Chapter 516: Caught alive,

In the bustling heart of Irvine, Orange County, California, the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the cityscape. Andy Weir, after a simple lunch, approached the office window, gazing out into the distance. He allowed his eyes to rest, taking in the serene view.

Outside, in the quaint square fronting the office building, two statues stood in silent testament to fantasy and imagination. The Orc Wolf Cavalry, its battle ax raised triumphantly, faced off against the Lich King, who pointed his sword towards an unseen horizon. These guardians of another world seemed to watch over Andy's own journey.

Andy's thoughts were interrupted as he remembered the business card in his pocket. It bore the number of a publishing house interested in promoting "The Martian," his labor of love, serialized in his scarce free time. This novel was his opus, a creation into which he'd poured his heart and soul.

Gazing at the Lich King, Andy whispered to himself, a wistful tone in his voice, "My child, how I dream of the day when your name is known across the United States..."

Yet, the harshness of reality often clashed with the beauty of dreams. Taking out his phone, Andy dialed the publisher's number, only to be met with a busy signal. A sense of foreboding crept over him as the line remained busy even upon redialing. The nagging fear that his work had been rejected cast a shadow over his hopeful anticipation.

Disheartened, yet clinging to a thread of hope, he tried one last time in the afternoon. As he was about to set his phone down, resigned, it vibrated in his hand. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen.

"This is Andy Weir," he answered, his voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

On the other end, a voice unfamiliar yet filled with purpose spoke, "Hello, Mr. Weir, I'm Thomas Lane, representing Martin Davis. I'd like to discuss 'The Martian' with you."

Andy's heart skipped a beat. "Martin Davis? Hollywood's Martin Davis?"

"The very same, America's national hero," Thomas confirmed. "Do you have a moment to meet and talk about it?"

In a whirlwind of emotions, from the ashes of his earlier despair, a new, grander hope arose. Without a second thought, Andy agreed, "Yes, yes, I'll be there. Just need to ask for leave."

He hastily arranged for time off and drove to the agreed location, his mind racing. He recalled how Martin Davis had transformed unknown authors into sensations with film adaptations of their work. The contrast between a lifetime as a coder and the chance to become an acclaimed author was stark.

Arriving outside the coffee shop, Andy paused. The initial rush of excitement gave way to a moment of calm. He quickly searched for Martin's agent online, familiarizing himself with the man's appearance.

Entering the coffee shop, Andy's eyes instantly found Thomas Lane. The man from the internet photos was there, albeit with less hair than before. Thomas, noticing Andy, stood and greeted him with a firm handshake. They sat down, and Thomas didn't waste a moment, diving straight into the matter.

"Martin saw 'The Martian' on your blog. He's very interested in pushing for its publication and film adaptation," Thomas revealed.

Andy, barely containing his eagerness, asked, "Will Martin take the lead role?"

Thomas nodded confidently, "Absolutely, Martin himself has confirmed it."

Realizing the life-changing opportunity before him, Andy felt a surge of determination. The previous uncertainty with the publisher faded into insignificance. "I'm ready to work with Martin," he declared, a mix of relief and excitement in his voice.

Only Andy knew the countless hours and sacrifices he had made for "The Martian." He had immersed himself in learning about orbital dynamics, botany, aerospace history, and Mars to bring authenticity to his story.

Thomas smiled, "A wise decision. Let's get your agent here and discuss the copyright licensing."

As they talked, Andy felt the weight of his earlier doubts lift. This was more than a chance encounter; it was the beginning of a journey he had long dreamt of.

Andy Weir offered a wry smile, tinged with a hint of helplessness. "I don't actually have an agent," he confessed.

Thomas, ever meticulous in his approach, suggested an alternative to ensure a smooth process. "A lawyer would suffice for handling the formalities and avoiding any disputes later on."

Andy, recalling Blizzard's professional copyright lawyer, quickly made a call to seek assistance. The next day, he and Thomas sat down to commence the formal licensing negotiations.

---

Meanwhile, in the bustling atmosphere of Morocco's Astra Cinema, the crew was enjoying a brief respite. Martin Davis slipped quietly into the studio, now transformed with the addition of a high-tech centrifuge.

Nolan, who had been somewhat languid until that moment, was instantly invigorated by Martin's arrival. He rushed over, arms wide, and embraced Martin in a hearty bear hug. "I've been eagerly awaiting your return!" he exclaimed with genuine warmth.

Martin returned the embrace, his smile bright. "As soon as my commitments in Washington were done, I came straight back," he replied.

At that moment, Mene and Ellen Page joined them, eager to congratulate Martin on his recent accolade - the prestigious Presidential Medal of Freedom.

Nolan, about to join in the celebration, noticed his assistant hovering nearby, armed with a pen and notebook. He instructed without hesitation, "Jot this down: Martin Davis, fresh from receiving the U.S. Presidential Medal of Freedom in Washington, was welcomed back to the set with a grand celebration by the crew."

The assistant scribbled down the note, glancing across the studio. There, a group of British actors, including Cillian Murphy and Tom Hardy, seemed conspicuously indifferent to Martin's achievement.

Pausing, Nolan's mind whirred with ideas for potential publicity. "Also note," he added, "Maria Obama is spending her summer with us for some practical experience on set..."

The assistant recognized the newsworthiness of these events, Martin's award and Maria's participation were indeed headline-worthy.

"Let's start with these," Nolan decided. He knew that even Martin's uneventful days on set could be spun into captivating news, providing much-needed relief.

Lately, Nolan had even contemplated joining Martin on screen to generate some buzz. However, he remained wary, not wishing to provoke Martin and risk a situation akin to the infamous 'Bale incident'.

After a moment of quiet in the studio, Nolan approached Martin again. "We've been blessed with good news lately," he began. "You've won the Medal of Freedom, and Professor Mordechai just received the Moroccan National Physics Prize."

"These achievements are excellent for our promotional efforts," Nolan added thoughtfully.

Curious, Martin inquired, "Where's the professor? I'd like to congratulate him too."

Nolan scanned the area and pointed towards the centrifuge. "Over there. But he won't be here much longer; he's off to Tehran for a conference soon."

"Tehran?" Martin mused, his gaze drifting in the indicated direction. At that moment, he spotted Mordechai and the elegant Giselle stepping out together.

Mordechai, spotting Martin, approached with a smile and congratulations. He reached into his pocket, producing a small box. "This is for you," he said, offering the gift.

Martin, touched by the gesture, reciprocated. "Professor, I also want to congratulate you on your prestigious award."

Just then, Bruce, quick to seize the moment, appeared with a Coke God Edition Joker gift box. "My sister crafted this by hand," he said, presenting it to Mordechai.

Mordechai accepted the gift with a gracious smile, handing it to Giselle beside him.

As the break ended, the crew began to reassemble. Nolan, megaphone in hand, called for the actors to prepare. The upcoming action scene featured Mene as the focal point, unfolding in the intricate revolving corridor set.

Martin, with no scenes to rehearse that day, positioned himself behind the director's monitor, quietly observing Nolan orchestrate the crew's movements.

On set, the director was the undisputed commander. Even a producer like Martin knew that Nolan's vision was paramount.

Mene, after rigorous training, was adeptly handling the demanding action sequences in the rotating corridor. However, Nolan's ambitious vision required hundreds of shots, necessitating the seamless cooperation of all actors, Martin included.

Martin observed the set through the director's monitor, impressed by Mene's adept handling of both the action-packed and wire-assisted scenes. His performance was consistently impressive, a testament to his dedication and skill.

During a break in shooting, Giselle busied herself preparing coffee for Mordecai. In these quiet moments, the intricate details of the bustling set, from the crew's focused expressions to the soft clinking of equipment, created an atmosphere of intense concentration and creativity.

Meanwhile, a plain-looking female assistant approached Giselle, inquiring in fluent French, "How is the progress going?"

Giselle, maintaining the conversation in French, responded subtly, "He's beginning to trust me. I'll make another attempt soon."

The assistant cast a wary glance outside before continuing, "Our sources confirm it, Mordecai has made significant breakthroughs. The directive from above is clear: we need to extract him. He's invaluable. If that's not feasible, we must at least capture him alive."

She emphasized, with a sense of urgency, "He's scheduled to leave for Tehran next month for academic exchange. We don't have much time."

As footsteps echoed nearby, Giselle gave a slight nod and discreetly left with the freshly brewed coffee.

Later, during lunch, Giselle fetched food and joined Mordecai in his office. Since Martin's departure, the bond between Giselle and Mordecai had grown remarkably, their interactions bearing the hallmarks of a blossoming relationship.

"In no more than ten days, we'll shoot the scene with the centrifuge," Giselle mentioned casually as they ate. "You promised to take me to the Mediterranean after that..."

Mordecai, scratching his head, looked apologetic. "I might not be able to. I've got an academic exchange in Tehran."

Giselle feigned surprise, though internally she was calculating. "Tehran?"

"Yes, it was initially planned for next month," Mordecai explained. "But the universities in Casablanca and Tehran rescheduled. I have some preparations to make two weeks in advance."

A fleeting look of disappointment crossed Giselle's face. "I see..."

Mordecai, a renowned physicist in Morocco, was known for his extensive research on centrifuges, which made his expertise invaluable to the film crew. Giselle, however, harbored concerns, knowing the potential dual-use nature of centrifuge technology.

Mordecai reassured her, "Once I return from the exchange, I'll take you to Europe."

With no room to argue, Giselle acquiesced, "Okay."

Post-lunch, while disposing of garbage, Giselle once again encountered the unremarkable assistant.

"Did you bring it up?" the assistant inquired.

"The situation has changed," Giselle whispered urgently. "Mordecai is leaving for Tehran sooner. It might involve something significant."

The assistant pondered briefly before deciding, "We can't delay any longer. We must act tonight."

Giselle urged caution, "Make sure your plan is solid."

The assistant nodded resolutely, "I'll head back to the hotel now and devise a strategy to prevent Mordecai from returning to Casablanca."