The Exile - Part 1: One Way Ticket
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Hi, my name is Jonathan Pezza and welcome to Curious Matter Anthology. We have an unbelievable Season 3 in store for all you listeners out there.

We are changing things up a little this year, and instead of several stories we are presenting a single epic tale. Over the next 16 weeks, we will be taking you to the red sands of Mars, 150 years in humanity's future, for The Exile.

It's hard to believe this all started almost five years ago, alone in a basement. Thank you to each and every fan out there that has supported us over the years, and to all our amazing Kickstarter backers that have helped bring together one of the most exciting casts in audio fiction. It's because of you we get to make our biggest season yet.

Our team has grown as well. Tiffany Smith is back, not only in the starring role as disgraced ex-Earth federal agent Bryce Gordon, but has jumped in headfirst behind the scenes as a creative producer and partner in crime. Pun thoroughly intended. The Exile is based on the 1953 novel Police Your Planet by Lester Del Rey, and follows the exploits of Bryce as she is exiled from Earth to the dangerous frontier city of Marsport.

The original story was published five years before the founding of NASA, and what initially drew me to this tale was how accurately the planet was presented in the book considering how little we knew about Mars at the time.

Del Rey's stories were known for their attention to scientific accuracy, and this dark sci-fi noir tale was years ahead of its time in its presentation of the challenges that come with colonizing Mars. But that's not why I chose to adapt it. Because you see, Del Rey had the insight to understand that scientific accomplishment doesn't inherently make us better.

The greatest endeavor humanity will ever undertake is not the exploration of new worlds or the advancement of fantastic technology. It is the act of collectively facing our demons as we venture out into the stars and deciding to consciously leave them behind.

The Exile will be presented in eight main episodes, with an additional eight mini-episodes that explore the many colorful characters inhabiting the city of Marsport. We're very excited to be able to continue our aftershows again this season. Hosted by Sandeep Parikh and Alison Hayslip, make sure to tune in as we go behind the scenes and answer all your questions about the show. Curious Matter Anthology is an immersive audio experience, and is best enjoyed via high-quality headphones or speakers.

This story contains explicit content that may not be suitable for younger audiences, and includes adult themes, language, and violence similar to an R-rated film. And now without further ado, sit back, grab that bowl of popcorn, and enjoy The Exile Part 1: One Way Ticket. Mars Gateway, this is Icarus 2 requesting entry burn. We hear a loud clear, Icarus 2. You are cleared for a burn drop at marker 2. Gateway, triggering.

Marsport Tower, carrier on final approach. Good morning, Marsport! That was poison rain by our own local troubadours, Suffer City.

This is Epidemic Radio, and I am your cure. Rand, as always. Today is going to be a balmy 79 with a low tonight of minus 103. That big dust storm the sinksats were tracking thankfully turned north out of the Mariner Valley and is safely headed towards Orson Welles. It appears that freight shipments may finally be back on track. Icarus II should be dropping its cargo right about now, before slingshotting back towards our former overlords. Thank you for my lucky dream.

Step forward, please.

Name and reason for trouble? Bryce Gordon. And I'm not really sure how to answer that. Place your arm under the scanner. Hold on right here. Sir, we have a yellow card. I was told to ask for refugee status in accordance with the charter. Just a tick. Yep, she's a G-man. Big one, too. Solid green by the look of her. Ah, okay. Copy that, son.

Olle, processing room three. Over to the left. You're my yellow card, huh? You're a tough looking customer, aren't you? I guess I am. I'm seeking refugee status in accordance with the charter of Terran Colonies. That's a dangerous word around here. Refugee? Colony. This here is a sovereign republic. We ain't no puppet state like the other dirt. Not off to a good start, Jeeeman.

I'm sorry. I was informed during deportation you had to accept my application for provisional settlement. I could just as easily let you starve to death here in the terminal. Look, I'm not here to make trouble. Oh, I'm just yanking on you. We love refugees. Ah, okay. I see in your application you were a cop on Earth. Something like that.

You planning on getting back into the, uh, trade here? Big one with grav strength like you, always looking for bruisers in Marsport City. Could help get you a referral. For a fee, of course. Gonna try and steer clear of all that. You familiar with how things work here? Meaning?

Well, the air of course is getting better every year thanks to the tradesmen and their big machines. But still, you walk outside without a helmet, you dead right quick. We don't live that luxury life you's used to. Free air, free water, everything here has a price. Yeah, I get you. Did you bring your own rig? Yes. I'll need to inspect it. Seat, helmet.

I was told they're top of the line. Kevlar and nano-weak. What would an Earther know about good gear? No good this year. I'll have to confiscate it. For your safety, of course. Hold on. Don't make me change my mind about you. You can purchase a new one at the Terminal Depot for a nominal fee. Look, I... If you don't want to buy one, what am I going to do? Welcome to Mars. I trust it will be all you hoped for and more. Thanks. I guess. One more question, though.

The yellow card. What'd you have to do to piss off a whole planet? That is the question I've been asking myself for the last six weeks. Since the tribunal found me guilty and stripped me of the only home I'd ever know. It's the question I asked on the cramped three-week journey in that tin can strapped to an ion engine that pushed me like a pawn 150 million miles across the solar system. And the answer I've come to...

Is that the most dangerous thing in this universe is truth. One minute to Nuke Kidron. That's me. Getting off here. You sure? This is a pretty rough blur. Even MPF don't have the balls to patrol here. Thanks. I'll be alright.

Not that I'm one of those assholes with an angel complex. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when a toxic drop of information fell into my lap and started burrowing into me. The kind of information that can spark revolutions, you know. What was I to do? I caught it like the flu and it tore my life apart. And now? Now I'm here an ex-boxer, ex-cop, ex-mother, ex-citizen of Earth stuck.

on a mud ball the color of dried blood, or even the dust is trying to kill me. The depot clerk at the terminal didn't even have the shame to flinch when they tried to sell me back my own pressure suit and helmet at ten times the price I paid on Earth.

with no choice and nowhere near the scratch. I bought a used local rig, cheap plastic, with a helmet that smelled of stale sweat. It might not be pretty, but it would keep me alive. This is you then, miss. Thank you. Airlock sealed. It's now safe to exit the transport. Nook and Ross had had a dome at some point. A giant...

Vinyl, fabric, and Kevlar bubble like the ones dotting the rest of Marsport. Little more than giant balloons held aloft by the pressure differential created by the air inside. The giant concrete balustrades that had once held it in place were now only a graffiti-covered stonehenge-like ruin, ringing the dilapidated neighborhood. You're gone, boy! I get you wherever you need to go safe, allé! Fifteen shits, fair deal, lily!

I'm good. NK not safe for nobody these days. Tell you what, call it 25. The knife on my belt keeps the hungry sunken eyes and their patched disposable rigs at bay. This is the kind of place no one cares about. Not the cops, not the gov, not even enough to provide these poor sods here life-giving air. No one looks too close at the things that go on inside the hermetically sealed buildings of New Kinross.

That suits me just fine. I don't know you. This the chicken coop? I'm looking for Mother Cory. Hobble off and try your game somewhere else, kid. Lan Gordon told me to find Mother Cory if I ever ended up in Marsport. I'm assuming that's you. Here's where I can see that. What's about to be a really bad day. Take that knife out of sheath and toss it over. Lan's been a corpse three souls.

K, K.

All if you need me. In that rig, I took you for a local juicer. Or a stick-up kid. The immigration agent worked me pretty good. The graft is always greener. Welcome to Mars. I take it you need a place to flop? Among other things. Follow me, sweetness. Let's see if we can get you taken care of only as Mother Kory can.

The goop is bare bones, but it's safe. I have arrangements with the local crews and we don't see much of the MPF here. Nobody bothers my tenants or they answer for it. You can buy water from me or my grandson Shell downstairs. Your grandson? Mother breathes like the best of them. Kid's got a head full of regolith, but what can you do? Blood is blood, right? Cleaning sand is free. It comes from the tank on the roof.

The head is shared, of course. Reclaimer in the basement recycles everything. And we waste nothing on Mars. Sounds good. Your piss and shit? It all comes here. All of it. That's the deal. I get exclusive rights to your bio-waste. Gotcha? And how do I even... Pseudo store your urine. Just dump it here. And the... other stuff? Oh, that's up to you, baby. This is you. 301.

Fuck off! What the hell, Cory? It's eviction day, motherfuckers. We pay rent! Out! Take care of the other one for me, would you, hun? Hey, sorry about- Sora! I didn't say kill the poor man! Sorry? Bitches all hulked out on Earth strength. Jesus. Get with the show, doll. 37% Earth gravity makes you Superman. You get it?

I mean, I knew that I was gonna be stronger. Ow. Goddamn, G-men. What does that even mean? 1G demon. Hey, flopper. You dead? I don't think so. Grab your friend here. If you can find someone else to share with, you can stay. Otherwise, cheers. Oh, okay. Come on, man. Get up. Okay. Get settled in. Strength like that, it could find you work if you want it. Thought I'd try my hand at the tables.

Always cleaned up on Earth and I hear the security in the dens is less than cutting edge. I brought a little help with the odds. Oh, snuck a scrambler up, huh? I've got plans. I just need a local fixer who knows the lay. A lady after my own heart. My taste is 15% here on. And that's the friends and family discount. Also, you let me know if you decide to hawk that gadget before you offload it.

Call it right of first refusal. Only fair for your dear mother, right? Understood. I don't plan on being here long, though. You got somewhere else to be? Just need to earn enough to buy my way out of this mess. Got a thing for the Blue Marble, huh? Something like that. Someone more like it. But that's no concern of mine, babe. Word of warning, though. There's an order to things here. Don't get Dad playing with fire and all. I'm a big girl.

Get some rest. You look like the devil dragged you in. Thank you, Mother Corrie. Mama's got you. And sorry about your brother. He was a good kid. Did he do what they say? Does it matter? To me? Yeah. He said that about you. Mother Corrie was wrong. Dead wrong. The only thing that mattered to me was getting off this rock.

When you've worked the beats I have, you understand that every society has a shadow. An underworld working in the cracks and crevices of the system. Turns out the magic number to fake my own death and buy myself a new life back on Earth was exactly one mil. And by three months into my stay, I was on track to pull it off, too. I just needed one last score. Mars. Humanity's great endeavor.

A 300 year mission to turn a barren world into a new Eden. As if it wasn't our hands that had almost destroyed the original. How would we know anything about Eden? A century and a half since the first of the great skyscraper-like terraforming machines had landed on the red soil. Mars had come to symbolize something else. Greed.

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Find exclusive new episodes from shows like Civilized and Realms of Peril and Glory. Fable & Folly Plus. Sign up today at fableandfolly.com slash plus. Last call for bets. Please confirm your selections. Let it ride. Everything on Diamond Lagrange 4. No more bets. The orbit is now locked. Oh!

Diamond Lagrange 4 wins! What a streak! The lady wins again! Please collect your chips, or bet again! Boss, we have problem at high orbit tables. Yeah, I've been watching her for the last few. Let's go for one more. Move everything to the field, I'm feeling lucky.

Are you sure? The odds of successfully navigating the asteroid field are approximately 3,720 to 1. Let's move this along. Somewhere else to be. She must be hacking the table somehow. See how she stands? She's a demon, definitely. Maybe ex-neil. Could be on leave. The last Theron Marines pulled out more than a year ago.

No, no, no, no. These ones are tourists trying to pull a fast one. And then... Rockhop. How do you want to handle it? The Asteroid Field wins! What a streak! The lady wins again. Please collect your chips or that again. Okay, meow. Hurry up. You know what? Grab Dom and two others. I want to talk to her first. After that, make it clean, call the damn badges. They'll make her disappear.

The 168,421 chips have been added to your chip. Thank you for playing with us. Come again soon. We need you, Zuko. Look, fellas. I'm taking my winnings and going. No fuss, no muss. Alright? Oh. Look at you. You have some real itch. I'll give you that. You're asking yourself why I am so lucky.

It's a gift, I just am. But I respect that you need to put on your little show. I'll even let you escort me out if it makes you feel better. Now tell me, what makes you think you can walk into my place and rub me in blind daylight? Not to correct you, but it's 3am. You should really go outside sometime. Your complexion is looking a little pale. Nobody steals from Fatima Golf.

If that's how you want to play it, I can just tell all these fine people how you rig your games. I'm sure they'd want to know. You won't be telling anyone anything while I feed your corpse to my reclaimer. Thanks. For what? Getting close enough to grab. Jesus, you're strong. The one thing I like about Mars. No.

How about we take a walk, Fathia? Tell them to back off. Don't make this messy. Stay back, get back! That's better. Later, fellas. It's been fun. Thanks for the dance, Fathia. Halt! Marsport Municipal Police. Hands against the wall. You are under arrest.

Officers, this was all just a little snafu. I'm sure we can find a reasonable and lucrative solution. Now, what took you so long? Kill this Godzilla. Okay, so I guess you already made a deal. I just want to say one thing. You have five seconds. I'm really glad guns and domes don't mix. She's plaguing me. Computer 468 requesting backup. We have a female chief at foot mobile fleeing north from the red light district. Rest. Rest.

Gotta get to the roof. Back up en route! If I stayed on Mars, most of the benefits of being a G-man would wear off within a couple years, as my muscles atrophied and my circulatory system weakened. But while I'm here, I'm taking full advantage of this shit. The 12-foot gaps between buildings flew by as I made my way back to the airlock where I had stowed my helmet. One of the most striking things about Mars is how rudimentary life is here. The last frontier.

The effort it takes to keep the 50 million who call Mars home alive is all but exhausting. There's no room for anything else. Every other need beyond air, sustenance, and of course maintaining the domes was a luxury that still had to make its way from Earth. You have to make choices about what stays and what goes when your lifeline is a spaghetti string of space freighters long hauling across the cosmos. No cell towers, no mass transit, no internet,

Components for most everything were hard to come by. Then other choices were simply about survival. A stray bullet could travel miles and puncture the skin of every dome in its path. That meant no firearms on Mars. It was a line no one, not even the hardest criminal, was willing to cross. The battery at 96%.

Warning. Suve maintenance required. Please replace emergency seals as soon as can begin. Great time for the dust on. Most of the lights that had once lined the streets between domes had either burnt out or been stolen for parts. That darkness was usually not a problem, but in the storm of dust and regolith, I could barely see ten feet in front of me.

It was almost like a ghost materializing out of thin air when I first caught sight of him standing in the middle of the road. Looks like you're in trouble, friend. Maybe more than you know. The face smiling at me through his helmet was young, handsome, maybe too handsome, and with a smile cockier than a car salesman. You have two seconds before I go around you or through you. The choice is yours.

Option number three. I convoy you back to wherever you're going. Those two long knives seemed to dance into his hands like an old west gunslinger drawing down. Then just as quickly, they disappeared back into their sheaths. I get you home safe. Guaranteed. How much? How's the G-spot? Call it three. All right. Name's Izzy. Honest Izzy. Okay. Honest Izzy. We're headed to-

You might want to draw that blade, ma'am. He paid me to track him for you. I held up my contract. He's paid me to see your home safely. All's fair and honest. Green air graft, hombre. Seven of them appeared out of the storm all at once, armed to the teeth with clubs, bats, and knives. Ship him, we'll let you live, Jemen. I recognized their leader at once. Mother Corey's grandson. Seven against two, if Izzy was indeed honest, weren't the worst odds. It's just Biz, not the person.

Omega's taken from you! And you're gonna water the sand, right? Shell, I promise you are gonna be the first to drop. Are you still with me? By your side, boss. Good night, Bryce. They all came at once. Except for Shell, who disappeared into the storm. There were far more than seven. But how many was impossible to know as they darted in and out of my limited field of vision.

One after another they came in, one after another I beat them back, cutting away at cheap plastic and smashing in the thin plexi. Warning, warning. Suits integrity compromised. Engaging emergency field. Warning, warning. Hey boss! Suits malfunctioning. Emergency field not in place. Pressure dropping is below tolerance.

The reason so many carried knives for self-defense is that one good puncture to your suit and you were on a ticking clock. The incoming attacks stopped. The enemy knew it was over and just watched as the inevitable happened. I cursed myself for my own stupidity as everything went red.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I tried to stay on my feet. And all just went black. Relax, baby. You're alive. No, Bryce. I had nothing to do with it. The shit made the play on his own. The kid patched you and brought you to me. I keep an epibooster on hand. Even so, it was touch and go for a minute there.

You've been out for 18 hours. Glad to see you came through it, boss. The money? They took it off you. I couldn't stop them. I'll get you your fee. Just need to get to my room. I didn't keep our deal. Wouldn't be honest. Kid has three broken ribs. I'm alive. Home. You did your job. I'm afraid there's more. Shell and two of the shits he runs with broke into your room. My stash. Under the floor. They got it all.

I was asleep upstairs. Shell barred my door from the outside and by the time I busted through, they were gone. I know he's your grandson, but I am gonna find him and burn him alive. No, you're not. Tell her. You got bigger problems. The heavy whose parlor you hit last night ain't no petty player. She's Big Seven, largest cartel on Mars. Not top of the pyramid, but high enough to call a hit.

Shiny enough that every dirt bag and badge alike will be coming for you. Normally the play would be a seat on a freighter. What are my other options? You could nullify the hit, pay the police the join-up rate plus your bounty, put on a badge and it becomes a shield against all of this. But then the MPF owns you. What's the bounty? Three mil. I mean, I could scratch that together.

Shell's crew knows where you are. They'll sell that info for a finder's fee. The gang's know not to make a play on my turf. The MPF though? They'll be coming. Lend me the money. I like you, but honey please. What other option do I have? What about another city? I could possibly get you to OC or Shalbatana. Olympus City is the safer bet. I have a shipment heading out in two days.

The question is how to get you out of the coop. Probably already watching this place. Not probably. But hear this, Lady Bird. I do this and you work for me and me alone from here on. Turns out New Kinross had an interesting secret. It was one of the very first domes on Mars. It had been built directly above the original colony.

The first pioneers to brave the new world that built their home safely beneath the surface in the massive inner lava tubes that criss-crossed the planet. Mother set up in the coop here entirely because it still had access to the network through the sub-basement. A smuggler's paradise. Only this time, I was the one being smuggled 100 meters below the city.

Seismic activity from the terraforming machines had forced those early settlers above ground. But it was all still here, perfectly preserved, frozen in time beneath the decades of dust. "Hello?" A ghost town. And as I followed the paths Mother's crew used, I felt like a specter floating lost through some ethereal half-world, a shadow of the person I once was.

The hatch in the outskirts where Mother's contact would be waiting to see me safely out of Marsport was exactly where she said it would be. The domes were more than a mile to the west, and as the vast Martian landscape stretched out before me, I couldn't help but smile. It's a funny thing how hope works. It keeps us going just long enough to fall into the next trap.

She's down. Is she still breathing? She's alive. Did you honestly think it would be that simple to escape the long arm of destiny? It's a pleasure to finally meet you. We scored you. We are not supposed to be. Didn't realize until now. Guess what, more of a letter I might. If you mess this up, you're real. I'm afraid of tiny spaces. How could you leave me in two?

I hope you enjoyed this installment of The Exile.

If you just can't wait for that next episode, did you know that you can listen to it right now? That's right. You can get early access and ad-free listening to every episode in the series through our brand new CMA Universe Plus subscription, exclusively on Apple Podcasts.

You can also connect with us online on Facebook and Instagram under the handle at CM Anthology. Want to dive even deeper? Join us for a live listen. Meet the cast and go behind the scenes in our aftershows presented at twitch.com slash effing funny. 7 p.m. Pacific time on the Tuesdays, each new main episode airs.

For information about the after show, merch, and a whole lot more, check us out online at cm-anthology.com. Tonight's show starred Tiffany Smith as Bryce Gordon and featured the voices of Malcolm Barrett as Honest Izzy, Eugene Bird as Shel Corey, Phil Lamarr as the station chief, Trace Lissette as Mother Corey, Sandeep Parikh as Rand, Steven Weston as Skag, Milana Vayntrub as Fatiha Markov,

Amy Vorpel, S3. With additional voices by Jonathan Adelman, Jason Irvin, Philip Gray, Matt Hoban, Tien Nguyen, Blythe Renee, and Melissa Starr. This episode was written, designed, and edited by me, your host, Jonathan Pezza. Voice directing by Tiffany Smith and Jonathan Pezza. The Exile was made possible by the amazing support of our Kickstarter backers. Executive produced by Scott Pezza and Dan Evans.

Co-executive produced by Richard J. Pezza, Patrick Lepilato, and Derek A. Hughes. It was produced by Jonathan Pezza, Tiffany Smith, and Sandeep Parikh. And co-produced by Ali Mashayekhi and Jack Bowman. Assistant editing by Mohamed Moiz Riaz and Francis Pezza. Original score composed by Jonathan Pezza, with additional tracks provided by Epidemic Sound and featuring the musical talents of: Tori Wolf, Suffer City, Xperia, and Sight of Wonders.

The Exile is based on Police Your Planet by Lester Del Rey, a literary work in the public domain and was produced in accordance with U.S. copyright law. Curious Matter Anthology is produced by the Knightsville Workshop in association with FNFunny Productions. Copyright Knightsville Workshop 2024. All rights reserved. Make sure to tune in next week for our very first mini-sode titled Message in a Bottle. See you then. And as always, thank you for listening.

After all this time...

What time is it again? I feel like the clock stopped. Time was a tennis ball we could bat round the court. Time for distraction two. Time to just sink to the bottom. Time to get to the meat of this meat. Time for Greater Boston Season 4. That's right, on September 13th, Greater Boston returns with new full-length episodes released every other Tuesday. And we're so excited for you to hear it. But also...

It's been three years since our last season wrapped, so we're maybe a little worried that people might have forgotten about us. So we're asking for you to help spread the word. Tell your friends, tell your family, tell your coworkers and classmates, tell your cat, tell your local subway busker. But politely and without interrupting their performance...

Point is, now is a good time to share your love for Greater Boston on Twitter and Tumblr and Instagram and TikTok and wherever else you, you know, post things. Then come back on September 13th when Greater Boston Season 4 officially begins.