Cirrus@Austlit

'Imagine. 

'You are standing in the Juventae Chasma, a box canyon cut deep into the red plains of Mars whose walls loom six kilometres above you, three times the height of the Grand Canyon. The sky is magnificently wide, a hazy stretch of violet and lavender. To the east is an ocean of sand whose divots and waves have formed the pattern of fish scales. Closer is a towering flat-topped mound of rock. Sunlight soaks it in gold. Other mounds protrude in the distance like tombstone teeth. But here, where you are standing, the dirt is hardpan, with soft blossoms of dust that unfurl before taking ages to settle. It isn’t like you thought it would be, not like the movies: even during the worst storm conditions, the wind here won’t knock you over. There’s barely any atmosphere. A squall that kicks up could take weeks to settle and while it could fry the electronics of the suit you’re wearing, you yourself would barely feel it. ' (Introduction)