Chapter Text
I’m sitting waist-deep in the gentle surf, enjoying the relief to my aching knees, when someone calls my name.
I look in their direction, frowning when I don’t recognise the Eridian. He is small, and has a glossy dark carapace dappled with irregular spots of silver, and he wears a chain with dangling pendants of carved metal around his body. If I were able to hear them like an Eridian, they’d state his full Eridian name, and his rank in society. Whatever his reason for being here, it must be important. “Hello,” I say, and stand with a groan. “Sorry, my keyboard is in my house.” I mime playing the keys that I use to “speak” in Eridian, and then point to my house.
He seems to understand. “Yes, please get your keyboard. The Elders request your presence.”
I frown, ambling the few steps out of the water and grabbing my cane from where I left it sticking out of the sand. It’s not super helpful on this surface, and I wonder if Rocky will have any ideas. Maybe a stabilising foot on the base will stop it from sinking so much.
I don’t bother asking why the Elders want to see me – it’s unclear how much English this person knows, but since I don’t recognise them it may be very little, if any at all. Better to wait until I can ask in Eridian so there are no translation issues.
The trip is slow as I combat the ache and stiffness in my knees, but my visitor doesn’t seem to mind enough to try hurrying me. He’s not overly talkative, but does comment on the detail in my biodome and how Eridian beaches are different. I already know that they’re lined with pebbles moreso than sands, and that the stones are more metallic than the ones engineered for me. Their oceans are, of course, far hotter than anything my weak, fleshy body can hope to withstand.
He doesn’t follow me inside, so I leave the door open while I get my keyboard. “Give me a few minutes to change out of this wet clothing into my meeting clothing,” I play. “Apologies for being rude, but will the visit be long? I must eat and drink soon, and it would be better to do it now than need to take a break during a thrum or important conversation.”
His response holds a tone of distaste at the mention of eating, and if he was human I’d expect him to be crinkling his nose. “I do not know. They are waiting for you. Saviour Rocky and Adrian are already there. If you must eat, do it quickly. I will wait at the airlock to give you privacy.”
I hear him scurry away as I peel off my wet clothes and step into the shower. There’s no time for a proper wash, but I rinse off the salt and sand, and quickly dry and dress in a flowing cream shirt and loose, knee-length pants that have roughly-carved green stones sewn around every hem. The hems on my sleeves and the bottom of my shirt and shorts also have dangling carved stones, chains, and metal pieces that tinkle slightly as I move. Now presentable, I grab a meburger and eat it cold, putting my formal and similarly-decorated sandals on and tying them closed gladiator-style between bites.
Once finished with the hasty meal, I drink a glassful of water and grab my keyboard. This one is portable with a small array of detachable bagpipe-like bladders that create the necessary sounds. The entire contraption has belts so that I can wear the bags around my waist and the keyboard hanging around my neck for easy transport.
I finally collect my various adornments. There are some I never remove, such as the earrings of Rocky and Adrian’s carapace circles that signify our relationship, or the necklace with carved metal strips that was gifted to me by the Elders and contains my full Eridian name for anyone who listens to it. Saviour-Grace, Full-of-Water-and-Carbon, Bipedal-Fleshy-Leaky-Alien, Teacher-of-Science, Microbiology-Expert, First-Contact, Brave-Star-Traveller, Friend-from-Sol, Honourary-Eridian-Citizen, Rocky-Adrian-Soulmate.
It doesn’t translate particularly well into English, but it doesn’t need to. The poetry is in the Eridian sounds, and it’s my unique identifier as a member of Erid’s society.
The extra adornments that I put on now are gifts sent from around the globe. Bracelets and necklaces and anklets and belts, all with carvings and gifts from the different regions and their various Elder representatives. Going to a meeting without these on would be like going to a meeting on Earth completely naked. It’s also the reason I’m dressed so lightly, since wearing all of this jewellery along with thick, heavy clothing can be uncomfortable after a while, and the atmosphere of my portable biodome uses life support to keep it at a regular 22 degrees Celsius, while also keeping the air clean and breathable. It can be adjusted, but it’s fiddly, and so I usually don’t bother.
Ready, I have a quick toilet stop before I collect my cane and make my way to the airlock. The visitor is waiting for me, along with a couple of junior scientists who will supervise the transfer to make sure I’m safe.
They’ve already connected the portable biodome to the airlock, and the door is open. “Hello,” I play as I approach. They both respond somewhat shyly as I climb into the portable dome.
It’s a larger version of Rocky's hamster ball, but with a flat base. A comfortable chair sits on top of the life support system inside, and the entire thing is perched on an array of five legs that can be controlled by joysticks both on the interior and the exterior.
Once settled in the chair, I use the controls on the joystick to close the door. It seals with a hiss, and then the scientists approach, and they confirm its complete closure before detaching me from my habitat.
“Thank you,” I play on the keyboard before turning to the Elders’ messenger. “I am ready now.”
“Yes, let us go.” He scuttles to the archway that opens onto the equivalent of an Eridian walkway.
I follow, navigating using headlights built into the sides and top of my bubble. The legs also contain lights in their tips, illuminating the ground for ease of movement on potentially-uneven terrain.
Overall, I’m much larger in this than most Eridians, except the oldest members of society. I need to be careful as I drive, but people hear me coming, and the path clears itself of foot traffic before I can be any real threat. My guide matches my pace and ignores the hushed conversations of the public as we navigate our way to the Elders’ meeting cave.
It’s a short trip, and I’ve made it a handful of times before, but I still marvel at what I can see of the locals and architecture. Buildings are angular and textured with carved language, the people are of varying shapes, sizes, and colours, and sounds are everywhere. There’s the tinkle of wind chimes, the clink of communicative and decorative clothing and jewellery, and the layers of whistles and trills and chimes of Eridian language from all directions.
I do my best to commit as much as possible to memory as I follow my guide, but we arrive at the meeting cave all too soon. Although, calling it a cave really does injustice to the place – it’s a faceted, resonant chamber, with tiers of carved stone columns that rise around a recessed focal point like an atrium.
When I enter, every single column-seat is occupied, with the largest, oldest Elders in the lowest, frontmost rows. Speech goes silent as I enter, though I think I can just make out the almost-imperceptible click of carapaces as people naturally adjust to hear me better.
Rocky and Adrian are both standing in the round space that serves as a stage. “Grace!” Rocky cries as I enter. “I wanted to come get you, but we were told to wait here.”
A disapproving murmur ripples through the crowd and Adrian nudges him, as he so often does when Rocky speaks before thinking. “Hello, Grace,” he says.
They both use the most basic version of my name, but with an honorific-like tone that signifies our soulmated relationship. I’d initially been surprised to find that they wanted to include me in their family, and worried that I was coming between them and that Rocky had just been pushing Adrian into it. However, over time I’d seen the wide variety of Eridian mateship situations and realised that it’s very common for an intimately-mated pair to connect with other types of mates as well, with the closest bond being that of soulmates.
It’s an honour to be connected to them like this, and once I understood the culture properly, there’s no way I ever could have refused.
“Hello Rocky and Adrian,” I play on my keyboard, using the same soulmate honorific-tone. Then I address the council. “Hello Council of Elders. Thank you for inviting me to share your song.” It’s a customary polite greeting, and the majority of displeased mutterings die down.
“Welcome, Saviour-Grace,” says the largest, oldest Elder, whose conversational name without extra accolades translates to Elder-Iron-Dust-Grinder. He is smoother than most Eridians, his green-grey carapace weathered by elements and time as well as potentially just having smoother genetics. “Thank you for meeting us to share our song.”
The other assembled Eridians repeat the greeting, and it echoes in a wave of sound.
I take the opportunity to take in my surroundings a bit more. I don’t recognise most of the people here, but that’s to be expected since I typically only see my students, scientists, and Rocky, Adrian, and their pebbles. Speaking of my mates, Rocky is standing stiffly, anxiety clear in his five firmly-planted claws and low, steady stance. He’s not trembling, so it can’t be too bad, but there’s definitely discomfort there. Adrian stands beside him, practically leaning into Rocky’s side, offering comfort and stability.
Their body language isn’t reassuring, so I turn my attention back to the main elder. Arrayed in front of him is a selection of five round-ish stones with rough surfaces, each about the size of a peach. They are wrapped in xenonite balls.
The greeting complete, he speaks again. “Saviour-Grace, do you enjoy living as part of Eridian society?”
I’m surprised by the question, and try to choose my response carefully. “Of course, Elder-Iron-Dust-Grinder. I am forever grateful for Eridian kindness towards me, and that I have been welcomed into your society. You have all taken wonderful care of me, and I cherish the opportunity to contribute to your scientific knowledge, to live a fulfilling life with my family-cluster, and to help teach the children who wish to participate in future scientific study and space travel to establish future connections with Earth.”
The assembled Eridians hum quietly, the sound not quite the beginnings of a thrum but still conveying a mutual communal approval at my answer.
“Yet, you are growing old,” Elder-Iron-Dust-Grinder says. “You are in daily pain, you are slower, you use a stick to walk. Scientists report that you will soon lose your ability to walk in our gravity.”
Well, “soon” is relative, but for long-lived Eridians the projection of in several years’ time is a very short wait. “Yes,” I play, incredibly glad that I am fluent both in understanding and in playing Eridian so there’s very little chance of miscommunication. “This is normal for humans as we age. Erid’s gravity is accelerating the ageing process, but the toll on my body from much time in low-gravity and zero-gravity, and the effects of starvation and the various deficiencies before Eridian scientists synthesised suitable foods, are all major contributing factors. You have all taken wonderful care of me, and my body’s ageing process is not the fault of any Eridians, nor can anyone prevent it.”
Several of the Elders in the front row shift slightly, carapaces and claws clicking softly.
Elder-Iron-Dust-Grinder waits for them to settle before continuing. “Your life is very short, Saviour-Grace. The Elders have thrummed extensively about your future on Erid, and we offer you our most sacred of ceremonies.” He gestures to the xenonite-encased stones arrayed in front of him. “Are you aware of our creation myths?”
Rocky makes a quiet, wordless sound of disapproval, and Adrian hushes him.
“Yes,” I play, somewhat tentatively as I glance at my mates. “I know that some people believe that the first Eridians came from fire-mountains, but my family-cluster is very scientific and knows much about evolution, so we have not spoken of mythic beliefs beyond basic references. Humans also have creation myths. Some believe in higher beings who created humans and that humans return to them in various ways after death, some believe in a cycle of rebirth as different animals and life forms after death, and some in only evolutionary science. There are other beliefs too, but those are the main ones I know a lot about. I wouldn’t be surprised if all sentient life in the universe has myths to explain creation before they understand evolution.”
There is another collective murmur throughout the room, though it’s soft again, and I can’t make out any specific sentiment.
Elder-Iron-Dust-Grinder speaks again. “It is likely that your hypothesis is correct. You are also correct that Eridian creation myths revolve around fire-mountains.” He gestures to the stones in xenonite, which I realise look like Eridian eggs. They can’t be though, since eggs need to be kept covered for insulation and safety. They were traditionally buried, though are now typically covered within a nest built in their parents’ cave and watched over for the entire gestation period of one Eridian year, which translates to roughly 42.33 Earth days.
“Fire-mountains sometimes create fire-eggs, which are hollow and lined with crystals like Eridian eggs, but empty of life,” he explains when I don’t say anything. “Fire-mountains contain the lifeblood of the planet, which holds the souls of all life. Legend states that long ago, when the only song was wind and rain and the rumbling of the earth, Great-Ancient-Fire-Mountain-at-the-Top-of-the-World filled her fire-eggs with her lifeblood. These fire-eggs spilled from the mountain, and when they broke open, the first Eridians emerged. Even with scientific understandings of evolution, many Eridians still believe that the first sentient souls come from this creation myth.”
I nod. “That’s a beautiful creation myth. There are crystal-filled fire-eggs created by fire-mountains on Earth too. We call them geodes.” I say the last word in English. “Some people call them thunder-eggs. They do not have life in them, but sometimes have not-safe-to-consume-water. Collectors like to break them open and display them like Eridians display eggshells once pebbles have hatched.”
The great Elder makes a pleased sound that culturally denotes recognition of my comments. “Eridian myth contains ancient stories about special-important-saviour-Eridians being reborn in a fire-egg to preserve their soul for a longer time. Their memories are said to be kept by the new body and they keep their full name for their second life. It is very sacred, we do not speak of it in light-joking-unserious-songs, and the ceremony has not been performed in living memory. The Council of Elders have thrummed for many days to determine the viability and truth of the legend, and we have not reached a consensus as to whether it will work, but we are going to perform the ceremony for you anyway. You are Saviour-Grace, Full-of-Water-and-Carbon, Bipedal-Fleshy-Leaky-Alien, and your biology will make you die very soon. We cannot fix your ageing, and this is unacceptable. If any person in all of history or future is worthy of our most-sacred-ceremony-soul-song, it is you.” He gestures to the stones again. “Please choose your fire-egg.”
I stare at him, mouth falling open slightly. “What?” I breathe.
“Grace is surprised,” Adrian supplies when the crowd ripples at my English. “Please allow us a moment to consider together as mates.”
Rocky huffs as the Elder speaks. “Very well. Confer briefly, but remember that this is a great sacred honour.”
I incline my head and use my keyboard to acknowledge him. “Thank you for the generous offer of your most-sacred-ceremony-soul-song, Elder-Iron-Dust-Grinder, and all members of the Council of Elders. I am honoured and very happy-surprised. Thank you for allowing me to speak with my mates. I will be brief.”
I turn then to Rocky and Adrian, somewhat understanding their moods now. “I do not think it will work,” Rocky says. “Myths are not proven by evolution.”
Adrian makes a soothing hum, pressing more firmly against Rocky’s side. “It is still an honour to try,” he says. “Perhaps there is some truth to the fire-egg lifeblood myths after all.”
I sigh, and forego the keyboard to speak to them in English. Although some members of the council might know a bit of what I say, Rocky and Adrian and a few linguists are the only Eridians fluent in English, and this helps me to at least feel like my thoughts are private while I work this out. “I favour evolution over creation myths too, it’s part of my core beliefs as a microbiologist and it’s the basis of the science that helped to breed nitrogen-resistant taumoeba to save our stars. I understand why you’re uncomfortable, Rocky. But I also agree with you, Adrian, that it’s a great honour to be offered this, and I feel like it would be too rude for me to say no. Since I really don’t think it’ll succeed, what’s the harm in letting them sing me their sacred song? And if it somehow works, wouldn’t more time together be a miracle?”
“If it works, you will hatch as an Eridian-pebble,” Rocky warns.
“I figure that’d be the case,” I say, and lean forward to place my hand on the xenonite that separates us. My decorative formal sleeve-stones jingle softly with the movement. “You two will take care of me though, right? You’ll know it’s still me, and we can all live together.” I tap my finger three times against the barrier. While I feel apprehensive about the possibility of such a momentous and terrifying change, I know the odds of it working are non-existent. This is just a speculative conversation, to convince Rocky that it’s okay to at least listen.
They both reach for me, tapping three times each in response. “Of course,” Adrian says. “If it works, you will still be Soulmate-Grace.”
“If it doesn’t work, which I agree it probably won’t, we can experience the honour of hearing the most sacred ceremony soul song, and then all go and relax together with our pebbles, and just enjoy the years I have left.”
Rocky flattens a claw against the xenonite where my hand is. “Agreed,” he says. “I will not leave you, Grace, no matter what.”
“I know,” I murmur, and touch my earrings. “I love love love you both.” The repetition isn’t strictly necessary, but I still do it, using this linguistic quirk of Eridian culture to emphasise the depth and importance of my statement.
“I love love love you, Grace,” they both reply, touching the circular carvings in their legs that indicate my soulmate connection to them. Unlike their markings for each other, my indented circles are empty, since there is no carapace I can donate to fill them with.
Perhaps no carapace yet, I think somewhat giddily, but then push the thought away before it can take root and inevitably disappoint. There’s no way this will actually work, and I don’t want to develop a hope that will crush my spirit when this ceremony fails.
I turn back to the assembly and once again play my keyboard. “Thank you for allowing me to speak with my soulmates. The most-sacred-ceremony-soul-song is a true honour, and I cannot express how grateful-humble-surprised I am to be offered it. I gladly-humbly-respectfully accept the song.”
A hum of approval brushes through the space, and Elder-Iron-Dust-Grinder gestures once more to the geodes and speaks with a gravely serious harmonic tone. “Saviour-Grace, Full-of-Water-and-Carbon, Bipedal-Fleshy-Leaky-Alien, Teacher-of-Science, Microbiology-Expert, First-Contact, Brave-Star-Traveller, Friend-from-Sol, Honourary-Eridian-Citizen, Rocky-Adrian-Soulmate, choose your preferred fire-egg. Relax, hold it to your center with all of your hands, and listen to our most-sacred-ceremony-soul-song.”
I wait for my mates to draw back from my bubble before I move it so there’s no risk of hurting them. Once they’re clear I steer closer, until I am directly in front of the Elder and can see each geode in detail.
They all look fairly unassuming, as geodes tend to do before they’re opened. Their outer shells are unevenly lumpy and range from white to grey to black, and there is no indication of the coloured splendour within. At least, not to me, anyway. I’m sure everyone else can hear the crystal shapes inside.
I wonder if I can ask Rocky and Adrian to help me choose, but I don’t want to be rude or commit a religious offense, so I try to examine the stones more closely. There’s not really much to go by, and I don’t get a particular feeling one way or another. It doesn’t matter anyway, since this isn’t going to work. Whatever I pick will just become a pretty decoration in my house if I’m allowed to keep it and break it open.
I tilt my head, hoping to convey thoughtfulness, and point to the one in the middle. It’s the darkest one, and in the brightness of my headlights I think I can just make out some spots of orange-yellow that verges on gold beneath the surface. I don’t say anything in case it’s rude for me to interrupt the song now that a harmonic hum has started around the chamber.
The Elder picks up the stone. “Is this fire-egg your choice?”
I nod. “Yes, that fire-egg is my choice.”
He makes the approving-recognition sound and reaches forwards. He is incredibly large, almost the size of a small car, and the geode is impossibly tiny in his claw. He’s clearly trying to give it to me, so I rotate my vehicle until the small item-transfer airlock is facing him, and cycle the air so I can open it on his side. Once the drawer slides open he tenderly places the geode inside, and I close the drawer and cycle the air again so it’s safe for me to open on my side.
I understand now why the geode is wrapped in xenonite. If the transfer does work – which it surely won’t – then exposing a new egg to my atmosphere would be disastrous.
I move my bubble back to the middle of the floor before picking up the geode. It’s heavier than ones of similar size that I’ve handled on Earth, and I remove my keyboard and air bladders, laying them at the side of the bubble near the airlock so that I can recline comfortably and my chest has enough space for me to cradle the geode against it. I lean back in the chair, toggling the angle with a lever so I’m reclining as much as possible in the bubble, and adjust my position a bit before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, holding the geode to my chest.
Rocky and Adrian approach, and Rocky presses a claw to the xenonite again. Neither of them speak, which reinforces that it probably is rude at this point beyond the necessary things that have been said so far.
The air is beginning to vibrate with the intensity of the humming, and my breathing trembles slightly as I breathe deeply in and out again. This isn’t my first time witnessing a thrum, but the sheer weight of the building, layered sounds feels freshly overwhelming every time. The song echoes off the panelled walls and ceiling and sinks into my bones, my brain, my heartbeat and blood. I do not have an Eridian voice to join with, so I simply relax and let it pour through me.
Rocky and Adrian do not join the thrum either. I wonder if they even know the song. With how sacred it is, perhaps the only people who know it are members of the Council of Elders.
It’s a beautiful song. The words are filled with hope-love-respect and call directly to the lifeblood of the earth and the volcano at the top of their planet, outlining the merits of my soul and why I deserve the high-sacred-honour of my soul being given the opportunity of a full life, unshortened by the tragic-squishy-painful-unacceptable short lifespan of my full-of-water-and-carbon, bipedal-fleshy-leaky-alien body.
It’s filled with tenderness and respect and love, and I’m overwhelmed by the sheer depth of respect that they have for me. My hands ache as I clench them around the xenonite-covered geode, and it’s not until I sob that I realise that I’m weeping. I so desperately want this to work, but I know that it won’t. It doesn’t matter though, because hearing this song, and feeling the full breadth of the Eridians’ emotions towards me, is the greatest social gift an ageing man could ever hope for.
The song continues, looping in and around itself, layering the pleading sentiments and expressions of love over and over and over again. The air feels as though it’s vibrating. The ground trembles. I fancy that I can hear the very earth singing in reply.
My body is tingling with pins and needles. My legs have gone to sleep with how long I’ve been sitting with them crossed, and my hands are numb, still tightly clasped around the small stone. I try to move, but my body doesn’t respond.
I tense, blinking through tears as my breathing hitches a bit. I try moving again, and panic rushes through me as all I can feel is tingling tightness that borders on pain. It’s as though a weight has draped over me, and I can’t push it off.
My brain very unhelpfully flashes back to the field, where the weight of several large bodies pins me down. Something sharp pricks my neck and I scream as my body goes numb. Grass presses into my cheek and I smell the damp earth and see the sky for the last time.
The memory fades back as the thrum swells, and a whimper slips past my tight, dry throat. It’s a very soft sound, but I’m sure my mates can hear me.
They both make quiet, concerned noises in return, and it’s a comfort to know that in this ocean of sound, they’re still right beside me.
It feels like my chest is constricting and I gasp, struggling to move again. My body simply goes more rigid, and the crushing feeling increases. My vision, already blurred with tears and the vibration of extreme sound, goes blurrier and darker, until all I can make out is the sun-like aura of the headlight mounted on top of my portable dome.
My heart races, panic fluttering stronger in my veins as I struggle to take a deep breath. My ribs are tightening, my joints burning, my throat closing over. The geode feels like a boulder pressing down on my sternum. It’s as though the weight and fire of the volcano that birthed it is spilling into my body, burning its way into every crevice and cell of my very being.
I think I might scream, but my ears are so filled with the song and my terrified heartbeat that it could just be a throat spasm instead.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe!
I… can’t…
b
r
e
a
t
h
e
.
.
.
I am squeezed. Compressed. Crushed.
My soul coalesces in my chest like a ball of fire and soaks into the precious, tiny, fragile fire-egg.
I sink into its depths, disappearing into the song, and everything dissolves away.