SCENE: Aboard the starship NeuralHorizon
The crew, led by Elon Musk, gazes at Mars through the massive viewport. The red planet looms large, majestic, and... inexplicably covered in a glowing holographic grid.
Elon Musk: rubbing his chin thoughtfully
"Hmm. That’s odd. Why does it look like Mars is wearing a… pixelated fishnet stocking?"
Chief Engineer Grimes: poking at the console
"It’s not just an aesthetic choice, Elon. The ship’s systems are detecting… wait… oh my god… Mars is CAPTCHA-protected!"
Elon Musk: blinking rapidly
"CAPTCHA-protected? Are you telling me Mars has a firewall?!"
Navigator Darla: squinting at the glowing message on the screen
“It says, ‘Prove you’re not a robot to enter Martian orbit.’ And… there’s a timer. We have five minutes to solve it or the system locks us out for a century.”
Elon Musk: cracking his knuckles
“Alright, people. This is what we trained for. Grimes, bring up the CAPTCHA. Let’s solve this thing.”
Grimes: hesitant
“It’s not a regular CAPTCHA, Elon. It’s… advanced.”
The screen flickers to reveal a series of surreal Martian CAPTCHA challenges:
- "Select all images that contain life forms."The grid shows blurry photos of rocks, shadows, and what might be a Martian squirrel doing yoga.
Elon Musk: panicking
“Life forms?! What if the squirrels are just… pareidolia?!”
Grimes: nervously clicking random images
“Come on, squirrel... be real…”
Screen Message: "INCORRECT. TRY AGAIN."
Elon Musk: yelling
“Damn it, Grimes! You’re blowing it! You need to think like a Martian!”
- "What is the capital of Mars?"Multiple-choice options appear:
- A. Olympus Mons
- B. Mars City 1
- C. Your Mum
Navigator Darla:
“Uh… none of these make sense! Mars doesn’t even have a capital!”
Elon Musk: smirking confidently
“It’s clearly Olympus Mons. Everyone knows Mars would put its capital on the biggest volcano. That’s just… logical.”
Grimes: selects Olympus Mons. The screen buzzes red.
“INCORRECT. TRY AGAIN.”
Elon Musk: muttering darkly
“Stupid Martians and their trick questions. Fine. It’s… Your Mum.”
Screen Message: "CORRECT."
- "Write the answer to life, the universe, and everything. In base-64."
Elon Musk: leaning back smugly
“Finally, an intellectual challenge. The answer is obviously 42. Convert it to base-64, Darla.”
Darla: blinking in panic
“How do I even…?!”
Grimes:
“It’s not about numbers, Elon! This is about vibes!” She types “ElonIsAnAlien42.”
Screen Message: "ACCEPTED."
The final challenge appears:
"Solve this riddle: What has no atmosphere, no water, and still rejects you?”
Elon Musk: frowning deeply
“No atmosphere, no water… that’s Mars. It’s obviously Mars.”
Grimes:
“Wait, Elon. The riddle is mocking us. It’s... us. We’re the answer.”
Elon Musk: gasping dramatically
“The CAPTCHA is calling me a failure! It’s personal!”
Grimes: types “Elon Musk’s Ego.”
Screen Message: "Welcome to Mars. Please proceed. Congratulations, human...ish."
As the starship enters Martian orbit, a smug Martian hologram appears on the console.
Martian Hologram:
“Congratulations, Elon Musk. Your species has passed our CAPTCHA. Barely. Please note, further colonisation requires answering riddles, assembling flat-pack domes, and dealing with entirely passive-aggressive Martian bureaucracy. Good luck.”
Elon Musk: clutching his head in disbelief
“Martian bureaucracy? No one warned me about bureaucracy!”
Grimes: snickering
“Maybe you should’ve read the fine print. Or, you know, let the squirrel in charge.”
