The Martian

by Энди Вейр

  “And they still think he’s dead, right? The Ares 3 crew?”

  “Yes they do, unfortunately,” Irene confirmed. “The higher-ups decided to keep it from them, at least for now. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision.”

  Cathy paused for a moment, then said. “All right. You know I have to ask: What’s going through his head right now? How does a man like Mark Watney respond to a situation like this? Stranded, alone, no idea we’re trying to help?”

  “There’s no way to be sure,” Irene said. “The biggest threat is giving up hope. If he decides there’s no chance to survive, he’ll stop trying.”

  “Then we’re ok for now, right?” Cathy said. “He seems to be working hard. He’s prepping the rover for a long trip and testing it. He plans to be there when Ares 4 lands.”

  “That’s one interpretation, yes,” Irene said.

  “Is there another?”

  Irene carefully formed her answer before speaking. “When facing death, people want to be heard. They don’t want to die alone. He might just want the MAV radio so he can talk to another soul before he dies.

  “If he’s lost hope, he won’t care about survival. His only concern will be making it to the radio. After that, he’ll probably take an easier way out than starvation. The medical supplies of an Ares mission have enough morphine to be lethal.”

  After several seconds of complete silence in the studio, Cathy turned to the camera. “We’ll be right back.”

  “Heya, Venk,” came Bruce’s voice from the speakerphone.

  “Bruce, Hi,” said Venkat. “Thanks for clearing up some time. I wanted to talk about the presupply.”

  “Sure thing. What’s on your mind?”

  “Let’s say we soft-land it perfectly. How will Mark know it happened? And how will he know where to look?”

  “We’ve been thinking about that,” said Bruce. “We’ve got some ideas.”

  “I’m all ears,” Venkat said.

  “We’ll be sending him a comm system anyway, right? We could have it turn on after lading. It’ll broadcast on the rover and EVA suit frequencies. It’ll have to be a strong signal, too.

  “The rovers were only designed to communicate with the Hab and each other; the signal origin was presumed to be within 20km. The receivers just aren’t very sensitive. The EVA suits are even worse. But as long as we have a strong signal we should be good.

  “Once we land the presupply, we’ll get its exact location from satellites, then broadcast that to Mark so he can go get it.”

  “But he’s probably not listening,” said Venkat. “Why would he be?”

  “We have a plan for that. We’re going to make a bunch of bright green ribbons. Light enough to flutter around when dropped, even in Mars’s atmosphere. Each ribbon will have ‘MARK: TURN ON YOUR COMM’ printed on it. We’re working on a release mechanism now. During the landing sequence, of course. Ideally, about 1000 meters above the surface.”

  “I like it,” Venkat said. “All he needs to do is notice one. And he’s sure to check out a bright green ribbon if he sees one outside.”

  “That’s what we’re thinking,” said Bruce.

  “All right, good work. Keep me posted,” Venkat said.

  “Venk,” said Bruce. “If he takes the ‘Watneymobile’ to Ares 4, this’ll all be for nothing. I mean, we can land it at Ares 4 if that happens, but…”

  “But he’ll be without a Hab. Yeah,” Venkat said. “One thing at a time. Let me know when you come up with a release mechanism for those ribbons.”

  “Will do.”

  After terminating the call, he saw an email from Mindy Park arrive. “Watney’s on the move again.”

  “Still going in a straight line,” Mindy said, pointing to her monitor.

  “I see,” Venkat said. “He’s sure as hell not going to Ares 4. Unless he’s going around some natural obstacle.”

  “There’s nothing for him to go around,” Mindy said. “It’s Acidalia Planitia.”

  “Are those the solar cells?” Venkat asked, pointing to the screen.

  “Yeah,” Mindy said. “He did the usual 2 hour drive, EVA, 2 hour drive. He’s 156km from the Hab now.”

  They both peered at the screen.

  “Wait…” Venkat said. “Wait, no way…”

  “What?” Mindy asked.

  Venkat grabbed a pad of Post-Its and a pen. “Give me his location, and the location of the Hab.”

  Mindy checked her screen. “He’s currently at… 28.9°N, 29.6°W.” With a few keystrokes, she brought up another file. “The Hab’s at 31.2°N, 28.5°W. What do you see?”

  Venkat finished taking down the numbers. “Come with me,” he said, quickly walking out.

  “Um,” Mindy stammered, following after. “Where are we going?” She asked when she caught up.

  “SatCon break room,” Venkat said. “You guys still have that map of Mars on the wall?”

  “Sure,” Mindy said. “But it’s just a poster from the gift shop. I’ve got high quality digital maps on my computer-“

  “Nope. I can’t draw on those,” he said. Then, rounding the corner to the break room, he pointed to the Mars map on the wall. “I can draw on that.”

  The break room was empty save a computer technician sipping a cup of coffee. The urgency of Venkat and Mindy’s entrance caught his attention.

  “Good, it has latitude and longitude lines,” Venkat said. Looking at his Post-It, then sliding his finger along the map, he drew an X. “That’s the Hab,” he said.

  “Hey,” the technician said. “Are you drawing on our poster?”

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” Venkat said without looking back. Then, he drew another X. “That’s his current location. Get me a ruler.”

  Mindy looked left and right. Seeing no ruler, she grabbed the technicians notebook.

  “Hey!” The technician protested.

  Using the notebook as a straight-edge, Venkat drew a line from the Hab to Mark’s location and beyond. Then took a step back.

  “Yup! That’s where he’s going!” Venkat said excitedly.

  “Oh!” Mindy said.

  The line passed through the exact center of a bright yellow dot printed on the map.

  “Pathfinder!” Mindy said. “He’s going to Pathfinder!”

  “Yup!” Venkat said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. It’s like 800km from him. He can get there and back with supplies on-hand.”

  “And bring Pathfinder and Sojourner Rover back with him,” Mindy added.

  Venkat quickly pulled out his cell phone. “We lost contact with it in 1997. If he can get it online again, we can communicate. It might just need the solar cells cleaned. Even if it’s got a bigger problem, he’s an engineer!” Dialing, he added “Fixing shit is his job!”

  Smiling for the first time in weeks, he held the phone to his ear and awaited a response. “Bruce? It’s Venkat. Everything just changed. Watney’s headed for Pathfinder. Yeah! I know, right!? Dig up everyone who was on that project and get them to JPL now. I’ll catch the next flight.”

  Hanging up, he grinned at the map. “Mark, you sneaky, clever, son of a bitch!”

  Chapter 9

  LOG ENTRY: SOL 79

  It’s the evening of my 8th day on the road. “Sirius 4” has been a success so far.

  I’ve fallen in to a routine. Every morning I wake up at dawn. First thing I do is check oxygen and CO2 levels. Then I eat a breakfast pack and drink a cup of water. After that, I brush my teeth, using as little water as possible, and shave with an electric razor.

  The rover has no toilet. We were expected to use our suits’ reclamation systems for that. But they aren’t designed to hold twenty days worth of output.

  My morning piss goes in a resealable plastic box. When I open it, the rover reeks like a truck-stop men’s room. I could take it outside and let it boil off. But I worked hard to make that water, and the last thing I’m going to do is waste it. I’ll feed it to the Water Reclaimer when I get back.

&n
bsp; Even more precious is my manure. It’s critical to the potato farm and I’m the only source on Mars. Fortunately, when you spend a lot of time in space, you learn how to shit in a bag. And if you think things are bad after opening the piss box, imagine the smell after I drop anchor.

  Then I go outside and collect the solar cells. Why didn’t I do it the previous night? Because trying to dismantle and stack solar cells in total fucking darkness isn’t fun. I learned that the hard way.

  After securing the cells, I come back in, turn on some shitty ‘70’s music, and start driving. I putter along at 25kph, the rover’s top speed. It’s comfortable inside. I wear hastily made cut-offs and a thin shirt while the RTG bakes the interior. When it gets too hot I detach the insulation duct-taped to the hull. When it gets too cold, I tape it back up.

  I can go almost 2 hours before the battery runs out. I do a quick EVA to swap cables, then I’m back at the wheel for the second half of the day’s drive.

  The terrain is very flat. The undercarriage of the rover is taller than any of the rocks around here, and the hills are gently-sloping affairs, smoothed by eons of sandstorms.

  When the other battery runs out, it’s time for another EVA. I pull the solar cells off the roof and lay them on the ground. For the first few sols, I lined them up in a row. Now I plop them wherever, trying to keep them close to the rover out of sheer laziness.

  Then comes the incredibly dull part of my day. I sit around for 12 hours with nothing to do. And I’m getting sick of this rover. The inside’s the size of a van. That may seem like plenty of room, but try being trapped in a van for 8 days. I look forward to tending my potato farm in the wide open space of the Hab.

  I’m nostalgic for the Hab. How fucked up is that?

  I have shitty ‘70’s TV to watch, and a bunch of Poirot novels. But mostly I spend my time thinking about getting to Ares 4. I’ll have to do it someday. How the hell am I going to survive a 3,200km trip in this thing? It’ll probably take 50 days. I’ll need the Water Reclaimer and the Oxygenator, maybe some of the Hab’s main batteries, then a bunch more solar cells to charge everything… where will I put it all? These thoughts pester me throughout the long boring days.

  Eventually, it gets dark and I get tired. I lay among the food packs, water tanks, extra O2 tank, piles of CO2 filters, box of pee, bags of shit, and personal items. I have a bunch of crew jumpsuits to serve as bedding, along with my blanket and pillow. Basically, I sleep in a pile of junk every night.

  Speaking of sleep… G’night.

  LOG ENTRY: SOL 80

  By my reckoning, I’m about 100km from Pathfinder. Technically it’s “Carl Sagan Memorial Station.” But with all due respect to Carl, I can call it whatever the hell I want. I’m the King of Mars.

  As I mentioned, it’s been a long, boring drive. And I’m still on the outward leg. But hey, I’m an astronaut. Long-ass trips are my business.

  Navigation is tricky.

  The Hab’s nav beacon only reaches 40km, then it’s too faint. I knew that’d be an issue when I was planning this little road trip, so I came up with a brilliant plan that didn’t work.

  The computer has detailed maps, so I figured I could navigate by landmarks. I was wrong. Turns out you can’t navigate by landmarks if you can’t find any god damned landmarks.

  Our landing site is at the delta of a long-gone river. If there are any microscopic fossils to be had, it’s a good place to look. Also, the water would have dragged rock and soil samples from thousands of kilometers away. With some digging, we could get a broad geological history.

  That’s great for science, but it means the Hab’s in a featureless wasteland.

  I considered making a compass. The rover has plenty of electricity and the med kit has a needle. Only one problem: Mars doesn’t have a magnetic field.

  So I navigate by Phobos. It whips around Mars so fast it actually rises and sets twice a day, running west to east. It’s isn’t the most accurate system, but it works.

  Things got easier on Sol 75. I reached a valley with a rise to the west. It had flat ground for easy driving, and I just needed to follow the edge of the hills. I named it “Lewis Valley” after our fearless leader. She’d love it there, geology nerd that she is.

  Three sols later, Lewis Valley opened into a wide plain. So, again, I was left without references and relied on Phobos to guide me. There’s probably symbolism there. Phobos is the god of fear, and I’m letting it be my guide. Not a good sign.

  But today, my luck finally changed. After two sols wandering the desert, I found something to navigate by. It was a 5km crater, so small it didn’t even have a listed name. But to me, it was the Lighthouse of Alexandria. Once I had it in sight, I knew exactly where I was.

  I’m camped near it now, as a matter of fact.

  I’m finally through the blank areas of the map. Tomorrow, I’ll have the Lighthouse to navigate by, and Hamelin crater later on. I’m in good shape.

  Now, on to my next task: Sitting around with nothing to do for 12 hours.

  I better get started!

  LOG ENTRY: SOL 81

  Almost made it to Pathfinder today, but I ran out of juice. Just another 22km to go!

  An unremarkable drive. Navigation wasn’t a problem. As Lighthouse receded into the distance, the rim of Hamelin Crater came in to view.

  I left Acidalia Planitia behind a long time ago. I’m well into Ares Vallis now. The desert plains are giving way to bumpier terrain, strewn with ejecta that never got buried by sand. It makes driving a chore; I have to pay more attention.

  Up till now, I’ve been driving right over the rock-strewn landscape. But as I travel further south, the rocks are getting bigger and more plentiful. I have to go around some of them or risk damage to my suspension. The good news is I don’t have to do it for long. Once I get to Pathfinder, I can turn around and go the other way.

  The weather’s been very good. No discernible wind, no storms. I think I got lucky there. There’s a good chance my rover tracks from the past few sols are intact. I should be able to get back to Lewis Valley just by following them.

  After setting up the solar panels, I went for a little walk. I never left sight of the rover; the last thing I want to do is get lost on foot. But I couldn’t stomach crawling back into that cramped, smelly rat’s nest. Not right away.

  It’s a strange feeling. Everywhere I go, I’m the first. Step outside the rover? First guy ever to be there! Climb a hill? First guy to climb that hill! Kick a rock? That rock hadn’t moved in a million years!

  I’m the first guy to drive long-distance on Mars. The first guy to spend more than 31 sols on Mars. The first guy to grow crops on Mars. First, first, first!

  I wasn’t expecting to be first at anything. I was the 5th crewman out of the MDV when we landed, making me the 17th person to set foot on Mars. The egress order had been determined years earlier. A month before launch, we all got tattoos of our “Mars Numbers.” Johanssen almost refused to get her “15” because she was afraid it would hurt. Here’s a woman who had survived the centrifuge, the vomit comet, hard landing drills and 10k runs. A woman who fixed a simulated MDV computer failure while being spun around upside-down. But she was afraid of a tattoo needle.

  Man, I miss those guys.

  I’m the first person to be alone on an entire planet.

  Ok, enough moping. Tomorrow, I’ll be the first person to recover a Mars probe.

  LOG ENTRY: SOL 82

  Victory! I found it!

  I knew I was in the right area when I spotted Twin Peaks in the distance. The two small hills are under a kilometer from the landing site. Even better, they were on the far side of the site. All I had to do was aim for them until I found the Lander.

  And there it was! Right where it was supposed to be!

  Pathfinder’s final stage of descent was a balloon-covered tetrahedron. The balloons absorbed the impact of landing. Once it came to rest, they deflated and the tetrahedron unfolded to reveal the probe.

&
nbsp; It’s actually two separate components. The Lander itself, and the Sojourner rover. The Lander was immobile, while Sojourner wandered around and got a good look at the local rocks. I’m taking both back with me, but the important part is the Lander. That’s the part that can communicate with Earth.

  I excitedly stumbled out and rushed to the site.

  I can’t explain how happy I was. It was a lot of work to get here, and I’d succeeded.

  The Lander was half buried. With some quick and careful digging, I exposed the bulk of it, though the large tetrahedron and the deflated balloons still lurked below the surface.

  After a quick search, I found Sojourner. The little fella was only two meters from the Lander. I vaguely remember it was further away when they last saw it. It probably entered a contingency mode and started circling the Lander, trying to communicate.

  I quickly deposited Sojourner in my rover. It’s small, light, and easily fit in the airlock. The Lander was a different story.

  I had no hope of getting the whole thing back to the Hab. It was just too big. It was time for me to put on my mechanical engineer hat.

  The probe was attached to the central panel of the unfolded tetrahedron. The other three sides were each attached with a metal hinge. As anyone at JPL will tell you, probes are delicate things. Weight is a serious concern, so they’re not made to stand up to much punishment.

  When I took a crowbar to the hinges, they popped right off!

  Then things got difficult. When I tried to lift the central panel assembly, it didn’t budge.

  Just like the other three panels, the central panel had deflated balloons underneath it. Over the decades, the balloons had ripped and filled with sand.

  I could cut off the balloons, but I’d have to dig to get to them. It wouldn’t be hard, it’s just sand. But the other three panels were in the damn way.

  I quickly realized I didn’t give a crap about the condition of the other panels. I went back to my rover, cut some strips of Hab material, then braided them in to a primitive but strong rope. I can’t take credit for it being strong. Thank NASA for that. I just made it rope-shaped.