INT. HAB - DAY
Mark adjusted the camera, uncertain of how to work the video journal.
"Okay. Okay..." Mark began as he typed on the keypad. The NASA timestamp appeared on the frame.
"This is... Mark Watney. Astronaut. I'm entering this log for the record, in case I... don't make it. It's... oh-six-five-three on Sol 19. And... I'm still alive." He thought for a moment. "Obviously. But I'm guessing this is going to be a surprise to my crewmates. And NASA. And... the world. And to my wife. So... surprise. I didn't die on Sol 18."
Mark held up his length of antenna as he said, "These lengths of my primary communication tore through our bio-monitors. It ripped a hole in me as well. It was pretty terrible. But the antenna... and the blood... managed to seal the breaches in my suit. Which in turn kept me alive. Even though the team must have thought me dead. Commander Lewis... If you ever hear this... Listen. It wasn't your fault. Just bad luck. You did what you had to do, and if I had been in your position, I would have done the same. I'm glad you guys made it. All right, though. That's where I'm at. Mark Watney, stranded on Mars. I have no way to contact NASA because my communications antenna broke and stuck in my stomach. Which I've covered. And even if I could, it will take... four years before the next mission gets here. And I'm in a Hab designed to last thirty-one days. Impossible odds. I'm more than aware. If the oxygenator breaks, I'll suffocate. If the water reclaimer breaks, I'll die of thirst. And if, by some miracle, none of that happens... eventually I'm going to run out of food. So... yeah."
Mark trailed off and he stared, once again realizing how dire his situation was.
"Yeah," Mark repeated.
INT. HAB - NIGHT
Mark sat on his bunks. In his, he drummed his fingers on the wall as he thought as he stared at a picture of him and Esme on their wedding day.
EXT. MARS - DAWN
The first slivers of sunlight began appearing over the horizon.
SOL 21
INT. HAB - DAY
Mark flushed the toilet, which began the procedure of vacuum-drying the waste. He glanced back at the system as it finished its process, sealing the waste in a silver bag.
He studied the bag and an idea formed.
---
He made his way to Inventory and removed all the ration packs, stacking them in orderly piles as he catalogued their contents. One case in particular caught his attention.
The label read 'DO NOT OPEN UNTIL THANKSGIVING'.
INT. HAB - DAWN
Mark sat in the darkness. He started into the middle distance.
He made a decision and got to his feet, making sure not to wake her. He rummaged through the Hab and eventually found a pencil.
Mark pulled a notecard free from one of his manuals.
He sat at the table and began writing math equations as he said, "Let's do the math."
Later, Mark addressed the camera. He looked a little less-terrible than before.
"Our surface mission here was supposed to take thirty-one days," Mark said. "For redundancy, they sent enough food to last sixty-eight days. For seven people. So for just me, it'll last three hundred days. And I figured I can stretch that to four hundred if I ration. So... I've still gotta figure out how to grow three years worth of food. Here. On a planet where nothing grows. Luckily I'm the botanist." He held up one of his mission briefs and pointed to the word 'Botanist' under 'Watney'. "Mars will come to fear my botany power. Baby, I'm coming home to you. I promise."
Sol 21 continued
EXT. HAB - DAY
Mark collected the pile of silver bags and carried them inside.
INT. HAB - DAY
Mark stood in the kitchen, surrounded by silver bags. He filled a large container with water from the Reclaimer. He dumped in the contents of the compost bin.
He stared at the bags with a displeased expression.
He tore open a bag and dumped the contents into the bin. He tore open another bag. As he did so, he started to gag.
Sol 24
Mark scooped Martian dirt into a container with a small shovel. He carried the container to the airlock.
INT. HAB - DAY
Mark entered the Hab dumped the container of dirt into a corner where he'd cleared an empty area.
Sol 25
INT. HAB - DAY
Mark entered with another container and dumped it on the pile of dirt.
Sol 28
INT. HAB - DAY
Mark had spread the dirt over a third of the Hab floor. He stared at the compost bin like it was his nemesis.
Mark took a deep breath as he opened the bin. He began dumping it over the Martian dirt.
He let out a breath, as he needed air, and gagged.
Sol 31
INT. HAB - DAY
Mark cut each potato into four quarters, making sure each quarter had at least two eyes.
He began planting each potato quarter in nice, orderly rows.
The entire Hab was covered with soil; from the floor to the table and everything in between.
---
Mark packed soil on top of one of his crew member's bunks. As he moved personal items aside, he found a data-stick. He held it up and looked at it.
---
Mark held up a data-stick. He plugged the data-stick into the computer. It contained old episodes of 70s television.
Mark sat watching Happy Days.
His thoughts drifted to Esme and he began twirling his ring before holding it close to his heart.
YOU ARE READING
If Tomorrow Never Comes
Science FictionEsmeralda, Esme, Watney works with Mindy Park as a satellite engineer. Her high school sweetheart, her husband, is on the Hermes on a mission to Mars. When she receives the devastating news that he's dead, she must do her best to juggle her grief...
