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Mark Watney had become something of a folk hero.
He isn’t quite sure how he feels about it most days—being respected or famous isn’t new, becoming an expert in his field of academic study and travelling to Mars kind of made that inevitable. But being something idolised, someone talked about in hushed whispers like some kind of spun-together legend that one day woke up and decided to be real...
On some level it's kind of dehumanising. Mark Watney, the Man Who Lived On Mars, is storybook—a bedtime story told to children to keep the magic in their hearts alive. He’s something kids will be studying in a hundred years’ time. He’s got blood sweat and tears on the soil of Mars and his heart and soul woven into the space programs across the globe.
Mark Watney, forty, teacher, with chronic health issues and trouble sleeping at night, is just a man. He loves plants—even if he’s had quite enough of potatoes for one lifetime—and dogs and cats and watching bad movies with his parents and finding juvenile ways of making the people around him smile and relax. He’s occasionally frightened by storms, and some days the smell of gentle rain against the dirt smells alien and he wants to burst into tears. Though, he has, somehow, come to be endeared by the jovial beats of disco music—much to Melissa Lewis’ great pleasure.
He knows it’s quite the same for AJ.
Being “the twenty-something who stopped the planet from getting hit by a civilisation-ending asteroid” is quite the pedestal to be placed on. It’s only thanks to the combined efforts of NASA and various branches of the US Government that he’s not stalked everywhere he goes. That when he visits the graves of his family he can have the peace and space to share his stories with them. To laugh and cry and sit in comfortable silence with their headstones.
Mark considers the campus before them, sipping gently at his latte. He’s become what he always swore to his mother he was better than: a coffee snob. It’s a stunning day—the poet within him conjures up something about pathetic fallacy and the hopeless optimism encapsulated within all who gaze up at the stars. Searching, studying, wondering, observing, hoping.
Beside him on the bench, AJ sighs, hands cradling his own coffee, enjoying the warmth seeping into his hands.
A group of students approach—dressed in some endearing smart-casual-academia combination—and slow the pace of their run to greet them both.
“Sir.”
“Good morning.”
“Mr Frost. Mr Watney.”
Mark smiles at each of them, sees the childlike wonder in their eyes and feels something jagged inside of him settle, edges smoothing.
These kids might look up to both of them—admire them, respect them—but the polite words and gentle nods assured him that there was still a galaxy above both of their heads. Here, they were peers. Here, Mark Watney is a man.
They breathe quietly as the last of the runners pass them, comfortable with the quiet. The wind tickles the leaves of the trees behind them. Carries a distant laugh across the grass.
Sees AJ lift his arm to check his watch.
“Time to go,” AJ says with a smile.
Mark nods. He can’t bear to look away, though. It won’t be the first time that they’ll be apart for the better part of a day—but the idea of separation still sends shards of ice plummeting down his spine, shredding his resolve.
AJ’s gentle laugh and the nudge of his boot against Mark’s own is all he needs to find it again.
“Okay, go-time.”
“We really need to work on your one-liners,” shaking his head as they both rise from the bench.
“Hey, my one-liners worked pretty well on you, if I recall.”
AJ covers his face with one hand, but he can’t hide the grin on his face.
“Just hurry up and go put the fear of God into some future astronauts for me.”
“I think fear is the last thing these kids need. I think we’ve had quite enough of fear.”
AJ meets his gaze, considering him. Breaks out into another smile. “Okay, Starman, to Hell with fear. Give ‘em the Mark Watney special. Hope, straightforward truths, and the most unfunny jokes ever spoken aloud.”
“You got it.”