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When we walk along the sea, Rocky gets a little quiet.
No, quiet isn’t quite accurate. Rocky is almost always making some kind of sound. When he’s thinking, he can be downright noisy. The sound of tools, the tapping of the floor, the strange little hums he makes when an idea occurs to him. All of that comes as a set. That’s Rocky.
But near the sea, he taps the ground a little less.
Maybe he’s listening to the waves. Maybe he’s picking up the shape of me through them.
Probably both.
That day, we were walking side by side.
Well. “Side by side” is the human way of putting it. In reality, Rocky was half a step ahead, and I was following him. I had put on more muscle than I used to have. Thank God for that. Compared to when Erid’s gravity had me constantly wiped out, I was doing a lot better.
But muscle wasn’t the same thing as getting younger.
Unfortunately.
“Recently, your shape is much easier to see.”
He said it so casually that I nearly stopped walking.
“…Huh?”
Rocky didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to.
He only slowed his pace a little and made the gravel sound beneath him, as if checking that I was keeping up.
“Easier than before,” Rocky continued. “Movement of chest. Vibration of breathing. When you sing. When you laugh. Easier to hear than before.”
I reflexively brought a hand to my chest. It wasn’t that I wanted to count my ribs or anything. It’s just that when someone says something like that, a person tends to check their own body. At least, I do.
“Don’t use that as a compliment to humans.”
“Not bad meaning.”
“I know that,” I said. “But what you’re saying is basically that I’m getting old.”
Rocky was silent for a moment. He tapped the ground twice, then moved just a little closer to me.
“Yes. But easier for Rocky to see. Your shape.”
Your shape.
That was all he meant. Somehow it lingered anyway. I was talking about something like, Well, I guess I’m getting a little bony. Rocky was looking at something simpler than that, and somehow much harder to escape.
So I laughed it off.
“At this rate, you’re going to say you want my bones after I die.”
It was a joke.
At least half of it was.
But Rocky didn’t answer right away.
For a while, there was only the sound of the waves. Artificially managed sea or not, that sound was just as pleasant as the real thing. Erid’s sky was covered in thick clouds, so there was no Earthlike glitter on the horizon. But water sounded like water. Maybe that was something the universe allowed everywhere.
“…Rocky?”
“Thinking.”
“I can see that.”
I thought he might say something more, but that was all I got.
We started walking again, listening to the waves, and returned home like always.
But Rocky’s silence stayed with me after that.
Long enough that it still hadn’t gone away by that night.
Before bed, Rocky was building something on the other side of the partition, as usual. Small metallic sounds continued in a steady rhythm. I sat on the edge of my bed and listened for a while.
The fact that those sounds calmed me down was either a matter of habit, or proof that Rocky had completely domesticated me.
Either way, probably better not to think too hard about it.
“About earlier.”
The metallic sounds stopped.
“Earlier meaning bones.”
“Don’t identify it that confidently.”
“Grace was thinking about it.”
“Of course I was.”
I sighed.
“I meant it as a joke. About half a joke.”
“Half serious.”
“…Yeah.”
Rocky tapped the floor once. Like an acknowledgment. Probably close to a nod, if he were human.
“Rocky will not do it if you do not want.”
“Do what?”
“Want your bones.”
The way he said it so straightforwardly almost made me laugh.
Rocky wanting my bones. If you pulled that sentence out by itself, it sounded like a horror movie. As alien horror went, full marks.
But because it was Rocky, it simply refused to go in that direction.
“But Rocky considered human methods first,” he continued.
“Human methods?”
“Yes.”
Rocky sounded a little proud.
“Return with Hail Mary. Send to Earth. Keep in a way similar to human burial. Considered several options.”
I was quiet for a while.
Rocky wanting my bones was, in a way, exactly what I would have expected. He was the kind of person who wanted to know structures and forms. Eridians, as a whole, were pretty terrible at hiding things. And Rocky was honest even by Eridian standards.
But the fact that he had set his own desire aside and thought first about what a human might want was… a little unexpected.
“…You don’t have to worry about Earth that much.”
“But you are human.”
“I’m human, but I’ve been here for a long time.”
I looked down at my own knees. Standing work and walking weren’t as easy as they used to be. Not easy, but I hated admitting that every single time.
“And anyway, it’s not like the people on Earth know nothing. We sent them video records with the Beatles. The Hail Mary records exist. They should have seen you. Your image. Your voice.”
As I said it, I could feel myself getting a little angry.
Not anger, exactly. Probably an old irritation. The kind you think you put away in the back of a drawer, until it comes out on its own.
“If scientists are serious, they can come meet the Eridians after I die. If they want to know about Erid, they can build a spaceship and come here. I already gave them proof that Rocky existed. That a civilization existed.”
I gave a small snort.
“If they don’t come, that’s their choice. I don’t need them sending just my bones back to Earth and suddenly making me into some kind of human legacy.”
Rocky was silent.
I knew he wasn’t objecting. He was probably taking my reasoning exactly as it was. Rocky didn’t offer strange comfort at times like this. Right now, I was grateful for that.
“…Then not return to Earth.”
“Don’t return me.”
I said it firmly.
“If you bury me, I’d like it near the sea.”
“Near the sea.”
“Doesn’t have to be Earth. But I want the sound of the sea.”
After I said it, I laughed a little.
“I guess I really do like that. Wind in the morning. The sound of waves. A place where you can come visit easily.”
“I will visit,” Rocky said immediately. “Many times.”
“I know.”
I sighed again.
“And what about your real answer?”
“Real answer.”
“My bones.”
This time, Rocky paused.
Not to hide anything. To choose his words. I could tell the difference.
“Not all,” Rocky said at last. “Only one. Rib is good.”
I looked up.
“Rib?”
“Yes.”
His voice was quiet.
“When you sang, it moved. When you laughed, it moved. When you breathed. When you were angry. When you cried. Rocky listened there often.”
He said it so directly that I couldn’t answer for a while.
A rib.
That was specific.
Too specific.
Specific enough that I wanted to tell him to be at least a little more abstract.
But when he said it, it made an absurd amount of sense. To Rocky, I was shape, vibration, and sound. Of course my rib cage was special. When I sang, when I laughed, when I breathed, it moved.
The more I thought about it, the more perfect his logic was, which made it harder to argue with.
“…You really don’t hide that kind of thing, do you?”
“There is no reason to hide.”
“Normally, there is.”
“But I do not want to hide from you.”
It probably wasn’t meant to be a line.
Rocky didn’t decorate things at times like this. He didn’t decorate them, and then he stabbed straight through the place that mattered.
Really.
He had no right to say things that way.
“One is fine.”
Before I knew it, I had said it.
On the other side of the partition, Rocky went perfectly still.
“Not all of them,” I said first, before he could misunderstand. “The main body gets buried properly near the sea. Don’t send me back to Earth. Don’t let your people turn me into whatever kind of specimen they want.”
“Yes.”
“But one is fine. You can keep one. One rib. That much, I’ll give you.”
After a while, Rocky made a low sound.
A happy sound.
But not the kind that felt like he might bounce all over the place. Sometimes, when he was happy, the sound was quiet, as if he were holding it carefully inside himself.
This was that kind.
“Put in case,” Rocky said. “Transparent xenonite. Keep safe.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“I want to keep your shape properly.”
That finally made me laugh.
Half exasperation, half surrender.
“You really are hopeless.”
“I know.”
“But not yet.”
“What is not yet?”
“Getting that rib.”
I tapped my own chest lightly.
“I’m still planning to use this, you know.”
This time, Rocky didn’t say anything. He moved closer.
Through the partition, the tips of his front arms stopped near my chest. He didn’t touch me directly. He couldn’t. But I could tell he was concentrating on that spot.
I inhaled once, then exhaled.
I didn’t usually think about how my bones moved. My heart, my lungs, all that stuff was necessary for staying alive, so it did its job. Not something a person normally paid attention to.
Normally.
But for Rocky, it was different. That movement. That shape. Those vibrations coming back to him.
All of that was me.
“Yes,” Rocky said at last. “So now, I listen to where it is moving.”
That was the end of it.
Not a neat ending. Not anything beautiful.
Just Rocky listening near my chest, the sound of waves somewhere far away, and me getting strangely sleepy.
That was all.
But maybe that was enough.
Near the sea wouldn’t be bad.
Even if it wasn’t Earth, I thought I could be a little selfish about that.