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I wake up immediately feeling wrong. I don’t know from what yet, I just feel wrong. My head feels wrong, my arm feels wrong, my stomach feels wrong. Everything is wrong.
I shift in my sheets and groan loudly when they get tangled in my feet. I shift again trying to go back to sleep, not ready to face the universe yet, but the sensation of the sheets around my legs makes me want to pull at my hair.
Finally having enough, I spring upright and yank my cover off forcefully. It falls on the floor silently which disappoints me, I wanted more chaos. I bend my knees and put my head between them. The whole room is spinning around me from sitting up too quickly.
I want this day to be over already.
“Grace awake, question?”
The mechanical voice of the translating computer rings through my ears, and I cover them with my hands with a flinch. I take a moment to breathe and try to calm myself.
I refuse to have this dumb thing overtake me.
A clicking sound above my bed reminds me that Rocky is waiting for me to answer. I lower my hands and uncurl to appear more normal. I don’t want him to worry, especially so soon after the Adrian disaster.
I swallow thickly against my dry throat and open my mouth only to freeze in horror. I can’t talk. The words don’t want to form and get out.
No, no, no, no, no. Why now? Everything is fine. We survived Adrian, we are healing, we got the taumoeba and are breeding it to survive both Venus and Threeworld’s atmosphere. We are so close to saving both our worlds, this can’t be happening right now.
I can’t fail.
I settle with a thumb up and a nod. Thankfully it manages to convince Rocky who goes to tinkle farther away in his partition of the ship.
“Time to check tanks, statement,” he says, pointing toward the lab where the Taumoeba breeding farms await me.
I want to tell him to leave me alone, that I’m not feeling good right now, but just thinking about talking makes me nauseous. Besides, he’s right. I do have to check the farms and start a new batch for Taumoeba 50.
I take my time getting out of bed, washing up a little and changing jumpsuit. Everything feels heavy on my skin, the worst being my injured arm from the ammonia burn. I tuck on my clothes at least ten times but nothing makes it more comfortable. I’ll just have to suck it up.
Armando comes down from the ceiling with my morning burrito. I look at it for a good ten seconds before pushing it away, the nausea threatening to spill out in my throat. I hear a change in rhythm in Rocky’s tinkering and I know he noticed and will mention it later.
I make my way to the lab, thankful to have something to focus my mind onto. The farms are doing well and I begin to put the most recent batch of Taumoeba into their new environment with 5% nitrogen.
The movements are basically automatic for me at this point and I let them soothe me. I lose track of time, comfortable in the science.
A loud noise jerks me out of my flow state. I flinch and snap around to see Rocky smashing an object in xenonite with what must be a hammer. Each blow pierce through my skull. My whole body tenses and I have to grab the edge of the lab table to ground me. I breathe in through the mouth and out by the nose.
I feel the frustration build up inside me. I want to yell at Rocky to stop but my jaw is clasped shut.
After an eternity, Rocky stops his hammering and I slowly let myself relax. I turn back to the farms and try to refocus on them.
But my skin feels too tight, my clothes too heavy, my arm hurts too much, the electrical buzz of the ship is too loud, the lights are too bright. I shut my eyes and don’t move, feeling the tide rise in me. Crashing harder and harder inside my skull.
I just need to calm down. I know this. I’ve done it plenty of times on Earth. I can do it. Just breathe in and out. In and out. In and-
A pressure on my calf sends an electrical shock wave to my brain. I flinch hard and slam my knee and elbow on the lab table. I yelp in pain and hunch forward, feeling a thousand needles prick my skin.
I want to throw up, cry and scream. But I can’t.
“Apology, apology, apology. Did not mean to scare,” Rocky says from inside his ball next to me.
Get it together Ryland. Two planets are counting on you, get a hold of your stupid brain.
I give another thumb up to Rocky to let him know that I’m okay. He lets out a thrill of apology and rolls closer to the table.
“Grace finish making new batch of Taumoeba, question? Almost time for human show.”
I smile softly. Rocky got addicted to Star Trek and is very strict about our daily episode viewing. I pass a hand on my face.
“No sorry pal,” I apologise, patting the top of his ball, “I’m still transferring the new batch of Taumoeba.”
Oh! Look at that, I can talk again. I knew I was just being dramatic, heh.
Rocky makes an annoyed squeak and stomps his foot. “Grace always take too much time checking tanks.”
“Hey! Do you prefer that I rush the single experiment on which the fate of our two planets rests?” I snark back with a huff.
I take back my scientific tools and resume the experiment.
“Always take too much time,” Rocky complains in a mumble.
I know he doesn’t really mean it, he’s just frustrated that our last episode of Star Trek ended on a cliffhanger.
“Inefficient life form.”
I take an involuntary sharp inhale and freeze all over.
Stop that Ryland.
Why aren’t you saying anything?
Don’t rock like that.
Don’t sit like that.
Don’t stand like that.
Why don’t you understand?
Why can’t you be normal?!
I drop my instruments rather harshly on the table. My hands are shaking and my chest feels tight.
“Why Grace stopping, question?” Rocky asks from his ball. “Grace must do experiment.”
I grab the front of my shirt and press my sternum hard. No, no, no, I had it under control. Please stop.
He didn’t mean it. It was just a joke. He doesn’t understand.
“What is Grace doing, question?”
Rocky bumps his ball against my leg again and I have to grit my teeth not to start crying. It’s too much, everything is too much.
“Grace, quest-”
“Can’t you leave me alone for two seconds?!” I shout, rising abruptly from my stool.
My hand catches on a stand of empty test tubes and sends it crashing to the ground. The broken glass noise makes me cringe all over and it’s simply too much.
I rush past Rocky to the dormitory and ask Mary to open the storage unit. I crawl in it and shut the door behind me.
I curl into a tight ball between bags of items and start to cry uncontrollably. I wail and wail, my lungs hurt from breathing too fast, my skin burns, my ears ring, and my blood pounds in my head.
I feel myself dying, crushed by the world. I’m going to fail them. I’m their last hope and I can’t do it. I just can’t. I’m not built for it.
I just want everything to stop.
To be left alone.
To not have the weight of two worlds on my shoulders.
I cry in the darkness of the storage unit with only my own arms to hug me.
I don’t know how much time passes, but it must be several hours judging by the soreness of my hip pressed against the floor - wall? There is no up or down in space. Whatever.
My breathing slows down. My tears still drop sideways from my eyes. I blink them away watching the darkness.
I feel emptied out. Thoroughly drained and exhausted.
I stay like that for longer, not dead but not existing either.
I know that Rocky must be watching me through the wall and I’m glad that he left me alone.
Cold shame runs down my back as I realise what I said to him. I just yelled at my best friend, the only other person that I have out here.
Worse than that, he got rejected by the only other person he’s had in 46 years.
I want to cry again, but I feel like I just spent all my tears.
I suddenly feel the need to see him, to apologize, to… to make him know that he is not alone.
I uncoil from my tight ball, my muscles sore from the tension. I open the storage door and blink against the bright lights of the ship. I stand slowly in the dormitory and look for Rocky but he isn’t there. I make my way to the lab. The shattered test tubes are still on the ground. I’m too tired to clean it now.
I feel a pang in my heart that Rocky hasn’t come to find me yet.
I did tell him to leave me alone. Another wave of shame pools to the bottom of my stomach, sitting heavily.
I go to check the control room but stop when I hear the sound of waves coming from the screening room. I find Rocky in his ball looking at my favorite recording of a beach.
I sit next to him silently. My shoulder lightly brushes against his xenonite.
We watch the waves until the recorded sky turns orange and pink.
“Rocky is sorry,” Rocky thrills in a low octave.
“No, no, no, Rocky I’m the one who should be sorry,” I say quickly, angling my body towards him. “I should never have yelled at you. I’m so sorry.”
Rocky lowers his carapace. “But Rocky is the one who upsetted Grace.”
“You did nothing wrong,” I try to reassure him. “I’m the weird one for reacting that way. I’m… the broken one.”
Rocky shrieks loudly, stomping his foot.
“Grace not broken! Grace smart smart smart. Grace figured out astrophage problem!”
“I… It’s not that simple.” I pass a hand on the back of my neck and look away uncomfortable.
“Is simple! Grace not broken! Grace perfect.”
Oh no, I thought I had run out of tears but my eyes suddenly feel hot. I press the heel of my hands against them until I see stars. I drop my hands on my lap, looking at the waves coming below my feet.
“Rocky, I have to talk to you about something,” I say barely above a whisper. “It’s about a human thing, or rather a Grace thing.”
I huff a nervous laugh and see Rocky stilling beside me. I know that I have his full attention. It’s sweet but also stressful.
“I’m not like other humans,” I start. My throat feels tight and I’m afraid of it closing up. “I don’t act like them, or talk like them, or… or even think like them. I’m different. My… my brain is wired differently.”
Rocky tilts his carapace to the side. I turn my head to the projected horizon, suddenly self-conscious of what I’m about to confess. What if he thinks I’m weird? What if I disappoint him? His first contact with humanity is a defective looser. What if he doesn’t like me any-
A click sound stops my spiralling and I turn to see Rocky’s hand splayed against his xenonite ball. I smile weakly and put my hand on the other side, not touching but still present.
“It’s called being autistic or to be on the autism spectrum. It’s a neurodevelopmental condition that I was born with.”
My voice wavers on the last words as memories rush to me.
Our son doesn’t have a problem! I will not let you continue to talk down on him. There is nothing wrong with him.
What’s wrong with you, Ryland?! Do you know how humiliating that was for us?
I shake my head to chase away long-dead ghosts.
“What makes Grace different, question?” Rocky asks so gently I want to cry again.
“The list is long pal,” I laugh but it sounds wrong even to my ears. “Mostly social stuff, I don’t know how to speak with other humans, and I’m hypersensitive.”
“Word meaning, question?”
“Hypersensitive, having extreme physical sensitivity to particular stimuli, like loud sounds, lights or smells, even some textures. I’m easily overwhelmed by everything going on around me.”
I sag a bit on myself thinking back on my life on Earth. Not being able to follow a conversation with multiple people. Not being able to make friends outside of children. Always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Always feeling out of place.
We stay silent for a moment with only the distant sound of waves, wind and seagulls. I try to ignore the way Rocky’s fingers are twitching as he thinks.
“Grace is not broken, statement,” Rocky says firmly.
I feel my chest cave. I want to believe him, I truly want it, but it’s just not the truth. I’m not normal and nothing is going to change that.
“Rocky…” I sigh, feeling so tired.
“How can Grace be broken if born this way, question?”
“I-”
“Grace not broken. Grace different, not bad. Grace is good good good. Grace saved Rocky. Grace is going to save stars.”
I look at him, the confidence in his stance, the absolute certainty and faith that he holds in me.
“You really mean that?” I ask, the words struggling to get past my lips.
“Rocky don’t care about other humans. Grace is not different to Rocky. Grace is Grace and Grace is enough.”
He stomps his leg three times for emphasis and I can’t stop the tears from running free, nor do I want to.
I sob like a child. A child who had been waiting his whole life to hear those words.
I’m enough. I’m not broken. I can do this.
“Grace… want hug, question?”
I laugh heartily and nod, wrapping my arms around the warm xenonite ball. I feel his carapace bumping against my chin and chest, the both of us fitting perfectly against each other.
For the first time since I can remember I get a feeling of being exactly where I need to be, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of home. And I wonder if it can last forever.