Fanfic: The Earthling (The Martian)
Log En-- QUIT THAT!
January 1st, 2038
Sorry, gotta start over. New Year, new set of log… journal entries.
Yeah, I'm keeping up with this. Back on Mars it was the only way I kept myself sane and organized during the long periods where I had no communications with Earth. During the trip back, it was my way of decompressing from my struggles to survive on Mars. Now… Well it's a habit. Also I've got more, if less life-threatening, shit to deal with, and better to vent here than mouth off to someone's face.
First off, remember that bit at the end of The Hobbit, where Bilbo comes home and finds his asshole relatives had declared him dead and were trying to sell off all of his stuff? I kinda got the same problem After NASA declared me dead, my parents had to figure out what to with all of the stuff I'd put into storage prior to me leaving on Hermes. Some sentimental items they kept, a few personal effects went to the Smithsonian, and my papers (such as they were) went to the University of Chicago. The rest, well, they sold it off. Why not? No sense in letting my old dinette set sit around gathering dust and reminding them about their dead son.
Then two months later they got news that I was alive, and they've been scrambling ever since to get it all back. They stuff they donated to the Smithsonian and the UC was easy. Shit they sold on Ebay was a lot harder. I don't know why some memorabilia enthusiast would be so hot to own my vintage GenCon t-shirts, but they don't want to give them up. Okay, I can live without the shirts, but dammit, I paid good money for those 6th Edition and Pathfinder books, and I want 'em back!
Then there's more serious stuff. After i was declared dead, my parents also got the payout from my life insurance. And two months later after I was found alive again, the insurance company wanted it back. Which was a bit tricky for them, given no company wants "Harassed the parents of a world famous Not Quite Dead Astronaut" on their list of accomplishments at the annual stockholders meeting. Since it wasn't a sure thing that I'd make it back alive after being discovered, they settled on letting my parents keep the money until my survival was assured. Which means the day after I landed they served my parents with the lawsuit paperwork. Assholes.
NASA's legal reps tell me they're working with the insurance company to fix things. They damned well better. Because otherwise once I'm strong enough to get out of this damned wheelchair I'm gonna show them how we take care of this sorta thing in Chicago. Which would be to sue 'em right back!
What, did you think I'd whack 'em with a baseball bat? I'd get arrested!
In happier news, I've been eating my fill of food. So much food. Steak, burgers, ham, chicken. Oh, and Chicago style pizza flown from Chicago, made by Pizzeria Uno (the original, not those franchise places). Real pizza, made as thick as a manhole cover and twice as heavy. And it was all delicious. Christmas dinner with all the Hermes crew, their families, and my parents was probably one of the best days of my life, after my rescue.
Also, fresh air. There's a little fenced off garden area at the Recovery Center. With Florida's mild winter temperatures it's no problem going outside even in December. The first time they wheeled me out I just… I just started crying. Outside, without a spacesuit, breathing air that wouldn't kill me, feeling the sun on my face without a visor between me and the warm rays. It was the best feeling in the world. It still is.
Getting choked up again. More tomorrow.