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We never sleep at the same time, obviously. We're both probably psychological train wrecks after everything we've been through, so for the trip back to Erid, we've pretty much agreed to spoil each other as much as we can - afford every possible creature comfort, in hopes of not going absolutely bonkers before we get there.
That means weirdly kludged together sleep patterns. Regular rest for both of us, no sleeping at the same time for Rocky's peace of mind, and some badly needed occasional alone time for me. There's no question Rocks and I are horrifyingly co-dependent now, but as social as humans are, we're just not designed to be observed nonstop like that.
So while Rocky sleeps, I try to relax what I can—which usually means consuming some of the unfathomable cornucopia of human media on Mary's hard drives. Some PR genius attached to the project decided shortly before launch that, since data storage was basically unlimited, they would open up submissions for the public to send us recommendations. Book and movie reviews, playlists, that kind of thing, like IMDb on steroids. Open a piece of media, and you can see all manner of commentary attached to it. A little string of connection to the rest of humanity.
There are even arguments in some of the comments, just like the real internet.
The only down side is that I can't tell people when they're wrong. And boy, are a lot of them wrong.
I've done a lot of study of music lately. Pick a genre, pick some classics, listen while learning the history of the artist and the times. I always enjoyed music and art electives in undergrad, but academia and teaching both ate all my spare time. So there's a lot I never got to dig into, especially in other countries and cultures.
"What is Grace head doing question?"
That's the end of study time for now. I look up at Rocky and pull my headphones out. "My head? Uh… I guess it was bobbing along with the music?"
"Grace dance question?!"
"I wouldn't say—" Wait. "How do you know what dancing is? Have I told you that?"
"Rocky have Wikipedia statement." We're fluent enough now that he only uses 'statement' to make a firm point. Or call me a dumbass. No points for guessing which is more common.
"Okay, okay." I really liked it better when I could control what he knew about me, but I couldn't exactly take the laptop away from him after we linked back up and set course for Erid. "Yes, I suppose that's a form of dance. I guess I did it without thinking. It was a good song."
"Rocky likes Grace dance. Dance is for human enjoyment. Grace should have much much much enjoyment."
I can't help smiling. My feelings towards Rocky can't fairly be compared to romantic connection, but they've transcended my concept of 'friendship' by so much that my stupid meat brain doesn't have much else to compare it to. So, yeah, sometimes the little dude makes my heart flutter.
"I have plenty of enjoyment of music without embarrassing myself in front of you, pal."
"Why embarrass question? Why enjoyment embarrassing question?"
He thinks so damn fast it's like being interrogated! "Because I'm not very good at it!"
"How can human be bad at enjoyment question?"
They should have sent a philosopher. It takes me a moment to answer that one. "Because dancing is usually a social activity. We do it together. And humans will take basically any excuse to judge each other."
He actually pauses a moment at that one, and quiets down some. "Grace should dance," he says firmly. "Rocky will not judge."
I sigh, pushing my glasses up my nose. "You sure about that?"
"Very sure. Grace happiness very important to Rocky statement."
"Well." I consider this for a moment. "In that case… I will dance…" I spin around and point dramatically at Rocky. "If you dance with me!"
"Rocky dance dance dance!" He bounces slightly. "Grace will teach Rocky human dance!"
"Heck yeah I will!" What's Rocky gonna do? Tell Erid I'm awkward? I'm the best dancer he knows!
I grab the tablet again. The database of submitted playlists is an absolute mess, so I just type in 'dance' to see what happens. I get thousands of results, but there's one on the first page in all caps called 'BIG GAY DANCE PARTY'. There's our winner. If I'm gonna introduce an entire species to the concept of getting down, I'm taking my notes from the experts. It must be from an American, because I recognize most of the songs on here, or at least the artists…
I spot the perfect candidate right away. No question, final answer, full send.
I hit Play, transfer output to the ship's speakers, and turn back to Rocky with dramatic flourish as the first piano chord plays. "Rocky of Erid! Are you ready to get down and get funky up in this joint?"
He's practically vibrating. "Rocky is ready for all of that!"
"Alright! Don't worry too much about the words, we can cover that later." I take a deep breath in preparation.
At first I was afraid, Gloria Gaynor belts. I was petrified!
I sway gently along, keeping the rhythm that I know from memory will be coming in shortly. Rocky sways along with me, though he's a little too fast. Excitement, probably.
Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side…
It's a pretty appropriate choice of song, all things considered.
But then I spent so many nights, thinking how you did me wrong…
I allow myself three Earth seconds of triumphant spite towards Eva Stratt.
"Are we dancing?!"
"Almost there, pal, give it a sec."
And I grew strong… and I learned how to get along, and so you're back—
The beat kicks in, and I let my hips fall into rhythm with the drums. Rocky trills loudly and tries to mimic my movements, shifting his torso left and right on his legs. He's not too bad at a basic booty-shake, and of course he's keeping the rhythm perfectly.
"There you go!" I pick my arms up, bent at the elbow with my hands up at shoulder height. He immediately lifts his front legs as well.
"Rocky is great dancer!" he trills triumphantly.
"Absolutely!" I spin around a little bit, and he does the same. "You don't have to do it just like I do, Rock. Just do what the music makes you feel like!"
He rears back on two feet and throws a kick into the air. I can't stop grinning, and dang it, I was raised by hippies in San Francisco—I know every word to this song, and it's busting to come out.
"Go on now, go! Walk out the door!" I throw my head back as I sing along, and Rocky jumps up and down. "Just turn around now, 'cause you're not welcome anymore!"
"GRACE SING GRACE SING GRACE SING!"
I clutch one hand to my chest, throwing one arm out towards Rocky. "Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye?! D'you think I'd crumble, did you think I'd lay down and die?"
Rock's up on two feet now, wobbling slightly as he waves three limbs ecstatically. What can I do but keep going? "Oh no, not I! I will survive!" I throw my arms wide. "Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive! I've got all my life to live, and I've got all my love to give—I will survive, I will survive, hey HEY!"
I throw my hands in the air as I turn back to Rocky. He's about to give himself a stroke, bouncing his ball back and forth as he jumps excitedly. I give a dramatic bow, then take a deep breath, and suddenly realize just how much cardio that was.
"Ohhhh-kay. Dance time might be over." I slump against the wall, panting. Rocky abandons his joyous racket and tumbles towards me, making concerned sounds. I hold up one hand. "I'm good, I'm good. I'm fine. That's just… a lot of movement. Used a lot of oxygen. Need to get more."
"Grace rest," he says firmly, hovering near me.
I let the rest of the song play as I catch my breath, Rocky at my feet the whole time. "Whew." I flash him a smile. "Thanks for dancing with me, pal. It's been a long time."
"Human dance is fun," Rocky affirms. "Rocky will dance any time Grace wants." He pauses a long moment. "Grace sing not bad either."
I roll my eyes. "That is a lie and we both know it."
"Rocky didn't say good. Said not bad. Makes Grace happy."
I slide down the wall to sit beside him. "Yeah, but it must be tough on your hearing."
"Everything about Grace is tough on Rocky hearing. Heart beat, blood move, oxygen in and out. Rocky will survive."
"Ha!" I clap a hand on the top of his ball. "Yeah. Yeah, we'll survive."