I Like Martian Music

In Short

This short story presents a surreal, light-hearted, and unsettling encounter between two Martian friends and the last survivors of Earth. As Longtree, a composer struggling to finalize his magnum opus, seeks a note that will win him a competition and the hand of his beloved, he encounters a human visitor. The resulting "musical collaboration" leads to a dark, ironic climax. The narrative has endured because it masterfully balances the whimsical, color-shifting biology of its alien protagonists with a chillingly detached perspective on the human condition.

The Story

Longtree lives in a quiet, ancient culture on Mars where personal emotion is expressed through the shifting colors of one’s skin. He is a perfectionist composer whose body is currently a spectrum of anxiety as he struggles to finish his symphony. He needs one final, conclusive note to tie the piece together, but his attempts have thus far failed. His friend Channeljumper—named for his ungainly, long-legged gait—visits him, offering encouragement and news of a mysterious object descending from space. While Longtree worries about his upcoming performance and his marriage prospects with a local named Redsand, Channeljumper reports that a rocket from the third planet has landed near his own dwelling.

The visitors are two humans, "grey-shelled" creatures who are actually pink-orange underneath. One of these survivors finds his way to Longtree’s location. Longtree, initially annoyed by the interruption to his musical process, is relieved to find the creature’s skin remains a consistent, non-communicative pink-orange, suggesting a peaceful, if somewhat unintelligent, nature. The human speaks, pleading for peace and explaining that he and his wife are the last remnants of a humanity destroyed by atomic war. Neither the Martians nor the human understand the other’s language, and the Martians find the human’s voice to be a low, unpleasant rumble compared to their own delicate squeaks.

Longtree decides to play his symphony for the visitor, hoping for inspiration. As the music reaches its frantic, high-pitched crescendo, the human reacts with visible distress, clutching his ears and leaping about in a panicked dance. Longtree, completely misinterpreting the human’s agony for an ecstatic, artistic appreciation, pours more intensity into his playing. He hits his final note—a soft, wet "pop"—as the human collapses to the ground, his head having literally burst from the high-frequency vibrations.

Delighted, Longtree identifies this fatal sound as the perfect, missing piece of his symphony. While Channeljumper expresses a brief, passing sympathy for the dead visitor, he quickly pivots to practical advice: they must capture the second human, the one with long hair, to serve as an "auxiliary instrument" for the upcoming festival. Longtree, now glowing with the golden yellow of pure happiness, ignores the messy reality of the corpse at his feet. He settles in to practice his now-perfected music, entirely indifferent to the fact that he has effectively murdered the last hope of a dying race to ensure he wins a local prize.

How It Unfolds

The search for the note Longtree sits among the sandy hills, agonizing over the missing conclusion to his symphony. He explains his artistic plight to his friend Channeljumper, noting that his skin color fluctuates based on his failure to capture the perfect sound.

The arrival of the outsiders Channeljumper brings news of a space rocket landing, and soon an alien from Earth appears. Longtree views the creature with a mixture of pity and annoyance, while the human attempts, in vain, to communicate his status as a desperate survivor.

The fatal performance Ignoring the human's clear distress, Longtree plays his symphony at a high, piercing volume. The sound is physically destructive, causing the human to suffer a gruesome death that provides the exact "pop" sound Longtree lacked.

The callous resolution The two Martians view the death as a successful collaboration rather than a tragedy. They immediately plan to use the remaining survivor to ensure their continued success, while Longtree plays his now-complete music with blissful, unearned satisfaction.

The People

Longtree is a dedicated, temperamentally volatile artist whose skin acts as a barometer for his internal state. His desire for perfection and social standing—specifically winning the hand of Redsand—makes him dangerously oblivious to the world around him. He remains incapable of empathy, viewing the death of the human as a convenient, objective improvement to his work.

Channeljumper is the pragmatic, supportive friend who serves as the audience’s window into the Martian culture. While he is more grounded than Longtree, he shares the same fundamental detachment from the humans. He is the one who suggests the utility of the "instrument," turning the horror of the situation into a logistical opportunity.

The human visitor is a tragic, nameless figure who represents the final, failed attempt of an Earth-bound civilization to reach out. He acts as the catalyst for the story, his language and his physical vulnerability marking him as an outsider in a world that is fundamentally incompatible with his own biological reality.

In Its Own Voice

"The note was a firm clear one which would have made any other musician proud."

The story emphasizes the technical mastery of Longtree’s music, contrasting his artistic pride with the vacuum of his morality.

"The symphony was complete now, with that final alien sound."

This line captures the horrific irony of the story’s resolution, where the "completion" of the art is achieved through the total destruction of the donor.

What It's Really About

The story functions as a biting satire on the narcissism of the artist and the casual cruelty of those who view others only as tools for their own fulfillment. Longtree’s obsession with his symphony acts as a blinder; because the humans do not speak his language or share his color-shifting emotional vocabulary, he refuses to acknowledge their humanity. The book argues that indifference is as destructive as malice. By stripping the humans of their context—as refugees from a nuclear apocalypse—and turning them into a literal sound effect for a musical festival, the narrative highlights how art can be used to justify profound monstrosity, provided the artist is satisfied with the result.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the cold, ironic detachment of classic science fiction will find much to admire here. Fritch writes with a crisp, clear prose style that makes the alien setting feel both tangible and slightly detached. It is a brief, punchy read that moves with confidence, never wasting time on unnecessary world-building when a few evocative details about skin-shifting colors and "blowstrings" will suffice.

However, the reader must be prepared for a story that offers no moral redemption. The Martians are not "evil" in a conventional sense; they are simply fundamentally alien in their values, viewing the death of an intelligent being with the same casual pragmatism one might use to sharpen a pencil. This lack of a clear moral center can be unsettling, as the story refuses to condemn its protagonist, instead leaving him in a state of blissful, golden-hued ignorance. It is a haunting, dark fable about the costs of ambition that lingers in the mind, specifically for its willingness to let the "hero" remain an irredeemable, selfish, and profoundly successful monster. It feels like a precursor to the cynical, twist-driven narratives popularized in later speculative fiction.