Artemis

by Andy Weir

People will trust a reliable criminal more readily than a shady businessman.

Five a.m. was a largely theoretical concept to me. I knew it existed, but I rarely observed it. Nor did I want to.

“Oh, Han Solo pants. Yeah, he had those on.” “Okay, thanks.” Pfft. Han Solo’s pants have a red stripe. And it’s not even a stripe—it’s a bunch of dashes. Some people have no education.

“On a scale from one to ‘invade Russia in winter,’ how stupid is this plan?”

I didn’t want to spend any more time inside the mind of an economist. It was dark and disturbing.