THE SECOND-WAVE BOURGEOISIE
COMPILED BY MEI CHEN, ASH PALES, AND RACHEL BOBO Welcome to the world of the Martian elite. Before the Revolution of 2190, there was the 100 Years' Peace, wherein the First-Wavers and Second-Wavers coexisted without incident. But as we all know, tension was brewing, and of course it was; the class divide between the First-Wave workers and Second-Wave elites was far too vast. The opulence of the elite class, in comparison to the daily drudgery of the workers, was, to put it frankly, shocking. While the workers lived below ground, the elite enjoyed life in palatial homes on the Martian surface. The elites had everything the workers did not: pets, both machine and living, the latter available to only the most extravagantly wealthy; luxurious wardrobes, with heavy inspiration from Earth's Victorian era, a bygone golden age of prosperity for the one percent; leisure, in the form of sports, old Earth films, poetry, and the visual arts; access to the highest quality of education; and even immortality, or as close to it as a human can possibly get, thanks to ultra-expensive synthetic organs. The Revolution completely upended Martian society. The wealthy elite who acquiesced to the demands of the working-class majority were permitted to live; the remaining Earth-sympathetic Loyalists were forced through the Guillotine, a process in which the traitors were launched into outer space to be claimed by the cosmos. Today, the excessive extravagance of the elite class exists only in their material leftovers: their former homes, their robotic animals, scraps of clothing . . . and, to the thrill of our present and future historians, their words. We present to you photographs and an excerpt from the diary of Klarissa Webster-Bezos, descended on her mother's side from Earth socialite Kylie Jenner and Jacques Berman Webster II (more popularly known as the Earth entertainer Travis Scott) and on her father's side from Jeff Bezos, in his day the richest man on Earth, and his former spouse MacKenzie. Klarissa's parents, staunch Loyalists, were among the first to be Guillotined; however, at sixteen, Klarissa was deemed too young to face the same fate. Wise enough to realize the futility in any other action, Klarissa surrendered, and upon the establishment of the Council of Thirteen, was given a new identity and the chance to forge a new life on a new Mars. Today, Klarissa's whereabouts are unknown, but the words and images of her sixteen-year-old self have proven to be a valuable insight into the psyche of the average Second-Waver. |
November 21, 2189
Today is the day! My sixteenth birthday—in other words, the largest, most decadent party Mars has ever seen! I am positively vibrating with excitement. Invitations were sent out ages ago, and nearly everyone who’s anyone will be at our home tonight. The Waltons, the Rockefellers, the Vanderbilts, the Jolie-Pitts, even the Mountbatten-Windsors! The entire manor has been cleaned, top to bottom—I very specifically told all the servants to make sure every single surface is absolutely sparkling. Literally all of high society is going to be here and I will die, literally die, if a single thing is askew or unkempt or just wrong in any other way. I told the stablehands to have all the Real™ horses brushed until gleaming and let out of their stables to roam about the grounds—we have seven Real™ horses in total, including Father’s prized stallion John Wick, who is the most massive animal I’ve ever seen, much stronger and fiercer than any of the horses in those old Earth Westerns, and named after this old action movie hero (and I must note also that I watched one of those movies and it was really quite barbaric, but Father loves to show off John Wick to all his friends, so I suppose it must be some sort of manly posturing thing). Anyway, I told Mother and Father that if everyone was to be at my birthday gala, we had to have all the horses out and about in all their glory, the robotics and the Real™ ones, otherwise what really was the point of spending a fortune to have them whipped up in test tubes? And of course they agreed, so today everyone will see how splendid our animals are. The best, most marvelous part of tonight—my birthday gown! I truly cannot describe it in a way that would do it any justice. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. It is positively dripping in ribbons and lace and jewels! Lab-created gemstones, which is a bit disappointing, but Father put his foot down and said there was no chance he was going to pay for real diamonds to be shipped from Earth even for my sixteenth birthday, so that was that. Normally I can get Father to do just about anything I want, but even he has his limits when it comes to money, and I must say that even with the synthetic diamonds my dress was monstrously expensive. But all worth it! Cameron Rockefeller is going to be here, and he is going to see me in the most beautiful dress to ever exist on Mars! Cameron is the most handsome boy at school, and I’ve been trying to get his attention since we were fourteen. He hasn’t been receptive whatsoever, and for the life of me I cannot fathom why. Last week I saw him talking to that working-class girl, the one whose mother is a maid for the Mountbatten-Windsor family—Tara? Tabitha? I really can’t be bothered to know her name. The Mountbatten-Windsors, for some reason, decided to pay for her to go to school with us, even though we all know she’ll never be anything more than a worker. I mean, honestly! The Mountbatten-Windsors are descended from Earth royalty! She’s fortunate enough to just be in their presence, much less be such a parasite. I don’t know what Cameron sees in her. I suppose she’s pretty, for a subterranean. But she’ll have nothing on me tonight. He’ll see me and fall madly in love and we’ll be together forever while the poor thing without synthetic organs will grow old and wither away. I must admit, just thinking about whatever her name is has gotten me a bit riled up. Well, no matter—today is my day. Cameron won’t know what hit him. November 22, 2189 I am absolutely devastated! I couldn’t bring myself to write anything last night after the gala as the pain was just too excruciating! It started off so wonderfully! Everyone was wishing me a happy birthday, and everyone exclaimed over the horses and gasped at my gown, and there was just this massive pile of presents! The Rockefellers had arrived right on time, but without Cameron, who still hadn’t arrived at the time of the present opening. So I couldn’t help but peek around every so often to see if Cameron was there yet, but I was still just over the moon! And Mother and Father revealed to me the most wonderful gift: a Real™ tiger! A lovely little white tiger cub, with the most adorable little purr. I named her Rajah on the spot and just smothered her in kisses. It was the happiest moment of my life! And then, the Mountbatten-Windsors showed up, nearly half an hour after the present opening, and I could see Father bristling a little at the audacity of being so late to my birthday party, but there was Cameron with them! I didn’t even care that he was late, that’s how much I really just adore him, and I ran over—only he wasn’t alone! He brought that wretched, horrible subterranean worker girl! And he didn’t even look sorry! As I was standing there completely stunned, he had the nerve to act as if nothing was wrong, even introducing me to that brat. Apparently, her name is Stella. I really never cared to know, but now I shall never forget it. I hate her! I hate her with a passion. How could he do this to me? I am utterly humiliated! December 2, 2189 Cameron has been doting on the subterranean at school and I want to pull out her hair. I am thinking of training Rajah to be an attack tiger. December 7, 2189 Today Jason Zuckerberg asked me to go to his polo match this weekend. He and Cameron are both on the school team. I think I’ll go in my nicest hat and most decorative corset and cheer loudly in the stands. Perhaps Cameron will finally realize what a catch I am. December 10, 2189 Cameron didn’t even notice me at the match! For some reason, she was there. After the match, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Everyone noticed. I am miserable. December 12, 2189 Father is screaming obscenities downstairs. Apparently, some rebels attacked the Earth embassy, and there are whispers of a revolt. I don’t really concern myself with such things, but Father seems quite up in arms about it. Whatever it is, I’m sure everything will blow over soon. How in the universe could a ragtag group of subterraneans, with their quaint tech and no money, have even the slightest chance of staging a coup? I bet Father and his colleagues are going to be on extra-sharp lookout for rebels. Perhaps I’ll get them to take away Cameron’s worker girl. Although I suppose the Mountbatten-Windsors would never allow that to happen, so maybe I really should start training Rajah to bite on command. |
MARS 2245 was created by faculty and students in "The Anthropology of Outer Space" taught at Yale University in Spring 2020.
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