The red Martian sun climbed slowly over the horizon, casting long shadows across the dusty landscape of the colony. For the residents of New Hope, today was a significant day—Lottery Day. The colony, nestled in a rocky valley, had been their home for 150 years, ever since Earth had descended into chaos. The 98 colonists had managed to survive and thrive through multiple generations, but resources were finite, and the colony’s very existence hinged on maintaining a balance.
In the center of New Hope stood the community hall, a modest but sturdy structure made from materials salvaged from the original landing pods. It was here that the lottery would take place. The residents moved about with a sense of quiet determination, their expressions a mix of resignation and solemnity. They wore lightweight, pressurized suits designed to protect them from Mars’ harsh environment. Though the hall was pressurized, the suits were a constant reminder of the planet’s inhospitable nature.
Emma, one of the colony’s teachers, adjusted her helmet’s visor as she walked with her friend, Mark, towards the hall. “I can’t believe it’s that time again,” Emma said, her voice tinged with sadness through the suit’s communication system.
Mark nodded, his voice crackling slightly over the comm. “It’s never easy. But it’s the only way we’ve been able to sustain ourselves all these years.”
The two friends continued their walk, passing by the hydroponic gardens encased in transparent domes. Inside, Lena, the head botanist, tended to the crops. She looked up and offered a weak smile through her visor. “Morning, you two. Ready for today?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Mark replied, trying to sound more upbeat than he felt.
Inside the community hall, the airlock hissed as the colonists entered, decompressing their suits. The air was thick with anticipation. The entire colony had gathered, forming a circle around the central stage where the lottery box sat—a simple, weathered container made from one of the original supply crates. It held the names of all 98 colonists, written on slips of parchment.
Elder Jonathan, an elderly and respected leader of the community, took his place on the stage. His face, lined with age and wisdom, reflected the gravity of the moment.
“Welcome, everyone,” he began, his voice steady and authoritative. “Today, we gather to uphold our tradition, a tradition that has ensured our survival for over a century.”
He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “As you all know, Emma has given birth to a healthy baby girl, Sarah. With this new life, we must make room. It is the way we honor our past and secure our future.”
Emma, holding her newborn daughter, stood next to her husband, James. The couple exchanged a poignant look, their hearts heavy with the knowledge of what was to come. James squeezed Emma’s hand, offering what little comfort he could.
The number 98 wasn’t arbitrary. It was derived from rigorous research by Frédéric Marin, an astrophysicist at the University of Strasbourg. Marin had studied the minimum viable population needed to ensure long-term survival and genetic diversity in a closed environment. Through his simulations, he determined that 98 individuals were the critical threshold for maintaining a healthy, self-sustaining colony on Mars. This number allowed for enough genetic diversity to avoid inbreeding and provided a robust population that could adapt to unforeseen challenges.
Elder Jonathan continued, “Marin’s research taught us that 98 is the magic number. It’s the threshold needed to maintain genetic diversity and ensure our long-term survival. The original planners of our colony knew that, and they sent us with resources just enough for that number. Unfortunately, Earth never managed to send additional supplies after the nuclear war, leaving us to fend for ourselves.”
The chaos on Earth had been sudden and devastating. Political tensions had escalated into full-blown nuclear war, decimating cities and wiping out entire populations. The once-thriving planet was plunged into a new Dark Age, with survivors struggling to rebuild amidst the ruins. Communication systems were obliterated, and the Mars colony found itself cut off from their home planet.
They were alone on the Red Planet.
Efforts to re-establish contact with Earth had been in vain. The few signals they managed to receive were fragmented and incomprehensible, hinting at the sheer scale of destruction. The colonists had no choice but to accept their isolation and focus on their own survival. Yet, amid the bleakness, a glimmer of hope remained—a whispered legend among the colonists grew with time known as the “Day of Promise.”
The Day of Promise was a cherished belief that one day, Earth would rebuild and restore contact with Mars. This day would mark the end of their isolation and the beginning of a new era, where the colony could finally grow beyond the Marin Number of 98. It was a hope that sustained them through the darkest times, a beacon of light in their arduous journey. The hope passed down from generation to generation.
As the lottery began, the air grew heavy with tension. One by one, the colonists approached the stage, drawing their slips of paper. There was an air of anxiety as each person unfolded their slip and glanced at the name written there, but the names were kept private for now.
Emma approached Lena, tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know how to feel about all this,” Emma whispered.
Lena touched Emma’s arm gently. “It’s not about feeling, Emma. It’s about survival.” Lena’s voice trembled despite her attempt to sound strong.
The ceremony continued, and Elder Jonathan reached into the box to draw the final slip. The tension in the room was palpable, with everyone holding their breath. Jonathan’s face remained impassive as he read the name silently to himself.
“Let’s proceed,” he declared. The crowd filed out of the hall in a hushed procession, heading towards the airlock. They donned their helmets and suits, the airtight seals clicking into place. Outside, a makeshift gallows stood, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of their existence.
In the circle of the colonists, the name on the final slip was revealed: Lena. The gasps and murmurs that followed were quickly silenced by a wave of stoic acceptance. Lena stepped forward, her face visible through her helmet visor, pale but composed. She had known the odds, as everyone did, but it didn’t make the reality any easier.
Elder Jonathan’s voice was somber as he addressed the crowd. “Lena’s sacrifice is a heavy one, but it is necessary for the survival of our community. We have all faced the reality of our limited resources, and we know that maintaining our population at 98 is crucial. Without the resupply from Earth, this is the only way we can ensure that we continue to thrive. But let us never forget the Day of Promise, a day when Earth will rebuild, and our colony will be part of a greater, thriving civilization once again.”
Lena nodded, looking out at her fellow colonists. “I’ve dedicated my life to ensuring our crops grow and our people are fed. I ask that you all continue to care for each other, to honor our traditions, and to keep our community strong. Hold onto the hope of the Day of Promise.”
Emma clutched Sarah tighter, tears streaming down her face inside her helmet. “Thank you, Lena,” she whispered.
Lena ascended the gallows with a quiet dignity, her final moments a testament to the resilience and strength that had kept the colony alive. As the lever was pulled, a collective shudder rippled through the crowd, the weight of their harsh reality pressing down on them.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the Martian landscape in a deep, foreboding red. In the aftermath of the lottery, the colonists of New Hope returned to their pressurized habitats, each carrying the burden of Lena’s sacrifice. They knew that survival on Mars demanded unthinkable choices, but it was their unity and unwavering spirit that had kept them alive for so long.
As the stars emerged in the night sky, Emma rocked Sarah gently, whispering promises of a future free from such brutal necessity. In the end, it was the unbreakable will of the colonists and the enduring hope of the Day of Promise that ensured their survival, even in the most unforgiving circumstances.
