Chapter Text
He doesn’t seem to notice me.
Nor do the aliens, eridians, notice me either.
I suppose it’s to be expected since I’m not exactly here. I died on earth about a month ago after the years of being imprisoned caught up to me; the taumeba farms had been constructed and the sun was on a steady path to recovery when I left. It’s probably almost fixed by now.
Grace had done it, saved Earth from extinction.
I should feel relieved,
I am relieved.
So why am I here?
For about a week now i’ve just been watching him, his routine, the way he interacts with the dominant species of Erid. He seems happy, going through his day as if everything was normal— wake up, eat, teach a class, speak with scientists, eat, experiment, ect. It’s domestic, almost identical to the way he spent his days on earth, up until he started working on project Hail Mary.
I’ve done nothing but watch him. It’s not like there’s much more to do. When I was alive there was always something that needed my attention, people that needed my input, I’d be doing nothing but work. It was stressful, obviously, yet I’ve come to miss most of it. At least it was something to keep me occupied.
I watch as Grace sits on his couch, gazing out over the water in his simulated beach; watching the waves and the reflections of the hills on the xenonite panels, the way the light refracts over the curious solid form of xenon. A small moment of tranquility passes by before being interrupted by knocking at the front. He stands, throwing on his coat with the foxes, before opening the door. He’s greeted by Rocky, who chitters at him in what I believe is a greeting.
“Hey Rock! What’s up?”
“♫•♪.°♬•♪ ♫ Grace, ♫°•.”
He leans on his doorframe, brows furrowed as he thinks, “Really? That’s gunna be difficult since I wasn’t exactly cloning extinct plants on earth, would’ve been cool. But recreation shouldn’t be impossible considering we already have some plants to base the structures off of… I think.”
“♬ ♪° ♫.•♪ Grace, ♪ ♬.°•”
He and Rocky walk away, and I choose to stay inside. I try not to leave the house, it’s less of a reminder that I’m dead when I’m alone. I hear Rocky chirp and hum as the two make their way down.
The eridian language is interesting, beautiful even— they speak in song, almost like if a bird and a whale call were fused together. I haven’t had the chance to decipher what the alien is saying, mostly because when I was watching videos of them Rocky’s speech was already being translated, so most of what is being said slips by me. I have learned one word though. His name. It’s a short hum yet stands out in a sentence, fitting for him,
He’s always been one to garner attention, both being able to stand up for himself and yet being someone to retreat into himself.
When I had first learned about Grace the difference in what I heard about him and how he actually was slightly surprised me, though his reputation for being disorderly wasn’t exactly completely false.
…
“He’s perfect for the job. He doesn’t believe life is strictly water based, and he has phD in molecular biology. He’s open minded and intelligent, he could help.”
“He’s also disorderly and unprofessional. He’s a middle school teacher, Stratt.”
I sigh, taking a sip of one of my two coffees. It’s not everyday the perfect scientist comes across us. Astrophage is a fickle, single-cell life form, that we have a limited supply of. Each country is fighting for its own share of the samples we have. We need a scientist that can handle this, and I need this one.
I look towards Dr. Folker, who was staring back at me almost befuddled that I had suggested Dr. Ryland Grace. Perhaps he was simply bias, as Dr. Grace had called him a “staggering waste of carbon” a few years ago. If that was me, I wouldn’t had let it mess with me so much. I wouldn’t have cared.
I was in for a lot of future insults after all.
“Exactly, expendable. I’ll meet him tomorrow to bring him to the lab. I expect you to not fight me about this.”
I stood, grabbing the papers that contained the dissertation Dr. Grace had written, and the file with all of his personal information. Dr. Folker’s expression was that of shock, almost as if I was the one being insubordinate; he wasn’t the one with the final say, he was only attending the meetings for Project Hail Mary. I spoke before he had a chance to open his mouth.
“If you would still like to be on this project I suggest you keep your personal feelings out of it.”
…
Most stories about Ghost’s are about a soul being unable to move on, or having unfinished business that they haven’t had fulfilled. My unfinished business (if I am a Ghost of that formation) should be the Petrova line. I died without witnessing the sun’s complete recovery— but if that was the case I wouldn’t be in a completely different solar system watching the man I had sent to space talk with an alien species.
So why am I here? What’s the point in me standing in his “house” in the in between of the afterlife and living. A higher punishment by God for what had been me basically murdering him? Hah. I had done so for the greater of humanity, a sick scenario of which had only ever been a hypothetical before. To choose between one and all being able to live. His sacrifice had saved billions, there were people just like him in that crowd. I had paid my punishment in prison for years, and yet God doesn’t see it as enough. It’s almost unfair, God had sent his son to die after all— salvation for all of human kind.
We all mourned him as if he was dead for years, and here he was, untouchable.
I shuffle a bit so Im no longer facing the door, I don’t want to see him when he comes back. He barely looks any older than he did when I last saw him, which makes him all the harder to look at.
I stare off across the water, watching the artificial waves crash against the xenonite. The moment isn’t as tranquil as it could be, but I’ll take what I can get.