"But what if nothing happens?" I insisted hopelessly.
Louie smiled. "So you fake it."
I got up from the chair in his office and stepped to the door. "That's dishonest," I pointed out.
"Creative is the word," Louie said.
So I went on the first trip to Mars. And I kept a diary. This is it. And it is honest. Honest it is.
October 1, 1960
They picked the launching date from the March, 1959, New York Times, which stated that this was the most likely time for launching. Trip time is supposed to take 260 days (that's one way), so we're aimed toward where Mars will be (had better be, or else).
There are five of us on board. A pilot, co-pilot, navigator and biochemist. And, of course, me. I've met all but the pilot (he's very busy today), and they seem friendly enough.
Dwight Kroger, the biochemist, is rather old to take the "rigors of the journey," as he puts it, but the government had a choice between sending a green scientist who could stand the trip or an accomplished man who would probably not survive, so they picked Kroger. We've blasted off, though, and he's still with us. He looks a damn sight better than I feel. He's kind of balding, and very iron-gray-haired and skinny, but his skin is tan as an Indian's, and right now he's telling jokes in the washroom with the co-pilot.