are we there yet? kate shakes her head. she's about to respond when -
promise you won't leave if we don't like it there.
it wasn't supposed to be like this.
that's technically space janitor. crowd likes this. gallagher continues -
when the toilet breaks 80 million miles from the nearest hardware store, they call me. actually, they called me now 'cause then would be too late.
the radio's dead. rover's dead. amee's dead. you gave me a shop and three months and i could get this thing set for orbital re-entry. otherwise. it's staying here. santen's climbed to the top of a nearby outcropping of rock. surveys the area red sky, blue clouds, rocks.
so, where the hell are we?
which is dead. didn't the boys at nasa pack us a compass?
i don't think i like this planet.
this is it. this is that moment they told us about in high school. where one day again we'd use algebra. and it would save our lives. and i thought they were fucking kidding. gallagher turns in frustration and walks away. chantilas calls to him -
right, i wouldn't want to get lost. he continues to wander off. we can hear them discussing drag coefficients and whatnot. it just makes him ill. gallagher stares out at the martian plain. it would be kinda cool. except for the fact he's gonna die here. he's pissed and frightened. yanks his hhc out. mutters, images appear. all the hab details. stares at the map and then the 360 degree panorama. back at the map. back at the panorama. something about it strikes him. looks at it some more. he gets up, looks around. looks around some more. heads back to the guys.
i don't think it's about math. i don't like math, so i'm biased. i think it's about the picture. he holds out the picture of the panorama. santen dismisses him - he's not a scientist, he's not a pilot, he should leave them alone.
look, say that's the lander. at about 30 degrees in the distance, it sees this mountain with the funny top. and at about 180 degrees it sees this funny set of twin peaks. now i see this mountain over there. and these peaks over there behind me almost on a straight line. and then there's this other peak maybe, which would put us on the line, say here. which leaves the angle to the hab at about there.  santen and chantilas start to manipulate their hhcs faster than you can follow. muttering to them, hand-gesturing, cross-referencing back and forth to the map, as the ellipse shrinks and their landing location is. determined.
there's bad news? chantilas checks gallagher's wrist monitor.
good morning, amee. step out carefully, we're in multi-directional gravity. amee, the autonomous mapping exploration and evasion unit, unfolds and steps gingerly from the cabinet. about waist high, eight legs, stereo camera eyes. like a big silver spider. old attachments have been sawed off and buffed down. she's a piece of off-the-shelf gear that's been modified. when the light hits her at the right angle, we can see a marine corps insignia still etched under the refinishing.
how are we after launch? i'd like to run a systems check. shall we do the hokey-pokey? just to satisfy me? she rapidly shakes each of her legs in turn. gallagher flips on a wrist panel display. built into the fabric of his suit. he sees what amee sees.
take a look around. he flips off the lights. she flicks over to ir, sees just fine in the dark. turns the lights back on.
and how is your c.p.u. today? a 1000 quick calculations flash by and then - "good."
okay, run the occasional self test. let me know if anything's wrong. and back to storage. amee contracts and climbs back into her locker. gallagher shuts the door. display reads "good-bye" and winks out. int. ares - kitchen. dining sphere - night all six of them are gathered. first dinner in space.
ahh, commander. bunch of the hvacs jammed from the lift-off. reset 'em. they're fine now.
okay. kate.
i did two years as a mechanic at nascar. a year and a half at mcmurdo in the south pole. three years on subs. i had the highest military tech ratings you can get. and i went cross-country once with my cousins in a motor home. this didn't seem so bad.
you ever been to europe? europe's horrible. it's full of stodgy people whose ancestors didn't have the balls to go to america and try something new. earth is gonna be like europe. you might visit there and admire some old buildings and crap, but you wouldn't want to live there. this was like getting a call to go with columbus to america the first time. but harder. how could you not go? damn. burchenal grins.
how you doing?
how you doing?
it's mars.
maybe there was never anything in this valley. as they walk, burchenal checks his hcc.
and what're you gonna do, sit here and watch? you getting old and lazy?
we'll get you to the hab. lock out the spine impulse and you can walk one of us through it.
twenty-two minutes.
nah, you can keep talking. it's kinda peaceful. in the b.g., headed towards a ridge of rocks, we can see a lone figure making its way along. it's pettengill. he steps around the ridge. we can hear his radio whooosh to static as he loses line of sight communication with the others. up ahead of him, standing on the edge of an enormous drop-off, just staring out into space, is santen. his back is to us. pettengill walks towards him. santen still doesn't hear. santen's radio is off. beethoven blares in his helmet. a 3000 foot drop at his feet. it is magnificent. as pettengill approaches and santen remains unaware, the scene seems less and less innocuous. we fear for him. until.  pettengill just walks right up beside him and stares out at the chasm as well. santen lowers his music. they stand there silently for a moment. santen has some kind of weak-ass epiphany.
ouch. burchenal bows his head down for a moment, overcome. but it's not santen. it's the bigger picture.
i'm at under a minute here. you guys know what this is gonna be like?
gonna hurt?
fuck this planet. and he's still. still. and then in a last reflexive shudder. gasps. gasps again. takes in the worthless mars atmosphere. and right when we think it's entirely over. takes in some more. breathes again. and again. opens his eyes.
i'm not dead. the other two are watching in amazement.
i'm not dead. it's like being at high altitude. there's not much air here. but.  takes him a minute to catch his breath, but.
we're not gonna die. burchenal's suit alarm goes off. he doesn't screw with gasping in the suit. just opens the damn thing up and prays. breathes. raggedly.
god, if santen had only waited five more minutes. what a waste.  off pettengill's completely unsettled face.
sorry
andromeda, cassiopeia, cetus, lepus, canis minor. we're looking at what you'd see south around midnight, mid-may if we were on earth. at about 42 degrees. he's not showing off. he just really does know. chantilas looks at him, surprised.
my grandfather taught me to sail when i was a kid. he made me learn the stars in case all the g.p.s. satellites fell out of the sky at once. he said anyone who put his life in the hands of anything run by batteries was a jackass.
he didn't like what he called the easy answer or the quick fix. he didn't want to own anything he couldn't repair himself. and, oh yeah, everything automatic sooner or later fails automatically, usually during or immediately before a crisis. he had a lotta damn sayings. he wouldn't've approved of this.
no. that we killed off half the living things on earth. that after we all but destroyed one planet with global warming, we're trying to bring another to life the same way. kinda tricky, don't you think? he woulda said we were asking for trouble.
i don't really get it. you quit being a scientist? you went back to school to study god??
i asked my grandfather once if god existed. he played me brahms' third. then he asked me what good it was? or was it just vibration.
he said if a man could listen to brahms and not believe in god, he was a fool.
you didn't come on this trip because of science at all, did you? that's why they let you come, but you're going to mars to prove to yourself god exists. yup.
maybe god's more subtle than you are. you think we're doing something we shouldn't, bud, messing with another planet?
no one said jack to me about the greeks and romans. shit, i just came along to fix stuff.
i just wish i didn't think he was chuckling.
this. he tosses it aside. it's worthless.
it used to be the radio. i don't mean to piss on the parade, guys, but no one knows we're here. don't you see? the good news is we can breathe. the bad news is, unless we can tell somebody, now we get to starve to death. the only mission left is rescue.
and it all ran through the main computer which was half-fried and dropped from a great height. shakes his head no. that ain't gonna help. then burchenal, of all things, grins.
i didn't see any stores on the way over. i miss a radio hut?
we still might have a chance this pass. we wait long.  they start to run towards a ridge to west. sun hangs low in the sky. only an hour or so of day left. cut to: gallagher, pettengill and burchenal with a goofy look on their faces. like kids at disneyland the first time. they're standing there looking at - sagan. sojourner site the little rover. all those damned named rocks. our first big visit to mars. the reverie is over quickly. gallagher tosses down his bag of tools. walks over, kneels beside sojourner .
sorry about this. he pats it once and starts power-screwing off the cover. tosses another tool to burchenal. re the sagan lander -
rip the panels off everything around the aerial. it's a fifty-year-old off-the-shelf computer radio modem on a frequency that we're not using for this mission.
cause i'd rather die doing something than just sitting there. cut to:
testing, testing.  he adjusts a tiny pot as he continues to call out. a green led comes on, flickering with his voice.
well, the little green thing lights up. i don't know if it works.  this is ares ground crew, come back. this is ares ground crew, do you copy? we pull back wider and wider. they are so damn alone.
commander bowman?
we're at sixty percent. lieutenant santen and bud are gone. oh, and by the way, we can breathe.
not real well, but yeah. hey, kate. we've changed our mind. get us outta here. we'd like to come home. if the room was at a standstill before, now it's frozen. is there hope?
it's gonna rain?
i could see that. it's dropped about fifty degrees in the last half hour. we figure a hundred below fairly soon.
it would have been nice to be in the hab. and there ain't no other motel to check into.
yeah.  behind gallagher is a whoooosh of flame as pettengill gets the debris he's piled in the middle of the hab to light. he's got stacks of additional fuel nearby.
we're gonna have a 75 million dollar campfire. ext. hab - 20 minutes later the sun sets. first sunset on mars man has seen. red upon red upon red. fire burns behind them. sky turns black. fast. a billion stars. and then a meteorite begins to fall. it's huge. it's red. it explodes.
what the hell was that?
what happened to this place? everything but the titanium supports were just chewed up. could a dust storm've done this?
you still think we had any business coming to mars? screwing with stuff? trying to spread life? you think maybe god's teaching us some hardass lesson? pettengill just makes some kind of weird gulping noise and turns away. they let him be.
i bet you don't believe in santa. and you're no fun at all at christmas. not everything gets an explanation you can write down as a formula.
i have two sisters. neither of them were this fine. now she colors.
i tried. i really tried. maybe i should go fix something.
i'm the first man to piss on mars. burchenal and pettengill follow suit on the other side of the hab. a beat, then -
built a directional. now at least we know where something is. the radio crackles.
that's it? we walk a hundred kilometers in one day to find a twelve-by-twelve object that's been sitting there for 30 years. that's the best plan they could come up with?
i guess that makes it best.
there's bad news?
let's worry about it when we get there. where're we going?
heck, we just gotta pack. he picks up a satchel of tools. everything else's burnt to a cinder.
it took us six hours to go 26 kilometers last time. we don't have the rebreathers, we don't have the tanks.
call. int. kitchen. dining sphere - night burchenal, santen, chantilas and gallagher are playing poker. burchenal fans his cards down. full house.
do you cheat?
you got enough gear on board to splice genes, right? glassware, tubing, bunsen burners. all that kind of stuff?
okay. he's done. she can leave now.
he's teaching me. about biology. i've developed an interest in.
it's a science experiment. did you know that an ounce of red wine per day actually benefits your heart?
grapes don't grow well hydroponically. so we, ah, used potatoes.
about three to one. i can't believe you drank that.
i'm in space. i wanna see the stars. he flails off in another direction. she laughs and follows him.
three. and a horse. he really likes the horse.
he pines for the horse. you?
that's too bad. he takes another swig. offers it to her. she matches him.
can i ask you something very personal?
it's about bras and space. she looks at him.
i know.
cause it's really fucking distracting.
no. not at all. i'm sorry i ever brought this up. the good news is neither of them will remember in the morning. much. another round. then -
with the kind of jobs i've had, it's very hard to maintain any kind of relationship. so. no horses.
no, i like horses just fine. they've floated very close.
is that an insult or a compliment?
maybe it doesn't matter 'cause we gotta keep moving or we're gonna die. pettengill doesn't argue. just trying to stay alive is the great scientific mystery right now. they bound down far side and.
oh yeah, we're doing fabulous. as she plunges into darkness, we hear -
how long can you go without singing that dumb song? burchenal looks hurt. walks another few paces. begins to sing again. gallagher turns to pettengill.
there's two of us. and we can stop him from singing. pettengill considers. then sings along instead. they only know the one line. it's really annoying.
what is that?
i don't know the classics. this sets burchenal off. he sings some more -
what the hell is that?
an astronaut wrote that?
sing the one about the dogs again.
then why does it say doggies? all this time, they've been walking across a landscape pigmented with color - steel blue, alizarin crimson, malachite green - the algae varietals everywhere. and then off to the left, the algae stops. erased, like it was never there, extirpated in a long crooked line.
yeah, what the fuck? you said doggies. then he sees as well. they all see. can't help themselves. they're drawn towards it. gallagher and burchenal check their course in the distance before veering off. pettengill is already heading towards it. it's maybe 100 yards away. at 50, something indistinct can be seen. sort of. it's like the line, and the surrounding terrain is out of focus, blurry. at 30, the blurriness comes into focus. it's alive. it moves slightly. you can see through it. at ten, you can see it undulating. slowly, towards us. erasing the algae, the color slowly spreading outwards behind and diffusing. and then we can see.  a billion, a hundred billion. nematodes. little tiny translucent worms. eating the algae. slowly, irrevocably. advancing. pettengill pulls out his entrenching tool. carefully separates one out. lifts it up to the light to see. maybe three inches long, skinnier than an earthworm. one end lifts in the air, a tri-part mouth with little crystalline teeth opening and closing, searching for something to eat. it's fucking scary. it gets worse when you realize how many of them there are. the line's moved three or four inches closer as they stand there. they take a step back. no one can really speak yet.
what.
is it something we sent up by accident with the probes?
i thought we said there wasn't any life on this planet.
but it's here.
well, it looks like we're not alone in the universe. you just discovered life on another planet, pal. it takes a moment for this to sink in. then something hits robby.
made by god. that's what's stamped on the bottom. that's what bud would have said. he woulda loved this. gallagher gets down on one knee and looks at them. they're kinda horrible, but as he turns to pettengill -
you know what this means? you're gonna be more famous than darwin. they're gonna name buildings after you. spacecrafts, cities on mars.  the enormity of how badly pettengill has screwed up - that in the space of one day, he's committed murder and discovered life on another planet - begins to dawn on him. he doesn't handle it well. he's fucked up like few people can imagine. he tries to reset, it doesn't work. the worm twists about, starts to eat the metal right off the entrenching tool. he flicks it back to its relatives.
you wanna tell houston?
they're like some kind of translucent worms.
we should get outta here. pettengill doesn't respond.
he killed santen.
probably figured we were gonna die anyhow.
nobody deserves to die like that.
we've just done a little over two marathons back to back. we haven't had anything to eat or drink in two days. there are these worms that want to eat us and a mad robot who wants to kill us. why do you ask? he starts to laugh. for some weird reason burchenal joins him.
cooper's been singing classic music. i don't know most of it.
neither does he. i think he knows one line from each song. we'll try to go faster. we really will.  he's trying to convince himself as well as her. but he does pick up the pace and push after burch and.
you know, i don't care if i weigh 60 pounds on mars. i am one tired doggie. gallagher sits down on a rock. burchenal collapses nearby. they can't go any further. burchenal catches his breath.
too bad we're gonna be dead. i can't keep walking in circles. and there's nothing to keep us warm. they look around unhappily. ugly way to die.
it's gonna be like trying to live on mount everest.
i would have brought a tent.
we don't have a tent.
i'd guess you'd dig a snow cave. use the snow for insulation. you've seen the 3ds. there's a funky-looking hillock nearby. five feet high, as big around. burchenal totters to his feet. goes over and kicks it. it's soft volcanic rock.
there's no snow. burchenal kicks at it again. gives. he takes out the entrenching tool, hacks at it. knocks a piece free.
what? is this some kind of cartoon moment where you're imagining i'm a giant chicken and you're going to eat me?
it's a wizard of oz moment?
oh. good. and then the enormity of what's gone on hits them. and the exhaustion. adrenaline is gone. gallagher physically droops. burchenal follows.
i've never been this tired. i've never hurt this bad. you think dead is worse than this?
we oughta probably tell someone we're not frozen solid. yet. burchenal checks his watch.
there's gotta be a reason. a moment, then -
we're not in the real world. we're on mars. nobody gets in a rocket ship to outer space without some kind of faith. do they? burchenal doesn't answer. not directly. but he looks like a third grader busted in some elaborate story he can't keep up.
breathe! breathe!
ares, this is ground crew. ares, this is ground crew.
we gotta keep moving. he yanks out his hcc. mutters rapidly into it. we see the map appear. hab. cosmos line marked. then a star chart for mars on this day and time. he calls for it to change to a horizon projection. the machine freezes, computes. brings up a horizon. it matches what robby sees. and highlights a star sitting just above the horizon that will lead them on their way. canis minor. they start to run.  a beat. amee rises up silently from behind a rock and watches them go.
what? burchenals' not quite sure at first. but won't enter the algae. walks left, walks right. kneels down. the algae glows. otherworldly. and then movement. in the f.g. a worm, green, glowing and filled with algae, slithers through. and then another. and another, indistinguishable from the plants around them they've imbibed. and then as burchenal plays his light out across the valley we realize it's entirely full of worms. gallagher takes an appalled step back. they're fucked.
we're fucked. burchenal considers for a moment. and yeah, probably has that epiphany. then-
what are you gonna do? burchenal's far enough away now that his voice comes over the suit radio.
you're gonna distract the worms??
yeah.
it's clear. burchenal tries to turn around. he's mired now. and they're up to his waist. it's a fucking nematode feeding frenzy.
what have you done??
ares, this is ground crew. ares, this ground crew. do you copy?
me. alone. the worms just ate burchenal. thought you might be gone. guess you promised you wouldn't leave.
i'm about a kilometer from the cosmos. it's in sight. call you when i'm there.
it's really cold. my fingers aren't sure they want to work.
yeah. in cyrillic. finds it anyhow. he flexes his unresponsive fingers, and after a try or two, unscrews the cover, reveals an ir port.
got it.
go. plugs it in. stuff flashes. on the hhc, windows comes up, the cosmos launchmaster program, cyrillic crudely relabeled in english. unplugs the modem so he can speak again.
it's still got power.
i know now why it didn't launch. control alt delete. reboots in the blink of an eye. systems check positive.
it's looking good.
i need you to do some math. a cylinder 50 centimeters wide, how deep is six liters?
somewhere, mr. plummer, my 10th-grade math teacher, is cackling like a son-of-a-bitch. under which, he slithers underneath, opens the main purge and fills the big steel bucket with rocket fuel. it looks just like the guy at texaco, working on your car. lugs it away from the cosmos.
now what?
no. no go. there's enough power to run the computer, but not enough to launch.
let me look around and see if i see a high voltage source. no, just rocks. in fact, everywhere i look, there's just fucking rocks. and more fucking rocks. then, as he tries not to break down -
i'm gonna die here.
i didn't come here to be a citizen. i came as a tourist. you know, visit mars, check out the sights. go home. bowman tries to do the right thing. whatever the hell that is. takes a breath, wipes away an errant tear, tries to be calm for him.
tell all of burchenal's women that they were the only one. sell his horse to somebody nice.
no. then, burbling up, unplanned.
i shoulda kissed you. there's a long beat. yeech. he shouldn't have said anything. then -
okay. this is like all the worst parts of high school math and the beautiful girl you're too stupid to tell you're madly in love with. and then, i get to die. what a shitty day. commander bowman, i am really sorry i didn't kiss you. really, really sorry. he pauses. only half a beat, but.
loved you madly, shoulda said so. it's too late. she never hears. static. he realizes she's gone. puts the radio down. he is very, very alone.
well, this can't get any worse. i guess. grabs himself to stay warm. hops up and down. on one of the hops he ends up facing the direction he came from. there's something green and phosphorescent coming over the ridge. they've tracked him. footprint by footprint. he looks closer. it's not just the ridge. they're down in the valley with him. the ones in the front are back to translucent, not glowing anymore. they're hungry for something new. he gets down low to silhouette them against the sky. there are already four or five hundred thousand on this side of the hill. and they're coming. faster.
i guess i was wrong. it can get worse. a lot fucking worse. forgive me if i don't feel like getting eaten before i die! they don't really respond. except the ones in the front who rear up, and seem to listen or sniff for him. and gnash their little crystalline teeth. they split now to come at him from two sides. gallagher gets caught in a dry-heave.
oh, man.  sees the bucket of rocket fuel. lot closer to them than it is to him. gathers his nerve, runs, grabs the bucket. drags it twenty feet back. then tilts it, carefully pouring it out in a ring around himself and the cosmos. worms closing in as he goes. leads a fuse of fuel back towards him. lights it. it burns low and yellow in the oxygen-depleted atmosphere. doesn't look like much. certainly not a defence. first worm gets near it. unsure. bewildered. pulls back. but his compatriots are behind him, still coming. no choice. he advances. and. poof. vaporizes in burst of red-orange as he touches the flame. and the next. and the next. like little sparks. gallagher watches, puzzled by this. and then it hits. right as the ring of flame is about to die out. the main wave touches the ring of fire. and. they do burn. and scream. little worm screams that multiplied by tens and hundreds of thousands begin to pierce the air.
that's for eating the hab! and killing cooper, you slimy worm fuckers! rolling waves of flame. half plasma. flying blobs of burning worms rain down like napalm. one lands on and torches the cobbled-together radio. it's so damn hot for a moment gallagher panics, thinking everything might explode. then it drops to embers and the wave burns over the hill like a wild fire. gallagher does a dance of triumph. however short-lived. then it hits him -
how do you burn like that without oxygen?? there's a blast of flame from the far side of the ridge that rattles rocks and cosmos. knocks him to the ground.
holy shit. holy shit! gallagher stares with wonder over the hill. he figured it out. there's a couple of dozen worms, unburnt and thrown free. he picks one up, looks at it.
you motherfuckers stole all the oxygen. and you can give it back. motherfuckers. i gotta tell someone. it could work. it could work here.  he turns, looks - the radio is still burning. he snatches it up, scorches him. tries to put it out. it's cooked. deceased. he's devastated. drops to his knees.
no!! not after all this. no!!! it ain't gonna work ever again. all the shouting isn't gonna make a difference. he knows the answer, he knows how to save the species and there's no one he can tell. as he stumbles back onto his feet, he's jarred the switch that links to amee's display. it comes on, shows:
my day is not getting better, is it. there's a look on his face somewhere between inspiration and fear. like he's got an idea. but it might be a really, really bad one.
robust real-time response to the environment, my butt. gallagher grabs his satchel of tools and begins to unbolt her as fast as he can. checks his watch. whatever he's racing, there's only minutes to go. deep within the electronic entrails of amee, he dredges up her esource. size of a soda can. power cell that runs her for year and a half. hums as he removes it from its shielded container. it's 280 volts.
work. he rips open a panel on the cosmos, yanks out the dead cell and hooks the new one in. it doesn't fit. he's got nothing left but a couple of wrenches and a tube of epoxy. glues it in place. runs the launch diagnostics on his hcc. it flickers, goes to yellow, flashes on and off to green. he yanks back on his suit. grabs a handful of the uncharred worms and seals them in the container that held the esource. stuffs it in a side pocket. looks at the top of srv. wedges himself under some cables and wiring on the top.
this oughta be interesting. checks his watch. it's now or never.
fuck you, mars. . slaps the helmet shut. hits ignition. nothing happens. then the grinding of thirty-year-old pumps. and then a giant flaming roar. and it launches. gallagher, epoxied to the top, is pinned flat. face squashes, eyes bulge. ship starts to glow friction. thirty-year-old paint chips off like tiny shooting stars burning away as this reverse comet leaves the atmosphere. we can hear him roaring at the top of his lungs as the rocket blows by and.
no. air.
hey, i knew you wouldn't leave without me. you promised.
scientists. scientists sent us here. scientists figured the whole thing out with mars. i hate to bring this up, but they got us into this whole mess in the first place. hell, they shouldn't be allowed to drive 'cause they miss the turnoff as they consider the ramifications of the internal combustion engine. he picks up the mike.
hey, guys. how 'bout we come about halfway home and you send a ship with air and food and stuff to meet us? in the middle. and we don't have to get all the way back. huh?
the worms are not our enemy. they're our friends. he's pulled the container out of his pocket. unscrews it to show her the little slimy monsters. she recoils in horror.
it's okay, i'm pretty sure they don't like titanium. we're gonna live. on mars. hell, maybe even back on earth. maybe anywhere we want. and the reason we're gonna live, is the damn worms. yeah, they ate all the algae, and damn near everything else, but they store and excrete oxygen. she finds this hard to believe. but he explains.
that's why we could breathe. you should have seen these suckers burn when they went up. i had some time to think about this. i was in orbit for six minutes before you found me. i shoulda been dead. but the air locked in the suit was almost pure o2. 'cause of the worms. we didn't just find a new place to live on, we may have saved our old one. toxic waste, they'll eat it. poisonous landfills, they'll eat it. she's still trying to absorb all this. it's been a long couple of days.
god's got a sense of humor. he's giving us another chance. if we can all get along this time. burchenal knew somewhere that it wasn't the science, it was about having something to believe in. bud always knew. wonders of the deep. we just had to go to mars to remind ourselves of what we should have been able to see back on earth. it's not all about us. we can't kill everything and survive. bowman looks back at mars. astounded. believes.
how should i know, i'm the janitor. look, commander. i just fought off half a million screaming nematodes, and a killer robot and glued myself onto a rocket to get offa mars, and i was wondering.
yeah.
gee, wonder what we'll find to do with ourselves. as she starts to laugh.