THE #1 A lone astronaut must save the earth from disaster in this “propulsive” ( HUGO AWARD FINALIST • ONE OF THE YEAR’S BEST BOOKS: Bill Gates, GatesNotes, New York Public Library, “An epic story of redemption, discovery and cool speculative sci-fi.”-- “If you loved Ryland Grace is the sole survivor on a desperate, last-chance mission--and if he fails, humanity and the earth itself will perish. Except that right now, he doesn’t know that. He can’t even remember his own name, let alone the nature of his assignment or how to complete it. All he knows is that he’s been asleep for a very, very long time. And he’s just been awakened to find himself millions of miles from home, with nothing but two corpses for company. His crewmates dead, his memories fuzzily returning, Ryland realizes that an impossible task now confronts him. Hurtling through space on this tiny ship, it’s up to him to puzzle out an impossible scientific mystery--and conquer an extinction-level threat to our species. And with the clock ticking down and the nearest human being light-years away, he’s got to do it all alone. Or does he? An irresistible interstellar adventure as only Andy Weir could deliver,

Autorentext
Andy Weir built a two-decade career as a software engineer until the success of his first published novel, The Martian, allowed him to live out his dream of writing full-time. He is a lifelong space nerd and a devoted hobbyist of such subjects as relativistic physics, orbital mechanics, and the history of manned spaceflight. He also mixes a mean cocktail. He lives in California.

Klappentext

THE #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE MARTIAN • Soon to be a major motion picture starring Ryan Gosling, directed by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, with a screenplay by Drew Goddard

*A lone astronaut must save the earth from disaster in this “propulsive” (Entertainment Weekly*), cinematic thriller full of suspense, humor, and fascinating science.

HUGO AWARD FINALIST • ONE OF THE YEAR’S BEST BOOKS: Bill Gates, GatesNotes, New York Public Library, Parade, Newsweek, Polygon, Shelf Awareness, She Reads, Kirkus Reviews, Library Journal • New York Times Readers Pick: 100 Best Books of the 21st Century

“An epic story of redemption, discovery and cool speculative sci-fi.”—USA Today

“If you loved The Martian, you’ll go crazy for Weir’s latest.”—The Washington Post

Ryland Grace is the sole survivor on a desperate, last-chance mission—and if he fails, humanity and the earth itself will perish.

Except that right now, he doesn’t know that. He can’t even remember his own name, let alone the nature of his assignment or how to complete it.

All he knows is that he’s been asleep for a very, very long time. And he’s just been awakened to find himself millions of miles from home, with nothing but two corpses for company.

His crewmates dead, his memories fuzzily returning, Ryland realizes that an impossible task now confronts him. Hurtling through space on this tiny ship, it’s up to him to puzzle out an impossible scientific mystery—and conquer an extinction-level threat to our species.

And with the clock ticking down and the nearest human being light-years away, he’s got to do it all alone.

Or does he?

An irresistible interstellar adventure as only Andy Weir could deliver, Project Hail Mary is a tale of discovery, speculation, and survival to rival The Martian—while taking us to places it never dreamed of going.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1

What s two plus two?

Something about the question irritates me. I m tired. I drift back to sleep.

A few minutes pass, then I hear it again.

What s two plus two?

The soft, feminine voice lacks emotion and the pronunciation is identical to the previous time she said it. It s a computer. A computer is hassling me. I m even more irritated now.

Lrmln, I say. I m surprised. I meant to say Leave me alone a completely reasonable response in my opinion ­but I failed to speak.

Incorrect, says the computer. What s two plus two?

Time for an experiment. I ll try to say hello.

Hlllch? I say.

Incorrect. What s two plus two?

What s going on? I want to find out, but I don t have much to work with. I can t see. I can t hear anything other than the computer. I can t even feel. No, that s not true. I feel something. I m lying down. I m on something soft. A bed.

I think my eyes are closed. That s not so bad. All I have to do is open them. I try, but nothing happens.

Why can t I open my eyes?

Open.

Aaaand . . . open!

Open, dang it!

Ooh! I felt a wiggle that time. My eyelids moved. I felt it.

Open!

My eyelids creep up and blinding light sears my retinas.

Glunn! I say. I keep my eyes open with sheer force of will. Everything is white with shades of pain.

Eye movement detected, my tormenter says. What s two plus two?

The whiteness lessens. My eyes are adjusting. I start to see shapes, but nothing sensible yet. Let s see . . . can I move my hands? No.

Feet? Also no.

But I can move my mouth, right? I ve been saying stuff. Not stuff that makes sense, but it s something.

Fffr.

Incorrect. What s two plus two?

The shapes start to make sense. I m in a bed. It s kind of . . . oval-­shaped.

LED lights shine down on me. Cameras in the ceiling watch my every move. Creepy though that is, I m much more concerned about the robot arms.

The two brushed-­steel armatures hang from the ceiling. Each has an assortment of disturbingly penetration-­looking tools where hands should be. Can t say I like the look of that.

Ffff . . . oooh . . . rrrr, I say. Will that do?

Incorrect. What s two plus two?

Dang it. I summon all my willpower and inner strength. Also, I m starting to panic a little. Good. I use that too.

Fffoouurr, I finally say.

Correct.

Thank God. I can talk. Sort of.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Wait ­I just controlled my breathing. I take another breath. On purpose. My mouth is sore. My throat is sore. But it s my soreness. I have control.

I m wearing a breathing mask. It s tight to my face and connected to a hose that goes behind my head.

Can I get up?

No. But I can move my head a little. I look down at my body. I m naked and connected to more tubes than I can count. There s one in each arm, one in each leg, one in my gentlemen s equipment, and two that disappear under my thigh. I m guessing one of them is up where the sun doesn t shine.

That can t be good.

Also, I m covered with electrodes. The sensor-­type stickers like for an EKG, but they re all over the place. Well, at least they re only on my skin instead of jammed into me.

Wh &s