Project Hail Mary

by Andy Weir

This is real. The sun is dying. And I’m tangled up in it. Not just as a fellow citizen of Earth who will die with everyone else—I’m actively involved. There’s a sense of responsibility there.

I think my job is to solve the Petrova problem.

“Believe it or not, light has momentum,” I said. “It exerts a force. If you were out in space and you turned on a flashlight, you’d get a teeny, tiny amount of thrust from it.”

I poke it with various things to get a feel for its hardness. It’s hard.

sure

I can’t imagine explaining “sleep” to someone who had never heard of it. Hey, I’m going to fall unconscious and hallucinate for a while. By the way, I spend a third of my time doing this. And if I can’t do it for a while, I go insane and eventually die. No need for concern.

Humans have hair, fingernails, tooth enamel, and other “dead” stuff on our bodies that serve critical purposes. Eridians take that concept to the ultimate extreme. Rocky’s carapace is made of oxidized minerals. His bones are honeycombed metallic alloys. His blood is mostly liquid mercury. Even his nerves are inorganic silicates transmitting light-based impulses.

“Are all Russians crazy?” “Yes,” he said with a smile. “It is the only way to be Russian and happy at the same time.” “That’s…dark.” “That’s Russian!”

“You and me are good people,” Rocky says. “Yeah.” I smile. “I suppose we are.”