Andy Weir’s

Maybe I’ll post a consumer review. “Brought product to surface of Mars. It stopped working. 0/10.”

But no amount of careful design by NASA can get around a determined arsonist with a tank of pure oxygen.

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 thirty-one sols on Mars. The first guy to grow crops on

No plan survives first contact with the enemy.

The airlock itself has electronics, but it ran on Hab power. I guess NASA never considered what would happen if it was launched fifty meters. Lazy bums. Plastic might not burn, but anyone who’s played with a balloon knows it’s great at building up static charge. Once I do that, I should be able to make a spark just by touching a metal tool. Fun

I could have finished faster, but I figured caution’s best when setting fire to rocket fuel in an enclosed space.

The fourth one 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.

My asshole is doing as much to keep me alive as my brain.