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Grace had completely forgotten just exactly what today was. He had noticed that the weather was cooler than normal, giving him a welcome reprieve from the normal heat of the biodome. The fog was mostly gone and the ‘sky’ was overcast most days now. It made it so that he wasn’t sweltering in his sweaters and cardigans. The crisp cool air refreshing his lungs like none other. And he was fully unaware of just what that weather was the precursor for. But now, with Grace fully tucked away in his cottage, his head whips up and he stares out of the window as a low roll of thunder echoes throughout the biodome. His grading pen slips out of his hand and lands on the table with a dull noise.
Nothing happened. Did he imagine it? Grace wouldn’t put it past himself. He pushes his glasses up to sit on top of his head as he scrubs at his face with one hand. He really should’ve slept more the night prior. He’d been averaging around 4 hours of sleep per night this week. Maybe this was a sign to put down his work and take a nap before his psyche snaps on him.
At that moment another roll of thunder echoed. It was louder this time, as if a storm was rolling in. Which would correlate perfectly with the rapidly darkening skies. It had gone from a smokey gray overcast to roiling thunderheads in a matter of minutes. Just like it would’ve back on earth.
Grace immediately stood up from where he was sitting to throw open the window and take a deep, deep breath.
Petrichor.
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“It’s actually a chemical that’s produced by various blue-green algae. It’s called Geosmin. Then when rain disturbs the soil, specifically really dry soil, it throws this chemical into the air. Which we then translate into the earthy musty smell of petrichor.” Grace explains to Rocky as he works on his lesson plans for the next week. “Humans are incredibly sensitive to the smell of petrichor. We can smell it even when the storm that is producing it is kilometers and kilometers away. Humans can pick up the smell even when it’s down to miniscule amounts like five parts to a trillion parts in one liter of water.”
“Sense of smell weird, statement.” Rocky grumbles from where he’s sprawled on the floor. “Why sense of smell so weird, question.” He double taps the floor.
Grace chuckles a bit then glances up over the rims of his glasses at Rocky. “That is a winning question. Even with all of our science, humans haven’t quite figured out exactly how and why our sense of smell works the way it does. We have a general idea of the basics of how it works but figuring out how our brain decodes complex odor mixtures is a completely different thing.” Grace sighs, this really wasn’t his speciality but when you have curious students that go through various science rabbit holes throughout the years, you’re bound to pick some of it up. “But more specifically, there’s a theory that the reason that we’re so sensitive to the smell of petrichor is because it would’ve been an extremely beneficial trait to our ancestors when finding and tracking water sources.”
Rocky hums in contemplation. Grace goes back to his lesson plans. They both sit in silence for a few moments before Rocky breaks it.
“Would Grace like for storm in dome, question?”
It was an innocent enough question but it really got Grace thinking. Sure, the fog was superb. Amazing with how it was just the right temperature and density. How it reminded him of his favorite kind of days back home. But the weather part of the dome was a little lackluster. Apparently the dome only had two settings, perfect foggy gloom and clear blue with the ‘sun’ blazing down in nearly unbearable heat. Grace didn’t really enjoy the blazing hot days as much as the foggy ones, but it was all for his mental health. Or something like that.
Grace smiles softly to himself. “Yeah. It would be nice to have a little more variety in the weather. But you guys have done so much for me that I don’t want to ask for more.”
“Dumb Grace!” Rocky scolds him with an angry sounding trill. “Grace save stars too! Is allowed to ask for many many many things! Especially when deals with biodome environment! Grace need enrichment, not same same same everyday. Is boring and will rot Grace’s brain, statement.” Rocky scuttles around in his xenonite suit as he makes his way out of Grace’s cottage. “Will tell biodome team about predicament. Will fix problem and give Grace many many storms!”
“No, no, it’s fine Rocky. I swear!” Grace tries to talk down his best friend but to no avail because Rocky is a fricken speed demon and is already halfway to the airlock.
Grace sighs defeatedly as he closes his front door. Considering the state of the weather programming now, it’ll probably take the biodome team a while to figure out how to create an actual storm for him. Maybe before then Grace could convince Rocky to not bother his ‘caretakers’ with something so small. But for now he had lesson plans to finalize.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
That conversation had only been a few weeks ago. Just over a month at most. They really shouldn’t have been able to construct something like this in such a short amount of time. It was nearly impossible. Grace takes in another deep breath as the crisp breeze caresses his face. If he closed his eyes he could nearly convince himself that he was actually back at his childhood home and there was a storm rolling in over the waves.
The only thing that disrupted his little fantasy was exactly what was so convincing. The smell of petrichor. It was a bit more metallic but it still held a kind of freshness that only a rainstorm after a long drought could have. There’s another roll of thunder, even louder, coming closer and closer to Grace’s little seaside cottage. Suddenly, he can hear little plips as tiny raindrops start falling. One even manages to get him on the nose. It startles him enough to kick his brain back into gear. There were things that needed to be done, that needed to be started before the storm came in earnest!
Another round of thunder punctuates just how little time Grace has to gather everything and get it all ready. The rain came sparsely at first before becoming a steady drizzle. Just enough to whet the palate and make one eager for the rest of the storm to arrive. For Grace, this meant pulling all of his blankets and pillows and all manner of soft things that he owned to make a lovely little nest on the couch. All so that he could have the best view of the storm.
There was soft ‘50s jazz playing in the background. His favorite quilt was clinging to his shoulders as he made what could be the closest thing to coffee in light years. It really wasn’t all that great but it was better than nothing at all. Grace blows on the mug of steaming liquid. Oh what he wouldn’t give to have access to honest-to-goodness creamer and sugar again. Or just a Starbucks in general.
Thunder booms loudly just as Frank Sinatra comes on over the speakers. Grace hums happily as he sits down on his couch with his still steaming mug of not-quite-coffee. Luckily today was his day off from teaching. Meaning that he could sit and listen to the rain pour and the thunder claps for as long as he wanted. Or at least for however long his ‘caretakers’ had planned for it to go on. Grace was just happy that he was able to have just this moment.
It was perfect in all senses of the word. But it did make him wonder. If the Eridians were able to recreate a rainstorm with frightening accuracy; could they also make it snow? Another loud clap of thunder shook his little cottage and the rain started coming down even harder. Grace smiled softly to himself and sipped on his drink. That was a line of questioning for later. Right now he’ll just continue to enjoy this small comfort.