Chapter V – Gulliver of Mars opens with a moment of quiet awakening as the protagonist regains consciousness under the unfamiliar Martian sky. He finds himself beside An, his companion, and the two continue exploring this alien terrain where everything seems both ancient and dreamlike. Not long after, they arrive at a vibrant festival, where local Martians participate in games and theatrical displays. The air is filled with excitement, and though the customs appear strange to his Earthly eyes, the protagonist is compelled to join. He demonstrates his skill in javelin-throwing, stunning onlookers by striking down a figure believed to be invincible. The feat earns him admiration and sets him apart in a society that rarely experiences surprise.

As the festivities continue, a sense of quiet pride fills him. Yet there’s also isolation in standing out so boldly in a world he barely understands. After parting ways with An, he journeys further and begins to encounter Martians in a more personal light. Conversations become warmer, and gestures of hospitality begin to emerge. He is welcomed into homes and treated with a friendly curiosity that softens the alien nature of his surroundings. The people seem gentle, though their habits and symbols remain mysterious. For the first time, he starts to feel not entirely alone.

A turning point comes when he is invited to attend an important cultural event—Princess Heru’s ritualistic reading of the year’s fate. Heru, already a figure of growing importance to him, is at the center of this enigmatic tradition. The ceremony takes place in a hall designed to channel elegance and solemnity, reflecting how deeply the Martians value this occasion. Heru’s dance, slow and otherworldly, seems to draw energy from the space itself. At its climax, a globe of water reveals swirling lights, casting strange patterns that eventually bleed into an ominous red glow. Gasps echo through the hall. The Martian crowd falls silent.

The red hue signifies doom—a prophecy that speaks to an entire year of misfortune. Heru, visibly shaken, is overcome by fear and grief, her composure lost. The crowd remains still, paralyzed by belief in the globe’s power. It is here that the protagonist breaks form. He rushes to her side, ignoring ceremony and custom, and lifts her away from the pedestal. This is more than an act of protection; it’s a challenge to Martian fatalism. In his world, a future is shaped, not surrendered to.

Heru clings to him, finding solace in his refusal to accept what the Martians view as destiny. His actions draw astonished glances, but no one stops him. Martian etiquette may demand stillness in the face of prophecy, but he defies that passivity. In rescuing Heru, he places himself firmly at odds with a society that treasures calm acceptance over emotional intervention. And yet, something shifts. There’s a flicker of admiration in a few eyes. His defiance is unfamiliar but not entirely unwelcomed.

The ceremony leaves Heru haunted by visions she cannot explain, and in the quiet afterward, she speaks to him in hushed tones. Her words reveal the emotional cost of the prophecy, not just for her but for a people who expect no control over their fates. For Gulliver, it becomes clear that Martian wisdom may be deep, but it is also bound by superstition. He begins to question whether eternal youth and elegance are worth such spiritual stagnation. In Earth’s flawed world, there is movement—chaos, yes—but also freedom. And now he sees how deeply he values that.

This chapter serves as a metaphor for the tension between emotional courage and cultural constraint. His bravery is not rooted in violence or dominance but in care—an urge to act where others have resigned. It reveals the quiet power of empathy and defiance in a world that masks apathy as grace. For readers, it’s a reminder that the most courageous acts are sometimes the simplest: offering a hand when everyone else stands still. It’s this very difference that makes him more than a visitor—he is now a force capable of reshaping the world around him.

Heru’s connection with Gulliver deepens after the ceremony, subtly shifting the dynamic between them. She begins to see in him a truth that her own people no longer embrace: the ability to question what is sacred. Their bond is no longer one of flirtation but shared vision. Though no words declare it, the affection is understood. Heru, once a passive symbol of beauty and ritual, now becomes a partner in uncertainty. Together, they represent something rare on Mars—unpredictability, hope, and resistance to despair.

By chapter’s end, Gulliver is no longer only a man caught between two worlds. He is a catalyst, a reminder that traditions must sometimes be questioned to regain meaning. His rescue of Heru isn’t just a romantic gesture—it’s a philosophical stance. Mars, with all its elegance and stillness, has never seen such bold sincerity. And in that moment, he becomes more than a guest—he becomes a story the Martians will remember.