Ted Malone had wanted to work at his company’s lithium mine on Titan since landing a job as a safety engineer following college graduation six years before. Not only did it pay better than the jobs at the company’s lunar, Mars or Europa operations but the living conditions were so much better. On Titan, Ted and his wife, Nancy, could have their own home inside the eco-dome—a far cry from the cookie-cutter apartment complexes elsewhere—complete with a yard, something people their age could only dream about even on Earth.
Ted, who prided himself as a perfectionist, was always reaching for the brass ring. Nancy said it was because of his OCD. Ted said it was because he only wanted the best for his family. So, no surprise Ted jumped when he was offered a transfer to Titan. The huge raise was an added bonus.
“Babe,” he told Nancy, “Titan is our ticket to a better life. Just think, our own home and our own yard. Just like folks back home used to have.”
Nancy, a tall woman with an athletic build and a degree in architecture, was delighted because she got to design the house. She chose a nuevo modern quad level with a wraparound porch, two fireplaces, a ginormous gourmet kitchen and three bedrooms, all located on the second floor. Outside, she included a large deck and a tennis court to practice. Best of all, it was in a highly desirable part of the eco-dome, one near an excellent school for their two young children, and plenty of shopping and entertainment options.
The Malones moved next door to John and Julie Johnson, who had lived in the neighborhood the past three years. John and Julie were a lot like Ted and Nancy. John had a great job and worked hard, explaining that he only wanted the best for his family. Julie was convinced that John had OCD too, though she never told anyone.
The Johnsons owned a beautiful large Titan brick home, the envy of the neighborhood. As it turned out, they too had two young children who were about the same age as the Malones’ kids. But what impressed Ted the most was that the Johnsons had, without question, the nicest yard on the street. The trees were large and perfectly shaped, like the ones featured in the home and garden magazines of past centuries, and the lawn was beautifully manicured. In fact, the way John, who was in charge of the Titan colony’s farm on the far west side of the eco-dome, mowed his lawn—diagonally each way—reminded Ted of the lawns at major league baseball stadiums back on Earth.
Now it wasn’t that the Malones did not have a nice yard as well. It’s just that the grass was not as lush and green. So, Ted, being a perfectionist and all, determined to change that. If the Johnsons could have beautiful grass, the Malones would damn well have beautiful grass too.
For weeks, Ted worked on his lawn. He vigorously raked in new seed on the bare spots. He fertilized it. He cut it three times a week. And at the first sign of a weed, he would yank out the alien plant with a trowel.
Still, the lawn paled in comparison to the Johnsons’ lawn.
Ted decided to up his game. He hired a company that specialized in lawn care.
“This may cost us a few bucks,” Ted told his wife, “but it’ll be worth it. We’ll have the nicest looking lawn on the block!”
There was no question that the service helped. But the lawn still was not as green and thick as the Johnsons’ lawn.
“What the heck is John’s secret?” Ted asked Nancy one Friday night as they lay in bed.
“Maybe it has something to do with today’s delivery,” Nancy offered.
“What delivery?”
“I don’t know what it was. A big tanker piloted by two robots showed up while I was playing tennis. They sprayed the lawn with something and left. I wasn’t paying all that much attention.”
The next afternoon, Ted was sipping a martini in his backyard hammock when he decided to climb over the fence to get a better look at his neighbor’s lawn.
Why not? he told himself, John and Julie and the kids went to Saturn for the weekend.
Once on the other side, Ted removed his flip flops to experience how lush the grass would feel beneath his feet. And lush it was. It felt wonderful, like soft carpeting. Cool to the touch, it tickled his feet.
Just then Ted felt something underneath his toes. It was… squishy. Lifting his foot, he saw brown—and became aware of a faint foul odor.
Oh my God, he uses liquid manure from the farm! Ted said to himself.
From that day on Ted no longer worked as hard on his lawn. For on that day, Ted realized that while the grass may indeed be greener on the other side, we often have no idea about all the crap that goes into making it appear that way.
About the Author
The author of two novels and several short stories, Chaz Osburn had a long career in the newspaper and magazine business in the U.S. and Canada before switching to PR and retiring to Traverse City, Michigan, to write fiction.
