Science Fiction / Soft Sf Social Sf

Hold Music for Olympus Mons

Combining Ray Bradbury + George Saunders | The Martian Chronicles + Tenth of December

4.1 9 reviews 10 min read 2,431 words
Start Reading · 10 min

Synopsis


A customer service representative on a failing Mars colony processes complaint tickets as settlers slowly realize no resupply is coming. Told in second person, the story follows the gap between corporate procedure and human reality as it widens into something unbearable.

Bradbury's aching lyricism for abandoned places meets Saunders' corporate absurdism and radical empathy. The Martian Chronicles provides the colony-as-domestic-vignette structure and ghost-town atmosphere; Tenth of December provides the interior monologue that reveals full humanity in the moment of moral crisis.

Behind the Story


A discussion between Ray Bradbury and George Saunders

We met in a diner that Saunders chose because it had bad coffee and the kind of fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look slightly ill. Bradbury arrived in a linen jacket despite it being February, and he ordered pie. "Pie is the most American thing you can eat in a diner," he said. "It connects us to the ground." Saunders was already in the booth, sitting with a small notebook open and a pen balanced on his thumb. He'd been doodling something — a stick figure inside a cube, or maybe a…

Read the full discussion

The Formula


Author A Ray Bradbury
  • Lyrical, sensory descriptions of the Martian landscape — the blue moment at sunset, the thin pink light, the dust
  • The poetic treatment of absence and continuation — routines that persist past their purpose
  • Nostalgic, elegiac tone for a place that was supposed to be home
Author B George Saunders
  • Corporate jargon as both comedy and horror — 'phase-aligned dietary restructuring,' 'satisfaction cycle'
  • Vernacular interior voice that breaks through bureaucratic language
  • Radical empathy for a character trapped in a dehumanizing system
Work X The Martian Chronicles
  • Colony as a series of domestic vignettes (complaint tickets) rather than epic narrative
  • Ghost-town atmosphere — Mentor Station, the empty office, the transit board with no arrivals
  • Colonists who papered Mars over with Earth's systems and forms
Work Y Tenth of December
  • Ordinary person making an extraordinary moral choice under pressure (the child's ticket)
  • Consumer culture / corporate culture as quiet dystopia
  • Interior monologue that reveals full humanity in a few paragraphs

Reader Reviews


4.1 9 reviews
Rowan Gallagher

I keep thinking about this story. The moment the protagonist breaks protocol to write directly to Kaia -- 'your mom is the kind of person who fixes things' -- is the emotional center, but what makes it land is everything before it: six tickets of corporate language masking human desperation, each one widening the gap between what the templates say and what the settlers need. The second person puts you inside that gap. You feel the handbook pressing against every response. And the ending refuses resolution -- Olympus Mons 'will not resolve your ticket.' It trusts the reader to sit with that. I want to put this in every hand I can.

73 found this helpful

Helen Vasquez

I have been reading science fiction for forty years and this is one of the finest short pieces I've encountered in a long time. The structure is brilliant -- each ticket peels back another layer of how badly things have gone, but the prose never tells you to feel anything. The moment where the protagonist tries to write 'I' and deletes it because the handbook only allows 'we' -- that is devastating. And the ending, standing at a window facing a mountain that 'does not answer and does not arrive and will not resolve your ticket.' The second person felt entirely natural here, like the only possible voice for someone this trapped in procedure.

68 found this helpful

Claire Oduya

This nails something I rarely see in Mars fiction: the banality of systems failing. Not explosions, not dramatic decompression -- just a transit board that goes blank, a department that stops answering, a water filter doing its best past its rated capacity. The custodial bots still sweeping Mentor Station for visitors who aren't coming is a perfect detail. And the protagonist watering Priya's succulent even though it probably isn't covered by water rations -- that's how people actually behave in crises. Second person was a smart call for the customer-service framing.

51 found this helpful

Amara Osei

What interests me most is how the story maps corporate colonialism onto literal colonialism without ever making the analogy explicit. The settlers 'papered over' Mars with Earth's systems and forms -- complaint tickets, satisfaction cycles, contribution credits -- and when the material reality diverges from the administrative one, the administration simply continues performing. The memo about 'Phase-Aligned Dietary Restructuring' composed by someone who 'has never missed a meal involuntarily' is a precise articulation of how distant power speaks to proximate suffering. The second-person narration reinforces the protagonist's dehumanization: you are a function, not a person. My critique is that the story could push harder on who profits from this arrangement -- the corporate entity remains conveniently abstract.

44 found this helpful

Lena Bergstrom

Formally accomplished. The ticket structure provides natural pacing -- escalation without the author having to engineer transitions. Each complaint widens the aperture from personal inconvenience (Vivaldi) to existential crisis (a child's missing mother), and the repetition of corporate templates against increasingly desperate content creates its own dark comedy. The Mars descriptions are lyrical without being overwrought: 'the sky holds that almost-blue like a breath held too long.' The second person earns its keep here, turning the reader into a complicit functionary. Where the story falters slightly is in compression -- at under 2,500 words, some tickets feel like they deserve more room. The Kaia ticket in particular carries enormous weight that the brief response, moving as it is, may not fully support.

42 found this helpful

Tunde Adeyemi

The worldbuilding here is almost entirely implied, which is a difficult trick. We learn the colony is dying through ticket categories and response templates -- the filtration system rated for 4,200 settlers serving 1,307, the transit board blank since October. The sodium maleonitriledithiolate detail is perfect: precise enough to feel researched, deployed sparingly enough to land. The second person works because the bureaucratic voice demands it -- 'you' are the handbook's addressee as much as the reader's. My one reservation is the Kaia ticket, which risks sentimentality. The restraint of 'I did my homework' saves it, but barely.

39 found this helpful

Jin Nakamura

The ticket structure is clever -- each one functioning as a vignette that builds the world through what the complaint system cannot accommodate. Settler Farrow's light complaint is the standout: 'The light here is not the light I remember. Can someone fix this?' There is no ticket category for the gap between what a species needs and what a planet provides. That line does more worldbuilding than most novels. The second person initially felt like a gimmick but earned itself quickly. The Vivaldi callback from ticket #4471 to #4477 -- from 'who chose Vivaldi' to 'is anyone there' -- is structurally elegant.

36 found this helpful

Kwesi Boateng

Effective. The ticket-as-vignette structure is the right call -- each one does work. 'Politeness is the last infrastructure to fail' is a killer line. Second person is fine, fits the corporate-manual register. But the child's ticket felt like it was reaching for my throat a little too hard. The dead satellites that 'still orbit because orbit does not require funding' -- that's the level this story works best at. Cool, precise, bleak.

22 found this helpful

Dmitri Volkov

The atmospheric recycler efficiency threshold and filtration chemistry are plausible enough, though I question whether sodium maleonitriledithiolate would actually appear as a filtration byproduct rather than a corrosion inhibitor. The colony logistics make sense -- staff attrition, maintenance reassignments, communication relay failure. But this is fundamentally a character piece wearing SF clothing. Mars is a backdrop. The second person is a stylistic gamble that paid off for the bureaucratic framing but would not sustain a longer work.

17 found this helpful