Work Text:
Ten thousand kilometers of chain.
I'm a scientist — I was a grad student biologist, I have a wealth of experience doing mind-numbing repetitive tasks. And whoever Stratt had downloading the entire internet was not nearly as discerning as she probably requested. Or maybe she did actually want to send approximately eighty percent of all films ever made into space. Even though a good chunk of them aren't in English, or Russian, or Mandarin. Some of them aren't even subtitled.
…No, wait, yeah. There was a whole debate about it. The software people took her to court, and then we got a million emails pointing out the Mary would be in Tau Ceti until it got taken out by a meteorite, or fell into decaying orbit of a planet, and what if that took twenty thousand years and intelligent alien life stumbled upon it first? If we're including updated versions of the Voyager plates, why not also include films, and books, and music? Religious texts, newspapers, podcasts, letters, historical records of remote small towns, nursery rhymes, 3D renderings of Mesopotamian sculptures, dictionaries for languages no one's spoken in millennia… Hard-drives aren't that heavy.
Somewhere in the depths of the cargo hold, there's even a few paper books.
So it's not like we're lacking entertainment options. We're doing eight hours a day of linking chain — when I pointed out I could manage at least twelve, and Rocky could probably go without stopping at all, I discovered Rocky is a proud member of the Eridian equivalent of a worker's union and has very strong feelings on the importance of rest — really, do not get her started, she doesn't need to stop talking to breathe — and if nothing goes catastrophically wrong, we won't even have enough time to watch all of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Not that we've managed to watch even a ninety minute film, yet. Our shared vocabulary is still pretty science-heavy. At this rate we're going to spend the whole time we're making chain just hashing out more words.
I'm just wrapping up explaining why English words for some livestock animals and their meats are so etymologically different — in 1066 England was invaded by the Normans, who spoke Old French, and oh boy did this kickstart some long-lasting linguistic trends — when Rocky says, <Grace. Earth culture thing, question?>
By which she means, hey, can I ask about something that might upset you?
I say, "Sure, buddy, shoot."
Rocky says, <Grace talk about Rocky to Earth. Grace use personal nouns for Rocky.>
Ah. I did do that, yeah.
<Why Grace pick those personal nouns, question?>
We haven't really gotten into gender, yet. I glossed over it, briefly, when we each explained how our respective reproductive processes work, but we really didn't have enough words to try and explain things like social constructs and the patriarchy, then.
"Uh," I say, looking down at the links of chain in my hands. "Well, in English, it feels weird to just use someone's name all the time. So I had to pick something. So, uh, I did."
<Yes,> Rocky agrees. <Why, question?>
Oh boy. "I didn't want to use it, that felt rude—"
<Grace used different personal noun for Adrian. Grace know Eridians have no gender, question?>
"Yeah, yes, for sure. Do you, uh— Do you not like it? D'you want me to use they for you, too?"
Rocky makes the little trilling noise that seems to be the Eridian equivalent of clicking your tongue. <Grace avoiding question, statement.>
There's a weight growing, in my chest. A pressure. I want to leave, I want to stand up and walk away.
Rocky would just follow me.
"I had to pick something," I say again. "So I picked something."
<Grace know about neutral personal nouns. Grace picked not neutral personal noun. Grace did not pick Grace's personal noun. Grace see five-limbed rough-texture alien and think is human woman, question?>
Ohhhh I want to leave. I want to walk out the airlock. I still don't remember much of any of my life that isn't directly connected to Astrophage, but being interrogated like this feels horribly familiar. Being backed against a wall and forced to damn myself. High school. This feels like high school.
Desperately, I say, "Social discomfort."
And Rocky says, <Grace. Why you scared.>
We've already spent several hours trying to teach the translator about tone, which if nothing else gave me a good idea of what Rocky's actual voice sounds like when inflected with several different emotions. I can't hear the difference for all of them, hence the attempts to put them in the translator, but I know right now I'm hearing the Eridian equivalent of gentle.
Which.
I'm the only human Rocky has ever met. I'm the only human Rocky will ever meet — maybe, years and years down the line, Erid and Earth will establish proper contact, but I can't imagine Rocky ever willingly going into space again.
There was a moment, when I first woke up here. When everything was still blurry, because I hadn't found my glasses, and the sedative was still wearing off, and the panic was all-consuming. When I caught sight of myself in a mirror.
And I thought, Oh, right. Yeah, with this wave of old, bitter grief. A familiar ache, like a badly set broken bone. Like the way I felt about the looming mass extinction, once I remembered about that. A wound I'd long learnt to live with, mostly by ignoring it. Oh, I was so good at ignoring it.
And then I met an alien. And I decided to give that alien pronouns. I decided to give that alien feminine pronouns, because I was eleven point nine lightyears away from another human and I was so sick of the aftertaste of he in my mouth. I gave my new alien best friend feminine pronouns, and that alien is the smartest person I have ever met.
That alien had absolutely no notion of gender as a concept, until meeting me. And she's still fucking clocked me.
"I've never— I've never told anyone," I say, almost gasping. My eyes are, of course, welling with tears. Are you crying again? You're such a girl. "I've never— I can't— Don't make me, I can't—"
<Grace. Grace, use lungs. Use lungs slower.>
I gasp in a breath. Rocky makes a low buzz, the word safe but stepped down too far for the translator. She drags it out, for a four count, because after the first time I jerked awake from a nightmare she asked Mary what humans do to treat panic attacks, and Mary taught her about box breathing, and now an alien is talking me through a technique I've shown to dozens of my students.
And it's working. The thing is, it's working.
I'm the furthest from Earth any human has ever been and I still can't say it. So much for my newfound bravery.
When I'm no longer on the verge of hyperventilating, Rocky says, <Apology. Did not know Grace get so scared. Grace does not need to say.>
I drag a hand down my face, and try not to think about all the other things I'm not saying to her. "It's okay, Rock, you couldn't have known. But, uh, do you want me to change how I refer to you?"
<Human culture mean nothing to Rocky,> Rocky says. <Grace use any words Grace likes.>
"Okay, but you aren't a woman—"
And Rocky trills her annoyance again, and says, <Grace give Rocky gift. Grace use personal nouns for Rocky Grace likes best. Rocky is woman now, statement. Rocky Grace woman plural.>
Oh.
Oh, okay.
It's like hearing the airlock hiss closed behind me and knowing I can let go of the tether.
I pull in a deep breath. "Any, uh, any other things you wanna tell me about myself?"
Rocky does the unnecessary echolocation click that's the Eridian eye-roll. <Grace already know this about Grace. Grace I∀.Iλ lightyears away from social discomfort, now. Stupid to keep be scared.>
I'm never going to see another human again, and I still couldn't say it aloud. So she said it for me. Rocky is the best thing to ever, ever happen to me.
"Uh-huh. Wanna explain to me what gender equivalent Eridians have, that you worked out humans can be trans without access to the internet?"
<No.>
"Well that's no fair—"
<Is dumb. Useless. Many better things to talk about. Grace explain Star Trek, question?>
"We can just watch it, y'know."
<Boring. Better when Grace explain.>
Which is possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, dang.
So we keep making chain, as I infodump a very rambling summary of Deep Space Nine. I'm trapped on a spaceship an unfathomable distance from anywhere with a habitual atmosphere. It's still one of the best days of my life.