Andy Weir Quotes

I might have been on the run for my life, but I wasn't willing to go without e-mail.

The fourth [meal pack] is "Survived Something That Should Have Killed Me" because some fucking thing will happen, I just know it. I don't know what it'll be, but it'll happen. The rover will break down, or I'll come down with fatal hemorrhoids, or I'll run into hostile Martians, or some shit. When I do (if I live), I get to eat that meal pack.

I got really bored, so I decided to pick a theme song! Something appropriate. And naturally, it should be something from Lewis's godawful seventies collection. It wouldn't be right any other way. There are plenty of great candidates: "Life on Mars?" by David Bowie, "Rocket Man" by Elton John, "Alone Again (Naturally)" by Gilbert O'Sullivan. But I settled on "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees.

The area around the MAV looks like the set of Sanford and Son. I learned about Sanford and Son from Lewis's collection. Seriously, that woman needs to see someone about her seventies problem.

Designing a station with artificial gravity would undoubtedly be a daunting task. Space agencies would have to re-examine many reliable technologies under the light of the new forces these tools would have to endure. Space flight would have to take several steps back before moving forward again.

I used a sophisticated method to remove sections of plastic (hammer), then carefully removed the solid foam insulation (hammer again).

Sometimes I miss the days when I made all the decisions myself. Then I shake it off and remember I'm infinitely better off with a bunch of geniuses deciding what I do than I am making shit up as I go along.

But really, they did it because every human being has a basic instinct to help each other out. It might not seem that way sometimes, but it's true.

Just tell mom the supplies would last, okay?

What the fuck is 'Project Elrond'?" Annie asked.

"I had to make something up," Venkat said.

"So you came up with 'Elrond'? Annie pressed. "Because it's a secret meeting?

I'll drop the oxygen mixture to zero and breathe pure nitrogen until I suffocate. It wouldn't feel bad. The lungs don't have the ability to sense lack of oxygen. I'd just get tired, fall asleep, then die.

Eventually, while researching, you'll learn something you didn't want to know. Some fact that ruins a plotline you had in mind. The good news is that sometimes, learning all the facts can make for a much more interesting story than you originally had in mind.

The fourth one is "Survived Something That Should Have Killed Me" because some fucking thing will happen, I just know it.

This is the happiest day of my life.

MINDY TRUDGED to her computer. Today's shift began at 2:10 p.m. Her schedule matched Watney's every day. She slept when he slept. Watney simply slept at night on Mars, while Mindy had to drift forty minutes forward every day, taping aluminum foil to her windows to get any sleep at all.

In high school, I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons. (You may not have guessed this botanist/mechanical engineer was a bit of a nerd in high school, but indeed I was.) In the game I played a cleric. One of the magic spells I could cast was "Create Water." I always thought it was a really stupid spell, and I never used it. Boy, what I wouldn't give to be able to do that in real life right now.

This all sounds like a great idea with no chance of catastrophic failure.

everything. Then I kind of lounged around for a while. I wanted

Fuck you," he said to the planet below.

I go out every night with a homemade sextant and sight Deneb. It's kind of silly if you think about it. I'm in my space suit on Mars and I'm navigating with sixteenth-century tools. But hey, they work.

The water reclaimer was designed to purify urine and strain humidity out of the air (you exhale almost as much water as you piss). I've mixed my water with soil, making it mineral water. The minerals built up in the water reclaimer.

Nope. It's one of the stupidest things I've ever done. And that's a field of intense competition.

The worst moments in life are heralded by small observations.

Software engineers are sneaky bastards when it comes to data management.

Wait. I'm everyone!?"
"Now you're getting it," I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
"I'm every human being who ever lived?"
"Or who will ever live, yes."
"I'm Abraham Lincoln?"
"And you're John Wilkes Booth, too," I added.
"I'm Hitler?" You said, appalled.
"And you're the millions he killed."
"I'm Jesus?"
"And you're everyone who followed him."
You fell silent.
"Every time you victimized someone," I said, "you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you've done, you've done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.

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Actually, I was the very lowest ranked member of the crew. I would only be "in command" if I were the only remaining person."
What do you know? I'm in command

Come on! I thought you liked Mexican!

My father has a great love of science, and he indoctrinated me into it early. I think I was 12 or so when we designed a moon base.

i'm pretty much fucked.

Mars and my stupidity keep trying to kill me.

The thing that is really hard about adaptation is that I try to only pick things I love because if it is something where you think, "Oh, that sounds like an interesting idea but I don't love it," then I can't do my job well.

But there's something more important we need to discuss: What is it with you and disco? I can understand the '70s TV because everyone loves hairy people with huge collars. But disco? Disco!?

I was hired as a computer programmer for a national laboratory at age 15.

I was born too late to experience Apollo 11, though I do trek to Dad's house every time there's some space event. There's something awesome about crossing your fingers and watching a tense Mission Control room do their thing.

I've looted that poor Hab for everything it could give me, and in return it's kept me alive for a year and a half. It's like the Giving Tree.

I'm leaving Mars today, one way or another. About fucking time.

There's nothing I would like more than to watch a manned Mars landing.

AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 119

You know what!? Fuck this! Fuck this airlock, fuck that Hab, and fuck this whole planet!
Seriously, this is it! I've had it! I've got a few minutes before I run out of air and I'll be damned if I spend them playing Mars's little game. I'm so god damned sick of it I could puke!
All I have to do is sit here. The air will leak out and I'll die.
I'll be done. No more getting my hopes up, no more self-delusion, and no more problem-solving. I've fucking had it!

AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 119 (2)

Sigh...okay. I've had my tantrum and now I have to figure out how to stay alive.

As usual, I'm working with stuff that was deliberately designed not to burn. But no amount of careful design by NASA can get around a determined arsonist with a tank of pure oxygen.

Also, I'll lose half a liter of water per day to breathing until the humidity in the Hab reaches its maximum and water starts condensing on every surface. Then I'll be licking the walls. Yay.

Q. Star Wars or Star Trek? A. Doctor Who.

(50 liters of O2 makes 100 liters of molecules that only have one O each).

I don't want a job. When I grow up I want to be rich.

Things didn't go exactly as planned, but I'm not dead, so it's a win.

I wonder how the Cubs are doing.

I figure if there's a God, He won't mind, considering the situation I'm in.

CNHAKRVR2TLK2PTHFDRPRP4LONGMSG

FUCK!" Annie Montrose said. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!

If I get back to Earth, I'll be famous, right? A fearless astronaut who beat all the odds, right? I bet women like that. More motivation to stay alive.

I'll give my dad credit; he never claimed it was to build character or teach me the value of hard work. "Snowblowers are expensive," he used to say. "You're free.

Mars is a barren wasteland and I am completely alone here. I already knew that, of course. But there's a difference between knowing it and really experiencing it.

The problem with small pressure vessels is CO2 toxicity. You can have all the oxygen in the world, but once the CO2 gets above 1 percent, you'll start to get drowsy. At 2 percent, it's like being drunk. At 5 percent, it's hard to stay conscious. Eight percent will eventually kill you. Staying alive isn't about oxygen, it's about getting rid of CO2.

Mars is not Earth. It doesn't have a thick atmosphere to bend light and carry particles that reflect light around corners. It's damn near a vacuum here. Once the sun isn't visible, I'm in the dark. Phobos gives me some moonlight, but not enough to work with. Deimos is a little piece of crap that's no good to anyone.

Any concerns or reservations?" Venkat asked. "Yeah. I'm concerned about what I ate last night. I think it had an eyeball in it." "I'm sure there wasn't an eyeball." "The engineers here made it for me special," Mitch said. "There may have been an eyeball," Venkat said. "They hate you.

Ayyyyyy!" Annie mocked. "Why would he do that?" "Have you met Mark Watney?

As soon as the rover toppled, I curled into a ball and cowered. That's the kind of action hero I am.

Life is amazingly tenacious. They don't want to die any more than I do.

At the microscopic level, the protein cubes were solid food particles suspended in thick vegetable oil. The food particles compressed to less than half their original size, but the oil was barely affected at all. This changed the volume ratio of solid to liquid dramatically, which in turn made the aggregate act as a liquid. Known as "liquefaction," this process transformed the protein cubes from a steady solid into a flowing sludge.

Just three words? Nothing about his physical health? His equipment? His supplies?'

'You got me,' she said. 'He left a detailed status report. I just decided to lie for no reason.'

'Funny,' Venkat said. 'Be a smart-ass to a guy seven levels above you at your company. See how that works out.'

'Oh no,' Mindy said. 'I might lose my job as an interplanetary voyeur? I guess I'd have to use my master's degree for something else.'

'I remember when you were shy.'

'I'm space paparazzi now. The attitude comes with the job.

Fuck you!"
Randy pulled a squirt bottle from his desk and sprayed us both. "Hush," he said.
Jin winced "Now, that's just unprofessional!"
"Quit bitching," I said, shaking the water off my face.
"You may be used to taking shots in the face, but I'm not," he said.
Okay, that was a good one. "Go fuck yourself," I said.

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Carefully reaching to the side of my helmet, I got the

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

I already knew that, of course. But there's a difference between knowing it and really experiencing it. All

My life depended on some math I'd done earlier. If I dropped a sign or added two numbers wrong, I might never wake up.

...They do their thing and stay out of my way while I run my smelter. A smelter I poured my life and soul into, which you just destroyed, you reckless puddle of exudate!"
"Don't think I won't look that up!

I towed the panel away like a redneck removing a tree stump.

Acidalia Planitia (where I am) has a relatively low elevation. So does Schiaparelli. But between them it goes up and down by 10 kilometers. There's going to be a lot of dangerous driving.

The time has come (ominous musical crescendo) for some missions!

Problem is (follow me closely here, the science is pretty complicated), if I cut a hole in the Hab, the air won't stay inside anymore.

If ruining the only religious icon I have leaves me vulnerable to Martian vampires, I'll have to risk it.

Over the past few days, I've been happily making water. It's been going swimmingly. (See what I did there? "Swimmingly"?)

I'm pretty much fucked. That's my considered opinion. Fucked.

I can't blame it. Its whole purpose is to prevent the atmosphere from becoming lethal. Nobody at NASA thought, "Hey, let's allow a fatal lack of oxygen that will make everyone drop dead!

NASA gets to name their missions after gods and stuff, so why can't I? Henceforth, rover experimental missions will be "Sirius" missions. Get it? Dogs? Well if you don't, fuck you.

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.

Very few people get a chance to quantify how much their father loves them. But I did. The job should have taken forty-five minutes, but Dad spent three and a half hours on it. My father loves me 366 percent more than he loves anything else. Good to know.

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

I wonder what NASA would think about me fucking with the RTG like this. They'd probably hide under their desks and cuddle with their slide rules for comfort.

Do you believe in God, Venkat?" Mitch asked.
"Sure, lots of 'em," Venkat said. "I'm Hindu.

I can't wait till I have grandchildren. When I was younger, I had to walk to the rim of a crater. Uphill! In an EVA suit! On Mars, ya little shit! Ya hear me? Mars!

My terrifying struggle to stay alive became somehow routine. Get up in the morning, eat breakfast, tend my crops, fix broken stuff, eat lunch, answer e-mail, watch TV, eat dinner, go to bed. The life of a modern farmer. Then I was a trucker, doing a long haul across the world. And finally, a construction worker, rebuilding a ship in ways no one ever considered before this.

The airlock's on its side, and I can hear a steady hiss. So either it's leaking or there are snakes in here. Either way, I'm in trouble.

...duct tape is magic and should be worshipped.

It's true, you know. In space, no one can hear you scream like a little girl.

Got my first e-mail from Hermes today. NASA's been limiting direct contact. I guess they're afraid I'll say something like "You abandoned me on Mars, you assholes!

Not enough," Annie said. "The press is crawling down my throat for this. And up my ass. Both directions, Venkat! They're gonna meet in the middle!

I'm going to finish off the last of Three's Company tonight. Frankly, I like Mr. Furley more than the Ropers.

It was fucking cold. The rover and trailer regulate their own temperatures just fine, but things weren't hot enough in the bedroom. Story of my life.

Live Another Sol would be an awesome name for a James Bond movie.

I don't want to come off as arrogant here, but I'm the best botanist on the planet.

Okay, good." He leaned down and kissed my cheek, almost as an afterthought. I had no idea what possessed him to do that - honestly I didn't think he had it in him. His bravery didn't last long, though. Once he realized what he'd done, his face became a mask of terr. "Oh shit! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking-"

I laughed. The look in the poor guy's eyes... I couldn't help it. "Relax, Svobo. It's just a peck on the cheek. It's nothing to get worked up about."

"R-Right. Yeah."

I put my hand on the nape of his neck, pulled his head to mine, and kissed him full on the lips. A good, long kiss with no ambiguity. When we disengaged, he looked hopelessly confused.
"Now, that," I said. "That you can get worked up about.

Chemistry, being the sloppy bitch it is, ensures there'll be some ammonia that doesn't react with the hydrazine, so it'll just stay ammonia. You like the smell of ammonia?

Any bacteria planning to rot my taters will die screaming. In

Really bad ideas, but they're ideas. Today

They're not much different from kitchen trash bags, though I'm sure they cost $50,000 because of NASA.

Remember my experiments with the RTG and having a hot bath? Same principle, but I came up with an improvement: submerge the RTG. No heat will be wasted that way. I started with a large rigid sample container (or "plastic box" to people who don't work at NASA). I ran a tube through the open top and down the inside wall. Then I coiled it in the bottom to make a spiral. I glued it in place like that and sealed the end. Using my smallest drill bit, I put dozens of little holes in the coil. The idea is for the freezing return air from the regulator to pass through the water as a bunch of little bubbles. The increased surface area will get the heat into the air better. Then I got a medium flexible sample container ("Ziploc bag") and tried to seal the RTG in it. But the RTG has an irregular shape, and I couldn't get all the air out of the bag. I can't allow any air in there.

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

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

Research into manned spaceflight is shifting from low-Earth orbit to destinations much further away, like Mars and the asteroid belt. But society will have to invent many new technologies before it can plausibly send people to those distances.

Well, it is a photo taken from orbit," Mindy said. "The NSA enhanced the image with the best software they have." "Wait, what?" Venkat stammered. "The NSA?" "Yeah, they called and offered to help out.