The Martian Review

      That's my only considered opinion.

      Fucked.

      Six days into what should be the greatest month of my life, and

it's turned into a nightmare.

      I don't even know who'll read this. I guess someone will find it

eventually. Maybe a hundred years from now.

     For the record . . . I didn't die on Sol 6. Certainly the rest of the

crew thought I did, and I can't blame them. Maybe there'll be a 

day of national mourning for me, and my Wikipedia page will say,

"Mark Watney is the only human to have died on Mars."

And it'll be right, probably. 'Cause I'll surely die here. Just not

on Sol 6 when everyone thinks I did.

Let's see . . . where do I begin.

The Ares Program. Mankind reaching out to Mars to send peo-

ple to another planet for the very first time and expand the hori-

zons of humanity blah, blah, blah. The Ares 1 crew did their thing

and came back heroes. The got parade and fame and love of the

world.

Ares 2 did the same thing, in a different location of Mars.

They got a firm handshake and a hot cup of coffee when they got home.

       Ares 3. Well, that was my mission. Okay, not mine per se. Com-

mander Lewis was in charge. I was just one of her crew. Actually,

I was the very lowest ranked member of the crew. I would only be

"in command" of the mission if I were the only remaining person.

     What do you know? I'm in command.

     I wonder if this log will be recovered before the rest of the crew

die of old age. I presume they got back to Earth all right. Guys, 

if you're reading this: It wasn't your fault. You did what you had

to do. In your position I would have done the same thing. I don't

blame you, and I'm glad you survived.