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Grace often wondered how much of himself he had left. With the amnesia, the concussions, the radiation poisoning… he sometimes felt he was made of whole cloth, an imaginary person held up by the people- the Eridians around him.
He pondered this as he mended one of his shirts. It had a hole in the back too large to be patched with just string- so he’d gotten out some of the fabric scraps he’d scavanged over the years and sewed a patch on. By now, after all of his years, it was second nature, stitching and making sure the fabric was properly set. He was listening to a carefully edited version of a scientific thrum that had taken place a few weeks earlier.
Some thrums could last for days, with Eridians coming and going as it continued. This one, however, was only an hour and a half long. Unfortunately for Grace’s human brain, hundreds of conversations happened all at the same time in a Thrum, so he had to have a Xenobiologist Eridian isolate the most important vocals and send them to him in one big video. It expanded a relatively short thrum into a four-hour audio track. Typically, he would simply ask Rocky and Adrian what went on, but they were both busy with their newborns to go to that thrum at the time.
Grace’s mind drifted to the kids. Apparently, Eridians typically had five children at once, and couples usually had two ‘litters’ (he was trying to think of a better name than quintuplets) in their lives. He would likely not live long enough to see the pebbles in his class, his youngest student was the same age as him! Well, his estimated age- with all the time dilation and coma stuff his body and mind were in different places. The Eridians thought he was about 46. Maybe.
The black thread stuck out sharply from both the red patch and the white t-shirt itself. So far, the Eridians had only been able to make black fabrics- it was why he cherished the colored shirts he had left over from Earth so much.
He forced himself to refocus on the scientific thrum, which was talking about improving their spacecraft for a potential visit to Earth in the next couple hundred years. Their main concern was obviously radiation, since Eridians had no natural defenses to it, unlike humans. The production of melanin was an obvious example of humanity’s natural radiation resistance, but the immune system also was typically very good at detecting mutated cells and killing them before anything like cancer could develop. With billions of cells across billions of people (god, he hoped, he prayed that there were still billions), cancer was bound to occur. Still, Grace knew that humanity could easily have significantly worse cancer if not for their immune sytems.
There he went, on another mental tangent. Plus, he’d messed up his damn stitching. He started to pull out the previous few knots as the isolated vocals continued.
“Is it the wisest idea to do as the human schematics suggest and use Astrophage to block incoming radiation? Isn’t it deadly and explosive?” One scientist asked Vaughan (the official unofficial head of Eridian Space Travel, named for Dorothy Vaughan). Since Grace was (nearly) entirely fluent in Eridian, he could easily understand their words with the vocal isolation.
“Humans use very small amount of Astrophage,” Vaughan responded. Grace could tell that they were also having at least two other conversations while they spoke with the unknown scientist, “And is less dense than other options, such as lead, which will lead to more efficient travel. However, because of our space elevator, we do not have to worry so much about weight like humans do.” The scientist trilled a quick agreement and bowed away, their voice joining the collective harmonization of the Thrum.
Grace finished the final few stitches on his shirt. It was made of patchwork, kind of like him. He felt as though he was barely held together by frayed string most days. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore- a scientist? A teacher? A friend? Just Grace?
What he really was… He glanced towards the quilt on top of his bed, a small smile appearing on his face. He tied off the thread and ripped the extra with his teeth, not bothering to get the scissors from their case.
Pausing the thrum recording, he moved to play some music. He’d been really enjoying classical lately, specifically George Gershwin. He put Rhapsody in Blue on at a low volume and rolled his wheelchair to the bed, picking up the quilt.
It was a representation of everything that had brought him to the stars. It mirrored his own worn soul- made up of pieces of his own memories, of Stratt, of Carl, of Yao, of Ilyukhina…
Made up of the stony carapace of his best friend. The other Eridians who visited him to talk about science or his life story or simply to relax.
His students from Earth. His students from Erid, similar but different in hundreds of tiny little ways. His parents, who he knew died around the time he was starting to work on his PhD, but could not remember any details about them.
The thread was worn, but the quilt held together. He supposed that a lot of the things in his life were like that.
A knock sounded at the door. He hadn’t really been expecting visitors, but Eridians sometimes forgot that he liked to be warned before anyone came over. Tossing the quilt back to the bed, he deftly navigated to the front door and pulled it open, shock hitting him all at once.
“Adrian? Rocky? What are you…” He trailed off, seeing the small, clear xenonite box that they held underneath their carapaces.
“The babies are old enough to be gently transported,” Rocky explained, their voice clear and soothing, “We wanted Grace to be the first to see them.”
Tears welled up in his eyes. “Oh my god,” He said, “Come in, come in, let me see them.”
“We have already chosen appropriate Eridian names,” Adrian said, stepping through the door. They were only slightly bigger than Rocky with a dusty green carapace and longer legs. “But we… hoped Grace would help us choose Earth names.”
As Adrian spoke, Rocky carefully climbed onto Grace’s coffee table and placed the box of children across his wheelchair. It rested perfectly on his armrests, presumably to avoid strain on his legs. He appreciated it.
They were unbelievably tiny. If he could have withstood their atmosphere, each would easily have fit in his palm. They were all asleep, little carapaces shoved up next to each other like kittens. Maybe ‘a litter of Eridian pebbles’ really was the most appropriate term for them.
“They’re incredible,” Grace breathed, placing his palm against the side of the box. None of them stirred, of course, they were asleep.
“Yes, perfect children because Adrian perfect,” Rocky said. Adrian trilled a laugh, poking their mate in the side. Their children were mostly brownish grey, though Grace had learned that it took years for Eridians to develop their color and texture. In fact… Grace squinted.
“Are they… squishy?” He asked, noticing how one of them had their sibling’s arm squishing their carapace ever so slightly.
Rocky huffed. “Yes, but only for the first year after hatching. Need to absorb minerals from the environment to harden exoskeletons.”
“Is that why all the Eridians get so confused when you first explained that I’m a fully grown member of my species? Because your babies are squishy?” Grace asked, still staring at the babies.
“Adrian confused too,” They said, “Grace looked like he needed to sit in a cave for a while and absorb nutrients from the earth.” Rocky and Adrian both laughed, and Grace joined in.
“Alright, alright,” said Grace, “What are their names?”
Rocky and Adrian quickly launched into a long-winded explanation of all five children and their names. All of them were incredibly long, as children Eridians kept all of their parent’s titles until they were old enough to gain their own titles. So one of them was named “Depth-strong-listener / Child of Adrian-Engineer-Biologist-Chemist-South Plains / Child of Rocky-Saviour-Engineer-Chemist-Xenobiologist-Southeast Mountains”, with the others having equally long titles. Since all names were effectively chords, Grace had to listen closely to hear all the layers of respect and love put into their song name. Written out in human language, it looked as though the name would take more than 30 seconds to say, but with Eridian speech layering, it was less than 10.’
Deciding to mentally omit the child-of portions of their names, Grace learned that Rocky and Adrian’s children were named “Sky-uplift-explorer,” “Titanium-brave-protector,” “Star-luck-racer,” and “Root-triumph-weaver.”
Before he could even fully process the names, he was treated to a long-winded explanation of Eridian naming traditions. Adrian, from the South Plains, actually had four words in their Eridian name, while Rocky only had two. So they’d compromised on three, which happened to be the traditional naming scheme of the Western Plains, where the majority of the space-related stuff happened. Erid only had one continent (it was huge), so a lot of cultural mixing happened, especially with Eridian’s long lives. It was all so fascinating!
The Eridian name that Grace had been given upon his arrival to Erid was longer than both Adrian and Rocky’s. It was rather intimidating. “Grace-Mercy-Saviour-Starred-Hailed-Biologist-Knowledgeable-Chemist-Spacewalker-Educator.” The only time an Eridian would call him by his full name was if they were meeting him for the first time, at which point Grace would insist on being called Grace and only Grace.
“That is why we chose names that we did,” Adrian said, “Have any questions, question?” Grace shook his head.
“No, Adrian, that was… thorough,” Grace said, “Uh, you want me to come up with human names? I’m- I don’t know of any naming traditions from Earth, not really, so…”
Rocky hummed impatiently. “Just choose! If need to change later, we can. Eridian do not develop eidetic memory until three years of age. Before then, forget very often. Do not typically remember own names until one and a half years old.”
“Woah,” Grace said, “By one and a half, most of our babies are already mimicking vocalizations from their parents and starting to form words.”
“Yes, humans age fast,” Adrian remarked, clearly just as impatient as Rocky but hiding it much better, “Just pick names. Is not as important as Eridian names. No offense.”
Grace snorted. “Okay, which one is Titanium-brave-protector?” He asked. Rocky pointed to one of the little babies, the one in the middle of the cuddle pile. According to Eridian hatching tradition, which Grace now knew more about than he ever thought he would, the third child to hatch would be named Protector or similar.
“Uh, how about Peter? Either that or Paige, maybe?” Grace said, “I’m too indecisive for this! I don’t even know the meaning of those names!”
“Grace calm down command! Can always change later. Human meaning is not important, since Human language so boring,” Rocky trilled in the Eridian octave that meant ‘dumbass.’
“Okay. I actually think I like Phoebe, actually. I’m pretty sure it means something about the moon, and if not for the moon, humans probably wouldn’t have worked as hard to get into space. So Phoebe can be their name,” Grace said finally. Adrian did little jazz hands while Rocky mimicked Grace’s nodding with their whole body.
They went through the rest of the babies. After quite a bit of hemming and hawing, Grace figured out their names. Stella for Star-luck-racer, Stephen for Sky-uplift-explorer, David for Depth-strong-listener, and Raine for Root-triumph-weaver. Both Rocky and Adrian seemed happy with the names. After a few more minutes of conversation, they picked up the tiny box of babies and left, promising to visit individually soon. The more time their babies spent in a cave, the healthier they would be. Grace almost started to cry again when he realized just how much he must mean to Adrian and Rocky if they were willing to come see him so soon after the pebbles hatched.
He glanced at the shirt and sewing supplies he’d abandoned on the table. An idea suddenly hit him- he’d always been patchwork, even before the amnesia and the concussions.
There was a psychological theory that nearly everything about a person was shaped by their environment. Grace thought that was probably mostly true- or, maybe he hoped it was mostly true. It meant that he carried everything he loved with him.
He had little pieces of his parents somewhere in his mannerisms- maybe his dad wore bifocals and they constantly slipped down his face. Maybe his mom enjoyed sewing. Even if he couldn’t remember, he was sure that some part of him came directly from them.
The quilt came from the entire world, just wanting the astronauts to be comforted on the ship. He carried that with him to Erid, where it kept him warm as he slept. Grace had pieces of everyone he’d met while working for Stratt- Carl, in the sunglasses he occasionally wore. In the safety goggles packed into the lab.
Yao, with the sudden surge of real bravery he’d felt to turn around and save Rocky. In his silly moments, where it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. Ilyukhina, with her enthusiasm for everything and her ability to force her way through every problem. Little patches stitched onto his soul, engraved into the stone of his heart.
His human students, in the laughter he carried with him, the smile lines around his eyes.
Stratt, in the coffee he got from Armando every morning. Stratt, in the spare pairs of glasses that she had packed for him in his bag. Stratt, in the no-nonsense attitude he brought when speaking with important Eridian scientists and diplomats. Stratt, in the… in the love he had, for both Earth and Erid.
His Eridian students, in their joyous cheers and trills. The biodome team, with the air he breathed and the light he saw with and the ocean outside his window.
Rocky, with his sudden habit of repeating words three times or saying words in the wrong order. Rocky, with his new body language of jazz hands meaning ‘good.’ Rocky, with the ‘I’ll never give up on you’ attitude. Rocky, with the burn scar on his arm from saving his life.
Maybe Grace wasn’t whole cloth; he was whole.