{"product_id":"project-hail-mary-movie-tiein-isbn-9798217299461","title":"Project Hail Mary (Movie Tie-In)","description":"\u003cb\u003eTHE #1 \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES \u003c\/i\u003eBESTSELLER FROM THE AUTHOR OF \u003ci\u003eTHE MARTIAN\u003c\/i\u003e • Soon to be a major motion picture starring Ryan Gosling, directed by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, with a screenplay by Drew Goddard\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eA lone astronaut must save the earth from disaster in this “propulsive” (\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e), cinematic thriller full of suspense, humor, and fascinating science.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHUGO AWARD FINALIST • ONE OF THE YEAR’S BEST BOOKS: Bill Gates, GatesNotes, New York Public Library, \u003ci\u003eParade, Newsweek, Polygon, Shelf Awareness, She Reads, Kirkus Reviews, Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e • \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003eReaders Pick: 100 Best Books of the 21st Century\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An epic story of redemption, discovery and cool speculative sci-fi.”—\u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If you loved \u003ci\u003eThe Martian,\u003c\/i\u003e you’ll go crazy for Weir’s latest.”—\u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRyland Grace is the sole survivor on a desperate, last-chance mission—and if he fails, humanity and the earth itself will perish.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExcept 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd with the clock ticking down and the nearest human being light-years away, he’s got to do it all alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr does he?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn irresistible interstellar adventure as only Andy Weir could deliver, \u003ci\u003eProject Hail Mary\u003c\/i\u003e is a tale of discovery, speculation, and survival to rival \u003ci\u003eThe Martian\u003c\/i\u003e—while taking us to places it never dreamed of going.“A crowd-pleaser on the grandest scale.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Boston Globe\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An engaging space odyssey.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review \u003c\/i\u003e(Editors’ Choice)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Dazzling.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eVulture\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Funny, well plotted, and full of surprises.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Guardian\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A joy to read.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLocus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The ultimate page-turner.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eDaily Mail\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Weir spins a space yarn in a way only he can. Fans of his earlier works won’t be disappointed.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eNewsweek\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Andy Weir proves once again that he is a singular talent. \u003ci\u003eProject Hail Mary\u003c\/i\u003e is so fascinating and propulsive that it’s downright addictive. From the first page as Ryland wakes up not knowing who or where he is, I was hooked.”\u003cb\u003e—Taylor Jenkins Reid, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eDaisy Jones \u0026amp; The Six\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Reading \u003ci\u003eProject Hail Mary\u003c\/i\u003e is like going on a field trip to outer space with the best science teacher you’ve ever had—and your class assignment is to save the world. This is one of the most original, compelling, and fun voyages I’ve ever taken.”\u003cb\u003e—Ernest Cline, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eReady Player One\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Two worlds in peril, a competent (but flawed and human) man, a competent alien, unending scientific puzzles to unravel, with humanity itself at risk, this one has everything fans of old school SF (like me) love. If you like a lot of science in your science fiction, Andy Weir is the writer for you.”\u003cb\u003e—George R. R. Martin, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eA Game of Thrones\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I loved \u003ci\u003eThe Martian,\u003c\/i\u003e but I actually find \u003ci\u003eProject Hail Mary\u003c\/i\u003e to be Mr. Weir’s finest work to date. It’s somehow both exciting, yet also personal. I’m constantly amazed by how well Mr. Weir continues to write wonderfully accessible science fiction without compromising either the science or the fiction.”\u003cb\u003e—Brandon Sanderson, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Stormlight Archive series\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brilliantly funny and enjoyable . . . one of the most plausible science fiction books I’ve ever read.”\u003cb\u003e—Tim Peake, ESA astronaut and internationally bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eLimitless\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Thrilling doesn’t even begin to describe \u003ci\u003eProject Hail Mary\u003c\/i\u003e, which is undisputedly the best book I’ve read in a very, very long time . . . I cheered, I laughed (a lot), I cried, and when the twist arrived and the book revealed its true target, my jaw hit the floor. Mark my words: \u003ci\u003eProject Hail Mary\u003c\/i\u003e is destined to become a classic.”\u003cb\u003e—Blake Crouch, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eRecursion\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eDark Matter\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Readers may find themselves consuming this emotionally intense and thematically profound novel in one stay-up-all-night-until-your-eyes-bleed sitting. An unforgettable story of survival and the power of friendship—nothing short of a science fiction masterwork.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e (starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eAndy Weir\u003c\/b\u003e built a two-decade career as a software engineer until the success of his first published novel, \u003ci\u003eThe Martian,\u003c\/i\u003e 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.\u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s two plus two?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSomething about the question irritates me. I’m tired. I drift back to sleep.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA few minutes pass, then I hear it again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s two plus two?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect,” says the computer. “What’s two plus two?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTime for an experiment. I’ll try to say hello.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hlllch?” I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect. What’s two plus two?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat’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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI think my eyes are closed. That’s not so bad. All I have to do is open them. I try, but nothing happens.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy can’t I open my eyes?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOpen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAaaand . . . open!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOpen, dang it!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOoh! I felt a wiggle that time. My eyelids moved. I felt it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOpen!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy eyelids creep up and blinding light sears my retinas.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Glunn!” I say. I keep my eyes open with sheer force of will. Everything is white with shades of pain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Eye movement detected,” my tormenter says. “What’s two plus two?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe whiteness lessens. My eyes are adjusting. I start to see shapes, but nothing sensible yet. Let’s see . . . can I move my hands? No.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFeet? Also no.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut I can move my mouth, right? I’ve been saying stuff. Not stuff that makes sense, but it’s something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fffr.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect. What’s two plus two?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe shapes start to make sense. I’m in a bed. It’s kind of . . . oval-­shaped.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLED 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ffff . . . oooh . . . rrrr,” I say. Will that do?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect. What’s two plus two?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDang it. I summon all my willpower and inner strength. Also, I’m starting to panic a little. Good. I use that too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Fffoouurr,” I finally say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Correct.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThank God. I can talk. Sort of.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m wearing a breathing mask. It’s tight to my face and connected to a hose that goes behind my head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCan I get up?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo. 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat can’t be good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAlso, 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Wh—­” I wheeze. I try again. “Where . . . am . . . I?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What’s the cube root of eight?” the computer asks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Where am I?” I say again. This time it’s easier.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect. What’s the cube root of eight?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI take a deep breath and speak slowly. “Two times e to the two-­i-­pi over three.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect. What’s the cube root of eight?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut I wasn’t incorrect. I just wanted to see how smart the computer was. Answer: not very.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Two,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Correct.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI listen for follow-­up questions, but the computer seems satisfied.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’m tired. I drift off to sleep again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI wake up. How long was I out? It must have been a while because I feel rested. I open my eyes without any effort. That’s progress.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI try to move my fingers. They wiggle as instructed. All right. Now we’re getting somewhere.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hand movement detected,” says the computer. “Remain still.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What? Why—­”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe robot arms come for me. They move fast. Before I know it, they’ve removed most of the tubes from my body. I didn’t feel a thing. Though my skin is kind of numb anyway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOnly three tubes remain: an IV in my arm, a tube up my butt, and a catheter. Those latter two are kind of the signature items I wanted removed, but okay.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI raise my right arm and let it fall back to the bed. I do the same for my left. They feel heavy as heck. I repeat the process a few times. My arms are muscular. That doesn’t make sense. I assume I’ve had some massive medical problem and been in this bed for a while. Otherwise, why would they have me hooked up to all the stuff? Shouldn’t there be muscle atrophy?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd shouldn’t there be doctors? Or maybe the sounds of a hospital? And what’s with this bed? It’s not a rectangle, it’s an oval and I think it’s mounted to the wall instead of the floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Take . . .” I trail off. Still kind of tired. “Take the tubes out. . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe computer doesn’t respond.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI do a few more arm lifts. I wiggle my toes. I’m definitely getting better.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI tilt my ankles back and forth. They’re working. I raise my knees up. My legs are well toned too. Not bodybuilder thick, but still too healthy for someone on the verge of death. I’m not sure how thick they should be, though.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI press my palms to the bed and push. My torso rises. I’m actually getting up! It takes all my strength but I soldier on. The bed rocks gently as I move. It’s not a normal bed, that’s for sure. As I raise my head higher up, I see the head and foot of the elliptical bed are attached to strong-­looking wall mounts. It’s kind of a rigid hammock. Weird.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSoon, I’m sitting on my butt tube. Not the most comfortable sensation, but when is a tube up your butt ever comfortable?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI have a better view of things now. This is no ordinary hospital room. The walls look plastic and the whole room is round. Stark-­white light comes from ceiling-­mounted LED lights.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere are two more hammock-­like beds mounted to the walls, each with their own patient. We are arranged in a triangle and the roof-­mounted Arms of Harassment are in the center of the ceiling. I guess they take care of all three of us. I can’t see much of my compatriots—­they’ve sunken into their bedding like I had.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere’s no door. Just a ladder on the wall leading to . . . a hatch? It’s round and has a wheel-­handle in the center. Yeah, it’s got to be some kind of hatch. Like on a submarine. Maybe the three of us have a contagious disease? Maybe this is an airtight quarantine room? There are small vents here and there on the wall and I feel a little airflow. It could be a controlled environment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI slide one leg off over the edge of my bed, which makes it wobble. The robot arms rush ­toward me. I flinch, but they stop short and hover nearby. I think they’re ready to grab me if I fall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Full-­body motion detected,” the computer says. “What’s your name?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Pfft, seriously?” I ask.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect. Attempt number two: What’s your name?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI open my mouth to answer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Uh . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect. Attempt number three: What’s your name?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOnly now does it occur to me: I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I do. I don’t remember anything at all.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Um,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Incorrect.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA wave of fatigue grips me. It’s kind of pleasant, actually. The computer must have sedated me through the IV line.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“. . . waaaait . . .” I mumble.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe robot arms lay me gently back down to the bed.#1 New York Times bestselling author; Author of The Martian; Now a major motion picture from Amazon MGM Studios","brand":"Ballantine Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233493168357,"sku":"NP9798217299461","price":22.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9798217299461.jpg?v=1767735162","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/project-hail-mary-movie-tiein-isbn-9798217299461","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}