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I’m waiting when Rocky arrives for our daily chat. He, of course, knows where I am before I can fully see him, and I hear his surprised cadence at my being there before him when he says my name.
“How could you do this to me?” I wail, dramatically pressing the back of my hand against my forehead in a swoon. “I thought we were friends!”
“Sarcasm,” he says, and it holds the undertone of curiosity. “Is something wrong?”
“All this time, you’ve let me call people the wrong gender!”
He tilts his carapace in a manner that reflects my own typical head tilt. “We talked about Eridian gender. Eridians are hermaphrodites, and gender changes throughout our lives, based on current social roles. What don’t you understand?”
“Pronouns, Rocky.” I wave my hands for emphasis. “You didn’t explain your pronouns.”
“Pronouns are not gender-based,” he responds, and now the harmonic notes have turned slightly incredulous. “Your pronouns are because you are an established scientist, correct?”
I groan, running my hand through my hair. “Yes, I guess you’re right. Doctor is used for medical experts, or for highly-educated people with groundbreaking publications. But the majority of pronouns for humans are based on our gender, not our rank.”
He pauses, and then hums. “So you have been using gender-based pronouns for Eridians? How have you been deciding this?”
“I’ve just been calling people whatever pronouns they think sound the nicest, or that fit the vibe if I don’t get the chance to ask them,” I groan. “I didn’t realise it mattered to Eridians.”
“Grace is rude,” he retorts, though there’s an underlying note of amusement. “Rude, rude, rude.”
“I know,” I wail dramatically, slumping against the xenonite barrier and drooping my arms down by my sides like Rocky does when he’s upset. I sink to sit on the cushion kept here for our visits but keep my tone fairly light, to make it obvious that I’m being a bit over-dramatic. “You’ve gotta help me. How do I even begin to fix this?”
He waves several claws in the air. “Embarrassing.” His harmonic tone is teasing, and still very amused.
“Help me,” I whine.
He makes the little high-pitched notes that mimic my giggles, and I groan even louder.
“Pronouns for Eridians are very simple. They are defined by rank. All above you are ***, and all equal or below you are ****.”
“Words,” I grumble. I’ve heard them before, of course, but we simply define them as their literal translations - superior and subordinate. Which I am absolutely not about to start using for everyone that I speak to, it feels too formal.
He shifts. “You know these words.”
“Yeah, but I need a cultural match,” I try to explain. “This could be pretty important to political connections with humans in the future. The direct translations for superior and subordinate are typically used in military settings, not in everyday life. Some languages do have respect-based ways to address a person, but I don’t know a lot about it.”
He hums. “Can we connect to gender, for Earth communication?”
“Maybe?” I venture. “I don’t know how though, since a lot of people on Earth still defined gender by appearances associated with specific sexes when I left. There’s change happening, and there are more ways of defining it now than in the past, so it’s actually a topic of a lot of debate. Many people misunderstand or can be rude about it, even though all people should be respected, regardless of their gender.”
“Sounds tricky. What about historic respect? Which gender has the greatest impact?”
I shake my head. “Not possible, bud. Too many social issues.”
He makes a series of notes that I know are his sign of mild frustration. “Who will people fight and die for? That is ultimate respect.”
I pause, casting my mind back to the complexities and social discourse of the world when I left. “It’s hard to say. Human history is complicated, but males typically are the strongest, historically did a lot of hunting, and have ruled the most societies. Females kept things running historically though, gathering many foods, bearing and raising children, and maintaining households. There have been differences over time, but those are the traditional roles.”
Rocky makes a thoughtful cascade of notes. “Good workers are highly respected in our culture. Care of the cluster is especially important.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Watching each other sleep is pretty important.”
He stands straighter, planting all five claws decisively. “Cluster care is more important than the strongest member. Thrums are for all, too, regardless of strength or age. Superior pronoun in Eridian more closely matches female pronoun for humans.”
I snort, but then pause, tilting my head against the xenonite as I consider the implications. “You know what? Sure. It’ll certainly cause some interesting social conversations when our people visit each other, but I think in a good way overall.”
Rocky tilts back and forth in an imitation of my nod, and I’m once again struck by how many mannerisms we’ve passed to each other. “Good,” he says. “Now you apologise to your class and use correct pronouns.”
I wince dramatically. “Have I really been rude?”
He shakes from side to side. “Culture misunderstanding. A little rude, but you are Saviour Grace. Not really embarrassing for you.”
“I thought I told you to not call me that, Saviour Rocky,” I grumble good-naturedly.
He laughs then, but it’s a true Eridian cascade of amused notes instead of the imitation of my own sound. “Culture,” he retorts with a smug harmonic tone, stopping any argument.
I sigh, moving my head with the eye-roll so he knows I’m doing it. “Fine. I’ll tell my kids, but you can let the science team know. I’m sure the linguists will love this.”
“Agree. Now, with pronouns fixed, the scientists want me to ask you a question.”
I perk up, sitting straighter. “Oh?”
“Why do you wear clothing when swimming in your water installation outside the house, but no clothing when showering inside?”
I groan once more, thumping by head back against the glass. “Seriously? Culture, Rocky.”
He makes the laughing notes again. “That’s what I told them, and the laptop database confirmed that most humans do swim clothed in your culture. But there are no humans to see you here, and Eridians hear many body things regardless of your clothes. Why do you still wear them?”
I laugh too, incredulous at what this conversation has become. “Comfort, I guess. Keeping to my cultural roots.”
He tilts his carapace to the side. “You are comfortable here, yes?”
“Yeah, bud.” I tap a loose fist against the xenonite. “It’s the best home I’ve ever had.”
“Good good good.” He raises a claw too, pressing it to the spot where my hand rests. “You will tell me if not, yes?”
“Always,” I promise. “Thanks for helping me with the pronouns.”
“Always,” he replies, dropping his claw down and settling to sit beside me. “Now, what should we talk about today?”
I smile. “I’d like to know more about your life cycle, so I don’t make more rude mistakes. Is that okay?”
“Always okay,” he says, and launches into a deeper explanation of Eridian egg-laying than the cursory information we covered earlier in our friendship.
Our conversations here are automatically recorded for scientific purposes, as is every movement I make every moment of every day, so I don’t need to write anything down. I just relax, listening to my friend talk, and remind myself how lucky I am to be here.