Sjc90



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    After the Taumoeba leak, after I decided to die after all and turned my ship around to save Rocky, after Rocky's frantic calculations about food supplies, Taumoeba multiplication rates, and human caloric intake needs, after we realized that with some rationing and luck I would make it, but that we were headed toward the unknown territory of trying to rapid-prototype me a life support system and synthetic food supply on an inhospitable planet: after all of that, after everything, I shouldn't have been surprised that it only took a few months on board the Hail Mary for things to get weird.

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    10 Jun 2026

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    “Proof of concept,” ♫♬♯♩♩♫ says. “We’ve tested it thoroughly to ensure it fits the specified nutritional profile, and several members of our team have ingested small amounts of it to ensure there were no adverse effects.”

    “You ate some of it?” I ask, rudely. I’m too irate to mind my language. Who do they think they are? That meat is for Grace. In a way, that meat is Grace.

    “Yes,” ♫♬♯♩♩♫ says. They and the rest of the human life support thrum know better than to be offended by my occasionally strange behaviour. “Obviously we weren’t going to risk the life of Honoured Grace on a completely untested technology.”

    That doesn’t mean much. There’s a lot of things that are safe for ingestion by Eridians that would outright kill a human.

    Trust Grace, I remind myself. He’ll have thought of all this.

    (OR: Grace's meburgers from the book epilogue. Let's talk about those!)

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    08 Jun 2026

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    If this record is a confession, let it be a complete one: the human-thinking-machine Rocky was gifted has everything on it. With the aid of the device Rocky had made back aboard the Mary that translates light on Grace’s human-visual displays to texture on Rocky’s Eridian-sonar display, accessing all of humanity’s combined wisdom is as easy as making a database query.

    Rocky consumes approximately 1,600 Earth-hours of human pornography before the ship’s engines cease to function, leaving it dead and stranded in space. Again.

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    04 Jun 2026

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    “Don’t have to face any specific direction to talk to you, Grace,” Rocky says. “Am radially symmetrical. Hearing organs on whole body. Grace biologist, should know this.”

    I suddenly regret teaching him literally anything about biology. Some things more than others.

    “Figure of speech,” I say. That’s so not the point. “Listen, is this about the other day? Because we can pretend it never happened, if it’s making you uncomfortable.”

    Rocky skids to a stop. He slowly backs up a few paces, and now I can tell he is actually focusing on me, even though it doesn’t really matter which facet of his body is pointed in my direction, due to the aforementioned radial symmetry.

    “Not uncomfortable,” Rocky says. “Interesting display of human culture and biology. Grace very kind to share with me."

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    04 Jun 2026

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    The egg is the same bright copper color as the rest of Rocky’s body, but smooth where his carapace is bumpy and brittle, the first Eridian-made object I've ever seen with curved edges rather than flat panels and sharp corners. It has a slight taper as well, narrowing upwards from its widest point.

    Rocky’s words echo in the back of my mind: “Grace would be perfect at take many ♪♪♫.”

    I jam the dissection probe through the shell.

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    04 Jun 2026