Julia and Frank sat for dinner.


    “I keep thinking about that dust storm, Frank. Shouldn’t we collect their bodies and bury them?”


    Frank shook his head.


    “Why?” Julia raised an eyebrow.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    “The robots will handle it. Our sole purpose here is to survive as the first Martian colonists.”


    “But, Frank, he was your best friend ...”


    “Yes, I know, Jules. We must precisely follow all orders. Eat your meal.”


    Julia tasted hers. “Yuck! Frank, these new rations taste awful!”


    “Soylent red.” Frank grimaced.


    “Soylent red, Frank?”


    “My guess, unfortunately. After this meal, I’ll tell you about a science fiction story.”