered into the sediment for the next season and its swiftly growing and titanic water fronds speedily choke the water, creating transitory pools in which amphibious creatures lay their spawn.

The greatest differences between the species usually lie in the “heads” of the plants, which are their reproductive organs. Something akin to the beautiful flowers or fruit has never evolved on Mars among any of the known flora. Instead, sickening sporangia grow from these sickle-shaped tops, dispersing wretched diaspores into the wind and soil. Some of the red weeds’ diaspores can be necroparasitic if they are ingested. Usually, they lie dormant inside the host’s tissue for its entire life, but when it finally dies of natural causes, putrefying chemicals will cause the diaspore to germinate and feed on its host’s corpse until bursting out of the decaying body. A very few do not wait for the host’s death.

Another advantage of the red weeds is that very few herbivores feed on them, usually due to the damage that their needles may cause on mouthparts but also because most herbivorous animals seem to find it unpleasant to bite into food filled with other animals’ blood. But there are a few that do feed on the red creepers, helping to keep their advance at bay. Bennus, rannus and other periostracans have solid scolecodont beaks formed out of former teeth and so are immune to the syringes’ stings. They simply bite into the leaves and rip them out, destroying any built-up osmotic pressure, and then chew with pleasure on the succulent snack. Perhaps they do not mind the taste due to their own omnivorous diet. Some onychognaths also have beaks, but the soft inner-linings of their mouths still make it difficult for them to bite into red weeds.

On a final note, it is interesting to discuss why such a type of carnivorous plant has not evolved on Earth, even though all the required mechanisms theoretically exist in our own flora. It is most likely a question of necessity, none of the oxygenic earth-plants needing to evolve such drastic measures like the metabolically impaired arephytes to stay in the evolutionary game of life. But it could also be a question of time. Carnivorous plants on Earth are only a recent phenomenon, most fossil and molecular evidence pointing towards an origin not older than the Late Cretaceous. Perhaps the humble sundew and the flytrap are still at a very early stage of their kind’s evolution. As Earth itself will inevitably sink in habitability and competition from the expanding C4 plants will drive such forms into harsher habitats in another 500 million years, perhaps strategies just as drastic if not more extreme than those of the red weeds will evolve here too. In a billion years, when the expansion of the sun has turned our home into another red desert, this will maybe also become a planet of vampire weeds. Perhaps they will even sprout legs and go by themselves on the hunt for the animalistic post-humans that will cling to the wasteland.

Wednesday, 21 December 2022

Happy Holidays from Mars!


A good time is coming, I wish it were here

The very best time in the whole of the year.

I’m counting each day on my tendrils and stumps,

The weeks that must pass before Mars’ approaching comes.

Then, when the first green mists begin to come down,

And the heat ray burns sharp and the sky is torn down,

I’ll not mind the screams, though my ear it numbs,

For it brings the time nearer when our invasion comes.

Drain them we shall, blood will stain their filthy soil

While in our breeding facilities their children toil.

Fractarian trees our red weed will generate,

Which with their skulls we shall decorate.

These primitive cattle will cry their last hurrah,

When they hear us scream only:

Saturday, 2 July 2022

Introduction I: The things which lived on Mars and in our Minds

 Now narrated by Dagoth Ur!

Mars. A name that instills both fear and fascination in the human mind, as the red star travels across the night sky in ever stranger courses. The first record of humans taking notice of our red neighbour comes from the Ancient Egyptians, who gave it the name Har Deshur or Her Deshur (hieroglyphics rarely recorded vocals), which means “Horus the Red”. This denoted the planet as being one of many aspects of the sky god Horus, one of the most revered deities in their pantheon. For millennia this would be the most benevolent association Mars had ever received, as the red coloration made most of humanity think of more sinister things. The Mesopotamians knew it under the name Nergal, the god of burning desert heat, fire and plagues. In Hindu texts it was called Mangala, the god of anger. The Greeks knew it either as Pyroeis, the fiery one, or Ares, the god of war and destruction. From Ares the Romans would derive the god Mars, by whose name the planet is now widely called. People in those times rarely thought of the planets as material objects, but rather abstract things beyond human comprehension, likely put into the roof-like firmament as signs from the gods. Thus the idea that someone - or something - could be walking on their surface was rarely thought of. Do not misunderstand me, such speculations did indeed exist at times in the writings of ancient authors, such as Aristarchos, Plutarch or Lucian, but most of humanity preferred cosmologies that stroked their own ego, such as Ptolemy’s geocentric model, in which, with its aetherial planets, there was no place for biology beyond the orbit of the Moon.

"Who shall dwell in these worlds, if they be inhabited? Are we or they lords of the world?"

The Copernican Revolution arrived in the Early Modern Period and came to the momentous conclusion that Earth was not the centre of the universe, but was in fact one of many planets circling the Sun. But if Earth is like the other planets, does this also mean that those planets are like Earth? We find early examples of such speculations in the writings of Giordano Bruno, who wrote about life on the Moon and the Sun (then still thought to be a solid object) and, already in the 16th century, noted that extraterrestrial life must not necessarily resemble terrestrial variants, as even on Earth organisms have found multiple solutions for the same functions (Heuser 2008). The same century, German astronomer Johannes Kepler used Mars to solve one of the greatest problems in cosmology. When viewed over a certain period of time, the motion of the red planet across the night sky seems to go into the same direction as the other planets, until the planet suddenly moves backwards in a loop-like fashion to then resume its previous course (which may have led ancient people to believe that the planet was steered by an intelligent force). Kepler figured out why the planet went through such paradoxical motions: The planets did not revolve around the Sun in perfect circles, as previously assumed, but in ellipses, a realization which is today known as Kepler's First Law of planetary motion. Kepler (1619) was also the first to mention the possibility of inhabitants on Mars specifically, providing us with the above quote. The astronomer would go on to write (and posthumously publish) possibly one of the first science fiction novels, the Somnium, though it would be about life on the Moon, instead of Mars, a notion that, as fanciful as it may seem, might actually still have some merits, given recent findings about lunar habitability in the deep past (Schulze-Makuch & Crawford 2018).

Fig. 1: One of the earliest detailed maps of Mars by Giovanni Schiaparelli, showing (natural) channels of water. Note that the South Pole is here shown at the top, not the bottom.

As telescopes improved, so grew the interest in Mars. In 1659, the very first attempt at a map of the planet was drawn by Christiaan Huygens, showing what would later be known as Syrtis Major Planum. 1666 Giovanni Cassini would be the first to note the existence of a large ice cap on Mars’ southern pole, one of the first signs that water of some form existed on the planet. In 1777, William Herschel would discover that this polar cap would grow immensely during Martian winter, proving that Mars had seasons. In around 1800, Honoré Flaugergues made first mention of ochre-colored veils travelling across Mars’ surface, this possibly being the first discovery of dust storms and therefore an atmosphere on the planet. Catholic priest and astronomer Angelo Secchi made some of the first detailed colour illustrations of Mars. In 1869 he reported two dark and linear streaks across the surface, which he interpreted as channels, possibly bearing liquid water. Two years before, Pierre Janssen and William Huggins had first used spectroscopes to view Mars and came to the, albeit controversial, conclusion that water vapor was present in its atmosphere. During the 1877 opposition, Asaph Hall discovered the two tiny moons of Mars. The same year, Giovanni Schiaparelli produced the first detailed Mars maps, which showed multiple features of the same type as seen by Secchi, which were again called canali. Schiaparelli interpreted these as being natural, water-bearing features, the Italian canali meaning channel (such as the one between Britain and France). However, many foreign publications mistranslated these maps as showing canals, a term which denotes an explicitly artificial structure. 1892, noted French astronomer Camille Flammarion reported seeing the same features as Schiaparelli, but unlike him made an explicit connection to extraterrestrial intelligence. Flammarion was the first to speculate that a race of intelligent Martians, more advanced than humanity, used these grand structures as an irrigation-system to redistribute polar meltwater into the drier equatorial regions. Such ridiculously large construction projects were thought possible and intuitive at the time for an advanced race, considering that the Suez Canal was completed only a few decades prior and a few decades later the Panama Canal would begin construction.

Fig. 2. Mars’ vast system of canals, this time imagined by Lowell to be of artificial origin by a dying Martian race.

Around the same time, Pierre-Simon de Laplace’s nebular theory had become widely accepted. The theory states that the planets farther from the sun formed out of the primordial stellar nebula earlier than those closer to it. Thus, Mars was an older planet than Earth, already past its prime and on the way to becoming uninhabitable like the Moon (as a side-note, by the same logic, Venus was also younger than Earth and thus imagined as quite prehistoric, sometimes even with dinosaurs). Based on this, American astronomer Percival Lowell, one of the founders of planetology, speculated that the canals were built by a Martian race that had not just become more advanced than humanity by virtue of being older, but had also become quite desperate, attempting to stave off extinction and planetwide desertification with these monumental geoengineering projects. In 1894, he built the Lowell observatory in Flagstaff, Arizona, with the purpose of observing this dying Martian civilization as good as was possible with the instruments of the time. Lowell produced a great many maps of various and extensive canal-networks and also speculated that the capital of the Martians was in Solis Lacus due to how many canals he thought were crossing through that region.

“At most terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.”

Greatly inspired by such writings, a man of the name Herbert George Wells, who along with Jules Verne would go on to become the founder of modern science fiction, wrote in 1897 a short story by the name of The Crystal Egg. In it, an antiquarian discovers that a crystalline orb from his collection, if viewed in the right angle of sunlight, acts as a window to view through another such crystal egg on the surface of Mars. Inside a lush valley with a straight canal bisecting it, the observer sees lichenous trees, red weeds, dim and primate-like bipeds, insect-like animals and a rather bizarre Martian race. Wells’ intelligent Martians are basically all head adorned by tentacles and come in two variants: Winged Martians, which fly about Mars, live in houses that have only windows and no doors and use the crystal eggs to observe the surface of the Earth and possibly other planets. Then there are the wingless Martians, possibly of the same species but a different caste, which amble about on the ground with their tentacles like spiders and which seem to feed on the bipeds.

Fig. 3: One of the early covers for The Crystal Egg, showing a winged version of the later octopus-like Martians, observing Earth through a crystal orb, perhaps planning to invade.

The same year, Wells began a story of serialized articles in Pearson’s Magazine, in which the Martian civilization gave up their desperate attempts of maintaining Mars’ biosphere and instead used their greatly superior intellects and technology to invade and colonize Earth with the help of enormous bionic machines. In 1898 the articles were all compiled into a novel titled The War of the Worlds. Probably being one the most famous science fiction stories of all time, one might think that reiterating its details to the reader would be superfluous. However, much like other classics, such as Moby Dick and Frankenstein, this story is known by the general public more by its many adaptations than by its original iteration. And those adaptations often tend to do a great disservice to Wells’ Martians. Many details give away that The War of the Worlds takes place in the same continuity as Wells’ previous short story. The Martians which invade Earth greatly resemble the flightless Martians of The Crystal Egg. Their cephalopod-like body consists of just a huge skull with an equally large brain. The face consists of two large eyes and a v-shaped mouth that resembles a fleshy beak. The beak is surrounded by up to sixteen tentacles. No nostrils are present and the closest to an ear is a tympanum at the back of the skull. There were no internal organs tasked with digestion, instead the Martians fed by directly injecting their arteries with the blood of lower creatures (humans). On their native Mars they “fed” for this purpose on vaguely humanoid creatures, very likely those dim primate-like ones described in The Crystal Egg, which were grey, bipedal and possessed a siliceous skeleton similar to that of a glass sponge. Due to our shape resembling their cattle, the invading Martians developed a great taste for human blood. The Martians also spread the same kind of red weed as seen in the short story, in an attempt to xenoform Earth into a second red planet.

Fig. 4: The inhabitants of Mars, as imagined by H.G. Wells. An attempt at rendering genuinely alien life or instead a parody of what humanity might become one day?

The appearance of Wells’ Martians and their livestock may very well be seen as commentary of the then anthropocentric view of aliens of the time. Even in the novel, most people awaiting the opening of the Martian cylinder expected a creature much like a human, with only minor differences, to crawl out, to then be greatly shocked to see a bear-sized, cephalopodous creature. In view of the many humanoid aliens that were designed even long after Wells’ time, this aspect of the story still remains subversive. In fact, one could argue that the appearance and behaviour of the Martians, as well as the general story of the book, laid out the groundwork for the later cosmic horror genre. One H.P. Lovecraft would have been an eight-year-old boy at the time of the novel’s release and it is more than likely that he read Wells’ works.

Fig. 5: Forest life on Mars as imagined by H.G. Wells.

On the other hand, the design of the Martians was also greatly influenced by Wells’ own visions of what evolution might lead humanity towards. In Man of the Year Million, Wells wrote that he imagines future humans to have greatly reduced all of their organs, except for the brain and the hands, which are both instrument and teacher of the brain. He also believed future humans to externalise most of their digestive function. The Martians might therefore be seen as the extreme endpoint of that development, with the body having become all brain, the hands having become all tentacles and digestion having been reduced to drinking the blood of animals. Indeed, the narrator of the novel does speculate that the Martians may have once been humanoid in body form at one point in their evolution. In this light, the Martians’ relation to their humanoid livestock becomes interesting. Perhaps they were once closely related, but had become starkly different through a similar relationship as seen between the Eloi and Morlocks in Wells’ other novel, The Time Machine, just with even more time for evolutionary divergence. All of this should also be viewed in the light of Wells writing The War of the Worlds as a form of critique of the colonialist geopolitics of his time. As noted multiple times throughout the novel, the Martians in large part do to the people of the British Isles what the British Empire had done a few decades prior to the native people of Tasmania and many other colonized countries. And is the way in which the Martians consume humans really all that different from what we  humans do to animals and other forms of life we regard as “lower”? One could use all this to argue that these Martians are only alien in their appearance, but not in their nature.

Fig. 6: Mammal- and bird-like Martians as imagined by H.G. Wells.

After his short story and hit novel, Wells was not done with Mars quite yet. For a March 1908 issue of the Cosmopolitan Magazine, Wells wrote an article titled The Things which live on Mars. Wells wrote his article in response to Percival Lowell’s then newest book Mars as the abode of life. While Wells enthusiastically agreed with Lowell’s vision of Mars, he lamented that the astronomer in his work never went into detail about the exact appearance of Mars’ biosphere, especially regarding the question what sort of creature the intelligent Martian civilization would have evolved out of. Thus, he engaged in something that would today be called speculative evolution, with the creatures he imagined being beautifully illustrated by William R. Leigh, who was otherwise known for his Wild West art. Wells argued that plant life on Mars would be tall and thin, with small leaves and needles and in general resemble plant life from Earth’s deserts and mountain regions. Further he noted that something comparable to insect life would exist, though he remained open to the question of if it would be larger or smaller than on Earth. He also argued that there would be no permanent aquatic life, such as fish, as the astronomy of his time indicated that large bodies of water existed on Mars only in temporary form during the summer, when the polar caps melted. Wells further reasoned that with tall-growing plants there would be climbing animals and for an animal to be an efficient climber it would need a spine, meaning there must be vertebrate life on Mars. From here on out Wells’ vision of life on Mars becomes somewhat chauvinistic in favour endothermic vertebrates, such as himself. He argues that reptilian- or amphibian-type life may have long been outcompeted by now, as the bird- or mammal-like Martians would be adapted a lot better to Mars’ current cold climate (it should be noted that in real life, endothermic and ectothermic animals on Earth do about equally well in both ends of the temperature-scale, with warm-blooded small mammals and cold-blooded reptiles both thriving in deserts and warm-blooded seabirds and cold-blooded fish and krill both thriving in the polar regions).


Fig. 7: Wells’ highly advanced Martians, similar to those from The Crystal Egg, but disappointingly more humanoid (though this may be more due to the illustrator  William Leigh).

Thus, Wells imagines the intelligent Martians to have descended from such mammal-like Martian animals. Furthermore he thought they would almost assuredly have big heads with big brains and forward-facing eyes atop an erect spine, as well as big chests to breathe in the thin Martian atmosphere. He also thought it was probable that they would be bipedal. To give him credit where it is due, Wells is honest about not being able to answer any other details. He notes that they could have more limbs than he speculates, that it is just as likely for the Martians to have fur or feathers rather than naked skin and instead of arms with hands they might use any other form of manipulatory organ, such as tentacles or even trunks. Nonetheless, Leigh chose to illustrate Wells’ Martians as naked humanoids, though with bird-like feet, wings and tentacles instead of fingers. In some ways this resembles the winged Martians from The Crystal Egg and might indeed be an homage, though it is still disappointingly anthropocentric compared to the cephalopods of The War of the Worlds. As for the nature of Martian civilization, Wells wrote that most of the animal and plant life he imagined previously in the text may already be extinct, as, per Lowell’s writings, the Martians may have expanded their urban and agricultural areas across the whole surface of the planet, in the process wiping out all wildlife. This process he again deduced from what modern humanity is doing (and continues to do) to its natural habitats.

Fig. 8: A green Martian from Barsoom. In many ways an ancestor to Warhammer/Warcraft-type orcs (and predating the Tolkien ones too while we’re at it)

At the beginning of the 20th century, another man also became famous for his writings on Mars, when in 1912 Edgar Rice Burroughs, the creator of Tarzan, published the novel A Princess of Mars. The story follows the adventures of the American civil war veteran John Carter, whose mind and body are mysteriously transported to the planet Mars, a world of ruins, fantastic animals and various humanoid races. Burroughs’ Mars, named Barsoom by its inhabitants, was greatly inspired by Percival Lowell’s writings (who in those texts fancifully imagined what it would be like for a human to stand on Mars, for illustrative purposes to the reader). Like in Lowell’s vision, the inhabitants of Barsoom transport water from the poles to the more equatorial regions by use of massive canals, however, due to environmental degradation, the global civilization of Mars has already collapsed and control over the canals is quarrelled over by various warring city-states, while many other parts of the planet have degraded into post-apocalyptic barbarism. The atmosphere has also become so thin that the inhabitants have built atmosphere generators to artificially keep it from dissipating, which may be Burroughs’ concession to more advanced spectroscopy measurements of Mars’ atmosphere at the time. Life on Barsoom differs in many respects from Wells’ vision, on account of Burroughs claiming to have never actually read Wells’ work (Holtsmark 1986, though read on). Except for the native race of the Green Martians, which have four arms, deep chests and tusked mouths, most of the intelligent Martians are just humans with odd skin-colours, while most of the Martian wildlife are close analogues to Earth-life with extra limbs. The exception may be the kaldanes, a race of crab-like brain-beings that bear more than a passing resemblance to Wells’ invaders, perhaps making Burroughs’ above claim a bit doubtful. The Barsoom series, spanning eleven books that were released even after the main author’s death (1950) all the way into 1964, would not become influential through any imaginative biology, but rather through its storytelling and fun, escapist sci-fi concepts. It would go on to inspire many people, among them the likes of Carl Sagan, to become astronomers and it founded the planetary romance genre. It would go on to inspire Perry Rhodan and Flash Gordon, which in turn would become the basis for massive movie-industry giants like Star Wars. The terms Jed(i) and Sith actually seem to have been directly lifted by George Lucas from the John Carter novels (Robert Zemeckis in fact once claimed that John Carter has become unfilmable today because Lucas had already gutted the books for all they were worth for his own movies). The character Superman also originally began as an inversion of John Carter. Carter, being a human from higher gravity Earth, has superhuman strength on Mars relative to its native inhabitants and can jump extraordinarily high. Superman, who in his original iterations could not fly but just jump very high, has likewise superhuman strength on Earth because he is an alien from a planet with even higher gravity. Lastly, Burroughs’ Mars was the original desert planet of science fiction, probably having one or two influences on Frank Herbert’s Arrakis. In 1996, Barsoom would finally cross over with Wells’ Martians in the tribute anthology War of the Worlds: Global Dispatches, in which in one story, John Carter fights the original Martians on the homefront. In 2012, literally a century after the original book, John Carter finally received a movie adaptation. While it bombed at the box office, I personally really enjoyed it and recommend watching it for the escapism and the love it shows to the source material.

The Age of Uncertainty and the Great Disappointment

Despite such fanciful speculations in fiction and popular science magazines, actual science became increasingly more skeptical of Earth-like conditions and life on Mars as the 20th century wore on. In the 1920s, better telescoping and spectroscopic measurements showed that Mars’ atmosphere was even thinner than assumed, had significantly less water vapor and oxygen than thought and that temperatures ranged on the surface from -68 degrees Celsius to +7 degrees at best. At least a lifeform such as John Carter would not have been able to live here. There was also increasing doubt about the validity of Lowell’s observations, with better telescopes indicating that the features he saw were an optical illusion where the mind drew straight lines connecting dark patches on the surface. But such explanations remained controversial, as no earth-based telescope was powerful enough to see the red planet in crisp detail. And even in the 30s, weird happenings on the red planet pointed towards possibly intelligent activity, with large, green, flares being reported in 1937 (Davydov 1969). Was this a communication-attempt with Earth, a nuclear explosion or simply volcanic activity? Until the age of spacecrafts, the question of life on Mars in the mind of the scientist remained in a murky limbo. The general view was that the conditions on the planet were too harsh to house spectacular megafauna and a civilization of intelligent beings (and if such things ever did exist on Mars, they would now be extinct), but the conditions were still comparable enough to some extreme regions on Earth that they would permit the existence of primitive plants and animals on the surface. A great example of such a low-complexity Martian biosphere comes from the 1957 documentary Mars and Beyond, directed by animation legend Ward Kimball as part of the Disneyland TV series. Apart from hilariously pointing fun at sci-fi tropes of the time, the program also presents a fantastic 5-minute segment that shows in a starkly realistic style the possibilities of extremophile critters on the Martian surface. A big argument at the time for the existence of surface life on Mars was that telescopes showed green-blue patches across the surface of the planet change shape, extent and colour with the changing of the seasons. This was often taken as an unmistakeable sign of patches of vegetation responding to the winter and summer seasons, with scientific papers on the Martian biosphere basing themselves off such observations all the way into the early 60s (Salisbury 1962).

Fig. 9: Changing colour patterns on Mars, once taken to be signs of vegetation, but now known to be caused by dust storms.

With the age of robotic spacecraft came a great punch to the gut for any such speculations. Mariner-4 successfully launched in 1964 and provided the first close-up photographs of Mars’ surface in 1965. What they showed was a lifeless, moon-like desert, with an atmosphere even thinner than previously expected and no magnetosphere to shield the surface from harmful radiation. Despite this, prominent figures such as Carl Sagan still defended the idea of surface life on Mars. Sagan argued that Mariner-4 had photographed only a tiny part of the Martian surface and at such a low resolution that, had the probe orbited Earth, it would not even have been able to detect human civilization (Kilston et al. 1966). A year later, he wrote an article for National Geographic, accompanied by an illustration of Martian surface life he deemed realistic. At night the plantlife folds up to protect itself and the animals shield themselves with siliceous shells from harmful UV-radiation.

Fig. 10: 1975 renderings of Martian surface life, made by an unnamed artist at the JPL.

Despite Sagan’s arguments, further probing by robotic spacecrafts increasingly showed that Mars was more inhospitable than anyone would have thought, the last hopes for surface life likely dying out in 1976 with the (albeit still somewhat controversial) findings of the two Viking Landers. Only a year prior an unknown artist at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory had produced his artwork of sessile, silicon-based life on the surface of Mars. While conditions may have once been more hospitable in the deep past, today we know that Mars’ modern, mainly carbon dioxide atmosphere has only 0.6% of Earth’s air pressure, which, combined with the extremely low temperatures, means that apart from toxically salty brines, water can only exist in a solid or gaseous state. Its surface is constantly baked in harmful radiation, which furthermore produces perchlorate salts that are toxic to most life. The supposed patches of vegetation turned out to have been seasonal dust storms instead, Lowell’s canals were nowhere to be found and the Face on Mars of the Cydonia region was but an ordinary hill viewed at a funny angle. While the search for life on our neighbouring planet still valiantly continues, nobody expects anymore to find it on its surface. If life exists on Mars, then today only in shielded and warmer sub-surface habitats deep underground and, in all likelihood, only in microbial form. Recent findings by rover Curiosity of seasonal methane and oxygen releases may support such subterranean biospheres, as well as possible microscopic ichnofossils inside Martian sediments and meteorites (Baucon et al. 2020).

But what if?

With apologies to any microbiologist reading this, but where is the fun in some bacteria? What if we turn back the clock to 1964 and have Mariner-4 first lay its eyes on a different, slightly more habitable Mars, with just a little more air and a little more heat, and have the probe detect some oases of life inside the deserts and craters? Nothing too fancy, no civilizations, no giant beasts, just extremophile fauna and flora trying to make its best out of living on a harsh, but still liveable Martian surface. In the words of the Artilleryman: We’ll start all over again!

On this website you will explore this different Mars through the accounts of the manned space mission Horus 2, which will take you across the dunes, dust plains, glacial lakes and cratered canyons of Mars and showcase all its unique wildlife. This will be a Mars as envisioned by the scientists and artists of the 50s and 60s, though it will attempt to take into account some modern data about the red planet as well.

Fig. 11: A primitive antitrematan, during a time when Mars still had an ocean. You will not get to meet this critter on your journey through this site, but will instead meet some of its descendants.

Before I release you onto Mars, I need to mention that all of what you will be reading here will merely be a teaser for what is to come. I have been working for a couple of years now on a physical book about Martian life, however in billion-year-old fossil form. While Har Deshur will be a throwback to an alternate modern Mars, Life on a Dead Planet, as the work is currently titled, will play on a Mars that is the same today as in our own timeline and will instead be a fictional future paleontology textbook that will deal with the fossils that have survived from the planet’s deep past when it still had oceans. Nonetheless, you will see many familiar clades and lifeforms across both works. When Life on a Dead Planet will come out I cannot say, as it is undergoing a major rework, however you can read some of the earliest drafts of some of the chapters on my Patreon if you are interested enough.

Now do like Arnold Schwarzenegger and get your ass to Mars!

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