Chapter Text
So technically I’m about 2% Neanderthal.” I conclude. The class just stares at me and chitters polite interest. Usually, this lesson blows my students’ minds. It makes sense, given Eridians’ relationship with their sister species.
Before the invention of fast land travel, essentially trains, Eridians were split into hundreds of subspecies, separated by geography. Once they were able to travel amongst each other with relative ease, they started to create families. Nowadays, the modern Eridian is so randomly intermixed genetically that those species divides don’t matter except in the most remote regions. They’re sort of like tigers. The difference between a Siberian tiger and a Bengal tiger is minuscule, but they’re still considered different species. So the most surprising thing about today’s lesson is the fact that Homo sapiens are so genetically “pure”, relatively speaking.
I glance at the clock. “Oh, I’m sorry, guys. I lost track of time. Your homework is to find out as much as you can about your own heritage and family history, then come ready to share.”
The students say goodbye and leave. I watch until the last little pebble skitters through the door. I look down at my laptop, where the reconstructed face of a Neanderthal is smiling up at me. I smile back and close the laptop.
Back in my house, I ring the intercom. The whole xenobiology complex is wired with an intercom system for my benefit, mostly because my hearing is so poor and for my privacy. My house is more or less soundproof.
♩Grace-savior-friend, can I help you, question?♩ A scientist I don’t fully recognize replies on the other end.
“Is—” I hesitate. They probably don’t speak English, especially if I’ve never spoken to them before. I attempt to vocalize in Eridian instead. It’s a mix of humming, whistling, and consonant-less singing. My Eridian is absolutely terrible. People’s reactions vary from calling it hatchling-like or thinking it’s extremely unsettling. Either way, it gets the job done.
♫Rocky there, question?♫
If the scientist thinks I sound weird, they’re too polite to mention it.
♩I will go find him. Wait one moment.♩
I start humming the Jeopardy theme while I wait.
♬Grace-friend? Everything alright?♬
Rocky sounds worried. I’m not surprised. Ever since my little… uh… freak out last month, he’s been mother-henning me more than usual.
“Do we have ochre?”
♬Ochre, question?♬
“It’s a soft stone that can be turned into a powder and mixed with water to make a paste. It has a very distinct color. Do we have anything like that?”
♬I can check. Are you making art, question? I can see if we have regular paint.♬
“Y’know what? I’m gonna see if I have some already. Thanks, bud. See you for movie night?”
♬Yes! Movie night! Muppet Show! I want to see the art when you are done.♬
I can hear the scientist from before saying something in the background.
♩We cannot see. Why do you…♩
But Rocky presses on. ♬Show show show! Want to see beautiful Grace art.♬
“Don’t worry, Rock. You’ll get to see it. Okay, I’m gonna go now. Bye!”
I turn off the intercom.
Making my way back down to the beach, I scan the cliffs for my prize. Wait… There! About twenty feet up, I can see a nice red stone. Don’t tell Rocky I’m about to do this. He’ll guilt trip me to death. I take a deep breath to hype myself up and start climbing the cliff face. I’m lucky that it’s pretty jagged. I guess the designers expected I might climb it.
After some huffing and puffing— boy am I out of shape— I make it to my goal. I grab some chunks of the reddish stone. It’s soft like chalk. Perfect. Just what I was hoping for. I knock some chunks off and send them tumbling down the cliff to the ground.
Carefully, so so carefully, I make my way back down. If I slip, it’ll be my skull that cracks against the stone instead of the ochre. Then Rocky would really be mad. So I best not anger him and keep my head intact.
With two feet planted firmly on the ground, I gather up my ochre chunks and make a pile on a nice, flat stone I find. Taking another stone in my hand, I grind and smash the ochre into a chalky powder. Now I really feel like a caveman. Space caveman. Heck yeah! Now that my powder is ready, it’s time to add water. Good thing I live right by an ocean. My ocean is just filtered water from an actual Eridian ocean, perfectly safe and free of the heavy metals that permeate the planet’s entire ecosystem. Actually, the upper atmosphere ecosystem is pretty low in heavy metals. Bioaccumulation and all that.
Anyway, I go trawling the beach for a nice little container for the water. I could just grab something from my house, but that’s no fun. Eventually, I find a perfect little shell half-buried in the sand. After my… um… After realizing that humans need a lot of stimulation and novelty, the biodome team peppered the beach with random little rocks and shells that would be found on Eridian beaches. So, most of the shells I find are actually made of a sort of biologically-secreted metal, kind of like those iron snails found by Earth’s hydrothermal vents. The one I have here is like a deep clam shell, and surprisingly big. It’s made of metal, obviously, but I’m not quite sure what. It looks kinda like bronze. I’m certain that it’s safe, at least. The biodome team is very strict about my heavy metal exposure. I had to practically bat them away with a stick when they suggested preventative weekly charcoal cleanses. WEEKLY! We compromised on yearly cleanses. Fun.
I fill my shell bowl with water and carry it back to my little pile of ochre powder. I mix in the water until I get a good paste. Now to do what I came here to do. I dip my hand in the paste.
I picture every human that has come before me. From Lucy to now. Long hands, squat hands, big hands, little hands of children held up by their parents. I think of those who will come after me. Of all the places they will go. Together, we mark the presence of humanity in the universe on stone.
I firmly plant my handprint against the Eridian cliff face, then I stand back to admire my work. I am the first to make my mark on this world. A Human on Erid.