Showing posts with label Non-Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Non-Fiction. Show all posts

Monday, 23 June 2025

The Last Writings of the Dawn-Thinker

A huge Moon loomed above the sky as a faint, young Sun touched the horizon. Waves crashed against the beach, strange, gelatinous trees were gently rocking in the wind. High up in the sky floated triradial polyp-like creatures, preyed on by flying disks. Their wings were made of feather-like growths that were actually fleshy in nature. “Fleathers” if you will. The ground was covered in a dense mesh of purple rhizomes, forming an everchanging, evershifting “spongeland” instead of grassland. Embedded in the spongeland was even stranger vegetation, cones connected by strings like pearl-necklaces, spirally algae, long stalks that ended in egg-like “flowers” and large transparent orbs that were suckled on by asymmetrical worms. Only here and there was the spongeland broken up by gigantic, three-sided pyramids and extravagant houses built out of bricks and large stone blocks. Their ornamentation was exquisitely extravagant, quite byzantine one might say, with gilded arches and little frescos depicting history and mythology at every corner. On one of the roofs sat a slug-like creature, its belly armed with hundreds of tiny stubby legs. Its head was an elongated tube, adorned by one huge eye made of a silicate disk. With its tendrils and tentacles it played a baroque tune on a concertina-like instrument, singing to the people below the roofs like a muezzin, telling them to pray to their gods.

This was not an alien planet, but Earth itself, approximately 1.7 billion years before the modern day, deep in the Proterozoic. Except for the algae, none of the creatures here were of the multicellular life we are familiar with. The polyps, worms and the musician were not animals, the trees and cones were not plants, the rhizomes were not fungi. They were all stem-eukaryotes or even multicellular bacteria, descending from experiments in multicellularity that long predate the fauna and flora that would arise in the Cambrian. 400 million years earlier, their evolution was boosted during a quick oxygenation event, leading to a first fauna of macroscopic slime-mold-like flowers and polyps, which greatly diversified in the course of evolution into the wide biodiversity seen here on display. But today only that very first primitive generation, known as the Franceville biota of Gabon, would be preserved as enigmatic fossils, continuing to puzzle humans but ultimately being overlooked in the grand history of life as little more than curiosities.

Out of his window, Ptahhatp watched the serene scene. But whereas it used to fill his being with calm, he now watched the horizon with melancholy in his hearts. Ptahhatp spent a lot of time thinking about the world, about philosophy. He was a scribe of the Society of Sohon, one of many intellectual gentlemen’s clubs. Ptahhatp’s civilization has had many ups and downs, a history even longer than humanity’s. But it had already hit a ceiling millennia ago. The long line of gelatinous trees, with their leathery skin instead of solid bark, did not turn into coal upon fossilization. Algae had simply not existed for long enough or in great numbers yet for their remains to turn into sizeable deposits of petroleum. Living trees were sacred to the dawn-creatures, one needed to make a prayer each time one wanted to fell one. So, all in all, there simply was not enough with which to fuel an industrial revolution. For the better part of a millennium now, Ptahhatp’s society was stuck in an elongated equivalent of the early 18th century. The height of technology were pocket-watches and elaborate crank-operated automata, imitating people and the fleathery flying disks. They served as little more than entertainment and luxury for the high society.

With no real vision towards the future, Ptahhatp’s society became expert antiquarians, obsessed with the past, “new” movements, be it in art, philosophy, politics or religion, simply being cyclical renaissances of old ideas being brought back in new ways. His Society of Sohon, named in honour of a famous archaeologist, was one of many orders of antiquarians, which met each month to discuss their findings and share and reproduce their texts, much like the royal societies of Enlightenment Scotland. It was one of his favourite hobbies during retirement, now that he no longer had the capacity to go on his adventures. Ptahhatp used to be a polymath, like some sort of Precambrian Shen Kuo, having experienced many different things during his political career under the Emperor. He built canals, oversaw trade and taxes, worked as a royal astrologer and mathematician, drew maps of the realm, led armies into war… it would be easier to list the things he did not do. But now he was living a calm life in his big, old mansion, writing poetry. Until now.

The previous night, he was plagued by a strange dream, a nightmare even. Everything he knew, all the world, was encroached by a veil, not of darkness but of blinding white. Huge walls of ice, thrice as tall as the tallest pyramids, relentlessly marched towards the equator, burying all beneath them until the whole globe appeared like a ball of snow. Drifting solemnly through the emptiness of space. Ptahhatp’s disembodied mind floated atop the ice-sheets, seeing all of history beneath him. Eventually the ice melted and returned to the poles, but when it did, nothing beneath remained. The mighty glaciers carved away the entire world, not just the surface, but also all the rock formations holding eons of life’s history inside them. All the buildings were gone. All the flora and fauna were gone. All the mighty monuments and ruins were gone. All the fossils were gone. It was as if his entire world had never existed. Eroded away by the abyss of time.

Dreams held great meaning to Ptahhatp. Ironically for a person obsessed with the past, he felt as if he had been cursed with visions of the future. But he had never dreamt this far in time before. What was he to make of it? He looked around his chamber, onto the shelf with all the little antiquities, reliquaries and fossils and contemplated the likelihood of them having been preserved, found and brought here. Each one, even the most mundane piece of fossil plankton, is nothing short of a small miracle. The odds of them surviving into the modern day against all the destructive forces of time were astronomically low and now they are just sitting there on his shelf. But they will not survive forever. No matter how good he and his descendants take care of them, they will be destroyed one day. Everything will be destroyed one day, fading into oblivion. Even Earth will one day be gone, with perhaps nobody else in the universe ever knowing that it existed. All the life, all the cultures, all the works of this little pale blue dot… gone forever.

As he looked at his collection, Ptahhatp slowly went through a crisis of faith. What is the point of him preserving history if none of it can be preserved forever? For whom is he doing all of this? Just for himself? He, who cannot take any of this with him into oblivion? Not far from where he lived there was a crimson pyramid, so old that no carving on or in it survived into his time. Nobody knew who built it anymore, what ancient king may have been buried inside. Only the red sandstone blocks remained and in a few thousand years they would be gone too. If even the mighty works of god-kings will fade, what chance does he as a mere historian have that any of his works will be preserved across time?

And he looks out the window again. Into the Sun on the horizon, the lush spongeland, the undulating gelatine trees, the merry musicians on the house roofs. The joy and laughter of the people. This is the present. This is what he actually lives in. There is no past and there is no future for him to experience, only the now. In a flurry of inspiration, his tendrils pick up an ink-tipped fleather and he writes down a poem, unusually for him written in prosaic rhyme:

“What is better?

To have lived and left no letter?

To have legend and no life?

Living but an endless strife?

To become a memory,

Known but for mortality?


Burn my works, smash my bones!

What worth they are once I am gone?

All these things are but loans.

Death is all I own. 

 

I am but sole witness

Of my life in stress.

There is no reason and no rhyme,

Everything just flows with time.

 

If a Beyond there is,

With my goods I cannot depart.

And so these I should not miss,

But one thought I will impart:

 

Mourn me, do not.

Cry for me, do not.

Search for me, do not.

 

Beyond death, you need not plan.

To be happy is all you can.”

 

He goes out to play with the musicians in the street. He does not make history today, but he does make his day.

Sunday, 6 November 2022

Why you should watch Robinson Crusoe on Mars

If one had to accurately describe Robinson Crusoe on Mars, one would not have to look farther than the movie’s title, as it is pretty much exactly what it says. But if one had to describe it in another way to modern audiences, it is basically The Martian by Andy Weir, but released eight years before Weir was even born. Coming out in 1964, the movie tells the story of an astronaut stranded (nearly) alone on Mars and trying to fight for survival. Being made before the likes of 2001: A Space Odyssey or Planet of the Apes, one would expect this to be a typical science fiction movie of the era, with all the campiness that comes with it, from bad acting and lousy effects to concepts and creatures that are more fantastical than they are scientific. But, while there are traces of camp here and there, Robinson Crusoe on Mars, made by Byron Haskin, best known for 1953’s The War of the Worlds, decidedly stands out, as it is a genuine attempt at classic science fiction and was made at a crossroads between our old and new understanding of Mars. As such, it is of historic importance, as a real attempt was made to capture the then current vision of the surface conditions of the red planet. Don’t believe me? They even went as far as putting the label “This film is scientifically authentic” on the poster. Is that not hilariously fantastic? More movies should have that. What if we started putting labels of scientific accuracy on sci-fi media, complete with a rating system?

The Story

The movie begins with a manned mission in the orbit of Mars. On board are the two astronauts, Christopher Draper, played by Paul Mantee, and Dan McReady, played by Adam West (yes, THE Adam West. Batman is in this movie, deal with it), as well as their pet companion, a spider monkey named Mona (female in the movie, but according to IMDb played by a male monkey, who had to wear fur pants to hide that fact). As they orbit, they come too close into contact with a meteoroid and have to abandon the main ship by separately entering the escape pods to land on the planet.

There, Draper crash-lands alone, completely wrecking his vessel but surviving. The surface of Mars is arid, cold, no vegetation or life in sight. Though the air pressure is still high enough and there are low amounts of oxygen, so that Draper can take off his helmet and survive for about thirteen minutes before he has to return to breathing with his air tanks. This is obviously where the movie differs from modern knowledge, but it was very accurate to how surface conditions were envisioned in the early 60s. Earth-based telescopes and spectroscopy had already advanced enough by then to determine that Mars was not hospitable enough to support the civilizations and fantastic fauna of older fiction, but without direct measurements taken, it was still thought that the air pressure was high enough (in part because the dust veil around the planet gave astronomers the impression of a thicker atmosphere), perhaps similar to that around high mountaintops on Earth, that simple life was possible on the surface and that human astronauts might only need breathing masks. That Draper can breathe for a few minutes without tanks also seems plausible with then current knowledge, as seasonally changing colour-patches on the surface (not seen in the movie, but referenced at one point) were interpreted as vegetation and where there are plants there might also be a bit of oxygen. Only a year after this movie was released would Mariner-4 fly by Mars and show that even this scenario was too optimistic

After Draper salvages what he can, he makes his way across the lonely dunes and hills of Mars, finding shelter in a cave. Most of the movie was shot in Death Valley, but smartly, the blue sky of Earth and other background shots were replaced with matte paintings by Albert Whitlock (who would later also work on Star Trek and Carpenter’s The Thing), which give the movie an appropriate and rather beautiful alien atmosphere. Some shots even look remarkably similar to real life photos that would later be returned by the Mars rovers. The following days, as he uses up his air supply, Draper tries to find his friend McReady again, but is devastated to see that he has not only also crashed but died in the process. Only Mona the monkey survived. Together they go back to Draper’s cave, where he knows that the dwindling air supply spells doom. Nearly suffocating to death, he then finds out by accident that the strange yellow rocks he as been finding across the Martian surface are flammable and, when burned, actually release oxygen for him to breathe, saving his life. While this was obviously a convenient invention by the movie, there ironically is now some basis in reality to this. Today we know that the Martian sands are laden with perchlorate salts. Though toxic to humans and white in colour, with the right chemical reaction these can actually produce free oxygen. Various microorganisms on Earth, such as bacteria of the phylum Pseudomonadota, make use of this reaction, which obviously inspired my own work here on this site.

From here on out the movie follows the classic robinsonade-style story, just in its Martian setting. Having found a temporary solution to his oxygen-problem, as well as fuel for a nightly fire to keep themselves warm, Draper and Mona now have to contend with the lack of water and food, as supplies are quickly running out. In a cave they find a subterranean aquifer, in whose waters grow alien plants, looking like a mix between reeds and sausages. These the two are able to cook and eat. Using the newly-found resources, Draper builds himself a little farm and with the remaining scrap metal constructs various conveniences and contraptions to turn his shelter into a home, morphing from astronaut back into caveman in the process. 

But the worries do not end. While the movie does give its characters occasional breaks from the distressing situation they have found themselves in, it does nonetheless take itself very seriously. The monkey is surprisingly almost never used for comedic relief, but acts more as both a consolation as well as frustration for Draper. Though she gives him someone to care for, he cannot hold a conversation with her, which he obviously laments as the many months of isolation wear on. Heartbreaking, and quite well-acted by Mantee, is also a dream sequence where Draper sees his friend McReady alive again, but unable to talk to him, taunting his loneliness and driving him to near madness. Here the movie is very close again to the realities of space travel, as the consequences of the long periods of isolation that come with it will inevitably have negative effects on the human mind. This is a problem any modern prospect of a manned Mars mission will continue to struggle with. 

From here on out we go into spoilery territory (so read at your own caution), but you could have probably already guessed by the poster that Draper is not as alone on Mars as he had thought. While there are no native Martians and the movie even goes out of its way to explain the infamous canals as natural volcanic features, Draper eventually comes across a mining colony set up by aliens from another star system. Said aliens are quite evil and use slaves for labour. While spying on them, Draper bumps into one of the slaves, whom he calls Friday, in direct reference to the equivalent character from the Daniel Defoe novel. Friday is played by Victor Lundin, who would later go on to play the first onscreen Klingon in Star Trek, and looks exactly like a human. The alien language he speaks apparently also consists of Mayan words, which is perhaps some stealth reference to ancient astronaut hypotheses. In my personal head-canon, Friday is not an alien, but instead a descendant of ancient Mayans who were abducted and enslaved by aliens in antiquity. His relationship with Draper, as they flee together and hide at his shelter, is an uneasy one at first, but they get to know each other and become friends, with Draper attempting to teach Friday English. Eventually, however, their hideout is found by the slavers and they have to flee. What happens from thereon after I let you find out yourself.

Why you should watch it

Robinson Crusoe on Mars is many things. First, it is a quite good adaptation that perfectly captures what made the original Defoe novel appealing and also elevates its elements thanks to its higher stakes setting. Dare I say, it even improves upon it. Astronaut Christopher Draper certainly is a more likeable and relatable character than literal slave-owner/trader Robinson Crusoe. Draper’s respectful conversation with Friday about what God means to them will also likely resonate better with modern audiences than Crusoe’s blunt conversion of Friday to Christianity. Also, it is an “X in space” adaptation, which immediately makes everything better.

Secondly, it is science fiction of the best kind. It took what was known about Mars and spaceflight at the time, extrapolated it to create an interesting setting, took only few artistic liberties and put the protagonists against the thus generated odds, while also not being above having fun with its setting. While the movie was made right during the transition from old to new Mars, it also feels like a missing link between older and newer sci-fi movies. While the second half of the movie, with Draper and Friday escaping the alien slavers, still has clear shades of campy B-movies from the 50s, the first half has a serious, suspenseful, tough scientific feel that foreshadows examples of the genre that would come later, such as 2001, Star Trek or Alien. In a few ways it even already pokes fun at things that would become tropes in the future, such as when Draper theorizes that Friday communicates telepathically, to then discover that the guy can just talk and was simply acting mute at first. One could almost think that is a jab at Star Trek type aliens, if not for the fact that the original series would not come out until two years after this movie.

Thirdly, it is just all-around enjoyable to watch. The effects are decent for the time, the sets are beautifully designed, the technological props have that lovely outdated haptic look with buttons and tube-monitors (which still has lost none of its charm, as media like Fallout proves), the music is atmospheric and triumphant and the actors convey genuine emotion. I just said in the previous paragraph that the second half of the movie is reminiscent of earlier B-movies, but this does not at all mean that it brings the quality or seriousness of the movie down, for the simple reason that the blooming friendship between Draper and Friday is a heartfelt one that the viewer will love to watch and root for, as the two strangers struggle together for survival against all odds. “Heartfelt” I feel is the best way to describe this movie in general.

In conclusion, this is exactly the kind of movie that makes young, impressionable children want to be astronauts, just as Karel Zeman’s Journey to the Beginning of Time made kids in the 50s want to be paleontologists. It portrays space as a dangerous place, but one that begs to be explored and is filled with opportunities for adventure. It combines the best elements of science fiction with those of a robinsonade: Man, faced against strange new lands, creatures and technologies, survives, thrives and conquers through his sheer ingenuity, curiosity and determination. Lastly, it shows that even faced with the increasingly harsher reality of Mars, great stories can still be told on the red planet. This is directly proven by Ridley Scott’s 2015 adaptation of The Martian, which could be viewed as a modern up-to-date remake of Robinson Crusoe on Mars and was a resounding financial success that won several awards. In this light, let us pay some tribute to the movie that did it first and paved the way for many later classics. Matt Damon also did not have a pet monkey in that movie, which immediately makes it worse.

Oh yeah, and you can also just watch the movie through the Internet Archive

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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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