Chapter Text
Not to be dramatic about things, but it’s kind of amazing what confirming your best friend isn’t totally dead in space does for your cortisol levels.
Don’t get me wrong—there’s still plenty of things that might go wrong at any given moment. There are a lot of things on the horizon that I definitely need to worry about at some point, but I think I’m warranted some time to chill out a little. Besides, having things to worry about is just one of those occupational hazard things you have to accept when you live on a giant hunk of metal hurtling through space at near light speed. The not dead best friend thing helps a lot though.
We’re five months in to our interstellar road trip, and things are pretty good. I can’t exactly knock on wood out here or I would, but things have been going pretty smoothly so far, and we’ve settled into a solid routine.
We being me and Rocky of course. And I can’t understate how glad I am that there’s a we at all, actually.
There originally wasn’t any day-night cycle programmed into the Hail Mary, unless you count the medically induced comas as the longest night ever, and the however many weeks or months we spent messing around, sciencing it up in the Tau Ceti system as the longest day ever. I say originally wasn’t, because there is now. Or, there’s at least a vague approximation of one where the lights are set to dim for a certain amount of hours automatically before they brighten up again.
Rocky calls it the ‘Make Grace Not Stupid Angry Grumpy Go To Sleep’ program, and he's the one that set it up after he went on a deep dive about human sleep habits. He calls it that no matter how much I try to convince him to call it something else, or that I’m still perfectly fine when I’m like, only minorly sleep deprived. You forget to cycle the airlock one time when you’re getting something for him, and suddenly you’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you. If I nearly burn my eyebrows off with a jet of boiling hot ammonia, then that's between me and the ammonia, darn it!
But, you know, overall, things are fine. More than fine, really. They’re good. Really good, even. The only things that have to happen every day are checking up on the farms, then our route, then any systems that might need attention, and surprise surprise—nothing ever happens. We have a few hours of what we call "productivity time" after that, working on our own little projects. For me, that's mostly trying to figure out how to make the Taumoeba slightly more appetising and nutritious, up until the point I get sick of it and give up for the day.
At that point, it's around time for lunch, which does feel a little like pouring salt in the wound, but that's what the food is for, really. Making Grace not "hangry", as Rocky would put it. He thinks that humans' tendencies to mash words together is confusing as it is convenient. He's a fan of "hangry," mostly using it to describe me.
After lunch, it’s just free time to do whatever we want until lights out, where I go to bed and Rocky does his own thing nearby, and the whole cycle repeats again. Unless he needs to sleep. In which case I do my own thing nearby until he wakes up. I usually just go and bother Rocky in free time though.
There's no shortage of things to do, thankfully. When Stratt pirated the entirety of human knowledge and entertainment for us, she really pulled out no stops. I have everything I could ever want to keep myself amused for the years long journey to Erid. Movies, shows, books, video games—you name it, and it's there. I'm only limited by how much screen time I can bear in a day. I think there's even stuff in the Hail Mary's internal storage that some lost media enthusiasts have been looking for for years. I don't know how she got that. Not like I can really send it back to them, though.
I've been working my way through some crappy reality shows with Rocky lately. Things like Love Island and My Strange Addiction. I'm sure that there's a lot of people that would consider exposing an alien to the most artificial and absurd parts of the human condition as the worst idea in the world, but Rocky's first contact with an alien species was a white American millennial male, so. You know. It was kind of a lost cause from the start.
Binge watching things with your roommate is a lot more fun when you get their blind, live reaction at the same time. Emphasis on the blind. Who knew? And we've literally got more stuff in there than I have years in my lifetime.
My lifetime…
We did talk about it once, actually. The coma system. Using it, that is. In the end, we decided that we'd only use it if absolutely necessary. I can't say I'm the fondest of it considering how I woke up, but we would have burnt through so much more resources without—not to mention the very real concern of us driving each other insane.
Rocky's great though. The greatest guy I could ask for as a roommate. Since we're five months in and have only had one huge argument that we quickly made up about afterwards, I'm feeling pretty optimistic about the rest of the trip.
Besides, the guy's already been by himself long enough. I don't want to do that to him again.
We spent a lot of time talking about kids in free time today. Not in the sense of family planning, but more of what it was like being one. He told me a story about when he was a pebble and got the Eridian equivalent of a Lego death star for the first time. Pretty cool stuff. There's no concern over trying not to step on Legos on Erid, at least. In return, I told him about the time I grew some sea monkeys when I was ten.
I try to avoid these kinds of topics if I can, because it usually ends up just reminding me of my kids and how much I miss them, but I'm in a pretty good mood today, so it's not as bad as it usually is. It's hard to think about the fact that maybe some of them won't have survived the Sun's dimming, but the beetles are on their way back right now, and hopefully, they'll make sure that the kids of my kids won't have to live in that kind of fear and uncertainty at all.
I still don't remember all that much about my childhood. I mean, I think I liked watching the cartoons they had on cable? And there's the sea monkeys thing, of course. There's a lot of bits and pieces, but my memory's still shot through by the amnesia drug, and there's probably things I'll never get back without the right triggers, but it's just something I'll have to live with, I guess.
It's fine. I'm making new memories with Rocky every day.
At some point during our conversation, we ended up moving to the Don't Go Crazy room to watch Sesame Street, of all things. If anyone could see us now, it would look really weird. We're two grown men… man and hermaphroditic rock being—watching a show meant for pre-schoolers. But we take turns choosing what to watch, and Rocky wanted to watch Sesame Street after I told him about it, so here we are.
Sesame Street is a classic for a reason. I end up getting really into it as well, in between talking over Elmo and his friends every so often to explain things to Rocky. It does a really great job of simplifying things down in ways that kids, and Eridians that have never been to Earth, can understand.
It does make me miss my students a lot though. I miss teaching! It's just as well that I have Rocky around to pepper me with questions, or I'd probably actually go insane.
There's only so much Sesame Street I can watch in a day before my body starts complaining though. I've been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last half an hour, and I think it's finally time for me to call it quits for the night.
I can't help but let out a yawn as I get to my feet and stretch. Beside me, Rocky lets out a wordless hum of fake disgust as he listens to all the bone and muscle moving around in my body. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. The bag of blood makes gross squishy noises, what else is new?
"Grace sleep now, question?"
"Yeah," I say. "Think I'm gonna head off to bed now, Rock."
"Yes. Sleep is good," he trills approvingly. "Rocky come watch."
A quick request to the mechanical goddess within the wires has the screens turning off, leaving only the low lights used for finding my way around on. Rocky has already stashed away his soundscreen and the scanner, and is just waiting for me to catch up to him. The ship isn't that big, and when you can't go anywhere else, you eventually learn to find your way around blindfolded, if a little clumsily, but if I have a living sonar to follow around, then why not take advantage of that?
"Hey, take your time," I mumble back sleepily.
I still need to run through my bedtime routine before I can crash for the night though. As we make our way back to the dorm, Rocky tells me he needs to split off for a moment to get something from part of the area he's commandeered for his defacto workshop, so the timing works out. He docks his ball into one of the notches and scurries off, promising to meet me after.
That's fair enough. I don't exactly know what he wants to work on while I'm off in dreamland, but it sure beats watching me do nothing but breathe—and leak, his voice adds unhelpfully in my mind—for eight hours.
By the time I'm done with my routine and tucking myself into bed, Rocky has rolled himself back into the dorm, toolbelt filled with stuff and jangling away. He parks himself right next to my bed and plops himself down on the ground, pulling out a small, unfinished device that I can barely make out in the dimmed lights. At least… I think it's a device. It usually is. But maybe Rocky's getting into sculpting lately, inspired by the weird modernist stuff he's looking at on his laptop. I don't know if he is or not. I'm just floating some random scenarios.
…Aaaaaand I should definitely sleep now. I'm getting way too loopy.
"What're you workin' on?" I half mumble into the pillow. He'll still hear me though. He always does.
"New life support device. I try to make smaller."
"S' that so?" Oh. At least I was right about that. "Well… good luck with that. Night, Rocky."
"Thank. Goodnight, Grace."
Cocooned in a warm blanket and surrounded by the ambient hum of the Hail Mary, as well as the quiet scratches of Rocky's tinkering, I fall asleep in no time at all.
Every teacher loves and hates their last class on a Friday afternoon in equal spades. They're a little like their students that way. On Friday afternoon, there's just one last class between them, and 48 hours of rest and relaxation. But to get there, they have to get through what feels like the longest and slowest class in existence, and that's on top of having already been through a long week of hard work.
Unfortunately for me, I've drawn the short straw this time around, and I have the dubious pleasure of trying to hold the attention of a class full of antsy thirteen year olds in their very last class of the week.
Not every kid cares for science, and that's okay! But there's still a difference between not caring, and trying their best. That's mostly what I want to see the most, and what's hardest to encourage when all anyone wants to do is go home… me included.
I try and keep my lesson plans simpler on Friday afternoons, just because it's easier. Because of this, we've wrapped things up a little earlier than I expected. I can't actually let them go until the bell rings, so I have to find something to fill in that little ten minute gap before class lets out.
I won't admit it, but there is definitely some content that I enjoy teaching more than others. Space—for one. It's just as unexplored as the deep sea, but kids like it whole lot more. Go figure. I can't exactly blame them though. Space is cool.
Biology, though... Yeah, I have a bias. Sue me! Once a microbiologist, always a microbiologist. Yes, even the ones that have been unceremoniously exiled from academia for having a completely valid opinion. The scientific community moves fast, but it sure can hold grudges. I'm a good example of that. I'm still a little bitter at how it ended, but there's no changing the past, and this teaching thing is turning out to be a lot better than I expected.
At first, I did have my doubts, you know? I paid a whole lot of money and spent a whole lot of time crying for what basically amounted to the world's most expensive piece of paper, and a reputation that ended in flames. This job was only supposed to be temporary until I could figure out what to do next, but…
I have to admit it. The kids are fun. I'm learning new things every day with them. And they have a great way of humbling you that makes you laugh instead of questioning your entire existence so, that's a point to them in that regard.
"It's time for a lightning round!
I love doing the lightning round. I'm really proud of myself for coming up with it, actually. There's nothing like the idea of a little reward and some friendly competition to get kids all fired up and eager to learn. I've taken to start throwing in a couple of curveball questions as well to really get them using their thinking skills. Or reading ahead. That's good too. It means they're excited to know more!
A wave of cheers, if a little more subdued than usual, wash over the class. It brings a smile to my face. Hopefully this gives them a little more energy for their afternoon as well.
We're going through a biology unit right now, and we're deep into studying evolution and Darwinism. It'll be a good chance for me to see how much they've remembered from my classes. I was a little worried that I'd get a strongly worded letter from one of their parents who might be a little too religious, but it's been smooth sailing so far, and I'm excited to get into it more with them.
"Who was the first person to propose the theory of evolution?"
An easy one to start off with.
"Charles Darwin!" Ella quickly yells from across the room, her hand shooting straight into the air. Always on the ball, that one. I toss her a beanbag.
"That's right! How did he come up with that theory?"
This one needs a little bit more of an involved answer. There's a moment of silence in the class before Brody at the front raises his hand.
"Um—he studied the animals in the Galapagos Islands! Even though some were the same species, they had totally different features!" He says in a rush. I still understood it, so there's no problems there. If he took any longer, someone else might have stolen the answer right out from under his nose.
"Yes!" Another beanbag goes to him. He almost fumbles the catch but manages to get it in the end. "Because of the different environment across the islands, the animals there evolved to survive better in those different environments! Now, here's a trickier one. Who can tell me what convergent evolution is?"
I'm not sure if anyone will get this one. I haven't gone over it with them yet, and normal evolution takes a little bit for them to wrap their heads around either way. Still, I ask it, because kids are often smarter than anyone thinks, and there might be someone who knows the answer—or at least, will make a good guess based on context clues. It's all about deduction!
A longer silence stretches through before one girl tentatively raises her hand. It's Risa, who I'm glad to see contribute. She's smart, but definitely a bit of a wallflower.
"Is it when something evolves to have traits that are really similar, even though they don't really have the same ancestor? Like hedgehogs and like, um, what Knuckles is?"
A wave of giggles wash through the class at her answer, and I chuckle too. It's nice to see kids these days still like Sonic. The Blue Blur and his friends stays evergreen.
"You're looking for echidna there, Risa, but yes, that's right!" I praise. "Good work! We haven't learnt that yet, so I wasn't sure if anyone would get that! We'll be going over the different types of evolution next week!"
I make a mental note to remember to tell them about carcinisation. The idea that nature just wants to keep creating crabs as an ideal life form is one that's always gone down well with other classes. And at trivia night.
I clap my hands together.
"Alright, last question, and then I'll let you guys start packing up. What are two pairs of animals that have common ancestors? Be specific!"
"Sharks—"
"Humans and chimpanzees! And dinosaurs and chickens!" A enthusiastic girl from the front cuts off poor Mikey before he can finish his answer, and he sits back with a frown. Ah, that's unfortunate, but the lightning round isn't just about being correct, it's also about being loud. Scientists love being loud about being correct.
"Woah, maybe that's a little too specific!" I joke. "But… you're right! The great great greatgreatgreatgreatgreat great something times a billion grandpa of the chicken you had for lunch was a T-rex! The last beanbag of the day goes to Petra!"
I toss the beanbag over to her amidst quiet giggles. She catches it with a single hand and smiles smugly.
Since the lightning round is over and the bell's almost about to go, the last stragglers in the class that have yet to pack up their things start scrambling to gather their stuff. I'm quickly reminded of the points that I need to make before they leave.
"Okay, guys! Don't forget, I'm checking homework next time, so make sure you get it done before then! It's not hard, so get it done quick and easy and you'll have plenty of free time. Does anyone have any questions before the bell rings? Yes?" A kid sitting in the middle raises their hand. "Alex?"
I like Alex. They're a little bit of an oddball, but in a good way. They're a good listener, and while I know that science isn't their favourite subject, they still show up and put their hand up whenever I ask questions, which is more than I can ask for. The only thing is that they have some truly wacky theories for things sometimes, and it's said so seriously that I don't know if it's them messing with me or if they actually believe in what they're saying.
“Mr Grace, are you really a shifter?" Alex asks. "Can we see your animal form?”
I pause. I'm a little taken aback, honestly. That's not exactly what I had in mind when I was fielding questions.
“Now who told you that?”
Suddenly, the whole vibe of the class has shifted. Instead of a restless crowd of kids eager to go home, they're more attentive than ever. The room fills with whispers, but at the same time, everyone's focused their attention on me, watching me like a hawk watches their prey. Wow.
“Mrs Jacobi said she saw it once when you fell asleep in the teachers' lounge," Alex replies without even missing a beat. "So it’s true?”
Mrs Jacobi is a big flipping snitch, I want to say, but I wisely keep that to myself. The kids all like Mrs Jacobi, exactly because she's an oversharer about other teachers. If there's anything school kids love hearing about, it's the private life of their teachers. Especially ones like "Mr Grace, who's actually a doctor, but got kicked out of the smart people science club," or "Mr Grace, who used to study in Denmark," or "Mr Grace, who my dad once saw crying into his coffee at 3 AM at the diner, you know the one."
Anyway.
The point is, I want them to like me, so obviously I can’t say what I really think about her. Which is that she can tell them all she wants about her life, but she's really ruining my cool teacher rep here.
"Mrs Jacobi… may or may not have seen something that made her think that. She also may or may not have been right. Or wrong." I say carefully.
I don't know why I'm being so secretive about this. It's not like being a shifter is a bad thing or anything like that. I'm not ashamed of being one. I'm at least a little proud of it. I've never exactly tried to hide it either, but it's also not like I'm going around with a huge sign taped to my back saying "Hey, look at me! This guy is in the lowest percentile of the population because he can turn into an animal!"
I don't know. Some people like showing it off to others. Some people prefer nobody to know except their close circle. I'm somewhere in between that, but the thought of the kids knowing is a little unsettling. As far as I know, none of them are shifters. I'm probably going to be the only one they'll ever meet in their lifetime, and they would never have known if it weren't for Mrs Jacobi running her mouth to someone.
Maybe that's on me though. One of the first things I found out about her was that she really likes gossiping. And I did fall asleep in the staff room once and accidentally shift. She did see that. That was a little embarrassing. I didn't actually ask her to not tell anyone, because again, it wasn't exactly something I was keeping secret, but I also kind of just expected her to understand that it's also not something you just go around telling everyone else about without their say so.
"Okay," Alex says. "So what animal are you? Cause I think you give off horse vibes. The ones that they're gonna send to the glue factory."
They shake their head mournfully. "I hope you aren't a horse, Mr Grace. I don't want them to send you to the glue factory."
"I—what? I'm not a horse!—And aren't you assuming things a little too quickly?!" I splutter.
Seriously, where do these ideas of theirs come from?! A horse? Seriously? What part about me comes off as horse? And the glue factory? That's way too morbid! How do they even know about that?
"You kind of admitted it just now, Mr Grace," another kid, Erin, chimes in cheekily. "You got really offended when Alex called you a horse, but you just said you're not a horse, not that you're not a shifter at all. So you are one, you're just not a horse."
Dang it, these kids are good. I swear they’ve been taking psychology classes or something behind my back. I’ve been trying to get them to pick up on patterns and look more closely at things, but I didn’t expect them to use it like this. I don’t really know what it says about me that I’ve been psychoanalysed by a thirteen year old.
Besides, I’m a really bad liar. It probably would have slipped out eventually either way.
"Okay, fine. You guys got me,” I admit, and the class bursts into amazed murmurs yet again. “Yes, I'm a shifter. Yes, I did fall asleep in the teachers' lounge, and Mrs Jacobi saw that. I don't have anything against horses, I just don't know if I'm a big fan of the glue factory description."
"Why would a horse go to the glue factory?"
Oop. Guess not everyone got the memo on how glue used to be made.
"Uh, we'll come back to that one, Marcie,” I say hurriedly. “Anyway, now that I’m done with Alex’s question, does anyone else have any more questions? Be quick, because the bell’s going to go any minute now—“
“Mr Grace, you didn’t say what animal you really are,” Alex says, cutting me off again. They give me an annoyed look. “Mrs Jacobi won't say. Aren’t you going to show us?”
“Ahaha, well, you see, that’s—“
It’s not that it’s rude to ask a shifter what animal they are. It’s also not rude to decline telling them if you don’t want. It’s a little like if you met someone that was really double jointed in all their fingers. You’d really want to see that. It’s natural to be curious, and kids are even more so. It would probably be a good idea to show them, just so I can make it clear that I’m not a glue factory-bound horse.
There’s just a few problems with that. While I like that I’m a shifter, that doesn’t mean that I’m not a little self conscious shifting in front of others. The fact that I still do it accidentally in my sleep sometimes just means that my greatest enemy is myself. So there’s that, and the fact that my clothes aren’t going to shift with me. I’m not wearing the ones that transform alongside me, or are shape-flexible, since I wasn’t exactly planning on doing that today. When Mrs Jacobi accidentally walked in on me it startled me back into my skin, and you can imagine how that went over. She probably didn't get a good enough look at me to say for sure what animal I am.
And! School is about to let out for the week. I still have to bike home in peak San Francisco traffic after all this too.
How can I put this off for as long as possible?
A plan pops into my head instantly, and I grin. Huh. That could work.
“Okay, tell you what,” I say. The class perks up. “If everyone manages to get at least an A- on their final exam, then I'll show you guys my animal form.”
A wave of gasps and murmurs wash over the kids. I can’t tell if they’re disappointed, or excited. Maybe both? In my eyes, this is no different to promising to treat them to something nice at the end of the term, which… I still plan on doing, much to the despair of my savings account. Sorry, student debt. It’s life support for a while longer for you yet.
“But! Don't get too excited just yet, okay? It's not going to be easy!"
My head teacher’s already started coming up with the questions for their final, and I’ve taken a look at them. I’m not lying. It’s definitely not an easy test, even if it’s middle school science. I know my kids though, and I think I’ve prepared them well for it. As long as they do a bit of studying, they’ll be fine. It’s just up to them if the temptation of seeing Mr Grace turn into an animal is enough for them to push them to do it.
“But you promise?” Alex presses. “You really promise?”
I give them a solemn nod.
“Yes, I promise.”
The timing of my statement is impeccable. The very next second, the bell rings—
I'm jolted out of my sleep by a high-pitched screech of alarm. Actually, it sounds like four or five alarms all going off together at the same time, but all that does is make it even louder. Gosh, why is that so loud?!
No, wait. I recognise that noise. It's Rocky! Is Rocky in trouble?! Did something happen with the breeder tanks while I was asleep, or did some piece of space debris come out of nowhere and hit the Hail Mary?! But if that was the case, then the ship's actual alarms would have started going off, and since I can't hear those, it has to be something else. Or maybe the situation is so messed up that even those aren't going off?
Either way, it sounds like Rocky is in trouble. Not good. That's bad bad bad!
The flooding panic makes my eyes snap open instantly. I must have ended up pulling the blankets over my head or something, because there's nothing but darkness even when I open them. I used to do it a lot back when Rocky first started watching me sleep, and while I don't do it that much anymore, there's still some days where I do it unconsciously. Some habits are pretty hard to kick. I really wish it was easier though, because somehow, it looks like I've ended up tangled up in them too. Not great when there's a potentially life threatening emergency happening.
"Grace?! Grace?! Where are you?! You are gone and new blob thing has appeared!"
"Rocky? I'm here! What's the matter? What happened?!" I try to call out, but the words don't quite manage to leave my throat. Ugh, stupid morning voice!
I don't know what Rocky's talking about though. I haven't gone anywhere, and there shouldn't be a new blob—that's just not something that happens. He knows better than anyone where anything is on the ship, he shouldn't just not be able to find me like that. If it's his idea of a joke, it's not a very funny one.
I keep trying to get out of the blankets. What the heck happened while I was sleeping? There should be no reason for me to struggle so much with unwrapping myself from my blanket burrito.
"Grace! Can you still hear me?! Blob is moving! Is moving a lot!"
Sugar honey ice tea. That doesn't sound good at all. He wouldn't make a joke like that. It sounds like he's really scared.
Between the panic and the just waking up, all sorts of improbable scenarios flood my brain. Maybe the Taumoeba evolved again, this time into some weird sentient space monster thing. Maybe some kind of weird radiation hit it through the shielding and mutated it into something out of a Ridley Scott film. The astrophage is supposed to take care of that, but we could have a tiny leak that we hadn't even noticed, and that could have been enough.
No. No. I'm just being unreasonable. Those kinds of things don't just happen, I tell myself firmly. Astrophage has logic. Taumoeba has logic. Even Eridians have logic. They're all products of billions of years of evolution. I definitely know what's logical and what's not, even after having hundreds of angry scientists yelling in my ear and to my face and in every scientific journal that I don't.
But something has to be freaking Rocky out, and something has to be preventing him from finding me properly. Maybe it's some crazy kind of white noise?
Finally, I manage to break free of my blanket prison. It's still pretty dim, but that doesn't really affect Eridians, and there's still enough light for me to see fine as well. First things first, I need to make sure that Rocky is okay.
I struggle upright, and eventually, I manage to get to my feet. I also see Rocky, who's safe on his side of the xenonite barrier. I'm immensely relieved to see that he doesn't look hurt. Hopefully the xenonite will be tough enough to keep him safe from whatever this blob thing is. The most important thing is that he gets back to Erid safe and sound with the Taumoeba. Billions of lives are depending on him—losing me would be inconsequential compared to that.
Though.. if this blob thing manages to breach into his atmosphere and live, then it's probably already too late for the both of us anyway.
"Rocky, I'm here! I'm awake! What happened? Where's the blob thing you're talking about?!" I say frantically, sweeping my gaze over the dorm to look for him.
But that's not what escapes my mouth at all.
Instead, I let out a series of noises that are halfway between a screech and a chitter. It's enough to make me stop in shock. I'm… Humans don't make those kinds of sounds. Our vocal cords can kind of mimic it, sure, but definitely not mine, even after countless vocal lessons from an Eridian, a veritable master of the craft.
What happened to my voice?
It's then that I notice how Rocky's holding himself. He doesn't have a face, technically speaking, but I can always tell when he's directing more attention to something, and right now, he's fully focused on my direction. He's tensed up completely with one arm raised above his vents, while another holds what might be an Eridian soldering iron like a baseball bat, almost like how he was when we accidentally scared each other on our first meeting.
I don't have to be a genius to work out that it has to be an Eridian fear response.
"The blob thing has found me!" Rocky shrills in horror, and all my fur stands on end as I realise what it looks like.
For some reason, he thinks I'm this weird… blob creature. Or that I've been replaced by one. More than I usually am, I mean. I've blobbified into something unrecognisable in his eyes… er, sound receptors.
Wait. There's something not right here. The dorm clock shows 4:52 AM, Mary Time. The ship lights should be nowhere near bright enough for me to see in the level of detail I am right now, and I don't remember calling for them to be lit. I doubt that they'd be a big priority for Rocky either, considering he doesn't need them, and he's a lot more worried about other things right now.
I try and stand up, but my legs don't listen to me at all, and I end up falling off my bed and eating a faceful of metal and glass plating.
Okay, now there's definitely something not right here. The distance between my bed and the floor shouldn't have changed, so why did it suddenly feel so much bigger? No. Scratch that. Why does everything feel much bigger?
I pull myself to my paws and shake out my fur.
…Uh. Hold on.
My… paws? My… fur?
Right where my hands should be are a set of fluffy paws. When I move my hand, the paw moves too. It's attached to me. It's mine. It's my… paw. I move my other hand, and the paw moves instead. I'm not standing on two legs either. My weight's evenly distributed across four points, while something at my back helps me keep balance.
How do I have paws? How do I have fur?! I'm a human—
Oh.
No. That's not quite right.
I almost freak out, but the memory clicks into place just in time.
The dream I'd been having before I'd woken up—the one about my students asking me something—I remember now.
I'm a shifter.
I'm a fox.
And Rocky has never seen me shift… until now.