The Martian Department of Atmospheric Complaints
The Martian Department of Atmospheric Complaints occupied a building that technically didn’t need air conditioning because technically there wasn’t enough air to condition1.
“Next!” Brad from Sales (definitely human) called out, his smile stretching in the low pressure.
Mrs. Henderson from Habitat Block C stepped forward. “The new atmosphere smells like Tuesday. Specifically, a Tuesday in March. This is unacceptable.”
Brad consulted his definitely human clipboard. “Our records show the atmosphere is 0.13% oxygen, 95% CO2, 2.7% nitrogen, and 2.17% Tuesday. This is within acceptable parameters.”
“But why Tuesday? Why not Friday? Everyone likes Friday.”
“Budget constraints. Friday-scented atmosphere costs 40% more.”
Behind Mrs. Henderson, a dust storm waited patiently in line, having filled out the proper forms2.
“I demand to speak to the atmosphere’s manager,” the storm whistled through its particles.
“Regarding?”
“Working conditions. We’re expected to circle the entire planet every thirty days, but we’re not given travel expenses. Also, the humans keep trying to ‘solve’ us. We’re not a problem, we’re a feature.”
Brad made definitely human sympathetic noises. “Have you tried unionizing?”
“The Dust Storm Workers Union, Local 447. But management says we’re ‘acts of nature’ and thus ineligible for collective bargaining.”
Jennifer from Accounting burst in. “The atmosphere is over budget. We can only afford to terraform 73% of the planet.”
“Which 73%?” Brad asked.
“The parts with people, obviously.”
“That’s only 12%.”
“Then we terraform 12% very thoroughly.”3
The dust storm swirled in frustration. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. No consideration for the native weather patterns.”
Mrs. Henderson had found a new complaint. “Also, why does Thursday smell like existential dread?”
“That’s not the atmosphere,” Brad explained. “That’s just Thursday.”