Red Light, Waving Mars (The Subterraneans - Jack Kerouac)
With Dennis Da-ala Mirilla, Greg Philippi, Isaiah Weekes, Gemma Weekes, Kareena Kai, John Brennick, Vanessa Walters, Joseph Adeiye - May 31st, 2021
Red light, waving Mars…
Red light lit up the streets in anticipation two days before he was to arrive in Lagos. Not because they felt like he was deserving of honor, but it was how they did these things.
In fact, they hated him, the way one hates extended familiar members that they have to sit with at Christmas.
“That idiot in Abuja,” the governor had said unconsciously once during a meeting and, then looked around to see if anyone had heard him. Of course, they heard him but they all harbored the same resentment as he did for the president.
It wasn’t just that they saw him as an emblem of mediocrity and all their problems, they were more vexed that he had surrounded himself with people they consider having a third-rate IQ.
The governor sighed a deep breath. “He is here. Let’s welcome him,” he said to them.
By Dennis Da-ala Mirilla
Red light, waving Mars…
Red light waving Mars echoed throughout the ship. The Captain, looking out a portal, turned to address the First Mate. “Holding Adomi?”
“Yes, Sir. Locked in, Captain,” the First Mate replied. The Captain turned back to the portal and continued looking out, staring at his ship’s reflection against the docking station. Light patterns flashed from the planet's surface.
The Captain turned once again to face his first mate. “Power up the lasers. When we receive our docking pass-code, we go in, blazing!” Silence swallowed the room. “There is no death, only rebirth in the realm. And so it is…”
Solemnly the First Mate replied, “Yes, Captain. And so it shall be.”
By Greg Philippi
Red light, waving Mars…
The Tinkerer, they call me.
How ironic that it’s widely accepted to be a derogatory term.
I place intricately made cogs the size of pennies into an automaton. It’s the size of an action figure. They ridicule me, dehumanize me, not understanding who or what I am, not bothering to know me, taught by their ancestors’ ancestors to despise me.
My hand wobbles slightly as I carefully attach a minuscule brass engine. They preach that I am a monster, a demon, unthinking, unfeeling, weak. But as I stare at my little creation and slightly blow upon its back - glittering sparks flowing into its machinery - I prove that I am anything but.
Its engine starts to move in sync with its arms and legs, the sparks spreading across its limbs. Thinking, feeling. I place it in its enclosure.
I am no demon. But maybe creating humanity makes me a monster by association.
And as I finally finish this thought, I fade back into eternity, wondering where and when I will appear again.
By Isaiah Weekes (14)
Red light, waving Mars…
from here she was close enough
to wave the red planet
from the wave she rode in on across light-years
each succinct as a subway stop
nothing to it now she had stopped believing
in the constraints of her own body
or constraints
or her own body
and gravity really only a suggestion
like buying insurance on a new gadget
(no that’s cool
If I break I’ll just get a new one)
in no time she was surfing in on a
shower of cosmic dust
landing easy like a cat on the red planet
where the Martians waited visible
to those of us who understand that:
SCIENCE AND MAGIC ARE THE SAME and
RELIGION IS A RECIPE WITHOUT INGREDIENTS
By Gemma Weekes
Red light, waving Mars…
Chioma lay on the hot dry stone-baked earth just catching her breath and waiting to feel the sensation in her limbs again. She knew it wasn’t right that she felt somewhat pain-free right now. Her body may very well have shut down but one thing was for sure her faculties were in order.
She could remember the cuts on her arms and her legs that had fired shots of excruciating pain across her spine just moments before. Finally, she slowly began to feel the weight of her arms. She raised her left one to check her watch. Surely enough it was the bloody mess she had recalled. Yet oddly enough maybe she was not as mentally composed as she thought.
Had she hit her head during the stampede? Come to think of it how had she ended up on the ground exactly. The very last thing Chioma remembered was running from the pack of beasts with all her might whilst ferociously wiping the sand and grit from her eyes so she could see where she was going. Yet, according to her watch at least 3 hours had passed since she had last checked in with her crewmates on the mothership. Both of the red lights on her watch were flashing. This meant they had sent out a search party to look for her at least.
She could now divert her attention back to slowly reconnecting with the rest of her limbs. They would find her soon enough, she had unwavering faith in her team.
By Kareena Kai
Red light, waving Mars…
The closest other planet
Red light waving in the night
As if saying, “Can you reach me?
Humans, do you have what it takes?
Mars says, “you’ve explored the lands of earth
And some of the oceans’ depths
I’m here too
What can you learn from me?
Don’t you hunger to know me? Reach me?
Your moon and I
You know that until you expand to us
You are still babies
Who have never left home.”
By John Brennick
Red light, waving Mars…
Red Light, Waving Man
The light was red but he didn’t cross. He just waved from the other side of the road. I looked to see who he was waving at, but there was no one there. He wore a trench coat and a suit with a tie. Carried a case. One of those regular square briefcases that spies carry. There’s so much you can see in thirty seconds, in the time it takes the light to change. He looked expectantly as if someone he knew was waiting - someone he really wanted to see. The light in his eyes held all the colors of the sky. And he smiled. Almost smiled. His mouth was open as if he had started to smile, but the smile had run out of batteries. I felt for him. His dream deferred by whatever he was dealing with. He stood as though he would stand there forever. Waving. Waiting.
By Vanessa Walters
Red light, waving Mars…
My mother was a single parent when she met my father. I was born with three half-siblings waiting on me. The relationship between my parents was weird enough for me, even without our neighbors stating that fact. Mum and Dad seemed like normal parents —a typical couple at first— but they had some unspoken rules that were obvious to even their kids. For one, we knew earlier on that our parents showed financial responsibility to their children only. Dad was only concerned about meeting my every need; my half-siblings were solely mum’s responsibility. Then my father started a new family elsewhere and here I am with my half-siblings, in our mom’s one room, watching Biker Mice from Mars on one of those mornings when Venus touched the morning light with the color red.
By Joseph Adeiye