Chapter Text
To my surprise, we'd never talked about my age in class.
Of course, the parents knew I was just under forty. Some of them had been a little concerned about that. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. To creatures that live for six hundred years, I was still basically a kid. It wasn't surprising that they questioned whether I was experienced enough to teach their children. But Rocky and Adrian explained the differences between our species' life cycles, and after a few face-to-face meetings, I'd managed to convince them that I was a competent adult human who could be a good teacher.
The kids, though, had never asked.
To them, I was just another teacher on Erid. In their minds, I was probably somewhere around three hundred years old. You know—an experienced, responsible adult.
The important word there being adult.
That changed today.
It was Bart and Lisa's birthday. (Yeah, I'm not exactly creative when it comes to names.) They had just turned one hundred years old. Yes, one hundred Earth years—I automatically converted it because I'd gotten so used to Eridian units by now.
The fact that Eridians live so long still amazes me. They consider children under forty to be little kids, elementary school students up to ninety, and the fifth and sixth graders I teach are between ninety and one hundred thirty.
One hundred thirty. No human on Earth has ever lived that long.
The siblings arrived wearing their ceremonial jewelry, practically vibrating with excitement. They hurried straight to the xenonite wall to announce the occasion. I was pleasantly surprised that I was the first person they wanted to tell, and I congratulated them right away.
Unfortunately, I didn't have any presents for them.
Back on Earth, I always kept a secret stash of candy and little trinkets in my desk for birthdays, bad days, or... well, pretty much any excuse. Here, I didn't have that luxury, so my congratulations consisted of kind words and singing "Happy Birthday."
The kids didn't seem to mind at all.
In fact, for some reason they'd become strangely attached to that silly little human song. The first time I'd sung it for a birthday student, everyone had stared at me, completely confused about why Teacher Grace had suddenly started making such weird noises. Explaining the human tradition of singing on birthdays had been... awkward.
Surprisingly, they picked it up pretty quickly. Eridians already had a tradition of singing for the birthday child—although, according to them, their birthday songs were much prettier. That eventually turned into a whole discussion about human birthday traditions. They were especially disappointed that they couldn't have personalized birthday cakes or blow out candles.
The kids still insisted human music was weird—and that I was a terrible singer. Ouch.
But every birthday, they asked me to sing "Happy Birthday" anyway. And who was I to deny the birthday kid's wish? Besides, it was the only present I could give them.
After the congratulations from me and the rest of the class, I was just about to start the lesson when Pinky—a little pink Eridian—raised her hand.
"Yes, Pinky?"
"How old are you, Teacher Grace?" she asked curiously, and I froze for a second, trying to think of an answer.
"Um... Let's... let's talk about that after class, okay?" I tried to steer the conversation away. I really didn't want to tell a room full of children—who were actually older than me—that their teacher was less than half their age and would live several times less than they would.
"Aww, Teacher Grace!" Lisa protested.
"Tell us!" Bart chimed in. "Tell us! It can be our birthday present!"
Little manipulator.
The room instantly filled with the cacophony of little Eridian chords as everyone started shouting, "Tell us! Tell us!" while climbing all over each other. I had to cover my ears for a few seconds.
"Alright, alright!" I called loudly enough for them to hear me, and the room fell silent almost immediately.
I let out a heavy sigh.
"But first, I need to explain something. Human age and Eridian age are very different. I'm still an adult and a responsible teacher. Got it?"
The children hummed their agreement enthusiastically.
"So... I'm thirty-nine."
The classroom exploded into chaos again. The kids shouted questions over one another, bounced around the room, and eventually ended up piling against the xenonite wall, climbing on top of each other while yelling every question they could think of.
"You're practically a baby!"
"Why aren't you in school with us?!"
"How are you so smart?"
"That's why your Eridian is so bad and you only speak in one octave. He's just a little kid!"
"Easy, easy!" I tried to calm them down.
"Humans send babies into space to save stars?!"
"Weird weird weird!"
"Why is a child teaching us?"
"We're all older than Teacher Grace!"
"Quiet!" I hated yelling and almost never did it, but I'd been trying to settle this noisy bunch for several minutes now. "Please settle down. We've already lost part of today's lesson, so I'll answer some of your questions. But you'll have extra homework."
They didn't seem bothered by that at all and immediately started shouting more questions.
"One at a time," I sighed. "Let's start with our birthday kids. Bart? Lisa? What's your question?"
"Why did humans send you into space if you're still a child?" Bart asked first.
"Because by human standards, I'm not a child," I said with a smile. "Humans are considered adults when they turn eighteen. Since I'm thirty-nine, I've been an adult for quite a while now."
Man... I'm thirty-nine. I really haven't been a kid for a long time.
I'd never really thought about it before. Teaching children made me forget that I wasn't young anymore. Most of my students treated me like a friend—someone they could trust and joke around with. I was the cool teacher.
And since I didn't exactly have many adult friends, most of my conversations were with kids. It made me feel young, like I was keeping up with all the latest trends.
I still wake up in a cold sweat remembering the Six Seven epidemic.
"If humans become adults at eighteen, how long do they live if childhood ends so early?" Lisa asked.
There it was. The question I'd been dreading.
I'd always known this conversation would happen eventually. For Eridians, who live so much longer than humans, it wouldn't really matter whether I told them today or years from now. But I'd hoped I could postpone it for as long as possible.
Not for them. For me.
How do you tell your students that, by their standards, you're going to die soon?
"Again, I need you all to stay calm, okay?" I used my teacher voice. "Seriously. If you all lose your minds again, I'm giving you a quiz next class. Understood?"
The children hummed in disappointed agreement.
"Well... Human lifespans vary. Some people live longer, some shorter, but... the average human lives to about eighty years old."
Strangely, no one started screaming. I'd expected chaos even with the threat of a quiz.
Did they really hate quizzes that much?
Maybe... Maybe they didn't care?
No. Definitely not.
I felt my bones begin to vibrate.
Oh, crap.
Rocky had taught me that when Eridians are sad, they produce a specific sound. It's too low for me to hear, but it creates vibrations I can feel. It's their equivalent of crying—a signal they send each other to express grief and worry.
But these vibrations were stronger than anything I'd ever felt before.
Usually, when it was Rocky or Adrian, it felt like a faint hum somewhere in my chest.
This felt like a small earthquake. The entire class was crying.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap.
I'd reduced my students to tears. Why did I tell them the truth?
At least I hadn't told them I probably wouldn't even make it to eighty. A coma, cosmic radiation, and nearly starving to death definitely hadn't added years to my life. No matter how hard Eridian medicine tried to help me, I doubted it could undo all the damage my body had taken.
"Guys, guys, please calm down," I pleaded. "I'm right here, okay? I'm fine! We still have lots of time to spend together, so there's no reason to be sad. Hey... want me to sing Happy Birthday again?"
"Teacher Grace is going to die soon!" Lisa cried in a low, mournful tone. "You only have forty years left! You're going to die so young! That's not fair! Sad sad sad!"
"I wanted you to teach my children too!" Pinky cried.
"Forty years is nothing! Why do humans live so little? I want to stay with Teacher Grace longer!" Bart sobbed.
Oh, crap.
I'd managed to turn Bart and Lisa's birthday from a happy celebration into the day they learned that, by their standards, their teacher was going to die soon.
Their parents were going to kill me.
"Teacher Grace is younger than me! Even younger than my sister! And he'll never get to be as old as I am! Bad bad bad!"
"Listen," I said gently. "Every species has a different idea of what a 'long life' means. You live much longer than humans, but humans grow up much faster. Neither is better or worse. It's just different. The fact that our lives are shorter doesn't mean they're less happy. We simply have less time, so we try to appreciate it even more."
"But we love Teacher Grace!" several children said at once.
Oh... wow.
I knew they loved me, but hearing it now completely broke my heart. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from escaping. Me crying would only make this situation even worse.
"We don't want you to leave us!"
"I'm not leaving you," I said, trying to smile encouragingly, even though I knew Eridians wouldn't understand the expression. "I'm still here. Besides, we still have today's lesson. And plenty more after that. We've got hundreds of lessons ahead of us! So don't be sad. We'll have lots of time to spend together."
"Doesn't having such a short life make Teacher Grace sad?"
I swallowed.
It used to.
There was a time when it scared me a little. The thought that I'd spent part of my short life trying to prove a theory that everyone dismissed was... depressing. A classic midlife crisis, I guess. I thought I'd end up an old, lonely teacher that nobody would remember. That, and a whole lot of other unpleasant thoughts, stayed with me for a long time.
Then the astrophage happened. Stratt happened. And for a while I thought I'd end my life much sooner than I'd planned—alone, terrified, drifting through space.
Then I met Rocky.
I found another form of life. Together we solved the astrophage problem. I came to live on another planet.
And I found my purpose again. Teaching.
"Hey... no, no. Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to die tomorrow. Honestly, I haven't even graded your homework yet."
I tried to joke. Nobody laughed. Nobody even reacted.
I sighed.
"Okay. No, I'm really not sad." I placed my hand against the glass, and dozens of little claws immediately pressed against it from the other side. "You know... my life probably seems very short to you. But it doesn't feel that way to me. I've seen incredible things. I've met wonderful people... and wonderful Eridians. I've learned things I never even dreamed of as a child. And now I'm doing what I love most—teaching."
The children calmed down a little, so I continued.
"I have all of you. And honestly, I can't think of a better way to spend my years than helping you discover new things. If, at the end of my life, I can say I made even a small difference in someone's life... that'll be more than enough for me. So don't be sad about how many years I have. Instead, help me make them interesting. Now, let's finally get back to our lesson. We don't have much time."
...
Oh.
Yeah. That could've been phrased better.
The last sentence sounded... unfortunate, but thankfully nobody commented on it.
The children quietly returned to their places, and I started the lesson. It went surprisingly smoothly, although it was obvious most of them were still pretty sad.
I did sing "Happy Birthday" one more time at the end of class, though.
That seemed to cheer them up before they went home.
---
"Why are some parents saying their children came home begging them to help Teacher Grace live longer?" Adrian asked as he walked into my house.
I was sitting on the couch, leaning against Rocky, trying to think of a way to make tomorrow a little happier for the kids after today's disaster.
"Um... well..." I scratched the back of my head. "I may have told them humans only live about eighty years."
"You WHAT?" Rocky shouted behind me, jumping to his feet so suddenly that I crashed off the couch and hit the floor with a loud thud.
I groaned.
"Apologies apologies apologies! But Grace! Why would you tell children something like that?"
"I didn't mean to!" I protested. "They kept insisting, and it was Bart and Lisa's birthday, and I couldn't say no to the birthday kids, and then..."
Rocky helped me back up.
He quickly looked me over to make sure I hadn't hurt myself in the fall. I just rolled my eyes. He and Adrian were constantly treating me like I was made of porcelain.
Sure, I was getting older, and my bones were more fragile after nearly starving to death, but come on. By Eridian standards, I was young and full of energy.
"You remember Adrian was sad about this for two whole months?" Rocky stomped one foot in frustration. "The children will be sad even longer! Long long long."
Adrian made an awkward little sound but didn't say anything. He couldn't exactly argue with that.
I winced, remembering how badly explaining human lifespans had gone the first time. Though this hadn't gone much better.
"I know, I know. I really regret it." I sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over my face. "Now I'm trying to figure out how to make it up to them. So instead of scolding me... help me."
We spent the rest of the day trying to come up with a way to help the children worry a little less about my lifespan.