Passport
“Passport.”
He stared blankly at the uniformed fellow and the sign that read ‘Gate Seven’ behind him. Beyond that was what could only be described as an airport terminal. He knew that’s what it was, too, as there was an aeroplane taxiing away from it.
“Passport.”
He looked first left then right, up then down. The scenery wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary. Trees, various grasses and shrubs, sparrows and starlings in the sky, clouds drifting by and the unmistakable and highly irritating honk of a Canadian Goose.
“Passport.”
He returned his attention to the uniformed fellow, looking at him through the glass of his spacesuit’s helmet. Then he looked down at himself and the spacesuit itself. Even if he had brought his passport with him the gloves wouldn’t have made it easy getting it out of his pocket.
“Passport.”
“I, er...” he said, blankly, his voice barely audible outside of the helmet.
“No passport?” the uniformed fellow asked with an irritated sigh. “Fine. Keep to the left when you get inside. A representative will meet you.”
“Er...”
“Get a move on, I don’t have all day,” he replied. “Oh, and welcome to Mars.”
