Chalk Revelations

the martian is the story of one man stranded on mars with barely enough food and supplies to last him a calendar month, let alone the 14 that it inevitably takes to bring him home.

mark watney's rescue means millions of dollars in unplanned expenditures, cooperation between multiple nations that frankly have no stake in the life of one american astronaut, and risking the lives of 5 of his crew members. it is a story that makes you tackle the fundamental question of: "how much is one human life worth?"

the answer, the book (and its equally well-executed movie adaptation) offers, is everything.

they could have simply called it a day and told him that it was untenable, that they cannot possibly be asked to risk the lives of the rest of the ares iii crew. but they did not. they did not, because they deemed that no cost was too high if it meant that there was even a snowball's chance in hell that they could bring that one man home.

project hail mary, on the other hand, is a complete 180.

here, the fate of an entire planet's survival rests upon the shoulders of one rather unremarkable man. ryland grace is a middle school science teacher, whose only claim to fame is a controversial research paper. it is a story that forces you to confront the question: "how much do you personally owe humanity when its fate hangs in the balance?"

once again, the answer is everything.

ryland is not the brightest person on the planet, nor is he the bravest. he doesn't choose to be involved in saving earth, and he certainly doesn't choose to be sent on a suicide mission away from it. in project hail mary, one man has no choice but to shoulder this burden for the sake of humanity. and, it turns out, he's not the only one carrying this responsibility.

somehow, both books provide the same answer and message, only in somewhat different ways. they both serve to convey that life, no matter the scale, is worth preserving.

that when it comes to one man stranded 140 million miles away, no cost is too high, no risk too big, because his life matters. he matters. and he matters not just because he volunteered to go up there, or because it wasn't his fault, or because they know he's out there. he matters because he exists, and that is more than enough to do everything possible to bring him back.

or that no personal cost is too high to pay if you are the one person that can actually save humanity. the people may be faceless, nameless crowds to you, but their lives are worth saving simply because they exist. they exist, and that is plenty reason to doom yourself to certain death if it means that there is even a single chance in hell that you will save them. you don't have to be talented, or remarkable, or necessary to matter.

multilingual freaks declaring their love for each other in spanish 😭💛

Strawberry Full Moon, Santa Rosa Beach

Next up someone is going to claim that the Narnia series isn't kids books.

“I had time to run home and pack a bag and get to the beach where the boats were waiting,” said a member of Namaygoosisagagun First Nation (Collins). “We literally had minutes to get on the boats and flee before it took our town. “Once we left my house finally after packing what I could in a pack sack, the fire was right behind our place. We had to run to the beach and once we got there, it was only moments before the fire had jumped over the (train) track and was coming for us.”

it has since been confirmed that namaygoosisagagun first nation has completely burnt to the ground. if you would like to help the community navigate an ongoing crisis, i urge you to donate to the anishinabek nation 7th generation, a registered charity seeking to improve the lives of first nations people. donations are going directly to members of namaygoosisagagun first nation.

Their page on CanadaHelps / CanaDon:

It happened in a train, near noon in the middle of July in the south of France. Which for those familiar should tell you something about how hot it was. For those unfamiliar it's pretty damn hot particularly for people like yours truly who do not take heat well.

The train was packed, which did not help the heat. I had eaten but a handful of nuts in the morning, which was a bad decision. I didn't have a seat, which isn't necessarily an issue. Usually.

But the heat and the lack of food (mostly the heat) made a bad combination. The lightheadedness fell on me like an anvil. Sudden. Heavy. I felt nauseous which was truly the worst part because is there a worse place to puke than in a packed train? I didn't think so and I still don't.

People noticed. I don't know if it was the swaying or maybe I had gone visibly pale but three different people got up to give me their seat. Or four. I don't know, but it was a lot. The rules of politeness and manners don't apply when you're afraid you're gonna puke so I very gratefully took a seat.

A woman gave me a chocolate biscuit, she said she kept this sort of thing in her bag always because her son has diabetes. Two people offered me water but I had my own which I did drink. Two other people offered me more food. A man offered me vitamins. I hesitated and he gave me the package so I could check for myself it wasn't, like, drugs. I am mildly ashamed to say that I did not hesitate for reasons of a stranger giving me medicine but because I thought the orange-flavored vitamins might not mix super well with the chocolate biscuit I was eating. For my defense, sensory issues can be bad and I already wasn't feeling well. But I did learn my lesson about trusting strangers with medicine. This one was trustworthy, but still. Man who gave me vitamins, kudos to you for making sure I knew it wasn't drugs.

People asked me if I knew what was wrong. Two older people gently chastised me for not eating enough in this weather. Several asked where I as getting off and were visibly relieved when I said my stop was soon. They kept subtly checking on me trough the train ride and several people waved goodbye when I got off.

All those strangers coming together without a second's hesitation when I felt unwell. When you think about it, that's, like, a low bar. Obviously if someone visibly wasn't feeling well I would try to help. But the way they all moved together and didn't wait for someone else to offer a seat or food or water. The way they kept checking on me. That's what I want to be like.