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The way from the student's shared house to the university library didn’t technically need to include the park. But if one was creative with their route, it could easily be incorporated. And an extra few minutes included the chance to hear an alien, so. Why not?
And as luck would have it, there he was! The biodome in the center of the city had adjoining tunnels that led out into a little network that connected him to the science and engineering offices, a large venue space, and the public park. The student had been briefed on the general schedule and expectations surrounding interacting with the alien, not that she was planning to bother him or beg for conversation or ask to study him.
But they did have something in common.
Savior Grace was sitting on a bench along the wall of his side of the barrier. The student slowed as she passed by, hoping to hear him better. There was something that struck her as odd about how he was positioned. He had his back against the bench, but his light sensing organs were closed and his head tilted up. He was making a strange, rhythmic noise. Like his breathing but louder and raspier.
Was he ill? He was clearly alive, everyone in hearing sense of him could tell his heart was beating steadily. She reflected on the basic “information about the human” articles she’d read and tried to place what he was doing.
He’s sleeping! She glanced around, where was his Observer? No one was in his enclosure with him. The park was public, so there were people around, he wasn’t alone, but…no one was really watching.
She tried to squelch the immediate disgust and horror at the concept of someone sleeping unobserved. Maybe this was another thing that made the big city different from the small town she’d grown up in. There were communal spaces back home for travelers or anyone otherwise without friends or family to have a stranger observe them, of course there’d be many such places in a city like this. But those spaces had observers who…stayed there. To observe! Or if necessary, switched off with another attendant. People didn’t just walk in and out freely with no sense of duty.
Savior Grace surely had plenty of loved ones to observe him sleep in his home. Was he not able to get back to his house in time before his rest cycle began? She sensed around, and other Eridians who must be more familiar with the alien and his habits did not seem concerned, simply paused to listen, made a casual seeming check that the place was not otherwise empty, and moved on.
So was this normal? She knew Savior Grace was an alien with alien customs, but there was something just. Just wrong about leaving him here, asleep and defenseless with no clear observer keeping watch.
Logically, she knew he was in no danger. In modern times, people rarely were. But it was, if nothing else. Rude.
Her parents would be just as horrified at her for walking past an unobserved sleeper as they would be if she left her grandparent bleeding out in the street.
So she waited, as close to his side of the barrier as possible. One hand lightly tapped, counting seconds. She didn’t know how long he’d been asleep before she arrived, so she wouldn’t be able to give him an accurate number if he asked. But it was nice to know.
Only a few minutes had passed when he gave a shaky, choking sort of breath and appeared to wake up. He moved his head around and she heard some extremely alarming cracking sounds as he stretched out his arms, but they didn’t seem to disturb him so she assumed it must be normal.
She could feel his attention turn to her.
She really hoped he didn’t think she was there to gawk at him. Did he realize he’d fallen asleep? “Glad waking,” she said, tentatively. “You slept safely.” It was a little overly formal of a greeting, appropriate for strangers, but at least he should clearly understand what she was doing.
He made some sort of sound in his language, then picked up the keyboard instrument beside him. “Gladly woken,” he said using the keys, in a surprisingly clear Eridian. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” She was relieved at his reply, although it felt very strange to be spoken to in a formal tone by someone of such high status.
“You didn’t need to watch,” he says. She must be clearly taken aback, because he adds, “I appreciate it! But I doze off sometimes. Very, very short sleeps.”
She’s not sure how to reply to that, so she just gives a little chitter of acknowledgement.
“What’s your name?” he asks, probably trying to be polite and not realizing quite how loaded a question that is. She considered giving him a fake one, but she doesn’t like the idea of lying to anyone, and certainly not the person who. You know. Saved her entire planet and everyone on it.
She tries to keep the sigh out of her voice. “Grace,” she says. He doesn’t react at first, so she thinks he might have thought she was addressing him. “My name is Grace.”
Her name was technically Graceful Dancer Melodic Song (her parents were wonderful people, but alas, theater performers), but everyone had always called her Grace. It wasn’t a completely unique name, at least just “Grace” wasn’t, until a few years ago, when it…suddenly became quite popular.
“That was my name since hatching,” she adds, lest he think she’d changed it out of some sense of fervent devotion. “It was just mine for a long time before…well…,” she make a lame gesture that’s more nerves than anything coherent. She’s pretty sure she’s fumbling this interaction. And possibly insulting him. Good work Grace, you’ve managed to make the alien savior of the world hate you already.
She’s not sure if he can read the weariness in her voice, because he’s quick to respond. She’s impressed by how well he sounds with the instrument in his hands, how fast his strange fingers move over it to make the sounds of simple but understandable Eridian.
“It must have been very strange to suddenly hear it all the time.” His face moves in a way she can’t interpret. She knows basic facts about his biology, of course. Everyone does. But what his expressions are and what they mean are beyond her. “Sorry you have to share it now.”
She’s heard he was an enjoyable person to be around, from others who have met him. She supposes he’d have to be, given everything he’s done. Brave and selfless and good. But she’s still struck with the sincerity of it, even though the voice of the keyboard can’t truly convey emotion, there's something about the way he says it that feels like he really means it.
“I– thank you,” she says, bewildered at the reaction. She hadn’t expected him to be so understanding. “It’s not so bad. It just adds an extra couple of minutes to every introduction.”
He makes a sound like a huff of breath. “Yeah, I bet. Do you live around here, Grace? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“I just moved here for University,” she replies. “I’m a student.”
“Oh!” he seems enthusiastic. She knows he’s a teacher, but for young children. She finds something endearing about that choice, when he could have any job he wanted on the planet. “Are you studying science? What discipline? Or engineering?”
And the endeared feeling is immediately replaced with annoyance. “History,” she grits out. She can practically hear her parents and friends and the entire town. No one apparently remembered that the city with the most famous university on this side of the planet has many other things to study besides the alien. He just happens to also live here. The world renowned history program was here first. Just like this Grace was here before this new Grace, she thinks, a little uncharitably.
He sounds thrown by her answer, everyone usually is. Apparently what’s the point of studying anything at all besides space and aliens and alien science from space? Erid continues to turn and people need to know other things.
Momentarily thrown or not, he doesn’t stop talking. “Really? Most people I talk to lately have been enrolled in the new xenobiology program, obviously, or scientific–”
“You are not the only interesting thing on this planet!” she shouts.
They both freeze. Oh, gods. No. If Grace starts running now, she can probably make it to a hole to crawl in and die before anyone can chase after. She was so used to responding in exactly that way to…to other Eridians! Not to the savior of the planet directly to his carapace!
She’s going to get kicked out of school. She’s going to get kicked out of the city. She’s going to be dragged through the streets in shame.
She can’t believe she insulted him. If he wasn’t annoyed by her already he certainly hates her now! Maybe if she starts groveling now he’ll forgive her enough that she can get a job cataloguing spiny beetles on some island in the middle of nowhere.
At least Savior Rocky isn’t here. Or maybe that would be preferable. According to some of the rumors she’s heard, if he was here to listen to her insult Savior Grace, she wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again because she’d have approximately six minutes left to live.
“Apology!” she shrieks. She’s shaking. Gods, Grace what is wrong with you. “I am so grateful for your sacrifice, apology, I didn’t mean–”
He makes a loud, horrifying series of sounds, all gasping and barking. Is this what humans sound like when they are angry? It’s terrifying!
He waves his hands, shakes his head, he sounds like he's attempting to stop making those terrible noises and he scrambles for the keyboard.
“Sorry! That’s laughing! Sounds scarier than it is!”
That at least calms her enough to attempt to listen to what else he has to say. Does he forgive her? That was laughter?
“Apology!” she ventures again. “Did not mean to insult Savior Grace!”
“I deserved that,” he says, bizarrely. “You are absolutely right.”
Grace stills. “What?”
“I am not the only interesting thing on this planet. And you know what? It’s good to be reminded of that sometimes.”
She sways in wonder. “I– uh. Okay.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” he says and she feels herself calming down with the gentleness of the tones he uses. “I shouldn’t have immediately assumed. There’s nothing wrong with studying history.”
She can’t help but huff. Nothing wrong/ with–
“Wait, no. That was pretty stupid of me too,” he says and the way he fumbles some of the notes makes her laugh. She doesn’t know if he realizes he made a pun. “I think it’s great actually. I’m sorry, Grace. I would love to hear more. What interests you most about the subject?”
“You–,” she starts, shyly. “Do you really want to know?”
He somehow makes the tones for “yes”, or at least a simple approximation of them, with his own voice! The effort of the whistling is so unexpected and charming she completely forgets to be nervous.
“You might be aware of a rather significant recent historical event,” she says, making a gesture meant to reference both him and everything around her. “But it won’t be recent forever. How will we know how this big important thing changed the world, if we don’t tell future generations how the world was before it? And what made it that way? And all the different ways we’ve changed. And–” she realizes she’s rambling now, so she trails off. Savior Grace has gone quiet. Great, she’s bored him with her incoherent raving. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“You remind me of someone,” he says, and there’s a certain tilt to his body. He doesn’t move much like an Eridian, of course, so the body language is unfamiliar, but she can sense the emotion behind it. Whoever ‘someone’ is, they seem to have been important.
“Who?” Grace can’t help but ask.
His face moves in the same way it did earlier, when he’d finished laughing, but it's less pronounced. He doesn’t say anything for a little while, until he makes that odd laugh again, quieter this time. “Someone who would certainly have enjoyed the jolt of humility you just gave me.”
Grace nods her carapace awkwardly. She’s not sure what to say to that. It might have been a compliment, but not obvious enough of one to thank him for. He seems to sense her discomfort, so he changes the subject.
“I hope I’m not making you late for class. Your teachers would surely never forgive me.”
“Unlikely,” says Grace. “And what a story I would have to tell. But I doubt they’d believe me.”
He gestures to his satchel. “I’m happy to write you a note excusing your tardiness. Although my handwriting has only recently improved beyond a sixteen year olds, so they may accuse you of having your baby sibling write it for you.”
Grace laughs at that. “Class doesn’t start until next week, so I was just going to the library.” She thinks a moment. “Though if you’d like to write me a signed, undated note, I could hold on to it for a time when I’m actually running late.”
He shakes his head, but in a way she recognizes as a friendly no and not an annoyed one. “Students are the same all over. Too clever for their own good.”
“It was worth a try,” she replies.
“That it was,” he agrees. He sits across from her, on the ground, his speech keyboard propped up on his crossed legs. “Well, if you’d be so kind as to indulge a clueless old alien, why don’t you tell me a little about what history you’re interested in.”
Grace shifted her weight along her legs, considering. “Well. What do you know about the Resonant Age civilizations of the Northern Valley Cave Systems?”
“I know absolutely nothing about them,” he says. But before her carapace even begins to sink in defeat, he adds, “but I would very much like to learn everything you can teach me.”
She chitters in delight. Well, that was an unfortunate choice of words for him. Hopefully he meant it. “Since you said, everything…,” she says, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. Luckily, she manages to remember that the alien can only listen to one set of vocal cords at a time before she launches into it.
“So, before I tell you anything else, you have to know the way the major river shaped the cave systems. Because that directly led to the primary religion of the area being a water god, which became very important to the succession war later, since it was in the middle of a battle when the flood…”
And the alien listens, in rapt attention to every word, and Grace decides she doesn’t mind sharing her name with him anymore.