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I know it’s getting to be a problem when I start dreaming of ice-cream and sushi instead of the usual forests and beaches.
The food at Erid isn’t miserable—the scientists spent a lot of time making sure I was comfortable here—but it’s also not good. Like Earth food good. I don’t want to complain, because: A, the science Eridians have more important things to do, and B, they’d probably just dump more glucose in it anyway.
Rocky raps on my door with a claw. “Open door, Grace!”
I grab a bag of vitamin powder and a cup of water. “I’m slow, okay?”
Rocky moves comfortably in Erid’s gravity. Me? Not so much. He tries not to rub it in my face too often.
I open the door and we walk along the coastline. It’s not really a coastline, because the ocean is frozen. I told them a few months ago that the water was too hot, and they overcompensated. The Eridians haven’t figured out this whole biosphere thing yet.
But it was nice of them to give me a sun.
It’s also—insanely—snowing. The biosphere is quiet even normally, and today the thick layer of snow on the ground takes in all sound.
Rocky says pointedly, “You’re sulking!”
I don’t know how he sounds pointed, but he does it.
“I’m not,” I say.
“Yes you are,” Rocky says. I am. “You grumpy today, no talk, no eat breakfast. Grace think Rocky stupid, question?”
I pause and bend down to grab a gloveful of snow. And then getting up takes a while, with the gravity. “It’s just that—well. I miss food.”
Rocky points at my cup. “Food is right there.”
“I know,” I say. “I just wish I had more to choose from. It gets boring eating the same thing every day, you know?”
Rocky snickers. “Humans are weird. Must enjoy food, otherwise start to sulk.”
I flap my arms at him as if shooing an annoying bird. “Oh, c’mon!”
He scuttles away and I turn towards the icy sea, wondering if the lakes and oceans are all frozen over on Earth too. I miss Earth, and I miss everyone there. The sun hasn’t stopped dimming yet. Even if it had, it would take sixteen years for the news to reach us.
“Grace?”
“Yeah?”
“You… like sea, question? Is frozen. Humans live in such cold atmosphere.”
“Sure. I mean, I’d rather it be liquid. But it’s pretty nice here, considering the outside.”
“Of course here better than outside! Outside Grace dies!”
We laugh about this together like it’s the funniest thing in the world. I dump the vitamin powder into the cup, screw the lid on, and give it a few violent shakes.
I like it here, is the thing. I have Eridian friends: Carol and Patrick and Atticus and Elizabeth, all of whose names were given by me based on my first impressions. I have “dinner” every week with a biologist I unfortunately named Theodoris because of a truly awful first meeting. He turned out to be very nice (albeit also very strange) and I’m regretting it now. He probably doesn’t deserve to be stuck with that name forever.
The point is—I have more friends on Erid than I did on Earth.
But on Earth I also had rain and grass and birds chirping in the springtime. I miss spring. I miss seasons, which are impossible to recreate, no matter how real the rest of the biosphere might be. It’s weird living in a world where you yourself are the only recognizable thing.
I want to tell Rocky this, but then I’d have to explain grass and birds and all that. Which I’m not in the mood for right now.
I slurp the vitamin sludge. It is, as always, sweet.
“Grace!” Rocky squeaks. “Grace, open door!”
I open the door.
Rocky spins around dramatically. “I have surprise for you! Big big big surprise.”
“—And that is?”
He raises an admonishing claw, half-jokingly. “So impatient!”
I sigh. “Okay, fine.”
He leads me out of the biosphere to the nearby science center, and into one of the labs. There isn’t actually a tunnel or a space for me in this specific lab like there is in most others, so I kind of just stand awkwardly outside. I wave my flashlight around. There are a few Eridians who seem to be expecting my arrival. “Uhhh?”
“Grace,” greets one.
“Hey,” I say. “So what’s this about?”
English is now a common second language to be learning, which is… odd. But refreshing. Rocky used to have to translate everything I said.
“This lab,” Rocky says proudly, “has made new food for you. Food is you.”
He drops a vaguely fleshy thing into the airlock.
Food is you, he had said.
“Oh my God!” I say. “Oh my… Is that my flesh!?”
“Yes yes yes! Food is for enjoyment! You like, question?”
I don’t know what to say. Do I thank them? Politely decline and tell them to never do it again? How long did this even take?
The meat is also raw. Even if I were to take it, I’d need to cook it first, somehow, before eating it.
Then it suddenly occurs to me that since it was synthesized in a lab, there technically wouldn’t be any risk of bacteria contamination.
I could…? I could eat it raw, right now. For—science. Reasons.
Rocky is still waiting on me expectantly for an answer.
“This is really incredible, guys,” I say quickly, grabbing the chunk of me-meat. “Both as a scientific achievement and personally for me. I need to go now! Bye.”
In my haste to leave I almost trip twice on nothing. Rocky snickers. The other scientists hmph at him disapprovingly.
The me-meat has been sitting in my freezer for a week and I haven’t touched it.
The Eridians don’t know that, though. I said that I liked it, thank you very much, and they’ve been sending over a new chunk every morning.
I really need to get rid of them before they take up all my freezer space. I know, I know, I’m a chicken. I should just fess up and tell them that I haven’t actually been eating the me-meat because it freaks me out and they can stop sending more and use their amazing science brains to do more important science things.
On the other hand, I have been craving something other than vitamin sludge for a while.
Seared, it tastes like pork.
I kind of like it.
“You know what I miss?” I say, kicking randomly at a stone on the ground. They’ve finally gotten the temperature right, and the snow is gone.
“Yeah,” says Rocky. “You mean other than birds, trees, the moon, all that? We’re trying to set up a moon, but the cycle’s complicated. Sorry about the birds and the trees.”
“Thanks for that,” I say. “Seriously. I appreciate it. Tell the scientists that they’re awesome. But”—I take a bite of my me-steak—“what I really miss are my kids.”
“Your kids?”
“Like, the ones I used to teach. On Earth.” I wonder how they’re doing. Did they survive?
“Oh!” Rocky says. “Actually, that was what I was going to talk to you about. Some of the schools around here have been suggesting the idea of you being a teacher. There are still logistics to be figured out, but they think it would be a good position.”
My heart jumps. “Really? I’d love to do that.”
Rocky wriggles his carapace. “I know, right? I’m happy for you.”
I’m more than happy. I’m wholly ecstatic. I get to teach again. I get to teach again. I’m going to love these kids, I’m sure of it. Just like I loved my Earth kids. I’m going to get bean bags—imaginary bean bags?—and crochet astronomical entities and make xenonite chemical models and decorate the classroom with the cheesiest schoolteacher decorations I can think of, and no one’s going to judge me for it.
“Ugh, you still look disgusting when you eat,” Rocky says, interrupting my train of thought.
“Yeah, I bet I do,” I tease, taking another large bite and chewing it very very slowly to watch his reaction. “Hey, do you think I could get that food lab to make me a burger bun?”