Work Text:
The world is ending.
And not in the way it has been ending for the past 150 odd years of industrialisation and climate change. The real deal, environmental armageddon, everyone is going to die in like 30 years if we don’t stop it, type of ending.
It's a thought that unsettles Grace as he cheerily introduces the latest wave of science recruits to the Vat:
“Welcome! I’m Dr Grace, your tour guide for this evening? Is it evening? I haven’t seen the sun today, quick, somebody help me here– ok I see nodding, good, had around a 50/50 chance on that one.
I’ll be giving you a rundown on the lay of the lab, please don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and please don’t feed the animals in lab-coats, although, a word to the wise: Dr Lindsay over there can be quite demanding over stealing sweets.”
As was the effect of Dr Grace’s charm, the nervous gaggle of science recruits, half of which would likely be leaving the Vat with rigorous NDA’s by the end of the week, began to relax.
Dr Grace began his invasion of the lab:
“Alright, listening up, to my right we have the lovely Dr Wang who, alongside being able to mix a killer cocktail, is working on close research of Astrophage mitotic division, Dr Wang, these are our new recruits!”
“Good evening, Dr Grace, good to see you, I believe that three of you will end up working under me, I’m not a conversationalist like Grace here, but finish your work, and we’ll get along fine.”
“Dr Wang! You sell yourself short.”
Wang smiled fondly.
“Emphasis on what Dr Wang said earlier guys, we’re all working together here, like incredibly busy bees in one gigantic, world-defining and fate-defying hive. So if you’re falling behind, there’s no shame, but please tell someone, otherwise it ends up on my desk, and then I have to go to the Queen Bee and she gets scary about productivity projections. Capisce?”
The entranced recruits nodded eagerly. The mannerisms of Dr Grace were effective bulldozers to the walls of social and academic insecurity the field of scientific research established.
“Alright moving forward, on my left we have the storage cabinets for the Astrophage, now repeat after me: “always check the measurement before use”
Grace paused, watching as the recruits flusteredly realised he actually intended them to copy him:
“Always check the measurement before use” a crowd of exuberantly decorated academics replied awkwardly.
“Excellent! Really can’t mess that one up guys, we will literally all go kaboom, before I move on, any questions?”
He waited for exactly three seconds, before turning and continuing further into the lab.
As he overcompensated in bubbly, ever-so-slightly nervous energy to ease the obvious tension of the recruits who, prior to his introduction, had been informed that the “Project Hail Mary” was quite literally the doomsday option, Grace was struck by just how sorely he missed his kids.
His kids, who sat on the other side of the world to him, probably torturing the sub, and definitely not doing the work he assigned them.
His kids, who would inevitably face the brunt of the incoming ice age.
His kids, who had found in him a stable, kind adult, only for him to leave them high and dry in the middle of the school year.
Dr Grace had spent many a sleepless night perfecting his classroom for his kids.
From the model planets that hung from the ceiling, to the self-funded school supplies that sat in a tub at the front of the room, to the twenty-odd posters that lined the walls of the classroom, each laminated by hand.
Dr Grace had spent perhaps a greater number of nights perfecting his lessons for his kids.
He obsessively planned activities that he knew would be memorable, from DIY rockets that got the principal called to his classroom, to chemical compound models made of chocolate and marshmallows (this one, unsurprisingly, was frequently requested as a repeat experiment). It mattered deeply to Grace that his kids enjoyed his classroom. It was the first step to building trust, making sure they learnt science, whilst learning that he was a safe adult figure.
And if he overheard one of his kids brag to a friend that he got into “Mr Honey’s Science Class” that year, well that was nobody’s business, a little ego-boost never hurt anyone, and certainly not someone with an ego like Grace.
Six months before Grace was “recruited” to the Petrova Taskforce, he had noticed a student in his 2nd period, 7th grade science, looking tired.
Normally, this would inspire no stupefaction or concern, a middle schooler being tired? Not exactly unheard of. But Audrey was normally alert during his lessons, and for every period this week she had sat with her head leaning into her hands, eyes half open as she fought against the calling of sleep.
Grace notified the office, who in turn notified the parents, resulting in the expected outcome of absolutely nothing happening because middle schoolers being tired was an expected condition.
Grace did not accept this outcome.
Halfway through the second week of Audrey snoozing through all his classes, he called out to her to stay back at the end of the lesson, naturally, because middle schoolers were little shits, this inspired a wave of “oooo Audrey’s in trouble”, but little commotion or cause for speculation.
Audrey sheepishly approached his desk as the bell rang.
“Audrey, I don’t want to intrude on your life, but I can’t help but notice that you’ve been falling asleep through my lessons recently. Is everything ok at home?”
“Everything is fine sir, it's just…” She trailed off
“What’s wrong Audrey?”
“I haven’t been eating breakfast is all, and I rarely have lunch, it's hard to stay awake when I’m so hungry”
Grace, who distinctly remembers long days counting down the hours, minutes, until dinner, until he could have a real meal for the day, found himself immediately obliged to help Audrey.
And because Grace’s heart acted around two and a half minutes before his mind, he blurted
“Come in before period one if you can, I’ll start bringing breakfast”
And upon realising how concerning that situation would appear objectively he followed with:
“Bring your friends too! Or anyone else who might be hungry, it’ll be like a breakfast party!”
“A breakfast party…?” Audrey questioned
Grace held an unwavering smile.
“Alright sir, thank you”
Grace opened his bank app and sighed, accepting that he was about to go on the high-sodium, high-carb diet known as “3 instant ramen bricks a day” for the next fortnight.
That afternoon Grace bought: 3 boxes of cereal, a stack of paper bowls and spoons, a carton of long life milk, and, because he was feeling particularly lavish, a carton of orange juice and little cups that were definitely single use shot glasses.
And at 7:30am the next morning, Audrey, three of her friends, and five assorted students he had little interaction with arrived at his classroom.
Audrey stayed awake the whole day.
Eventually, Grace received funding from the school to continue his “Breakfast Party Club” – once added, the “party” title was extremely difficult to remove. Thus, next to Grace’s desk slowly appeared a toaster, microwave, and even an electric kettle. Simultaneously, the number of breakfast partygoers exploded, causing an unexpected increase in student results at Grover Cleveland Middle.
The warm life Grace had constructed for himself was shattered when Eva Stratt placed his post-doctoral thesis on his desk. Firstly, who the fart kidnaps a teacher. Secondly, what kind of sicko reads someone’s thesis?
Michael Carl, world class FBI bodyguard, capable of killing a man without access to a gun, knife, or his fists, was currently observing Dr Ryland Grace as he pottered around a million dollar lab, attempting to “experiment” with the three, extremely valuable aliens left to him.
Carl didn’t really understand what Stratt saw in the man, there were plenty of scientists who stood by their likely incorrect beliefs who weren’t eccentric middle school teachers who wanted to befriend every person they met. Yet here they were, and good lord the charm was working.
Dr Grace, a thirty-something man, had batted his eyelashes around big watery eyes, and forlornly sighed into his walkie talky, and somehow this had led Carl to using his work card on 20 boxes of tinfoil, 10 rolls of duct tape, and the store’s entire stock of Sour Skittles. The worst part is, he’s not even mad about it, this is the most fun he’s had at work since he killed a man without access to a gun, knife, or his fists.
Grace had managed to breed the aliens, because of course he did, and of course Carl got roped into it and assigned as the man’s permanent guard. At least, he supposes, the man is too likeable to attack physically, giving Carl more free time then what he had during his court-mandated time off work after he killed a man without access to a gun, knife, or his fists.
Aboard the Chinese military carrier ship, lovingly nicknamed “Stratt’s Vat” Grace found himself the unofficial supplier of dubiously work appropriate items, that sometimes crossed into the territory of “outright illegal, but Stratt thinks she’s going to prison anyway, so she won’t care.”
This was officially due to his direct line of connection to Stratt at the first officer of the project, and unofficially due to the fact that Grace had big, blue eyes and a really pitiful disappointed face that made saying “no” to his requests exceptionally difficult.
This was how Grace found himself knocking a cheerful pattern upon Stratt’s office at 3:56 AM.
“Come in, Grace”
“Stratt!” Grace placed two coffees on her desk, phase one: appease, completed.
“So… I was talking to the crew, and they had an itty, bitty request”
Stratt placed her head into her hands.
“What now?” She groaned.
“Well, they um, they want weed.”
“Weed?”
“Yeah, as in like devil’s lettuce, a visit to Mary Jane, pot–”
“I know what it is Grace. Honestly, I’m surprised this wasn’t asked earlier, alright, approved. Tell them it will be in by Friday.”
Grace fisted the air in celebration.
“Oh, and Grace?”
He spun back toward her.
“Don’t let them start without me.”
Thus, the strangest blunt rotation of Grace’s life was established.
Olesya, expectedly, was affectionate and overbearing.
Dr Leclerc, who got involved attempting to take his mind off Antarctica, would not stop harassing people about penguins.
Dr Redell, who got involved for the love of the game, became strangely subdued.
And Eva Stratt had become relaxed enough to turn off her Ipad. Oddly, she grasped Dr Grace’s face and pet the scruff of his beard, murmuring about “Grace being too good for this world”, she had then placed her forehead against his, and softly said “If it happens, I’m so sorry, I love you too much not to.”
And Dr Grace, who had in fact requested the weed of his own desire, was confused at Stratt’s behaviour, but mostly just giddy that everyone was getting along with each other.
The members of the Vat lingered around Grace’s desk more than necessary as he joined a Zoom Call at approximately 8pm.
“Hey everyone! I’ve missed you so much, how is Ms Wilson going with running the Breakfast Party Club?”
Dr Lokken whispered to Dimitri “it’s attractive that he’s so good with kids, right?”
“Oh absolu–” Dimitri was cut off by Dr Shapiro, who interjected: “somewhat, I find the teaching itself hotter”
“I know far too much about you” Dr Lokken returned to Shapiro.
“When will I be back? Well that’s a really tough question, hopefully I should be back permanently by the end of next year, but– keep this one quiet, I haven’t requested time yet– I want to come back and see you guys before this year finishes!”
Dimitri and Dr Lokken shared a glance, this man loved his students more than anything, he could have a job at any lab he wanted, he could own the lab for Pete’s sake, after his paramount work on Earth-saving Petrova Taskforce, yet Dr Grace wanted to return to his classroom. It was charming, yet undeniably disappointing for his colleagues who felt a sort of anticipatory sadness at the notion of letting him go.
No one could have seen it coming.
“Always check the measurements” Grace had drilled it into every recruit who entered his lab.
Yet somehow, one had gone unnoticed.
A gram was all it took to obliterate countless lives.
A gram was all it took to rewrite the course of his life.
He couldn’t do it. This was not his place, his students deserved the stability he could provide before the world froze over.
He had only just begun to win their trust back with countless Zoom calls. What damage would it do psychologically to these poor kids if the teacher who uprooted their lives in the middle of the year suddenly got shot off to space?
Eva knew what had to be done.
She knew that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he stayed, that every inevitable death that occurred from the incoming cold would land as a burden upon Grace’s shoulders.
She knew that if he stayed, they both wouldn’t be able to live with themselves.
The gene, that stupid gene.
She would be the monster for him, so he could crawl under the safety of the covers.
She would shoulder this burden, this regret, this guilt.
And she would hope that as he gazed out upon the constellations, further away from home then man had ever been before, he would see that her actions, her shameful, vile actions, came from a place of love.
Grace awoke 11.3 light years from Earth, amnesiac and disorientated, hurtling at breakneck speeds toward the saviour of humanity, and the saviour of himself.
And when Grace nervously crept into a bizarre, spiral bridge across deep space, he carried with him echoes of the love that had filled his life upon Earth.
Grace, a middle school teacher, approached what appeared to him as a frightened student: curious, hopeful, scared. And so Grace began to dance, because the absurdities of life transcend our fear into love.
Rocky, who had spent the past 46 years alone, floating in the void of space, saw a lanky, long creature approach from the stars. It awkwardly fumbled toward him, and when it began to chatter in a chirping laugh that sounded distinctly like a Pebble’s babbling, Rocky decided he would rearrange the stars to look after this curious creature.
Rocky doubted that the squishy species known as “homosapiens”, or “humans” as they are more commonly called, were ever still.
Rocky had gathered this observation after witnessing Grace sleeping, this was not a new practice, and in fact Rocky had watched Grace sleep for the past 1459 days, and he would watch Grace sleep until they arrived at Erid in around 3 days, wherein he would reunite with his beloved Adrian, and then bring Adrian with him to watch Grace sleep.
Rocky’s most recent activity, to distract himself from the increased visibility of the human’s skeletal structure, was keeping a categorised tally of the types of movements the human made in its sleep. It was a surefire way to ensure that the human was, in fact, alive.
So far it had twitched around 53 times, rotated 180 degrees twice, and sneezed once.
Then it began making the most peculiar noise. Upon hearing the guttural growl Rocky had frozen, the noise sounding deeply similar to the growl of a ♬♬♪♬♪, a predator of the skies that swooped down upon unsuspecting Eridians. This fear was dispelled when Grace’s large face orifice opened and the noise repeated, followed by a soft whistle.
Eugh, disgusting.
Grace’s arrival upon Erid caused a revolution of Eridian social structures.
Not that this was Grace’s fault, he was a deep source of interest for Eridians from all walks of life, the revolution had been entirely motivated by Rocky.
You see, traditionally Eridians live in clustered communities known as “hives”. The hives specialise in a particular field, and never strayed from this speciality. This initially allowed for fast improvement of their societies, however in the past Millenia it had simply led to a stagnated culture, as hives became specialised they became less willing to share information with other areas, creating a culture of exclusivity.
Rocky, who did not care that the food science hive was currently not talking to the chemistry hive, mobilised Erid to save Grace, and hosted the first inter-hive thrum since the discovery of Star-Eaters.
Even more dramatically, following the effective collaboration between hives to save the life of his alien, Rocky demanded that the hives continue to collaborate to allow for a higher standard of care for his human.
It was extremely difficult to deny Rocky, the saviour of their planet, anything, especially when the requests related to Grace, their first friendly alien, and the other saviour of their planet. Thus, Eridians travelled out from their hives to Grace’s biodome daily and, slowly, they began to warm up to the idea of collaboration, and perhaps even friendship between the hives.
Rocky again revolutionised Erid when he claimed that Grace was getting lonely when he was busy spending time with Adrian, and that for the sake of his human’s mental wellbeing, the entire care team should just move to the proximity of Grace’s biodome.
Thus, spurring the creation of the first inter-hive village, that expanded to the first inter-hive city with unprecedented speed.
Rocky didn’t particularly care that he had completely reconstructed Eridian culture; he did, however, care that the increased population around Grace’s home meant that he no longer had Grace’s undivided time, realising that he had shot himself in his non-existent foot.
Grace was bewildered and awed by the planet that embraced him with open hearts.
Most of all, Grace was floored by his best friend in the universe, who had formed him a home from impossible circumstances. His friend who had chaperoned him across the stars, and delivered him, somehow, to the doorstep of a beachfront property.
And as Grace watched the stars, and as he thought about his kids on Earth, and he thought about his crew, and he thought about Eva, and he thought about the doom that, somehow, humanity had avoided, he felt his chest warm with the love that had trailed him across the galaxy.