Chapter Text
The screen room is starting to grow on me. It felt pointless at first, but I hadn’t been experiencing its full potential then. Now, sitting with Grace on the platform, with my camera pointed at the screens, I’m experiencing something familiar to us both, but in a world far from my own.
“Ocean seems similar to ours. Gentler, possibly.”
“It’s not always like this.” Grace has his legs dangling off the side, staring down like he’s imagining himself in the water. “Our moon affects the tide greatly, so it changes constantly. Plus, sometimes there are things like tsunamis.” He turns his head to me, keeps talking before I even have to ask for a definition. Grace is getting better at catching himself when he uses a new word.
“On Earth, the crust, or the uppermost mantle, is made of these large sections that we call tectonic plates. They shift and drift at incredibly slow rates, and if they get stuck on each other’s edges, they’ll make what we call earthquakes, and it’ll send a shock that will shake the ground or water above it. If it happens in water, sometimes it’ll create a giant wave we call a tsunami, which could cause massive flooding if it’s close enough to land when it crashes down.”
“Tsunami.” I give the Eridian equivalent, he marks it down. Most of our conversations are done without the thinking machine now, but he still likes to note new words. “We have these on Erid, too. Quakes as well. Not common, though. Is common on Earth?”
“Kind of? Depends on where. Some areas of the Earth are more prone to them.”
“Understand. Ocean by you gentle, question?”
“Yeah. It was nice. You ever go in your oceans? Swim, for fun?”
“Yes. Not common, did not live close enough to go many times. Not sure if ocean too cold now for it.”
“Ours too.” Grace exhales loudly, hits a button, and the screen changes. Leaves, trees, he’s shown me these before. Everything is middle-rough. He turns to me, lies on his side. “Your turn. Tell me something you miss from Erid.”
Right. That’s how this started. Adrian was my first answer, of course. Grace had talked about the weather, how he missed the changes in the atmosphere day to day. His favorite weather type was fog, which had many tiny water particles obscuring the distance. Confusing, but he seemed happy to see a blank screen.
“Miss community.”
Grace’s face shifts, I’m learning to read what he calls expressions. His browbone is down, which could indicate anger, or confusion. “What’s community mean to you?”
“Family, friends, colleagues. Many I have left behind. Lonely for so long. Miss having many people to talk to.”
“At least you’ve got one, now,” Grace opens his mouth and shows his teeth. Smiling. He’s kind, always is.
“Very happy to have you,” I assure him, and he waves a hand at me dismissively.
“Happy to have you too, Rock.” He’s shortened the name he calls me by. Strange.
“Not rock, Rocky.” I correct him, and Grace laughs.
“I’m not calling you a rock. It’s just…” He pauses and sits up. “Human thing.”
“Can explain, question?”
Grace breathes heavily again, his smile seems a little strange. “It’s like… an affectionate thing. Humans love to give nicknames to people they care for, it’s just for fun.”
Care for. I click my fingers together as I process this. An additional name to show he cares for me. How very Grace. I’m happy at the thought, even if a change in name doesn’t make much sense to me. But to know it comes from such a kind place, how could I mind?
“Sorry, is that offensive? To Eridian standards, I mean. I won’t do it if it’ll bother you.” Grace is shrinking in on himself. Bad, I don’t like when that happens.
“I like!” I rush to confirm, and in my haste, nearly topple off the side of the platform. Grace sits up and steadies me, and his smile is back to normal.
“Yeah? You like?” He confirms, and I shake with approval.
“Good good good, like short name too. You can use. I make one for you, question?”
Grace laughs and shakes his head before pressing the button. The screens change again. Dark. Spots of light. The Earth's night sky. “That’s okay, you don’t need to.”
“Must show I care for you as well,” I insist. Grace turns his head to me; it means he’s looking directly at me, sensing something. I wonder what. “How can I shorten Grace, question?”
“Well, uh, it doesn’t really shorten. One-syllable words are kind of hard to make smaller. You care for me?” He throws in the question like it’s an accident; the way he reels back and crosses his arms over his chest suggests unease. Definite accident, then.
“Yes.” How could I not? Grace is my first companion in 46 years, my friend, my and my people’s savior. “Much much much care,” I try to emphasize, but he only seems more uncomfortable. I don’t understand why. “Why think I not care, question?”
He’s not looking towards me anymore.
“Grace,” I call out again. “Why think I not care, question? Grace!”
“Sorry, sorry,” his voice is strange. His throat is tight, I can tell. He’s upset, or on his way to it. “I know you care. I’m just not used to it.” Grace’s brow is down again, and he makes a strange sound a few times, and his throat seems less tight. “We’re friends. Right?”
“Yes, friends. Good good good friends. Not have friends on Earth, question?” I think I’ll get a bad response, but I need to know. It doesn’t make sense to me at all. Grace is wonderful, kind, good. Why would he not have people who care for him? There must’ve been some. “What community you have on Earth, question?”
“I’ve got—” Grace’s voice is angry, but he cuts himself off and starts over more quietly. “I had friends. A few. I guess technically, they were almost all colleagues, but I’d spend time with them after work was done. No family. No mates.” His voice is so soft now. I don’t like it.
“More community. Tell more. Who else, question?” That can’t be all, it just can’t. I refuse to believe no one from Earth has properly appreciated Grace. It’s ridiculous.
Grace sighs and scratches his head. He’s looser again, calmer. “I… I guess my kids could count as community?”
“Offspring, question?” I’m shocked, confused. “How offspring if no mate, question?”
Now he seems confused too, eyebrows have gone up, his mouth open. “Have I not talked about them before? I was a teacher! Before getting brought on to Project Hail Mary.”
“New word, explain.”
“Teacher, someone who educates others, students, helps them gain knowledge in specific subjects. I taught science.”
“Teacher!” I reply, delighted. Of course, he’s a teacher; this makes sense. “You good at teaching, I understand. Taught me science here, too!”
Grace smiles again. I like how his face changes when he smiles. Happy suits him better than other feelings. “I guess I did, huh? I loved teaching. There’s something so special about seeing kids enjoy learning things, making it fun so they want to learn more. I taught humans between 11 to 13 years old, typically.”
“Infants,” I respond, shocked at the ages. “So small but learn about science already, question?”
“Might seem young to you, old man,” Grace laughs at me, and I grumble a little, though it doesn’t really bother me. “I’d guess for an Eridian… maybe triple the years to compare it?”
“Understand. Adolescents. Students your community.”
“Yeah, I guess they were. Kept me company a lot longer than most did.” Grace breathes loudly again, and leans over. “Can I tell you a secret? Something personal you don’t share often.”
“Tell.”
“The students change every year, our education system is set up in a yearly upgrade where you go on to a new class, new teachers, learn more complicated stuff. Middle school isn’t some big deal, it’s literally the middle of the journey, but every year, when I’d say goodbye to my kids, I’d cry.”
I shouldn’t, but I laugh. Grace huffs and pulls back, but I can’t help it. “You leak often! How is that secret, question?”
“Hey! It’s a lot up here, okay? It’s a normal response to stress.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Okay, I cried a lot down there, too. But not in class! Not if I could help it. But having to say goodbye, gosh, I’ve never been good at that.” Grace laughs, but it sounds sad. His mouth is shut firmly, and he leans against my ball. He’s so soft, his body melds to the side of the xenonite with ease. “I can’t imagine what a mess I’ll be when—” he cuts himself off, but I know what was coming next.
I’m not sure how I’ll be when we say goodbye either. It didn’t seem like it’d matter so much at first, after all, if we part ways, it means we succeeded. I’d be going back to Erid, to Adrian, to home. But I’d be leaving behind Grace. The thought of that is unpleasant. It sinks deep in me; the emotion is painfully familiar. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone to mourn losing anyone again. I don’t want to think about it, I’m not ready.
“Show me cold rain again.”
It’s a weak distraction, but Grace takes it anyway and hits the button until the screens surrounding us are blanketed in what he calls white.