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I knew what I was getting into.
The journey to Erid is long, tedious, and pretty boring when there’s not some huge life-threatening situation keeping us occupied. I signed up for this when I chose to turn back and save my best friend from the Taumeoba. The idea of returning to Earth was long abandoned, in my mind. After I went to retrieve Rocky, we only had enough fuel to do one.
Erid or Earth.
The choice was pretty clear.
I was never meant to return to Earth anyway. Rocky’s gift of fuel was a surprise. A welcome one, but a surprise nonetheless. It would have been just as much of a surprise to Earth as it was to me. Who says there’s even an Earth to go back to? I have no idea what condition my home planet is in, and if they would be able to accommodate me when I get back. They were prepared for The Beetles. Not for the entire Hail Mary, surviving on its last legs.
Humanity would, hopefully, be able to get by with the information and samples I sent back in the probes. It simply made more sense to go to Erid– if we sent a Beetle there, they may not be able to make sense of it. It’s not worth the risk. And plus, Rocky was one of the few people in my life (That I can remember at this point, anyway) that genuinely cared for me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m as much at home here with him on the Hail Mary as I was on Earth.
Nearly 4 years stuck in a spaceship with only one other soul to keep me company. It goes about as well as you’d expect.
I love Rocky, of course. I’d do anything for him, as I’ve demonstrated. But there’s always a limit to how much you can hang out with someone before you start wishing for some peace and quiet. I can’t exactly escape him. He can hear me everywhere I go on the ship, and while the humor of it has died down, he’s not afraid to remind me of that fact.
The lack of privacy can just get a tad bit annoying at times. My deteriorating mental state and yearning for human contact was also fraying at my nerves, and sometimes I had to take to ignoring Rocky in favor of not snapping at him.
The crushing boredom wasn’t doing any wonders for us either. The days ticked by slowly, and I had to force myself up to do things. Rocky would tell me stories about Erid. I want to tell him about Earth too, but then I’d get all up in my head about what I was doing. I’m never going back. I’ve established that, come to peace with it. But it was still difficult to think about, on the days where I found myself wishing for the early morning fog and the look on my students’ face when they let themselves be really invested in a lesson.
My days consist of a lot of sitting around, messing around with things in the lab, watching Rocky work on his own projects, and skimming through all the media Stratt pirated for me.
With everything Rocky’s been telling me about Eridian culture and biology, there’s probably a butt-load of papers and science I should be doing. I’ve tried to sit down and write a few papers, but as soon as I sit down all of my energy just… drains from me. Perhaps there’s something there about depression and not finding your old interests to be enjoyable anymore, but I guess I just don’t have it in me to write any more papers. I haven’t tried to write a proper paper in years, and, well. Look where that got me.
Who’s going to read them, anyway? I have no way to send a message back to Earth. Rocky can’t get a grasp on my written language. The people most likely to figure that out are Eridian linguists, but it’s useless to show them a paper on their own lives. The things I can glean from Rocky have to be dull in comparison to what they’ve already discovered about themselves.
Today’s a slow day. Every day is a slow day, but today feels worse. I was barely able to sleep, kept awake by a piercing pain in my stomach and an ache throughout my entire body. It wasn’t that I’d run out of food. It’s only been a few months. I have just barely enough for the rest of the trip, if you count the Taumeoba.
I’ve been trying to eat as little as what was safe. I was going to run out of real food at some point, so I was doing my best to ration it for when I deserved it. So, I didn’t eat some days. It wasn’t the worst. It made me miserable, but I was already miserable. What’s a little more? The feeling of hunger never really leaves, but I try to take comfort in the thought that my pathetic ramen supply will last a few extra days.
I’m going to starve no matter what. I’m taking this grand journey to Erid, but the truth is I’ll probably lay down and die the second we make it. I want to see Rocky back home. That’s what I’m saving my strength for. As long as I can be there for that, and guarantee his safety, I can die content.
I’m sitting on the floor of the med bay, back pressed against Rocky’s enclosure. He’s tinkering with a bit of Xenonite. I’m not entirely sure what he’s making, but I’m just letting him do his thing.
I used to sleep on an actual bed, the one I’d woken up in. Ever since Rocky moved back into my ship, though, things had changed. I’d dragged a bunch of my clothes over and made a little makeshift bed/nest, curled right against Rocky. It wasn’t physically that comfortable, but it made it easier for us to be together. To be honest, the amount we depended on each other was definitely getting unhealthy, but I’m certainly not going to make a big deal out of it if he isn’t. It’s probably just as comforting for him as it is for me, so what’s being a little clingy? I would rather wake up with a sore back than be alone again.
That’s another good reason for me accompanying him back to Erid. Neither of us would have to suffer through the lonely journey home. 4 years completely alone with a pretty hefty chance of dying, or 4 years with one other person with an even bigger chance of dying. I picked my poison.
The keys of my computer are worn by time and use. I’m surprised it’s still in working condition after how much it got tossed around during... Well, everything. I’m scrolling through a bunch of old video files. One of the better things Stratt did for me is piling a ton of movies on here. It was most definitely illegal, but I guess that didn’t matter when the apocalypse was approaching. I wonder how she’s dealing with the consequences of her actions now. Glad I don’t have to be there to witness it.
With everything Rocky’s been teaching me about his culture, I might as well return the favor. So, movies! I’m curious about what Eridians have for their own entertainment. Theatre, maybe? I don’t think movies would be big there, because of how important the visuals tend to be. And… well… Eridians. Maybe it was equivalent to an audio book? I’ll have to remember to ask Rocky.
I shiver despite the quilt I’ve wrapped tightly around myself. Other than the pain and misery, the lack of food was making me very cold, and very tired.
“Grace pick movie, question?” Rocky trills, tone quiet and concerned. The translator is nowhere to be seen. I’ve spent enough time with him now that I don’t need it anymore. I’ve even gotten better at recognizing different emotions in his voice. Dynamics, octaves, tempo– all of these things were important to the way Eridians communicated.
Awesome, right? The problem is, I can tell he’s sad right now. Probably about me.
What’d he say again? Right, yeah. Stupid, tired brain. I’m supposed to be looking for a movie right now. I’d originally just been pulling my own marathon, going through films that looked familiar. Maybe as an attempt to jog my memory, but mostly just to entertain myself. Rocky had overheard them, complained, and then gotten curious. Now, he was insisting I properly show him one. He’s waiting, texturizer in hand, and curled up as close as he can to me within his little hamster ball.
It’s more stressful than you might think. I was in charge of introducing movies to real, alien life. This is part of first contact that they don’t tell you about. (Or, I guess, second contact? Do the Astrophage count? Probably. But they weren’t intelligent.)
“I–I–I’m working on it, b-bud,” I assured him, resuming my search with a new burst of energy. Ugh! This is so hard!!! I need to make a good impression, but I’m suddenly blanking on every movie ever written. Ever! It’s funny how the brain does that. The second you need the information, it vanishes from your brain without a trace. It’s a phenomenon I’ve witnessed in my students, and myself, countless times, but it was never any less frustrating.
It doesn’t help that I was never much of a movie person. I was much more into live theatre, when I could afford the tickets. Fantasy and action weren’t my thing, and that made up a good portion of the movies I remember being considered “classics.”
I’m scrolling through a long section of Disney movies when my mouse hovers over a certain title. I stare at it for a second, thinking. Hmm… Well. It wouldn’t be the worst idea, and I remember liking this movie.
“Allllllright, Rocky! I think I found one you’ll like. G-guh-guessss what?”
“Chicken butt,” Rocky replies hesitantly, with more than a tinge of exasperation in his tone. Hah! Just as I’ve trained him! I cackle, and almost forget what I was planning to say.
“I f–f-found a movie for us to watch!” The ‘F’ sound has my teeth grinding uncomfortably against my lips. I wrestle with it for a second, and then force myself through it. I take a quick pause between my sentences in an attempt to calm myself and my stutter, but I know it’s not going to do anything. “It’s about a little girl, and an alien. We humans have a lot of different ideas and depictions of what aliens are like. Th–th–this one’s unique, but it’s still nothing like you. To be honest, I can’t say I’ve seen anyone guess that the first aliens would be… giant rock spiders.”
“Rocky scary space monster,” he sings, proud.
“Y-yes, yes. Grace leaky space monster,” I recite. That’s our little duo, ain’t it?
“It’s called L–l-l–llllll” Damn S sound! The feeling of my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth nearly has me choking. The sensation makes me want to gag, and the tension building makes it so much worse.
Rocky doesn’t make any comment about my stutter. It’s not like he knows better! I’m the only human he’s ever met. I’m a pretty weird human, so that’s probably not going to be helpful for Eridian scientists trying to get a grasp on my species, but whatever! The point is, as far as he’s concerned, this is just how all humans speak. He’s asked me about it before, when he realized the amount of stuttering had been inconsistent. He was just checking that it wasn’t a translation thing. He’d even been sad that his translator didn’t mimic the pattern, when we’d been using that. I had awkwardly assured him that it wasn’t an issue with the translator, and he only needed to pay attention to the main part of the word. I told him that the extra bits at the beginning were just… a dialect thing? I don’t really remember what I said. That’s why I’m bad at lying, I can never remember them enough to keep them going.
I’m definitely going to need to explain it to Rocky soon. I owe him a proper explanation. I should probably start explaining neurological, psychological, and mental conditions to him soon, considering I most likely suffered from a fair few of them. It was a big conversation to start, so I’ve been procrastinating. But hey. I have 3 more years to get the job done!
“Lilo and Stitch,” I finally choke out. “Th–that’s what it’s called. It’s the name of the two main characters so… Uhm. You’ll catch on. I believe in you.”
“Rocky smart.” He says.
I haven’t fully explained the concept of animation to him. Maybe I should…
“S-so, th-there are few types of movies, alright? Most of the big ones are either in live-action, or animated. L–l–live action is when they record real humans. I’ll show you one of those soon. Animation is a ton of quick drawings. I told you what drawings are, right? P–people spend a lot of time drawing out every frame, slightly different than the last, to try and make a fluid, moving drawing. That’s two dimensional animation. There’s also three dimensional and…. we’ll get there eventually. But the movie I’m about to show you is 2D– that’s two dimensional– which means flat shapes. Two dimensions, width and length. Does that make sense?”
“Mostly,” Rocky chimes. “Grace talk too much. Rocky want see movie!”
“Hey!” I argued. “I’m trying to help you out here.”
“Rocky will understand in time,” he insists, doing a quick, impatient spin in his ball. “If have questions, will ask. We start, question?”
“Y–you better not make me stop the movie every 5 seconds,” I warn, clicking onto the video and letting it buffer for a minute. I readjust myself in my blankets and try to get comfortable, to no avail.
“Grace Rocky watch movie!”
“Grace Rocky watch movie,” I agree, hitting play.
I watch the Disney intro appear on his texturizer. I smile, and my heart skips around all happy in my chest. There’s something giddy about showing him something from my planet.
The first scene starts, and I feel a sense of deja vu. I must have watched this a few times before. Maybe it was my favorite Disney movie? It seems like a possibility. The animation style was satisfying, and the story definitely seems like something a little Ryland Grace would enjoy.
“Moving drawings, amaze, amaze, amaze!” Rocky chirps, surprised.
“I–I know, right?” I agree, excitedly. It must be a bit bizarre for him, coming from a species that isn’t able to see, to be introduced to human art and animation. We have so many different styles and ways of showing things. It might get confusing, but I’m totally up for showing everything to him.
Rocky doesn’t say anything for a while, transfixed on his texturizer. Screenager! I joke in my head. I haven’t thought about that world in years, but I heard it a lot from my students. But… that’s technically not a screen, and he’s a lot older than a teenager, so the joke falls flat. I’m glad I kept it to myself for once.
I think we’re in the clear, and I start to settle in myself.
Then, not even 3 minutes in, come the dreaded words:
“Grace pause, question?”
Come on, Rocky! Okay, look. I know this is very new to him. I know he has questions. I’m not upset about those questions. Like I said, I knew what I was getting into. But it was still going to be annoying if he was like this the entire movie.
I pause the movie anyway. “W-what’s up, bud?”
“Why humans talk weird, question?”
What? Oh! I guess I never explained accents to him. That might be a bit of a problem. As established earlier, he was only used to my voice and the very bland and automated voice that we occasionally got from the Hail Mary.
“Differenty humans pronounce their words differently. It’s called an accent, and it’s mostly based off the region of the world you come from. So you might notice–”
“No, Rocky understand that. On Erid, is ♫♩♪ Other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“Other humans do not do…” he does the little rubbing motion with his fingers like he always does when he’s thinking of something to say. He taps his legs a few times, frustrated. “Need word. Grace does. Extra sounds at the beginning of speech.”
Oh. Crap. I didn’t even think of him putting this together. Gah! I should’ve thought of this! He’s too smart for his own good.
“Oh. Uhm….” I hesitate, but it’s not like I’ll be able to get out of it this time. He’s heard a few other voices, so now mine is the odd one out.
“Y-yeah. T–th–that’s just a Grace thing, bud. Not all humans do it. It’s only, l-like, one percent of the population.”
“What is?” Rocky hums, worried. “Is… sickness?”
“Nothing d-dangerous,” I assure him. “It’s called a s-s-stutter.” Who the heck decided that the disorder that made consonants hard to say should contain two HARD T SOUNDS in its name?! “T-the muscles I use to speak twitch out of my control, so it causes a bunch of the r-repetitions you’ve been hearing. Repetition is when I repeat a sound. It can also look- er, sound like elongation or blocking.” The words come to me naturally, probably buried somewhere deep in my brain despite the fact I haven’t had any use for them. “Elongation is when I hold it out like thisssssssss,” I say, pseudo-stuttering, just as an example. “Blocking is when I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Th-there might be more, b-but that’s all I can remember now.”
“Interesting.” Rocky says, concern replaced by curiosity. “So, not dangerous, just annoying, question?... Statement. Is cure, question?
“N–nuh-not that I, uhm, know of. You can’t take medicine or get surgery for it, or anything. It’s a neurological condition. I th-think…. I used to go to therapy for it, but I don’t think it was any help.”
(Getting called out of class. Ryland Grace? The humiliating walk to the door, all eyes on him. Sitting in a room, alone with a strange, fake-happy woman, index cards in hand. “Read this, slowly.” First grade level sentences, despite the fact he’s in middle school. Does she think he’s stupid? He stutters. She has him read it again. Tries breathing. Tries all the different techniques she has on hand. They’re all stupid, time consuming, and nothing that will ever be helpful in an actual conversation. He reads the passage without them, with very little disfluency. He’s proud, she’s disappointed. “You didn’t use any of our techniques.” But they’re not helpful. She makes him read it again, with ‘easy onsets’ ‘light contact’ and whatever else she comes up with. Again, and again, and again. The ‘techniques’ make everything harder. She never believes him. He goes back to class. Same thing next week, and the week after that so on and so forth because the school adjustment counselor is convinced it’s worth it. It never helps.)
I blink at the memory, less of a coherent vision and more just chunks and scenes from a long period of time.
“Is Grace… okay, question?” Rocky asks.
“Y-yeah. L–l-luh-like– hhngh. L-like I said, it doesn’t hurt me.”
“No, not like that,” Rocky insists. Someone needs to be clearer with their words, and for once it wasn’t me!... Bad joke? Bad joke.
“Does it make Grace… sad, question?”
Oh. That’s sweet of him. I swallow, and mull my answer around in my head for a minute.
How do I feel about my stutter? Well, that’s a loaded question. I haven’t really thought about it. I can’t remember when I was really, really young. It was probably excusable for a while. A lot of kids stutter when they’re first learning to talk, but it goes away after a few years. Mine, obviously, stuck around. I knew I went to speech therapy in middle school. I knew I hated it, and I probably hated my stutter just the same. As I got older, it bothered me less. I wasn’t around as many people, and the people I were around were (mostly) mature enough not to give me crap for it. Then, I went back to middle school. I remember it being a bit of a pain then, but I managed. People on Project Hail Mary were too stressed about other things, and they respected me too much to mention. Stratt would’ve probably had their heads on a stick if they tried anything.
Now, light years away from all that with only my alien best friend for company? It was the least of my problems. I’m starving, I’m cold, and I could literally die at any moment. Why should the way my voice sounds matter to me? It doesn’t matter to Rocky, and it likely won’t matter to anyone else I meet on Erid.
“I-it doesn’t make me sad. N-n-not anymore,” I say with a small smile, finding that I actually mean it.
Rocky sings a short, celebratory note, seemingly satisfied with my answer.
We sit in that safe, comfortable silence for a minute. I’m trying to think of something to say next, but I can’t. The conversation feels…. finished. No big plot twist, no emotional outburst. I was just being honest with myself, and with him. It feels… nice.
“So…” Rocky drawls. “Watch more movie, question?”
I laugh, bright and surprised. “Oh-hoh! I know wh-where your p-priorities are now, Rocky!”
Rocky makes that high pitched sound I’ve catalogued as giggling, and it only makes me laugh harder. Good to know laughs are contagious, even across alien species.
“Am joking! Am joking! Thank Grace for being honest, Rocky happy Grace happy!”
Oh, no, Ryland. Don’t you dare get emotional! I just said no emotional outbursts!
“Yeah, bud. W-we can watch more of the movie. I’m gl-gl-gah! Glad you like it so far. Th-thanks for asking about me. I-I’m sorry I duh…didn’t tell you sooner.”
Rocky hushes me, and presses up to my side through his ball again. He feels warm, and it feels amazing through the chill I’ve been dealing with for the past forever.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Rocky ready!”
I hit play again, and let myself enjoy what I feel confident in calling one of the classics. (With my alien best friend! Hopefully it’s a good first impression, because we’ve got a lot of films to get through…)
“Ohana means family,” Rocky murmurs.