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Back on Earth, the lack of sleep was never a problem. Most of the time.
There was the occasional snappiness at the unknowing, bright-eyed kid (which, I immediately apologized for and settled for a civilized talk instead.) Or the occasional early mornings in the Science and Mathematics building during my graduate school years, consuming ungodly amounts of coffee before I nearly lost my mind. Or the embarrassing clumsiness, the lack of sleep worsening my almost non-existent spatial awareness.
It isn’t all bad. Besides, it’s not my fault my brain moves at about a million thoughts per second. Being able to stay awake until the crack of dawn didn’t birth any groundbreaking scientific discoveries, but it did help me learn a lot. The places you could get to with a random question at 2 am! The possibilities were endless!
And, well, now that I’m approximately 12 light years away from Earth, I’d say a little insomnia never stopped me from getting far. It doesn’t particularly matter anymore, I have bigger things to worry about after all. Like floating around in space all alone, trying not to die like a blockbuster sci-fi movie.
“Why Grace stupid, question?”
Correction. I was lonely. Still trying not to die, though.
Which, while having an alien best friend is probably the coolest thing in the universe, this whole not-sleeping thing is now quite the problem. Especially when he insists on watching you sleep.
And now that we’ve recently saved our planets and crowned ourselves the saviors of the universe, there’s not much else to do but watch each other sleep.
“Grace. Why can’t do math, question?”
I shake my head, nearly dropping the pad of paper that contained more crossed out numbers than actual calculations of inventory checks. When I turn to face him, I nearly crash into one of his xenonite tunnels.
“Yeah. I heard you, bud,” I say, dragging a hand down my face. I really wish the scientists back on Earth figured out a way to give the Hail Mary a supply of unlimited dessert. And the dwindling food supply doesn’t do much to staunch my cravings. “And I’m not stupid, thank you very much. I can do math.”
He ignores that, all while tinkering with a new machine of his. Of course. “Human brain needs fix. Has eat, question?”
“Yep. My carefully rationed coma slurry,” I add pitifully.
“When Grace last sleep, question?”
Aw, darn. He got me.
“I… I don’t know.” That’s, admittedly, a bad lie. It’s been approximately 23 hours since I last slept. And even then, it wasn’t exactly fulfilling. If only 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep were enough to restore my full cognitive function.
He trills a few incoherent notes, tilting his carapace slightly away from me, which is probably the human equivalent of an eyebrow raise. Stratt used to give me those a lot. “Grace bad at lies. Bad bad bad.”
“Rock, I’m not—“
“When. Sleep. Question.”
I sigh, tossing away the pad of paper, sliding down the wall until I come to sit cross-legged on the floor. When I don’t respond for a few moments, Rocky abandons his machine, using his tunnels to get closer to me.
He waits, as he seems to have picked up on my impaired mood, thank goodness. He even crosses some of his arms beneath him, mimicking the way I’m sitting. I huff a small laugh.
“I last slept… about 23 hours ago.” My voice is soft, almost a whisper, all the humor gone. It doesn’t matter anyway with his super-hearing. Still, I hope he doesn’t hear me only to delay the inevitable.
It doesn’t work, obviously.
He makes a chirp of surprise, standing up almost immediately. “Grace need sleep now, now! Will be stupid if not sleeping!! Brain function impairment!”
I run a hand through my hair, looking down at the floor, feeling like a child being scolded by their mother. I swallow down hard around the growing lump in my throat, suddenly feeling the need to cry.
I don’t even know why. It’s not that much of a problem. Right?
“I—I can’t, Rocky.”
“No worry. Will be with Grace. Rocky watch sleep. Rocky keep Grace safe!”
My other hand comes to tangle in my hair too, desperately trying to do some self-soothing. It does nothing to force the building emotions down. “It’s not that, but thanks. I just seriously can’t sleep.”
He’s silent for a beat, contemplating. “Explain.”
“New word: insomnia.” I wince, hugging my knees to my chest. I’m sure I look pretty pathetic right now. At least I don’t need to pretend in front of Rocky. “It’s when you can’t sleep enough or can’t get quality sleep. It can happen all the time or only sometimes. Either way, humans can experience… malfunctions. We need both of those things.”
“You are… sick, question?”
“No,” I say, gesturing vaguely towards my head. “It’s all because of this. My brain.”
Rocky makes a low sound of worry, his claws against the barrier between us. “Brain disease… question? Grace life in danger, question??”
“Wha—no!” I say quickly, sitting a little straighter, even as the lights of the ship begin to spin and blur around the edges. “No, there’s no danger. I’m not dying.“ Debatable. But that’s an abyssal rabbit hole for another night. “It’s just an annoyance is all.”
He relaxes, the tension melting away, and I take that as my sign to continue before he can ask any more spiraling questions.
“Our bodies and brains are still active at night, even when we sleep, remember? Our whole 29,000 seconds thing. We don’t completely shut down like Eridians.”
“Yes. Rocky remember.”
“Well, most of the time it feels like… my brain works all the time. Not only active, but calculating, remembering, questioning. Like I can’t shut it off.”
Rocky hums, tilting forward in acknowledgment. “Human brain always think think think. All humans like this, question?”
“Probably not all,” I shrug, “but there are many. It just happens to me a lot.”
“Understand. Why not tell earlier, question?”
I shrug again, rubbing at my neck. “I didn’t want you to worry. I’ve dealt with this for a long time. It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, we kinda had other things going on.”
“Always worry for Grace, no matter wants. Big deal to Rocky.”
He says it like it’s obvious, like it’s fact. And, maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation, but tears flood in my eyes from that. His surety, his sweetness far too good for me. When I sniff and wipe at them, Rocky just leans against the xenonite.
“Grace leaking from eyes again. No worry. I analyze sleep and find cure! Rocky will fix.”
***
It starts like every other night. The tossing and turning, the spiraling thoughts, the pushing away the most embarrassing thing I did in May of 2017.
Except, this time, I’m being observed like some sort of science experiment. I feel like a bug under a microscope, or those fish subjected to a life in a tank.
Rocky has watched me sleep before. His whole cultural rule thing should make me used to it. But I can’t help but feel a weird, itchy buzz scampering across my skin. Especially knowing that this time he’s watching to make sure I actually fall asleep.
It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. Frustration begins building low in my stomach, and I curl up into a ball. There’s no sound of his tinkering, just the heavy, ghostly feeling of being watched.
I want to tell Rocky to just go back to his work. To just give up, I’ll deal with it myself. I don’t care if it’s some weird sort of human pride, this whole observation thing isn’t making it any better.
And maybe, it’s just me. Rocky, as smart as he is, shouldn’t be concerned with my pathetic, overactive human brain.
“Grace asleep, question?”
…Right. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing.
I debate for a moment if I should just pretend. But instead, I sigh and turn my head towards him. No use in pretending if he can practically hear my every bodily function.
I decide I don’t want to think further on that.
“Nope.”
“You are still thinking, question?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm.”
I watch him ponder, tapping his arms against the barrier. When he takes uncharacteristically long to think, I start to feel a little self-conscious. I mean, it’s not every night that you’re being treated like someone’s newest scientific study.
Okay, this isn’t helping.
At that, I scratch up my arm. I curl inward even further, a small part of me hoping that I can diminish into nothing.
“Grace,” Rocky finally says, using the xenonite dome he’s built around my bed to sit as close as possible. “Sleep now. You in constant motion. Exhibit irritation and stress because of no sleep.”
I should just listen to him and close my eyes. Instead, I pout. “I know, I know. But I can’t help it.”
“Try.”
“I am.”
“Try harder.”
“I am!” I snap. Woah. The irritation from before spikes all at once. I feel like stomping around and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. “This isn’t how it works!”
He doesn’t respond, his carapace tilted back. If Eridians could pout, he’s probably doing it right now with the low sound he makes.
“Grace also become rude to Rocky.”
He stomps hard on the xenonite for emphasis and, oh, now I just feel like the universe’s biggest jerk. Look at me, the big bad squishy leaky space blob.
“Rocky, look, I’m sorry, okay?” I say quickly, sitting up so fast that my quilt slides to the floor. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know you’re just trying to help. I just… don’t think this is going to work.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he vocalizes a sigh, or at least what I think is one. I can tell he’s still annoyed, but it won’t stop him in his pursuit for science.
“Observation complete. Must introduce new factor for Grace sleep. Will continue to fix.”
I pick up the quilt, only to avoid looking at him. “I’ve already tried.” I say quietly. “None of it works. At least, not forever.”
That stops him. He jerks slightly, shifts from foot to foot, as if shaking off our spat. He slips back into his calculating science mode.
“You have… tried experiment before, question?”
“In a way, yeah. But I’ve… never found a solution. Unless you’ve got melatonin gummies on hand.” I huff. “Which, out of every random thing on this ship, Stratt couldn’t have put at least one container of those?“
“No understand words.”
I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought of Earth’s resident dictator. “Don’t worry about it. But, trust me, I’ve tried everything.”
“Hmm,” He trills again. “Grace, Rocky, big science. Smarter together! Let us storm brain.”
“You mean brainstorm?”
“Is same thing.”
“No it’s—“ I start, but I realize it’s pointless. “Alright, you know what, never mind.”
“Grace say other human like this. How they solve problem, question?”
“Depends on the person. Some might try and force their nervous systems to regulate by deep breathing, meditation. Others listen to music or stories. Makes our brains feel good.”
“Understand. These do not help Grace, question?”
I hesitate. “…Only sometimes,” I say, picking at an invisible piece of lint on the quilt. “It depends. But, usually not.”
“…Explain, question…?”
Oh, man. I really didn’t want to get to this part. I choke out a small laugh that’s entirely without humor. “It, uh… I guess it always reminded me that I’m… alone. Listening to music and stories and all that.”
He’s silent for a beat. Two. We’re going on a third, which makes me wish I could eject myself into space, until he says: “Grace not alone. Grace have Rocky. Will have Rocky for long time.”
At that, my heart stutters and squeezes at the same time. Something sharp and fast. The simplicity of that fact makes me feel something so strong I can’t describe. It seizes me, washes over me, and well, I feel like crying again.
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing around the familiar lump in my throat. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Rock.”
How can someone so usually annoyed with me also care about me so much? It’s totally unfair how much he can make me feel.
Unaware of all my haywire emotions, he just asks: “Grace like stories? From other person, question?”
“Y—Yeah,” I admit, tucking my legs into the quilt again, trying to ignore the mess of emotions stirring within. “It reminds me of my… my family. My mom, she used to read me stories. When I was a kid.”
I let the implication hang in the air. If he wants to press it further, he doesn’t, and even if he did I’m not sure I want to talk about it anymore. Instead, he trills a gentle note.
“Oh... understand,” he says simply. “Rocky… understand.”
He moves again, settling close to my head. Before I can stop and really think about it, I lean my head against the xenonite where his carapace is.
It’s the kind of ache that never goes away—one he knows well. A shared grief, a shared understanding passes between us. While I never got to know those twenty-two other Eridians on Rocky’s ship, something heavy settles in my chest for them.
Wow. So many emotions in one night. More than usual, which is already a lot.
“Grace!” Rocky says, perking up and startling me from my stupor. “Have idea. Get into sleep position.”
My first instinct is to deflect, tell him to forget it and we’ll leave it at what it is. But, then I remember he’s only trying to help. And, somehow, I can’t help but feel a little spark of hope flickering to life after all these years.
“Okay,” I say, covering myself with the quilt. Could it be false hope? Maybe. But I trust in Rocky enough, I realize, to try this time.
“Grace stories similar to Eridian tradition. Done before watch children sleep. Rocky will perform for Grace.”
I want him to elaborate, to tell me what it is, exactly, but he perches down in the spot near my head, a layered mix of chords and whale sounds filling the ship.
It’s beautiful, whatever he’s singing (saying?). It’s a sweeping, delicate melody that engulfs me like the waves of the sea. More questions spring in my head—I want to ask him what it means, is it a song, a poem? Do they have even those on Erid…?
I go to ask, but my mouth doesn’t cooperate. My tongue is languid, useless. What the heck? C’mon, words.
Slowly my eyelids start drooping down, down, the Hail Mary around me beginning to fade.
The melody of it calls to a place lightyears away. It’s almost familiar. Somewhere I haven’t felt in a long time.
My thoughts begin to loosen, begin to drift. My brain seems to latch onto his song, and runs wild with it.
Gentle images of Erid meander in my head. I still don’t know what Rocky’s plan is, but I can almost see it: a little ecosystem just for me. There’s Adrian, or something like them. I hope they like me. Rocky will visit, show me their kids. Maybe he’ll sing this for me again. Maybe they’ll all sing, show me more of their culture.
And I think I’ll never get tired of it.
It… feels like...
Huh. That’s strange. I might actually….
***
The next time I awake, it’s quite slow. Slower than usual. There’s no startling jolt, no pounding head, nor the swift thoughts racing to latch on to the newest subject. Just the slow filtering in of the Hail Mary.
I rise, pushing up on my elbows. I’m still tired, but I don’t feel quite as foggy and dreary as before.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. And that’s certainly an improvement. I smile despite myself, and can’t help but feel a burst of excitement at this new development. So I can get sleep!
“Grace awake, question?”
At the sound of his voice, I sit up fully in my bed, finding that he’s still perched near my head. There’s a piece of unknown machinery he’s probably working on next to him, but it’s been abandoned for the moment.
“Yeah, Rock, I’m awake. Good morning!” I say cheerfully.
Rocky doesn’t return the pleasantries. Instead, he lifts another device, examining it. It makes a dull tick tick sound—an Eridian clock I recall.
“Grace sleep time approximately 5 hours, 16 minutes, 43 seconds.”
“Um,” I say, the excitement deflating a bit, “isn’t that… good?”
“Insufficient results. Must run experiment again.”
That makes me practically launch out of bed, whatever remaining sleepiness wearing off. “What?! No, no, Rocky, it’s alright—more than alright—I slept, you helped me sleep way more than I usually do—“
“Rocky must observe again. Apology. Will create new factor to maximize sleep result. Must do research now on human think machine.”
“But—“
Before I can get another word out, he skitters off deeper in his tunnels to some far corner of the ship.
I sigh, rubbing at my eyes, slightly regretting telling him about our whole healthy sleep cycles thing. It seems our sleep experiment is far from over. So much for a slow start to the day.
***
Given our little heart to heart from last night, you’d think that he’d be at least a little nicer to me. But, alas, you’d be wrong.
We fall back into the usual routine: checking and rechecking (and rechecking again) the Hail Mary, Rocky being annoyed with my cleanliness habits. Although this time, he’s being pretty cagey with what he’s working on.
Which of course makes me absolutely burn with curiosity. And a tinge of anticipatory fear for what he plans for our next sleep experiment session.
I’ve finished my inventory checks for the day, and still no unlimited dessert. A tragedy, I know. It’s only about mid-day in Earth time, so of course I start bothering Rocky instead of tidying up the ship.
“Rocky,” I say, dragging out the last syllable of his name with a whine. I lean my back against one of his xenonite areas. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”
“No. Rocky give no hints. Is busy and will show Grace later. Grace go get busy too.”
He doesn’t even turn towards me, the audacity! I turn around and squint, trying to peer into the corner he’s hidden himself in, but I can’t see anything with his carapace in the way.
“But I don’t even have anything to do!” I say, pouting again for what seems to be the thousandth time this week.
“Can do. Grace do science. Or write research. Or go clean ship. Ship is dirty dirty dirty.”
“Ughhhh,” I groan out. “It’s not even that bad.”
“Is bad, statement. Is very bad bad bad.”
Ugh. Well, this is going nowhere.
“Fine. Keep your secrets, then.”
I make a show of leaving him be, crossing my arms and striding away as slow as possible. He doesn’t pay me any mind, though. Mean.
As I roam about the ship, picking up a corny t-shirt along the way (when was the last time I wore this?), I find my mind wandering back to his song. It was lovely and I want nothing more than to hear it again.
Something about it was so familiar. It’s strange. It’s been a long time since I’ve been that relaxed.
I try to place the feeling, the place my mind finally found solace in, but I soon tire of pushing my mess around. I sit at one of the computers, clicking around on it to pretend I’m busy. Despite the boredom and Rocky’s sass, I feel pretty good.
I begin to hum a soft tune, happy to find it sounds like Rocky’s song.
***
Alright, it’s been a few hours of reading about the latest rabbit hole.
I stretch a crick in my neck out, closing out the many Wikipedia and science journal tabs left open on the computer. I’ve given Rocky enough time, I’ve decided, and besides it’s getting pretty late.
“Rocky!” I call. It’s unnecessary, but it feels good after the disuse of my voice. “Rocky?”
“Rocky in Grace bedroom!”
I walk into the sleep area, finding him excitedly bouncing around in his tunnels around my bed. I chuckle, walking deeper into the room to get a closer look.
There’s something new installed on my bed bunk. He’s somehow gotten some sort of contraption through our shelf-airlocks when we exchange things from our atmospheres. It looks vaguely like an interestingly shaped pillow with specific curves and two arm like things jutting out of it. It’s covered in some sort of textile, maybe, or some sort of malleable Eridian material. It seems cushiony but still meant to be a machine of some sort.
I have no clue what it’s supposed to be.
“What’s all this, pal?” I ask, watching him chirp happily about his newest creation. I poke carefully at the strange pillow, finding it soft and warm. Pretty pleasantly warm. Strangely, it’s almost a little too perfect. “This what you’ve been hiding from me?”
“I find idea on portable human thinking machine,” he says proudly. “Rocky ask it what humans like for sleep. It tell me about calming pressure sensation. Feels good for human body and encourages sleep!”
I nod slowly. He’d be right, but usually those things come in the shape of weighted blankets or those bags filled with rice. I certainly didn’t find any of those on the ship.
“Grace try now! Rocky invention is human shaped!”
Oh, right. Or in the shape of another human.
My smile falters as I scratch at my neck, suddenly feeling uneasy. He built me a… a hug machine.
A hug machine because I’m never, ever going to feel the touch of another again. There’s never going to be another hug from an appreciative student, a passing touch of my shoulder. I’ll never get that rare moment where I’m hugged tight enough that I could close my eyes and pretend that someone cared about me.
Even on Earth, there wasn’t much in the affectionate touch department. But now here, in the quite literal middle of nowhere, I realize that all that’s left is a hug machine and xenonite glass for the rest of my life.
I wince. I feel pathetic thinking all of this, but I can’t help the way my arms cross in some sort of self hug. It’s useless against the miserable feeling of wanting nothing but to be held.
“Grace, question? Why make distressed noise, question?”
I force a smile. I can work with this. If not for me, then for Rocky. It’s fine. I’m not miserable at all. It’s only the rest of my life that I’ll never—
“Nothing, it’s great,” I say quickly. “I can’t wait to try it!”
Before he can say anything else, which would probably be about my bad bad bad lies, I crawl into my bunk. I hesitantly lower myself to the bed, eyeing the pillow-hug-thing.
“So, uh. How does this work?”
“Grace puts back against machine. Will fit to human body! I found this shape on Earth thinking machine.”
I shimmy in the bed until I can cover myself and my pillow companion with the quilt. My body does fit perfectly with the contraption, Rocky’s measurements precise as always.
In theory, it’s scientifically perfect. The pressure from the arms wrapping around me should give me the sense of calm. I should feel the lure to sleep. But all I can think about is how this is the only touch for the rest of my life.
If only everyone could see me now. Doctor Captain Ryland Grace, savior of Earth, being spooned by a glorified body pillow.
“Is okay, question?” Rocky asks as he settles near my head again, some sort of remote lying next to him. Maybe some adjustment device?
“Um,” I say, wriggling some more. “I think so.”
“Need pressure adjustments, question? Too warm, question? Comfortable, question?”
“I’m fine, don’t worry. Thank you.”
“Oh. Yes. Okay. Will be here if Grace need anything.”
Silence fills my bunk as Rocky stills to watch over me. The hug machine radiates a constant soothing heat, its arms squeezing enough to tell my body that everything’s okay. It’s absolutely suffocating.
I clamp my eyes shut, try to find that place again. Instead, I’m met with memories, which is usually a bad sign. Nothing good ever seemed to come from remembering.
I miss my mom. I miss being hugged, even if it was rare. I even miss the guiding hand Stratt put on my back to lead me to the mission meetings.
But what hurts the most right now, for some reason, is thinking about Rocky building this for me and it not even working. He’s done so much for me already. He’s worked so hard, and I wish I could… could—
Well, I don’t know. He’s a genius. There’s nothing my small brain could think of that he couldn’t already do better. The best gift I could give him was a laptop, and I’m sure that anything else I could give or make he can already do.
And we’re back to the same conclusion. I’m emotional and I can’t sleep. A deadly combination indeed.
Ugh.
“Rocky?” I call, opening my eyes again.
“Grace, question?”
“Uh, it’s just… could I actually…”
“Grace want Eridian tradition again, question?”
I nod slowly, taking in a breath. “Yeah. That’d be… nice.”
His song fills the ship again, and just like before its sweeping melody blankets me and can almost make me forget about all the feelings and memories floating around.
I close my eyes again, try to get lost in the picture of Erid. I’m definitely not thinking of the fake hug. Or the memories. Nope.
To the sound of an Eridian melody, I slip into an uneasy slumber.
***
I jolt awake.
It’s still dark, which means I definitely shouldn’t be awake right now. I feel a pressure that’s suffocating, too suffocating—
I fight to get free, which isn’t much of a fight because the arms immediately fling off. I sit up hastily, nearly hitting my head on the xenonite glass.
“Grace already awake, question??”
“Uh,” I croak, finding Rocky in the same place. I feel caught in an act or something. “No…?”
He checks his clock, making a sharp noise of disbelief. “Only 2 hours, 5 minutes, 6 seconds! No understand, no understand! New factor should have worked!”
He paces a bit in his spot, probably doing some calculations or trying to find the faults in his machine. I feel a wave of guilt as the sleep starts wearing off. “I—I’m sorry, Rocky.”
Rocky stops, tilting slightly. He vocalizes a sigh, which seems to be happening a lot these days. “No no no. Is okay. Not Grace fault. Need to find faults in machine and will make better.”
I hug my knees to my chest, sitting as far away as possible from the machine. “There are no faults. It’s just me. I’m the fault.”
“Grace not a fault.”
I drop my head between my knees, wishing I could just sleep. Wish I could just be normal. Wish I wasn’t a fault. “I didn’t always have this problem, you know.”
“…What mean this, question?”
“It started when I was a teen. My mom was already… gone. When you’re a kid on Earth and no longer have anyone to take you in, you enter the adoption system.”
He’s quiet. I take that as my sign to continue.
“Basically, I… went from home to home. But, nobody wants an old kid, especially one that, you know, never quite fit in anywhere. And I could never sleep right at the new place.
Scientifically, it’s because it wasn’t home, and our brains subconsciously try to protect us in a new environment. But, the other part… I guess I just started thinking that… that I was worthless. That I wasn’t good enough. That this all happened to me because I didn’t deserve… I didn’t deserve to be—“
“No no no! These thoughts false false false!”
My throat tightens as I peek up at Rocky, who’s stomping around in the xenonite tunnels.
“Grace not worthless! Grace smart and good and brave! Best human scientist! Bad bad bad thoughts. Human brain useless.”
He emphasizes his words with one last stomp, and then tucks his legs beneath him to sit next to me. I press my face into my knees again, fighting to keep the tears at bay. That ache comes again, sharp and fast.
“I just wish… I just wish that someone told me it would all be okay. That someone was there for me. That I was held through the nights when it was the worst.”
Ah. There it is. The confession spills out of me before I can stop it. I feel even worse than before when I just wanted to be held.
“Grace.”
“Yeah?” I say, refusing to look at him. If I did, I think I’d cry.
“…Will be okay. Rocky here with Grace always. Will find way to give physical comfort. Rocky promise will find solution.”
I just nod, squeezing my arms. I don’t tell him that this might be the one thing he can’t fix.
“Thanks, Rock.”
***
This continues for a few more nights, an adjustment here, a change there. I still can’t seem to sleep right, no matter what Rocky tries.
He tells me the same thing every night, that it’ll be okay, that he’s here with me. That he’s going to find a solution. It’s a comfort, but it helps little against the physical touch aspect.
Things around here have been pretty miserable. At least for me.
Every day, I watch Rocky refine his machine through the glass. Some days, I feel like shouting at him to just leave me alone and stop wasting his time.
But most, I feel terrible that I’m being so complicated. That no matter what he tries, I still can’t get the results he wants.
Slowly I approach the lab corner that’s been his designated workshop for today. A single, burning question has been nagging at me no matter what time of day it is.
“Hey, uh, bud? Can I… can I ask you something?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes. What is wrong, question? Need more sleep improvements now, question?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. You’re—you’re doing great. With the, y’know, sleep thing.” I add a thumbs-up for emphasis. Rocky must feel that it’s a coping one, because he doesn’t do it back. I immediately put my hand down and clear my throat.
Here goes. Can’t take it back now.
“I just… why? Why are you doing all of this?” I gesture vaguely. “The whole experimenting on my sleep thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. Extremely.”
I find a sudden interest in the floor. It’s the same as it was the day before. And the day before that and the day before that. Who would’ve guessed?
I don’t need to look back up to feel Rocky tilt towards me.
“But—I don’t know. I’m sure you’d much rather be doing something else than fixing my stupid sleeping habits.”
My voice dips lower, heat brushing my cheeks despite myself. “You’ve done more than enough for me already, is… is what I’m trying to say.”
I hear him shift, his claws tapping against the surface.
“Grace follow. Bring heat gloves.”
It takes me a second to register what he just said. I’m confused at the non-answer and more questions spring into my head. Quickly, I grab the heat protective gloves thrown haphazardly on a random lab table.
He leads me a section of his tunnel that has a shelf-lock, as I like to call them. He’s giving me something, evidently. I feel a twinge of guilt. I didn’t know we were supposed to be bringing gifts.
“Oh, Rocky, I’m sorry. I didn’t bring anything for you,” I say, slipping on the heat resistant glove on one of my hands.
“Is okay, no need. Just need to show something to Grace.”
He drops something into the compartment, the shelf-lock suddenly jutting out into my atmosphere with a hiss. With my covered hand, I lift it up and examine it.
It’s one of his sculptures made of his xenonite alloy. Except, this one is even more intricately made than the ones we did puppet shows with.
The dark metal forms the shape of a human and Eridian. The detail on them is extraordinary, and clearly a lot of time and care went into it. It could genuinely be considered a work of art.
Sculpture-me is kneeling, arms wrapped around his xenonite ball.
“Is this… us?”
Rocky lifts his body up and down, his version of a nod that he’s seen me do before. “Yes. I make few days ago.”
He’s silent for a beat, before he skitters even closer to me in his tunnel. He presses his little claw against the xenonite, his carapace tilted towards me, mirroring something he picked up from me.
I find myself doing the same, our hands hovering in the same place. Almost touching, almost completely together.
Almost. For some reason, the word makes something in my chest ache.
“Grace ask why Rocky do this. This is reason.”
“I… don’t understand,” I say in a whisper, clutching the little sculpture to my chest. It’s still hot, like a burning coal beginning to ignite a fire. The ache, I realize, is growing, this feeling sharp enough to almost hurt—
“Rocky… love Grace friend. Love love love,” he says softly, the notes of his lilting voice gentle. “Want Grace to be friend forever. Don’t want Grace to think doesn’t deserve love any longer.”
Oh.
“Rocky fix anything for Grace. This why I give fuel, why I go into your atmosphere to save. Not just because Grace save Rocky and Erid. But, because friend. Most best and lovely friend. Want Grace to be happy happy happy. Because Grace deserve good and happy life.”
So that’s what the ache has been. We’ve come close to dying for each other, but we’ve never put a name to it. Love. Overwhelming, profound love. Love that kept us alive, love that made every sacrifice minuscule compared to the fear of losing Rocky.
Love that makes him want to make sure I get to Erid and live a good life hereafter.
I nod and nod, because it’s all I can do. How do I explain to him that it’s been years since I’ve heard those words? How do I explain that I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to be loved as deeply as he does? How do I explain that just hearing those words is literally affecting my brain chemistry?
How can I tell him that maybe now, I can’t fathom living without him? That I turned around for him because the thought of losing my only friend scared me more than all the impossibilities we encountered in space?
The tears start before I even realize it. I want to tell him—need to tell him that of course I love him too. More than words, more than all the stars in the entire universe. That I’d save Earth and Erid again and again if it meant I’d save him too. I open my mouth, but all that comes out is a sob. The statue falls to the floor with a dull clunk.
“Rocky make Grace sad and leaky because of words, question…?”
“No, no, I’m—“ I choke on my tears, watching Rocky put another claw up in concern. It’s almost like he wants to reach out to touch me. The thought makes me cry more.
I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, crumpling into myself. At this point, I’m a total blubbering mess.
Another distinct hiss resounds through the lab.
“…Hug, question?”
I have zero second thoughts as I kneel before him, wrapping my arms around his xenonite hamster ball. He throws himself against the surface as globules of tears run down my face.
I squish my cheek against the glass, wishing more than anything I was really holding him.
We’re exactly like his sculpture, now discarded on the ground.
“Make Grace sad and leaky. Apology. Rocky did not mean for this reaction. Will hug for as long as Grace needs to feel better.”
“I’m not sad,” I say, but it’s hard to speak with all the leakiness. I’m crying so hard, I actually hiccup.
Rocky waits patiently, not moving from our almost-hug. Even if he did, I’m holding on so tightly that he’d have to take me with him if he decided to leave. I take a few moments for the tears to level out into a steady flow.
“I’m not sad,” I repeat, trying again, “just, overwhelmed. Lots of emotions. It’s been a really long time ever since someone… told me that they loved me.”
I slowly peel my face away from Rocky, only enough to peer into his ball. He trills a soft note when I sniff.
“Thank you. For all of this.”
“No need for thank. Rocky will tell about love every day so Grace doesn’t forget! Won’t be long time anymore.”
My face contorts again—and, surprise, here come more tears. All the things I want to tell him I hope are said in the way I lean my forehead against the glass.
“I wish I was really hugging you right now,” I whisper, closing my eyes. If I imagine it enough, I can almost feel my arms around his carapace instead of glass. The warmth he radiates.
“Rocky wishes this too. Wish to hold Grace.”
We’re quiet for a while. I bask in the imaginary hug and try to ignore how much it hurts to be limited to nothing but a wish.
“Grace.”
“Rocky?”
“Can we do one last sleep experiment, question? Have idea.”
I inhale a shaky breath, the last of my tears rolling down my cheeks. My eyes feel tired, sunken in from the exertion.
“Let’s do it, pal.”
***
I don’t know what I was expecting for Rocky’s next experiment, but it was definitely not this.
I’m frozen in place before the sleeping chambers, because—
Because Rocky’s here. He’s standing before me, wearing something not dissimilar to my EVA suit. Save for it’s a lot less bulky and looks a lot like dark plastic stretched over his entire body.
My science brain wants to know how in the heck is this is possible? Is the tank on his backside providing ammonia? Did he create a whole new material with xenonite in the span of a few hours? I’m, as always, in awe of his genius.
But the other part, the emotional, weepy part of me, is already preparing for another cry session. I want to just throw myself on him and see if we can really, truly hug this time.
A million things I want to say all try to fight their way out of me at once. All that comes out, instead, is a noise of disbelief.
“Hello, Grace!”
He lifts a claw like this isn’t the most revolutionary creation of all time. Like he’s not just casually standing in my atmosphere without burning up or imploding. I manage one single step towards him.
“How did you—I mean, this is—Rocky, you’re here!”
“Yes yes yes!” He exclaims excitedly, hopping around. He climbs into my bunk, settling onto what seems to be a xenonite platform right on top of the bed.
“I create new material, like Grace space suit! Now Rocky can be in atmosphere without ball. Had to make platform to support weight on bed, apology. Less space for Grace. Will adjust this later.”
I’m still in a state of shock when I climb in after him. I can’t bring myself to lie down yet, so I settle for sitting next to him. There’s really is less space on my bed now, but I don’t find it in me to particularly care.
Especially not as he reaches a claw out and grazes my arm. All my questions go out the window. The world zeroes into this small, minuscule, touch because oh my God it worked.
I actually shudder when he reaches and takes my hand, when our fingers interlock. The material is soft, almost silky, but he’s still solid and warm and real.
“Grace, question? This okay, question?”
He starts to let go, probably in fear of my weird and strange human reactions, but I squeeze his hand in mine like he’s my one, single lifeline. My life probably actually does depend on it.
“Yes, yes, it’s more than okay—please don’t let go,” I whisper, still trembling.
Mercifully, he doesn’t. He squeezes gently, knowing about soothing pressure.
“Won’t let go, but need Grace to lie down now. Will try experiment.”
I lie down immediately, anticipation and curiosity running through me. More than anything, I crave more of his touch and I hope this means there’s more to come. I watch as he settles down on his platform.
Carefully, he takes me into his other arms into an embrace, pulling me close. If I thought our hands still intertwined was groundbreaking, being hugged might as well be universe-shattering.
He’s warm, like a blanket covered rock that’s been out in the sun for a while. I let go of his claw, only to wrap my arms around his carapace and pull him in even closer. Well, more like he gets the hint and pulls me in, because he’s way heavier than me.
I even go as far as curling my body around him, just so we can achieve the full effect of cuddling. Selfishly, I hope he never lets go.
I’m immediately more relaxed than I’ve been in probably years. It’s warm and it’s real, and the tears would probably be starting in a fresh wave if I didn’t already exhaust them.
I’m being held. I’m actually being held. It’s a joyous and wondrous thing, and I can’t even help the happy hum that works out of me.
“This enjoyable for Grace, question?”
“So enjoyable,” I say, squishing my face against the top of him, overjoyed to no longer be confined to xenonite glass. “Most enjoyable, Rocky. Thank you. You made my wish come true!”
“Is enjoyable for me too,” he says with an equally happy hum, a claw stroking up my back. “Can hear Grace better like this! Most enjoyable to provide physical comfort with holding. Glad to provide wish.”
“I wish there was something I could give you in return, you know,” I say softly, that guilt from before creeping up. “A gift, or something. You’ve already given me so much.”
“No understand request. This wish already complete! Grace is gift to Rocky from space. Is best gift. Rocky no need for anything else.”
“…Oh, Rocky…”
I have no words for that, and even if I did, there are none that can describe how much that truly means to me. So instead I cuddle up against him as much as I can, that sharp ache in my chest returning. It’s intense and it’s beautiful and it’s alive. It’s love.
He’s been trying to show me this entire time, I realize. This whole experiment started purely as an act of his love, just because he wanted to.
This time, I let it in and let it flow through me. And I remember. For once it’s not such a bad thing.
I remember when my mom would read me to sleep. I remember love when she entertained my interest in her old science encyclopedias, all those years ago in a space decorated bedroom when the whole entire world seemed within my grasp.
I remember when dozens of students played the ‘beanbag is lava’, when they remembered the facts I taught them. I remember a love for humanity when I realized these brilliant minds were the future of Earth.
I remember love, most of all, when I gave my only chance to return to Earth up to save my friend. My best friend.
I know love when I realize I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I don’t know when the tears start, sliding down with the steady release of all these emotions. I don’t know when my eyes began to close, when I got carried away by Rocky’s song.
But I understand now. This place I’ve found in his melody is home.
Rocky is home.
I hear one last note before I finally drift away.
“Goodnight, Grace.”
***
There’s a slow rise to the way I awaken next, like the first breath of fresh air after emerging from water.
My eyes slowly adjust to my surroundings as I sit up. I stretch my arms and yawn. My head’s delightfully clear, and despite the burn to my eyes, I feel… really good.
“Grace!”
I smile at the sight of him. He’s in his tunnels again, xenonite suit discarded, but I can still almost feel the warmth coming from him, his arms around me.
“Good morning, Rocky..!”
“Grace! You sleep good good good!” He exclaims, bouncing around with his clock. “Full 8 hours! Full 29,000 seconds!”
I slept. Holy cow, I actually made it through the whole night. I smile even wider, his excitement warming my heart.
“Rocky,” I say, my voice still adjusting from the long disuse. I hold back the happiness I feel, but I’m practically bursting at the seams. “Could you put on your xenonite suit again? Please.”
He stops his excited movements, tilting slightly in confusion. Although confused with my lack of own celebratory acts like I usually would, he asks no questions,and makes quick work of putting his suit on. Soon enough, he’s back in my atmosphere on his platform.
“Why Grace need—“
Whatever he was going to say is immediately cut off by a chirp of surprise, as I practically throw myself onto him, facade be completely damned. Granted, he barely moves, but it’s nice to be the one surprising him for once.
“I love you too, Rock. Love love love!” I say, finally, finally finding the words. “You’re my best friend in the whole entire universe. Best best best friend.”
He trills happily, his arms flailing around me in an embrace as if he’s moving purely from the excitement. One warm claw even comes up to tangle in my hair. His voice is almost an octave higher when he speaks again: “Rocky make Grace happy, question? Grace friend forever, question???”
“Yes!” I laugh. “Yes, very very very happy, statement! Rocky and Grace best friends forever!”
“Love Grace!” I hear the notes of his laughter in between, and it might be the most delightful thing I’ve ever heard. “Love love love forever!”
We laugh and hug and exclaim our love for each other for a while longer, until finally we settle on my bed, our many combined arms still interlocked.
“We do this every night, question? So Grace sleep good.”
I blush. It’d be really nice, but I wouldn’t want Rocky to feel obligated to cuddle me to sleep every night. It’s a slightly funny thought, though. My rock spider teddy bear.
“Only when you feel up for it,” I settle on as I glance down at him, shaking off the image in my head. “Don’t feel like you have to—“
“Rocky want to. Already said, like to hold Grace! Most enjoyable to hear you better and provide comfort.”
I smile again, so wide that my cheeks hurt. My heart’s so full, so warm and bursting with love. Love love love, as he’d say.
“I love you,” I say, and I hope, with my entire heart, that he feels the same wonderful pull that I do. That he feels as if he could hold on to this forever, that the entire universe—the wild, unexplainable galaxy—couldn’t fit the impossible quantity of love I feel for him.
He chirps happily in return, begins to hums the first notes of his song, and I know that I’m loved. That I’m finally home.
I close my eyes wistfully. I’d call our sleep experiment a success.