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I walk along the beach – my beach – and feel the breeze in my hair. The water laps against my feet. The artificial sun rises, hazy behind the fog. I sigh with contentment. I sigh with longing.
Another day, another existential crisis. That’s melodramatic. Shut up, brain. Nothing is wrong.
I’ve said that so often that I almost believe it.
Almost.
It’s ridiculous, honestly. The Eridians really are fantastic hosts. I have a safe habitat here on Erid, I talk to Rocky and Adrian almost every day, and the science thrum has finally managed to synthesize nutrients for me. I might even be able to teach again, once I’m back to my full strength. Apparently there’s a lot of interest in taking classes from a literal alien. But now that I’m not hurtling through space, or trying to save two worlds, or starving, my body and brain have shifted out of survival mode. And it’s been harder than I expected.
Because there’s one thing my new friends can never provide, no matter how brilliant they are.
I will never touch another living thing again. Never give my students a high-five. Never hug Marissa goodbye after our weekly drinks. Never awkwardly bump into someone on the sidewalk. Never scratch a dog behind the ears until its tail thumps the ground.
You don’t even have a dog.
Stratt was right, darn her.
I can’t even hate her.
I kept people at a distance, put up emotional walls to keep myself from risking anything, shied away from even the possibility of being hurt. And now I have literal walls between me and anyone else I will ever meet.
Be careful what you wish for, Ryland. You just might get it.
I am safe behind walls, protected, and so, so alone.
The Eridians have given me literally everything they can. I can’t ask them for anything more. Even trying to explain what I’m missing feels selfish.
And really, I have everything I need. I’m fine. My life is orders of magnitude better than I could have expected when I realized the Hail Mary was a one-way trip, or when I went back for Rocky after the Taumoeba disaster.
And yet.
I want. I just... want.
My chest aches and I squeeze my arms around myself. It doesn’t help.
I walk to one of the meeting rooms at the edge of my biodome. Rocky is waiting for me on the other side of a transparent partition. His xenonite ball doesn’t handle the uneven and sandy terrain of my habitat very well, so this is our default hangout spot.
He’s bouncing back and forth with excitement as he hears me approach. My heart lifts at the sight of him. See? Everything is fine.
“Hey, Rocky! How are you? How’s Adrian?”
“Adrian good good good. Sends greetings to friend Grace. Working on improvements to Grace biodome!”
I smile. Adrian is less exuberant than Rocky, but they are affectionate in their own way. And I’ll always be grateful that they accepted me when I arrived on Erid, malnourished and half-crazy after years of space travel. They saw a weird, codependent, leaky alien that hijacked their mate’s attention while he tried to keep me alive. They could have been resentful or jealous, even if I was part of the reason Rocky made it home at all. But instead Adrian decided that I needed their protection, and devoted their considerable expertise to making my new habitat a home.
“Tell them I say hi too. And that the water temperature is perfect now.”
Rocky trills in pride. The ache in my chest is back. I breathe deeply and slowly, trying to ease it. Rocky clocks it, of course.
“Grace hurt, question?”
I can’t tell him. He nearly lost his mind with worry when I was starving; I can’t bother him with my petty human emotions too. I need to convince him I’m okay. I am okay.
“Hurt? No, buddy, I’m fine.”
“Grace lies. Not fine. Heart rate is elevated and Grace is using self-soothing breathing techniques.”
Dang it. When your best friend is a living lie detector with access to the whole Internet, it’s hard to keep secrets. He knows how my body works, and he knows when it’s working wrong. Rocky is the one who diagnosed my scurvy soon after I arrived on Erid, and I’m pretty sure he got himself the Eridian equivalent of a restraining order after he harassed the team working on Vitamin C synthesis one too many times.
“Really, Rocky. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
He doesn’t give me a look. He can’t. But I can feel his skepticism nonetheless. It’s a familiar song.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say. “I’m just a little down today.”
“How down, question? Grace standing up like normal.”
“Uh, it’s a human expression. It means... sad, I guess. But not a big sad. Nothing to worry about. Humans have a lot of emotions and it’s normal for them to fluctuate.”
“Not fluctuating. Grace show many stress signals lately. Miss Earth, question?”
And there it is. In my previous life, I didn’t consider myself a tactile, physical person. But now that I will never have real contact with anyone ever again, I realize that the evolutionary for other people wasn’t completely absent from me after all. Heck of a time for that epiphany.
“No, no, I’m happy here,” I reassure Rocky. “I’m finally not at risk of dying, right? And I still can’t get over all the work Adrian put into my dome. It’s amazing. I mean, maybe I miss Earth a little, but...” I stop myself just in time. I can’t voice the ache inside me. It’s selfish. Needy. Whiny. And ultimately, pointless. Why dwell on what you can’t have?
“Grace.” He stomps a foot, impatient.
Shoot. He’s not going to let me off the hook this time, is he? I wonder if I can lie, claim I slept badly or something.
I know I can’t.
“Okay, look, this is not a criticism of you or anything you guys have done for me. Everything is great. I’m just feeling a little...” I breathe through my nose, in and out, slowly. “A little alone. You know, because I’m in here and everyone else is out there and... whatever, it’s fine.” I think I sound reasonably calm.
“Grace is lonely, question?”
“Not really lonely. I mean, I see you and Adrian all the time, and some of the other Eridians come visit me too. And I’m looking forward to teaching again.”
Rocky knows I’m dodging the issue. “Then what is reason for down mood, question?”
I have to chuckle at his phrasing and it disarms me enough that I actually answer.
“Talking to people behind a wall and then going back into my biodome alone, it’s just... not enough.” I regret the words as soon as I say them. My brain starts screaming red alert. Oh no, oh no, oh no, this isn’t fair, this isn’t safe, don’t be a burden, shut up right now, fix this. Why am I still talking? “On Earth, humans value being around other people. We’re social animals. And I... I’ll never get to do the normal things again. Give a friend a hug, get a pat on the back. Just hang out at home while someone makes dinner, have someone... have someone hold me when I’m upset.” My voice cracks. The sound brings me back to myself, and I finally manage to stop babbling.
I can’t look at Rocky. This is pathetic. I take another deep breath, let it out slowly, dig my nails into my palms. Time for damage control. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, I don’t need those things to survive. I’m fine. Everything is great. I’m in a bad mood, but it will pass. Don’t worry about it.”
Rocky is silent for a moment, and I start to panic. Then he says, “Rocky understand. Grace miss sharing space and physical closeness with other people.”
I swallow. “Yeah, I guess I do. Look, I’m sorry, this isn’t your problem. I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t -”
“Is Rocky problem. Rocky is friend. Rocky fix.”
My throat is tight. He isn’t horrified by my neediness. He’s even eager to help.
I don’t deserve him.
But I am a scientist. A science human, as Rocky would say. There are countless scientific reasons for why I now live in a bubble. A fishbowl. A very comfortable isolation chamber. It’s better than dying.
“Buddy, I really appreciate that you want to help me, but this is just the way things are. Your ball doesn’t work well in here, remember? And I definitely can’t go out there. Our environments are completely incompatible.”
Rocky scoffs. And you haven’t heard scoffing until you’ve heard an Eridian do it.
“Grace being stupid. Rocky engineer. Rocky make solution.” He pauses, then corrects himself: “Rocky made solution.”
“You – what?”
“Meet at main airlock fast fast fast!” He’s whistling with excitement now, the notes almost too high for me to hear, and before I can react he turns and skitters out of the meeting room.
What on Earth (What on Erid?) is he planning?
I know Rocky will beat me to the airlock. He’s in his natural environment and more excited than a middle-school kid on a sugar high. I’m a two-legged human, still recovering from malnutrition, and dealing with double my usual gravity. So I’m slow slow slow.
When I arrive, though, I don’t see him on the other side of the xenonite.
“Rocky?” I call tentatively.
“Hi Grace!”
I jump because the voice is coming from my side of the partition. I look around frantically and spot him running towards me.
Running. Not rolling. Rocky’s not in his ball.
It takes me a minute to process what I’m seeing. Before I can do more than gape, he staggers to a stop right in front of me, reminding me of a baby deer trying out its legs.
“What Grace think of new suit, question?”
“I – what – Rocky, how...?” I kneel down to get a better look. His whole body is encased in a thin layer of clear xenonite. It must function like my EVA suit by protecting him from the atmosphere while allowing him almost normal movement. I can’t even imagine how he crafted it. The skill and delicacy are beyond anything I’ve seen.
“Is surprise!” says Rocky, obviously delighted with himself. “Better suit will let Rocky be closer to Grace. Could not make aboard Hail Mary. Needed to save xenonite for emergency. But now on Erid, can make!”
“You made this suit... so you can spend time with me?” I feel tears prick my eyes. Holy moly, I’m really a mess today.
“Yes. Obvious.” I can hear fond exasperation in his voice. “If Grace like, Rocky make suit for Adrian too. Can spend much much much time with Grace! Can even watch Grace sleep!”
I am so close to crying now. Get it together, Ryland. I can only whisper as I say, “That sounds amazing, Rocky. Thank you. This is...the most thoughtful...” I lose the last of my self-control and start to sob, my face in my hands, rocking back and forth on my knees.
After a moment I feel a warm weight on my back. I twitch in surprise and look up. All I can see is Rocky’s carapace. He’s right in front of me and two of his arms are draped around my shoulders, gently pressing my back.
“Grace need hug, statement,” he says.
I can feel Rocky’s arms on my back, warm and grounding. They aren’t soft like a human’s, but they are so, so real. He leans forward to rest his carapace against my chest. I think my brain is short-circuiting. This is an actual hug. This is the first time anyone has held me in years.
And I’m back to crying. From relief as the ache in my chest eases, from gratitude for my best friend who literally invented a spacesuit so he could comfort me, from embarrassment at how pathetic I must look to him as I fall apart. Rocky doesn’t say anything, but rubs my back gently and makes quiet clicking noises. I feel them resonate in my bones.
I finally pull myself together and sit up straighter. “Sorry, Rocky, that was – I didn’t mean to – ”
He cuts me off. “No apology. Grace sad, Rocky help.”
“I – yes, you did help. Thank you. I guess I was more upset than I realized.” I clear my throat with an effort. A thought hits me, distracting me from my meltdown. “This suit looks complicated. How long have you been working on it?”
“Rocky start work as soon as we arrive on Erid,” he says with satisfaction.
“That was months ago! If you knew how I was feeling, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Needed Grace to say it. Thinking machine says important to admit problem before solution can be effective.”
I stare at him. “Have you been reading the psychology section of Wikipedia again?”
“Also, suit needed much testing to ensure safety for Rocky and Grace. Did not want to spoil surprise.”
“Ah.” I swallow hard and feel my eyes fill with tears again.
“Grace like new suit?” Rocky asks.
“Grace loves the new suit,” I say thickly. “You’re a genius, Rock.”
“Correct. Rocky is genius. Uses genius engineering to help Grace!” He pauses, then continues, “Grace save Rocky, save Erid, but give up Earth. Brave brave brave. Rocky not human, cannot give human touch, but Rocky can still help. Grace not alone.”
I am the leakiest, luckiest space blob in the galaxy. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Rocky. Better than I ever could have imagined. I hope you know that.”
“Rocky knows. Grace Rocky best friend too. Fist my bump?” It’s become an inside joke with us. He holds out an arm.
I’m crying again, but now I’m laughing at the same time. I reach out and bump my knuckles against his hand. I can feel its rocky texture through the xenonite, solid and warm.
Unsurprisingly, Rocky’s new suit works perfectly once he gets the hang of it. Before long he’s joining me on my daily walks as I build up my stamina in double gravity. When I struggle on the uphill climbs, I brace myself with a hand on Rocky’s carapace. It keeps me steady in more ways than one.
Adrian often joins us and peppers me with questions about how they can improve my environment. They don’t believe me when I say it’s perfect.
Sometimes Adrian and Rocky visit just to watch me sleep. We spend those nights close together, skin pressed to xenonite. Rocky claims the contact helps him hear my heartbeat – when I was starving, it became weak and irregular, and he likes to reassure himself that it’s back to normal. I know his hearing is too good to need that, but I don’t object.
Sometimes I watch them sleep in return. I pass the time by planning lessons for my future Eridian students and getting familiar with the keyboard I’ll use to communicate with them. (Rocky built it for me, of course. He really has given me everything.)
Most often, we walk along the beach – our beach. Rocky, Adrian, and me. Together.