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"Grace?"
I pointedly ignore the computerised tone of Rocky's voice (which somehow still manages to carry a nagging air despite its mechanical artificialness, how the heck does he do that?) in favour of switching out another slide of Taumoeba onto the microscope's stage. I'm so close to synthesising a higher concentration of proteins in this batch (Batch #72, not that I enjoy dwelling on that), and once I've finally achieved that goal, I'll allow myself some time to tackle the more superficial concern of improving the Taumoeba taste, however minutely that might be.
Rocky taps a claw on the base of his xenonite ball twice, impatiently repeating, "Grace, question?"
I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face and subsequently knocking my glasses off my nose to dangle from a single earlobe. "Kinda busy at the moment, bud."
"Rocky need new word."
My interest levels rise, but still only slightly, as I prod at the new sample. Rocky very rarely requires new words, these days — he's taken to passing the ample amounts of time we're swimming in on our way to Erid by voraciously consuming every tidbit on Earth and human culture that he can find on his gifted laptop. I've fallen asleep to the dulcet tones of a Wikipedia text-to-speech translator almost every night that week.
"What word?"
In response, Rocky fiddles with the remote he uses to control the laptop, the speakers suddenly blasting to life.
"—a gross misunderstanding of baseline understandings of evolutionary processes—"
I nearly snap my neck with the speed that I look up from the microscope. This has to be some kind of cosmic prank. Retribution for running away from the Hail Mary mission, in the form of a shaky YouTube video with audio I'd recognise in my nightmares? Not exactly traditional karma, but what about my life in the last few months has been conventional?
"I apologise, Ryland, I wasn't aware your doctorate made you the world's leading authority on aqueous scie—"
"Oh, and you are? You're so busy bootlicking everyone in this room that you've entirely failed to consider the possibility that not all life in the immensely vast universe evolved the same way that Earth did, you— you staggering waste of carbon!"
I can feel a burning heat rising in my cheeks as I choke out, "Rocky, turn that off."
Rocky does as instructed and I let out a truly pathetic groan. It had been wishful thinking to presume that being jettisoned into space against my will and forever forsaking my existence as I knew it to live on an alien planet parsecs away from Earth would mean escaping the disaster that was the UNESCO Conference in Denmark. Darn, I should've known better.
My humiliation at my own youthful arrogance considered, it's an even greater shock when Rocky asks, "What mean word after "apologise", question?"
I swivel around to face Rocky, whose carapace is tilted in an inquisitive gesture that he'd evidently picked up through mimesis. I mentally replay the video in my mind a couple times, before it finally clicks.
"Ryland?" I say.
Rocky trills affirmatively, more sound than word.
I furrow my eyebrows. Had this topic of conversation really not come up yet? I chuckle, and continue, "It's my name, Rock."
Rocky stomps twice in quick succession. "No. Name is Grace. Grace Friend! Grace say is called Grace!"
"My full name is Ryland Grace," I explain. "But everyone has only called me Grace for years. Guess I'm just used to it."
"Grace tell Rocky ♩♫ name?"
It's my turn to cock my head. "Define that word for me?"
"♩♫. Is short name for friend, family, mate. Grace call Rocky 'Rock'. Grace ♩♫ name is Grace, question?"
I hum a "not quite" kind of noise, and haul my laptop over to type 'nickname' into the translation interface. Something's telling me a lot of new words are going to be inputted throughout this conversation.
"That's called a nickname in English, but no, Grace isn't my nickname. It's called a surname, or family name. It tells people what ... uh ... what clan I'm from, I guess."
"Oh, understand," Rocky says. There is a moment's pause, and then he asks, "Grace word mean movement smooth and beautiful. What mean ♬♪♩?"
I type the last word in as 'Ryland', against my better judgement (I'm not looking forward to getting disappointedly full-named by Rocky's sardonic computer dictation). Rocky's moved closer now, his ball bumping gently up against my shins, which earns him a light kick against the nearest xenonite panel. I turn back to the microscope to resignedly pack it up for the day, as I consider how best to answer that question. Sometimes, Rocky's inquisitive nature takes me right back to my old classroom, which is ... not a bad feeling.
"It technically means 'land of rye', which is a kind of grass grain, but not all human names are actually words. Actually, now that I think about it, names like 'Grace' are a bit of an exception."
Rocky considers this, claws tapping together the way they do when he's calculating something. I have just finished sealing away the remnants of Taumoeba Batch #72 when Rocky speaks up again.
"What mean Rocky name, question?"
I freeze. Crud.
I had really hoped I would be able to avoid this explanation, after it had occurred to me several days after first contact, hey, Grace, maybe it's kinda messed up to name an alien after his physical appearance, that seems like the kind of thing that would get you a HR meeting back home. Naturally, in the frenzied events at Tau Ceti, there had been little chance for casual conversations like this one — a blessing I had evidently been too busy almost dying on the hull of the ship to comprehend.
"Um," I say, articulately.
"Grace say name is rarely normal word," Rocky barrels on, apparently completely unaware of the frozen state I'm in. "So what mean?"
"It comes from the word 'rock'." I am trying very hard to be delicate with my phrasing.
Rocky lets out a puff of air that somehow manages to be clearly condescending. "Rock is Rocky nickname. Rocky ask Grace what Rocky word name mean. Grace stupid human. How long since last sleep, question?"
"No, I mean, uh ..." I shove my glasses back onto my face, and resign myself to dive straight into the grave I had already dug. "It's a normal word as well. A rock is a solid mineral mass. You, uh, you kinda look like a big rock spider, so ... I called you Rocky."
Rocky is very, very silent. Not good. I've grown used to the constant sounds that follow where he goes, as much as Rocky has grown used to the leaky, bubbly functions of my blob-like body. He's always echolocating, tapping claws against his surroundings, or rolling about noisily in his ball, or throwing himself around the xenonite tunnels that weave through the Hail Mary with a childish zeal. But now, he is entirely still.
I grip my metaphorical shovel and begin digging in earnest. "I mean, it can also mean challenging! Humans have a saying about "rocky times", so really, the name Rocky is indicative of how you've overcome so many hardships, an—"
"Grace full of shit, statement." Rocky's tone is deadpan — even his song-speech is flat.
"Hey," I chide, mostly out of a middle school teacher habit I have yet to break. "Okay, look, can you blame me—"
"Yes, can blame!" Rocky screeches, suddenly crescendoing in pitch. "Grace give Rocky stupid name! Grace call Rocky ground-♩♫♩-lump — Rocky give Grace correct Eridian name! Grace HATE Rocky, Grace mean stupid leaky human—"
"Okay, whoa, don't be like that," I protest, fighting only a small fit of amusement (watching my weird alien roommate stomp his five limbs on the ground in an approximation of a tantrum is as hilarious as it is mildly endearing). "I'm sorry! Seriously, I am, I'm not the most creative guy — I mean, I'm a molecular biologist, not a darn author — I just kinda said the first thing that came into my head! I didn't mean it as an insult, I swear."
Rocky lets out a sharp, low note that probably serves as his equivalent of a harrumph. "Rocky have beautiful, long Eridian name. Grace give dumb fucking human word. Not nice."
I'm really regretting allowing Rocky to program curse words into his dictation software. It's not helping with the conversation.
"I'm sorry," I repeat, whining slightly and performing a pout just exaggerated enough that Rocky can hear the jut of my lips. "If you really want, I'll change it."
"No," Rocky grumbles. "Too late. Is Rocky name now. Too many memories of Grace Rocky for new name."
I grin, despite myself. For all the tantrums and fusses he likes to throw, Rocky really is a very sentimental Eridian. It's very sweet. "So the name's not so bad, because it came from me?"
Rocky jabs a claw at me petulantly. "Shut up now. Ryland Grace annoying, statement."
It's my turn to stomp a foot. "Oh, come on."
━━━━━━━━
We're in the "Don't Go Crazy" room later on in the day (whether it counts as a day in the middle of space is an unnecessary nitpick), the projector walls and floor displaying a looping feed of a beach. An island beach, I think, judging by the clear nature of the water and the limitless expanse of the horizon before us, dipping into a dusky sunset. Rocky is still in his ball, although he's lying down now, his limbs all tucked neatly under his carapace. I've dragged some of my bedding into a rumpled pile on the floor, upon which I have settled myself, tucked in and curled up, like my parents' old cat.
Funny. I can't remember my parents clearly, but I remember their cat from my childhood. I think it was called Gracie. My juvenile idea of a joke, probably.
The memory stirs something within me. I think I can recall a flash of someone else there beside me, dragging their fingers across Gracie's fur and laughing softly. The image is gone as quickly as it came.
The beach video loops once or twice (observable by a slight glitch in the white bubbles of the waves) before Rocky breaks the silence.
"Grace parent live in land of rye, question?"
I turn my head, smushing my cheek further into my pillow to look directly at Rocky. "What do you mean?"
"Grace name mean land of rye. Grace named after home, question?"
I chuckle softly. It's not a bad hypothesis. I'll make a scientist of Rocky yet. "No, Rock. Humans aren't normally named for where they came from. It can be common to have names that are also names for places, like Georgia, or Asia, or Indiana, or—"
I get slammed by another memory with the force of a speeding train — no, worse — it feels as abrupt and sharp and sudden as when the gravity system in the Hail Mary had failed and I'd flown skull-first into a computer screen.
"Colton, Ryland! How many times do I have to tell you, no running in the house!"
"Sorry, sorry!" The phantom sound of children giggling, trailing off into whispers. Someone's hand in mine. A face, identical to my own.
Rocky hums lowly, gently. "Grace okay, question?"
I can't even answer that for a moment, rubbing one hand idly at my chest over my shirt, trying to soothe the spiking increase that my heart rate had just experienced. "Yeah, bud. Just a memory. Wasn't expecting it."
"What Grace remember, question?"
"I think," I say, haltingly. "I had a brother. Colton. Colt."
"What mean Colton name?"
I laugh again, though with markedly less humour behind the sound. "Town of coal, I think. We both had pretty unimpressive names."
I rack my memory. No more images of Colt emerge.
Rocky nestles a little further down, the xenonite ball softly clunking against the floor as it adjusts to his new position. "Where Grace brother now, question?"
I exhale, dropping my hand into my blanket. "I don't know, Rock. I can't remember."
"Grace brother in combustible carbon village?"
That one gets a proper giggle out of me. "Ha, yeah. Maybe he is."
We watch the waves for a while longer, or in Rocky's case, listen. He says he enjoys their staticky repetitiveness — different to the louder, lower soundtrack of Erid.
"Many human name come from place name," Rocky muses. "Where is Adrian, question?"
I shake my head, smile toying at my lips. "Adrian's not a place, unfortunately. Just a regular name."
"Hmm. Weird. Rocky Eridian name have family members, have ♬♬♩♫, Rocky town of origin, and name of mate Adrian. Different Eridian have different name for Rocky."
This intrigues me. When it comes to Rocky's impromptu Eridian culture lessons, I act as an eager sponge of a student. Can't be caught in a trap of ignorance when we finally get there, after all.
"What's Adrian's name for you?" I ask.
"Name is ♬♬♩♫ ♪♬♫♩♪♬♬. Still has Rocky town of origin name, but also positive sounds, nickname only for mate."
Pet names. Cute. They've always evoked a visceral sense of disgust when other people use them on me, but I can admit that it seems like a very sweet concept between Rocky and Adrian.
"Grace?"
"Yeah?"
"Can give English word for Rocky town of origin, question? Like Ryland?"
I can barely restrain my goofy grin. "Rockland?"
Rocky grunts. "Grace not funny, statement."
I put my hands up in mock surrender. "Sorry, pal. Told you I'm not very creative."
He thinks for a moment. When Rocky is in really deep thought, he makes a quiet kind of purring murmur, almost like he's trying to conduct a solitary thrum. The sounds eventually morph into translatable words, and he asks, "Where Grace favourite place, question?"
I resolutely ignore the tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Man. I really love Rocky. Not the way I loved my fleeting relationships, or the way I must have loved Colt, if that small glimpse of a memory was anything to go by. I love him the way that he loves the sound of the ocean. The way that I used to love sitting in the sand, feeling the grain between my fingertips.
I spread my hands out on the surface of the blanket, as though it'll mimic the sensation of a proper bank of sand. I motion an arm out to the expansive view on the screens all around us. Rocky can't see it, he hasn't brought his texture gun in with him, but I know he remembers it all the same.
"Here," I say. "The beach."
Rocky hums, pleasantly. It's a higher-pitched, gentle sound. "Rocky like too."
I hum back, my voice bumping against his like an unintentional harmony, and lean one of my shoulders against his ball. I can feel the responding warmth as he pushes himself upwards to settle in the same spot.
I barely manage to make a mental note to put that into our translation software tomorrow, before I gently drift off into sleep.
Rocky watches.