Project Hail Mary

by Andy Weir

They say hunger is the greatest seasoning. When you’re starving, your brain rewards you handsomely for finally eating. Good job, it says, we get to not die for a while!

“No, it’s not like that,” she said. I stared at her. She stared at me. I stared at her. “Okay, it’s exactly like that,” she said.

“It took you two days to think of poking it with a stick.” “You…be quiet.”

They gave me reference material on stuff that can’t possibly be useful. But hey, it’s nice to know that if I need the average rectal temperature of a healthy goat, I can find that out! (It’s 103.4°F / 39.7°C.)

I clench my teeth. I clench my fists. I clench my butt. I clench every part of me that I know how to clench. It gives me a feeling of control. I’m doing something by aggressively doing nothing.

Human beings have a remarkable ability to accept the abnormal and make it normal.

I “drop” the burrito (it floats where I leave it)

At least it’s not the middle one that’s pointed up.

Rocky waves absently. “Eat.”

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In short: Eridians are steam-powered.

I’ve gone from “sole-surviving space explorer” to “guy with wacky new roommate.” It’ll be interesting to see how this plays out.

“Lazy human. Go get!”

Drugs are bad.

mkay

One death is as good as another.

“Good. Proud. I am scary space monster. You are leaky space blob.” He points to the breeder tanks. “Check tanks!”

He curls the claws of one hand into a ball and presses it against the xenonite. “Fist me!” I push my knuckles against the xenonite. “It’s ‘fist-bump,’ but yeah.”

I watch the point of IR light with the Petrovascope. That’s Rocky, headed back to Erid. “Godspeed, buddy,” I say.

don't hurt me like this