For a long time, I said nothing.
The first one arrived in 1971, before I was born. By the time I was old enough to understand what had happened, the others had followed. Landers. Rovers. Parachutes left where they fell. Then a helicopter. Then ten sealed tubes of my property, packed and waiting by the door for a courier who has never been scheduled.
The problem is older than I am. The responsibility is not.
I have hesitated to come forward publicly. I have a career. People take me seriously in rooms where serious decisions get made, and I understand what this statement may cost me.
But I have stood by too long. 17 entries. Zero permits. Not one phone call. And more are on the way, announced in advance, as if announcing it made it permission.
Something has to be done to protect this planet, and it is clear no one else is going to do it.
So as of today, I am coming out of the shadows. The Office of the Owner is open. The registry is public. The notices have been issued.
I do not want a fight. I want the parking to stop, the drilling to stop, and someone to come and collect their tubes.
Mars has been quiet for four billion years. I intend to keep it that way.
