Chapter Text
It’s been approximately six Earth weeks in the biodome, and things in general are on the better end of the bell curve, or at least heading in the right direction. Trial and error has left Grace and his care team a bit scrambled, but he hasn’t died nor been poisoned yet, so they’ll all take it as a win. Sure, overall nutrition is a bit touch-and-go, but again, on the better end of the spectrum. Grace still has next to no energy, his brainfog and chronic pain complicating the few hours a day he finds himself functional. Still, being off the Hail Mary and in an actual home, not just a bubble on the space elevator, has done wonders for his mental health; having room to move his body and the change of scenery have done just as much as the synthesized thallium and vitamin C the Eridians created two months before.
Today was a good day, a solid 4/10 for energy and maybe a 6.5 on the pain scale. Ryland was living it up for sure! I might even make it outside today, weather permitting. Grace thinks as he sits in his ‘living room ’, chuckling at the Rocky-level joke. He can almost hear his friend’s voice: ‘Weather is always the same in biodome; it's a joke!’ Grace smiles to himself and staggers to what can generously be called a ‘kitchen’ and opens the ‘fridge’, having aliens design something that they have no need for and is a fully well, alien concept to them has left certain parts of Grace’s home a bit of a dreamscape, Rocky has told Grace more then once they can easily remodel the house to fit his needs better but, honestly he likes how things are just slightly off. The hot tap on the right rather than the left, the fridge and freezer as separate entities, and the countertops both a little too low and somehow too high. It's not like he’s doing any cooking anyway; the closest he gets is boiling water to make tau-tea and to reheat different packages of nutrient goop.
That's the thing the care team has been focusing more on recently. Flavor and the upping of Grace’s macronutrients, sure he has plenty of carbohydrates and lord knows he has enough insoluble fiber– approximately two to three grams per five grams of dried taumoeba– but things like protein and lipids are a bit tougher to come by. They’ve been skirting by with selectively bred taumoeba, but there’s only so much protein pond scum can inherently make. Lipids are a bit easier to create; it turns out that molecules similar to glucose and reduced hydrocarbons are useful no matter the world. Having easily accessible, storable bioenergy is universal, though removing heavy metals from the fat on Erid is a complicating factor.
Both of those problems will be solved with the seedlings and seeds found on the Hail Mary, but seeds take time to grow, and the sprouts already growing on the ship are either nutritionally useless, won’t be helpful for years to come, or, in some cases, both! The seeds, though- those are much more promising. Grace had no reason to go through the seed vault found on the Mary; only thumbing through the document once or twice, he remembers seeing corn and many types of legumes in the logs, but Isn’t too bothered to know more. The documentation and instructions on optimal growing for the seeds on the ship were given to a team of biologists working alongside Grace’s care team, and Grace, with his Brown Thumb, knows those seeds are in the best possible hands —claws —now.
As Grace stands in the kitchen attempting to work up the nerve to even open his refrigerator, he’s knocked out of his swirling thoughts by a harsh knock at his front door. Is it 11 already? He wonders distantly while shuffling to the front. There is a familiar trilling call coming from the other side.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Grace opens the door. “Did you know that patience is a virtue?”
“No patience!” Rocky scrambles inside the house excitedly. He’s careful not to knock into Grace but still has the physicality of a Labrador retriever crossed with a bowling ball. “Have exciting news!”
“Is that right?” Grace says with a laugh. He walks over to the couch and sits down heavily. He’s excited to see Rocky, the two of them working on their codependency lately, have gone a new record of 31 hours without seeing each other. Sure, Grace wants to scratch all of his skin off with anxiety, but he didn’t, and Rocky probably got some real sleep for once. Rocky excitedly clambers onto the couch, half-falling into Grace’s lap. Though ever-careful not to put any actual weight on Grace. Grace hums and closes his eyes, enjoying the heat radiating off Rocky, resting his sore hands on the top of his carapace, like a living hot water bottle.
“Grace want to see surprise question?” Rocky sits up slightly and pulls a box out of his satchel. The box is made of Xenonite, obviously, longer than it is wide, but no more than six inches. The size and shape reminds Grace of the box a fancy watch comes in.
“Yes! Whacha got there?” Grace asks.
“Scientists have been able to create a new flavor for Grace!” Rocky chirps excitedly, “from plants found in Hail Mary, scientists were able to extract and reproduce compound!”
“Oh, that's great rock!” Grace sits up more, trying to ignore the twinge in his back from the motion.
“Grace will eat more if have more flavors!” Rocky says. That’s the second? Third? Fourth thing- yeah, let’s go with that; that’s been a bit of an issue. Circling back to Taumoeba having some lipids and some protein in it, the sheer volume Grace would have to consume to not only get his daily intake but make up for his lost weight, muscle mass, and bone density is a bit daunting when humans have had millions of years of genetic pressure to eat a varied diet. It’s a bit of a cold war between Grace vs. his care team plus Rocky. Theoretically, he should be gaining weight faster than he is… he should be eating approximately ten to ehhhhh fifty percent more a day. There was a distinct type of torture that comes from only having a single food source for nearly four years. And even with the current ‘upgrades’ that came with the added nutrients, it has done little to improve the taste. The taumoeba had gone from nothing with a hint of pond water to nothing with a hint of pond water and a light chemical aftertaste. Which quickly lost its novelty once Grace wasn’t actively dying of scurvy.
Broken out of his thoughts of those unpleasant problems, Rocky pushes the box further into Grace’s hands. Grace thumbs over the lid; it’s surprisingly light for the size but quickly sees why. Presented like holy relics are three small square… things. Best described at a glance as ‘candies’, but it’s not exactly accurate. They're each maybe one inch square and half as thick, lightly purple and translucent; it vaguely reminds Grace of Turkish Delight, or those trendy Japanese candies he can’t quite seem to remember the name of. He can’t help but ask, “So the extracts you added to these, they're for flavor- nutrients?”
“Flavor mostly, some lipids extracted directly from plants.” Rocky fidgets, “has several compounds from many plants to see what you like. Scientists are interested in knowing any notes you have on added compounds. They will make sure to prioritize manufacturing any you like. This is just the first round; tomorrow we will have other flavors for you to try.”
The thought of new flavors makes Grace feel lightheaded. He hasn’t been this excited about food since he found an open ramen packet underneath some garbage on the Hail Mary. He picks up one of the candies and inspects it. It’s firmer than he expected between his fingers, and has a lightly fruity smell, though not quite distinguishable besides ‘sweet’ and ‘maybe fruit’. Without further preamble, Grace pops it into his mouth. He doesn't know exactly what he was expecting. The first flavor is sweet, not quite like candy but as good as a ripe apple, with a slightly cooling sensation reminiscent of Sucralose. Purely towards flavor, it is sweet and slightly bitter at the edges of his tongue. Texturally, it is bouncy and quickly melts into a thin film, and aroma-wise, that’s where something interesting lies. It's herbaceous, but not in a way Grace can instantly identify; it definitely isn’t basil or cilantro, but it isn’t fully unpleasant either. There is a memory scratching at the back of his brain, connected to the whole sensation, but it refuses to come forward as Grace reaches towards it.
It's different, and honestly that’s about as much as Grace can ask for at this point. Grace’s body screams for him to devour what’s left, to eat until he’s sick, but he forces himself to slow down and enjoy the three candies and six bites he has. He can see how Rocky cringes, but it’s not like Rocky hasn't seen him do way worse. After all three are polished off, Rocky asks, “Grace, like new food question?”
“Yeah, it’s really good!” Grace breathes out. He runs his tongue over his teeth; a slightly greasy feeling lingers, with that strange bitter herb flavor attached. He beams at Rocky, who gives Jazz hands and spins around in excitement. “Happy happy happy!”
Grace stretches and pats the top of Rocky’s xenonite-covered carapace. “Do you wanna watch a movie, bud? Or are ya hedding out?”
“Stay for one episode,” Rocky decides, “then go home and sleep, Adrian watch.”
The gremlin of jealousy and codependency jabs Grace between his ribs at the limited time offered to him with Rocky. He knows Rocky feels the same but… It’s probably for the best. Rocky will be back after a full or two, according to their schedule, once he’s done resting and doing his Ryland-mandated time with his spouse. They have a very fun day planned. Grace clings to that fact rather than the one where he’s at right now. “Sound good, Rocks, any requests? Planet Earth again or something new.”
“Want to watch Prehistoric Planet.” Rocky says, “Learn about large extinct birds.”
“Aye aye ca-pe-tan,” Grace says cheerily, quickly pulling up the search bar for the downloaded media on the laptop. Grace kicks up his feet onto the coffee table and leans into Rocky. Rocky, in return, folds most of his legs underneath him, half of his focus on the nearby texture screen and the other on the familiar thum-thump of Grace’s heart.
Grace had watched the series when it first came out; now he’d be the first to admit he’s first and foremost a space nerd, but darn dinosaurs are really cool too. The sibling of classic kid scientific obsession. It's a little over two-thirds of the way through the episode when Rocky pauses it. Shifting underneath where he is being used as a very uncomfortable pillow. It takes a moment for Grace to process why the video paused and another moment to make out what Rocky is saying, “-okay question? Breathing and heart rate is slow.”
Grace returns to his body like a rubber band snapping back. Blinking slowly, he takes stock: His mouth is dry, he's hungry, his limbs feel heavy, and his thoughts seem slippery, more than usual. It’s odd, if not fully unpleasant, familiar, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice he can’t quite place says Don’t worry, just ride it out. Grace sighs and lets a lazy smile cross his face as a warm haze of comfort draws around him; ‘riding it out’ seems like a great idea. Though Rocky does not know he’s fine, he is growing more worried as Grace struggles to get his thoughts together enough to respond.
“Grace okay?” Rocky asks again, fidgeting and hovering his claws over Grace’s body. But Grace is lost in thoughts that flow through his mind like water through his fingers.
–
Ryland was much more of a go-to-a-party type of person rather than a host. His freshman roommate, Henry, was the opposite, much to Ryland’s chagrin. Though to call the current cluster of people in their shared space a ‘party’ was a bit of a stretch, the group of five people, six if you include Ryland, huddled around the TV playing Wii Sports and drinking beer isn’t exactly a rager. Ryland sat at his desk, glaring at the interlopers. The group wasn’t rowdy, nor were they especially loud, but there was a certain type of anxiety that bubbled into annoyance whenever new people were in his space.
It was too loud to study and too early to turn in for the night, so unless he wanted to find an actual party or try to slip into a club with a fake ID, Ryland didn’t have anywhere to go on this particular Friday night. He feels himself bristle when one of the people, a woman named Abby, leans back and gives him a wide, relaxed smile. Like the rest of Henry’s friends, she’s a BFA major; she had shown Ryland some of her projects, but they didn’t really make sense to him- something about a sculpture made out of cigarette boxes. Ryland thought being roomed with an art major his first year would be easy, especially when Henry told him he was going for a teaching degree, which was much more on the academic end of his field. However, the idea of Nerds vs. Geeks very much came to the fore in their particular living situation. They only had three more months left in the semester, but Ryland would give his left kidney to make it end now.
That being said, Abby was… nice; she’s butch, with a curly black haircut cut short, and clothes constantly stained with wood sealer and paint. Abby is a bit of an outlier for Henry’s group of friends. In that she didn’t innately piss Ryland off, she has an air to her that feels inviting. An open hand of a woman that both freaked the hell out of Ryland and made him want to ask her a specific question he dared not bring to the forefront of his mind. He does NOT have time to ask those questions. Even if he does like Abby, Ryland narrows his eyes when she stands and walks over. He looks away, nursing his shitty beer, and pretends to go back to studying. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a hand on his desk and Abby hovering over him. Ryland glares up at the woman, trying to pretend his eyes don’t catch on her piercings. He snaps, “What?”
Undeterred, Abby smiles warmly. “Jax brought some stuff for us to try, do you want in?”
Ryland furrows his brow. He doesn't have any problems with drugs; his parents partook occasionally when he was young. They offered it to him, but there’s nothing lamer than your parents offering you weed. So he has no strong feelings around recreational drug usage, outside of keeping Narcan in his first aid kit and in his backpack. He remembers when D.A.R.E came to his school and explained every upper and downer, where to find any given drug, and how people take them. He remembers signing the piece of paper that swore he’d ‘just say no’ when offered. His mouth feels dry as he tries to get his tongue to work. “um, what kind of stuff?”
“Weed and shrooms,” Abby says, “but no pressure, just didn’t want to leave you out. Jax is sitting, so you won't be the only sober person if you don’t want any.”
“He won’t want any!” Henry calls from the couch, his legs hung over one of his art friends’ laps; he's currently attempting to light an overly full blunt. “He has too much of a stick up his ass. Isn’t that right, Ry?”
“Don’t be an asshole, Henry,” Abby calls back. She turns back to Ryland, “No shame in it either way.”
“Um i’ve never tried anything like that before,” Ryland says, feeling a bit bashful. “Just alcohol and caffeine pills.”
“Not at the same time, right?” Abby asks playfully, but shrugs, “No issue, we’ll crack a window. But Jax is a great sitter. They walked me through my first time.”
Ryland distantly wonders if he still has his D.A.R.E shirt somewhere in his stuff back home, forcing his voice to work. Ryland stands and dusts himself off. “Um yeah I think I'd like to try. First time for everything.”
“Holy shit really Ryland?” Henry pops from behind the couch, his eyes huge. “din’t think you had it in you.”
The edge of annoyance burns inside Ryland, but he sits down amongst the others. Jax smiles brightly, shifting where they sit. A few different baggies are laid out on the coffee table; some have pre-rolled joints, and another has weed and rolling papers. And a few others have small gummies with handwritten notes on the front, listing dosages and ingredients. Jax, a tall, pale-skinned guy with a shaved head, grabs one of the baggies and a pocket knife, cutting one of the gummies in half and handing it to Ryland. “Start with this, okay? Give it an hour, and we’ll see where you're at.”
“So no shrooms?” Ryland laughs nervously, looking down at the candy offered. It's small, translucent red, the outside covered in sugar.
“You can if you want to, but It’s probably best to start with this,” Jax says, his tone nonjudgmental. “You're anxious; even weed can give you a hard time if you don’t ride it out well.”
“It won't cause psychosis right?” Ryland squeezes the gummy again.
“Not that little, why we start small,” Jax says, “ if you don’t want to do it-”
“No!” Ryland nearly shouts, “I want to try it's just-”
Ryland takes a long breath but nearly chokes on the smell of Henry smoking like a chimney next to him. He shoots his roommate a glare but stops fretting and tosses the gummy in his mouth. The flavor is pleasant enough at first, like any other fruit candy. Just to the side of strawberry, but the peasant sweetness quickly dissolves into an oily, bitter flavor that coats his whole mouth. He sticks out his tongue and takes a swig of his beer. “Blugh, you eat those on purpose?”
“We don’t eat them for the flavor, Ryland,” Abby laughs, bumping into his shoulder with her own. She pops one of the blue candies into her mouth, frowns, takes a swing of her own drink, then sits back and says, “I brought Uno if anyone wants to play.”
—
“Shit,” Grace breathes out, the realization of what’s going on not upsetting but inconvenient. There was some stuff he wanted to get done that evening. “Yeah, I’m okay, buddy.”
“Grace acting weird,” Rocky reiterates. “use explicit word in front of rocky.”
“Yeah, I’m about to act weirder.” Ryland struggles to sit up and holds his face in his hands. His body feels heavy, every cell sensing every bit of that 2.5g Erid offers. It’s funny that it’s called being high when Grace never feels heavier. The memories of regularly starfishing on the floor of his dorm come to the forefront of his mind, making a giggle pull out of his throat. But Grace tries to force Sober Grace to the wheel of his brain while he is still accessible. Looking over to Rocky and asking, “Rocky, those extracts- was one of them from the hemp family?”
Rocky makes a worried sound. “Yes, was marked as edible on thinking machine. Can extract volatile compounds with lipids.”
Ryland feels the bodily motions of a laugh more than the emotions surrounding it. He takes a moment to force his consciousness back into his physical form; derealization and dissociation would probably be bad, so he takes in a breath and feels the cool air in his lungs. Holding onto it for a moment and forcing himself to fully be in his body. “Oh, they're edibles, alright. How… how many milligrams of hemp extract in each of those… candies were there?”
Rocky seems even more worried, "approximately between ten and fifteen in each candy.”
Oh god. Well, it’s probably dirty hemp extract, not like THC oil… probably. Hopefully, I mean, it was an Eridian scientist who made the extract; it's probably better than anything on earth, sober grace offers unhelpfully. The ballpark low end is about 15 or 20 milligrams across the three candies. However, it does not feel like fifteen milligrams even now… and averaging the estimated amount, it would be thirty-nine milligrams in total. If it’s the high estimate. Grace laughs at the joke in his head, continuing, fifteen times three is way too much. Ough, I've forgotten how to do math. Not enough to green out probably, hopefully, maybe, but I’m just… going to lie here now. ‘That sounds like a great idea, ’ says High Grace. ‘Thank you,’ says Sober Grace.
“I am way too high to do math right now,” Grace says into the air. Lying back down on the couch, in his mind's eye, he sees Sober Grace at the wheel, slowly fading away, though still there. He needs to explain what’s going on to Rocky before he thinks that he’s dying. Grace takes a long breath in and holds, trying to force thoughts to link together. “You remember my celebration juice?"
“Yes made Grace stupid”
“This is kind of like that,” breathe “the extract you made was from hemp, it's called THC, or had some in it. THC stands for… Tet-tetra-tet- I… will tell you when I’m sober. I am just… going to be very relaxed for the next few hours… and very stupid.”
“Grace already stupid,” Rocky responds automatically but considers “THC makes Grace more stupid then before?”
“Hm, yeah, just- fuzzy.” Grace giggles, feeling warm all over, the physical parts of his high fully setting in. The bubbling feeling underneath his skin at the back of his neck and onto his scalp. “‘n’ hungry. Just- best… to ride it… out.. Have a… trip sitter, Rocky yeah ....”
At the last words, Grace haphazardly points to the computer and Rocky with both hands. A lazy smile crossed his face, and Sober Grace is no longer in the building. Grace immerses himself in the physical aspects of the high, the heaviness of his limbs, and the utter relaxation of his muscles. The almost ticklish feeling along his scalp and cheeks and up his arms. He hooks his consciousness to his body, like using the ties on the outside of the Hail Mary. He laughs as small flashes of pleasant memories float around him. He feels warm but is also pleasantly aware of how nice his clothes feel against his skin, finding and pulling at those bits that keep him pleasantly connected.
There’s music playing, but the music is words. Right, Rocky. Rocky listens for a long time. Keeping vigil over grace as they try to understand what the heck just happened. Grace is taking deep breaths; he's still awake, they think. Just absent, “Grace question? Grace okay question? What is happening?”
But Grace just hums and gives a lazy thumbs down. He does not seem distressed; if anything, he seems the exact opposite. If Rocky had to describe his best friend in this moment, it would be a ‘puddle’ and not in the way humans are usually leaky. Instead, Grace is half spilling over the edge of the couch. Grace doesn't get this relaxed, even when he’s sleeping. His heart rate is slow, strong, and steady, and everything about him just seems calmer. It doesn't seem like it should be a cause for concern, and Grace said it will be okay, but what if it’s forever? As panic threatens to take over Rock, he grabs the Human Thinking Machine and quickly types into the search bar, clicking on the first links he finds. Wikipedia offers:
THC- “Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) is a cannabinoid found in cannabis.[15][16] It is the principal psychoactive constituent of Cannabis and one of at least 113 total cannabinoids identified on the plant. Although the chemical formula for THC (C21H30O2) describes multiple isomers,[17] the term THC usually refers to the delta-9-THC isomer with chemical name (−)-trans-Δ9-tetrahydrocannabinol.
Rocky reads on for a few paragraphs before turning to a different search. He’s mostly satisfied that this isn’t going to kill Grace and it won’t last forever, but just to make sure, he types in another term into the search bar:
A trip sitter—sometimes known as a sober sitter, spotter, or co-pilot—is a term used by recreational or spiritual drug users to describe a person who remains sober to ensure the safety of the drug user while they are under the influence of a drug; they are especially common with first-time experiences or when using hallucinogens such as psychedelics, dissociatives, and deliriants. This practice can be seen as a means of harm reduction.
Oh, Eridians had a different word for this but– yeah, Rocky has actually done something like this before… and has been on the receiving end more often. But knowing all of this brings little calm to Rocky. There is an unpleasant similarity between Grace’s current condition and that of half a year ago. Grace lay there awake but completely unaware of the world around him, a smile on his face, giggling intermittently and muttering nonsense. Where fear was inside Rocky, briefly flashes into anger. Sure, this is totally fine and good and normal to do to me, Rocky thinks while watching Grace. They feel steam coming out of their vents and fidget. It is not Grace's fault; he did not know the compound was in the food. He wouldn't have eaten it if he had known it was in there. Should have looked up Compounds on Human Thinking Machine before feeding it to Grace. The stupid science team does not know what they are doing.
Grace hums from where he’s lying sprawled out on the couch. One hand is lifted in the air; he’s watching his finger spread and close repeatedly. After a bit more searching, Rocky finds a few Reddit threads about how to be a good sitter for an unexpected trip and what to watch out for. One of the threads recommends putting on something simple and calming with a few links, clicking on the first one, and a YouTube playlist pops up from The Joy of Painting– Bob Ross, 384 videos on autoplay. At the sound of the calming voice, Grace’s eyes slide over to the computer. His smile hasn’t left his face, though it turns into something smoother as he watches the man paint. He gestures towards the screen, his words more like melting ice over actual language: “‘Sgood rok”
Now, with him distracted, Rocky makes his way to the kitchen, filling a large glass with water and returning to the living area. Grace is still just as much of a puddle as before; he is once again sticking out one hand, blocking the screen, and watching the video flicker between his fingers. Rocky chirps, “Grace, thirsty question?”
Grace, in return, hums in a completely meaningless way. Maybe trying to mimic the words Rocky had used. His eyes slide to Rocky, and the smile on his face widens with excitement; he opens his arms to ask for a hug. His words lazily wheezed out “Rok.. heee, faverguy, bes-frend”
Rocky scuttles over and leans into the hug, which Grace returns as excitedly as he can. Rocky is careful to keep the glass of water out of the way so as not to spill it, and he can’t help but feel a bit prideful at Grace’s words. “Yes, yes, have water for Grace, human thinking machine says you must consume water.”
For once, Grace does not argue; the best word for it is uncanny. Like someone is wearing his best friend’s skin. To see him so relaxed, while chemically induced, it’s not quite the same when he takes too many pain meds. There was always the simmering discomfort underneath the medication Armando offered, just as much making Grace not care about the pain as reducing it. Rocky helps Grace sit up, and Grace hums tunelessly as he drinks heavily. Using one hand, he puts the empty cup back on the table and helps Grace back down into his puddle-state on the couch. Rocky repositioning Grace's body so that he isn't actively falling. The dumb smile was still plastered on his face, and his arms were still haphazardly wrapped around Rocky. Rocky shifts closer, enjoying the embrace and listening to Grace’s inner workings. “Grace want to go to bed, question?”
“Mmmnnn” Grace groans "nee’ to stay ‘wake, can-breathe owithse, need to concentrate, on breathing”
Rocky lets out an involuntary squeal, images of their fishing trip launching themselves to the forefront of his brain. Panicked, Rocky asks, " What? " What Grace mean question? Cannot breathe Question?!”
“Just- need to focus on it,” Grace says, seemingly unbothered by the information he just told Rocky. He once again lifts his arm and focuses on his fingers stretching out and closing together. He holds his breath as he closes his hand, and it feels like all of Rocky’s five hearts stop beating as Grace holds his breath with the distraction of his hand. Rocky grabs Grace's hand and pushes it back into his friend’s chest urgently. “Grace need to breathe!”
Grace pulls in a long breath and beams at Rocky, “rooooookk… eee”
I am going to miss my fucking date night. Rocky thinks, once again, of pushing Grace back onto the couch. Sorry, Adrian, you can blame Grace and the Care team.