The Martian

by Andy Weir

An ironic death for someone with a leaky space suit: too much oxygen.

My asshole is doing as much to keep me alive as my brain.

Hell yeah I’m a botanist! Fear my botany powers!

Godspeed, little taters. My life depends on you.

Disco. God damn it, Lewis.

They say no plan survives first contact with implementation. I’d have to agree.

Teddy swiveled his chair and looked out the window to the sky beyond. Night was edging in. “What must it be like?” he pondered. “He’s stuck out there. He thinks he’s totally alone and that we all gave up on him. What kind of effect does that have on a man’s psychology?” He turned back to Venkat. “I wonder what he’s thinking right now.” LOG ENTRY: SOL 61 How come Aquaman can control whales? They’re mammals! Makes no sense.

Once I got home, I sulked for a while. All my brilliant plans foiled by thermodynamics. Damn you, Entropy!

Now to enjoy a good, long sleep in an actual cot. With the comforting knowledge that when I wake, my morning piss will go into a toilet.

Maybe I’ll post a consumer review. “Brought product to surface of Mars. It stopped working. 0/10.”

Also, please watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcast live all over the world. [12:15] WATNEY: Look! A pair of boobs! -> (.Y.)

In your face, Neil Armstrong!

Also, please tell them that each and every one of their mothers is a prostitute.

[08:47] WATNEY: Gay probe coming to save me. Got it.

Yes, of course duct tape works in a near-vacuum. Duct tape works anywhere. Duct tape is magic and should be worshiped.

I used a geological sample container (also known as “a box”).

Yeah, that’s right, Mars, I’m gonna piss and shit on you. That’s what you get for trying to kill me all the time.

As with most of life’s problems, this one can be solved by a box of pure radiation.

I tested the brackets by hitting them with rocks. This kind of sophistication is what we interplanetary scientists are known for.

I am smiling a great smile. The smile of a man who fucked with his car and didn’t break it.

“How did I end up in this situation? I’m the district sales manager of a napkin factory. Why is my daughter in space?”

I started with a large rigid sample container (or “plastic box” to people who don’t work at NASA).

LOG ENTRY: SOL 381 I’ve been thinking about laws on Mars. Yeah, I know, it’s a stupid thing to think about, but I have a lot of free time. There’s an international treaty saying no country can lay claim to anything that’s not on Earth. And by another treaty, if you’re not in any country’s territory, maritime law applies. So Mars is “international waters.” NASA is an American nonmilitary organization, and it owns the Hab. So while I’m in the Hab, American law applies. As soon as I step outside, I’m in international waters. Then when I get in the rover, I’m back to American law. Here’s the cool part: I will eventually go to Schiaparelli and commandeer the Ares 4 lander. Nobody explicitly gave me permission to do this, and they can’t until I’m aboard Ares 4 and operating the comm system. After I board Ares 4, before talking to NASA, I will take control of a craft in international waters without permission. That makes me a pirate! A space pirate!

It’s gonna take a lot of glue to make this happen.

So I get to… Live Another Sol! (Starring Mark Watney as…probably Q. I’m no James Bond.)

[19:29] JOHANSSEN: When we pick you up, I will make wild, passionate love to you. Prepare your body. [19:29] JOHANSSEN: I didn’t type that! That was Martinez! I stepped away from the console for like 10 seconds! [19:29] MAV: I’ve really missed you guys.