For what it’s worth, the Eridians are fantastic hosts. They don’t have a government, per se, but all the important entities agreed to do whatever it takes to keep me alive. After all, I played a critical role in saving their planet. And even if I hadn’t, I’m a living, breathing alien. Of course they’re going to keep me alive. I’m of extreme scientific interest.

I live in a big dome in the middle of one of their “cities.” Though “city” isn’t quite the right word. A better description might be a “cluster.”

I have grounds and everything. Thirty Eridians outside the dome maintain my life-support systems, or so I’m told. And my dome is very close to one of the larger science centers. Many of Erid’s greatest minds collect there and thrum. That’s sort of a song and discussion in one. But everyone talks at the same time and it’s not really conscious on their part. Somehow the thrum leads to conclusions and decisions. The thrum itself is much smarter than any Eridian in it. In a way, Eridians can become ad-hoc neurons in a group mind. But they come and go as they please.

I’m particularly interesting, so pretty much every scientist on the planet came together to thrum up ways to keep me alive. I’m told it was the second-largest science-oriented thrum ever executed. (The largest, of course, was when they had to make a plan for dealing with Astrophage.)

Thanks to my Earth scientific journals, they know all my nutritional needs and how to synthesize the various vitamins in labs. Once they solved that, smaller, less-focused groups worked on making them taste better. That’s more or less up to me, actually. Lots of taste tests. Glucose, common to both Eridian and Human biomes, comes up a lot.

The best thing, though, is they managed to clone my muscle tissue and grow it in labs. I can thank Earth science for that. They were nowhere near that technology when I first showed up. But that was sixteen years ago—they’re catching up quite well.

Anyway, it means I can finally eat meat. Yes, that’s right, I’m eating human meat. But it’s my own meat, and I don’t feel bad about it. Spend a decade eating nothing but odd-tasting, vaguely sweet vitamin shakes and then see if you’ll turn down a burger.

I love meburgers. I eat one every day.

I grab my cane and head out. I’m not a young man anymore, and the high gravity of Erid has only made my bones degenerate faster. I think I’m fifty-three years old now, but I’m not sure. I’ve done a lot of time-dilated travel. I can accurately say seventy-one years have gone by on Earth since I was born, for what it’s worth.