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Five Heartwarming Things Dr Ryland Grace Is Getting Up To Now That He’s Home
By Fleur Dekker, BuzzFeed Staff
Posted on October 13th, 2087
Dr Ryland Grace is unlike any person I’ve ever met. Maybe it’s the xenonite cane he walks with, engraved with cosmic imagery by his Eridian friends. Maybe it’s his smile, tired but welcoming, an old man’s grin on a teacher half the age he should be. Maybe it’s the fact that I used to see his face everywhere growing up — on statues, in history books, and more recently, in my news feed when the WSC announced he was coming home.
Dr Grace lives in a small, quaint house just a few miles away from the secured location of the World Space Council (WSC)’s Eridian Biodome. It’s near a beach as well, though he tells me that neither of those places are as close as he wants them to be. When my photographer and I come in, he asks if he can get us anything, but a cursory glance at the kitchen reveals that he doesn’t have much to offer. On the bench sit half a dozen different cereal brands, all opened, and a few protein bars.
“I’m still trying to find something I can stomach,” he said sheepishly. “Food has changed a lot. I’m a little mad that Froot Loops didn’t survive the apocalypse.”
We use different grains in our processed food than we did sixty years ago, he says. Oats were more frost-resistant than wheat and barley, and other crops that were used in ‘20s natural flavouring were decimated by the cold. I sympathise; there are a million little things he’s no doubt had to adapt to as a man out of his time, and though some are obvious, the taste of food is one I hadn’t put much thought into.
In the living room, I take a seat on his mustard-yellow couch — an odd choice, but he can have anything he wants for saving the world — and he sits opposite me, avoiding my eyes. He is what I can only describe as ‘professionally awkward’. He fidgets and makes bad jokes, out of place in his own home the moment we intruded, but he puts on a smile that feels devoid of judgment, and when his attention wanders, he pulls it back in as if he feels a responsibility to be polite for us.
He does not hold himself like a hero. At first glance, it’s hard to believe that this man saved the world. But once you look closer, you come to realise how his specific brand of charm was exactly what Earth needed in its eleventh hour.
Dr Ryland Grace holds himself like a teacher.
He asks me how you’re meant to start these sorts of things, and, suddenly taken aback by the sight of him in front of me, I give it to him the only way I know how.
“Tell me about life on Earth.”
#1: Bureaucracy
Dr Grace is quick to inform me that the most painful thing about our planet is how slowly things happen.
“My last few years on Earth, things got done at the speed of light. That was the advantage of the position we were in. But I spend so much of my time in meetings these days,” he lamented.
During the beginning of the Astrophage Crisis, former European Space Agency (ESA) Administrator Eva Stratt was given complete and total authority over the nations of the world to find a solution to save the Earth. While Ms Stratt would answer for her actions after the launch of the Hail Mary, the project moved at a breakneck pace during its three-year lifespan, beginning with the ArcLight probe and ending with Dr Grace’s ascent into space.
The science was young and exciting, Dr Grace describes, and thanks to Ms Stratt, there was no red tape or due process to slow things down. “It was just a whole other way of life,” he told me. “For three years, I’d wake up, I’d do science, and nineteen hours later, I’d find my way back to sleep. I don’t think I signed a single form except my employment contract.”
Now, thanks to the planet’s stability, things can move a lot slower again here on Earth. As someone with a legal American death certificate, Dr Grace certainly had a lot of paperwork to do when he got home. He now works as an advisor to the WSC’s Eridian Relations Taskforce as he eases himself back into life on Earth, which involves convening with administrators, PR teams, and “lots of language classes with kids who speak really terrible Eridian.”
#2: Replying to messages
This is the next thing Dr Grace describes to me in detail. He set up a Hotmail account in the 2000s and never got around to changing it when Microsoft rebranded to Outlook.com in the ‘10s. It was the address he used for personal accounts and, later, matters regarding the Petrova Taskforce. After the Hail Mary was launched, the email address appeared in documents subpoenaed by the various international courts involved in Eva Stratt’s prosecution, quietly leaking it to the public — and, more importantly, the people he’d been close to.
“I booted Outlook back up on my new computer once they finally let me use the internet, and everything came flooding in,” Dr Grace recounted, sounding floored even all these months later. “People will use a dead guy’s inbox for anything, y’know.”
Among the most notable messages were from his students. Before the Astrophage Crisis, Dr Grace was a teacher at Grover Cleveland Middle School, later renamed the Ryland Grace Memorial School in 2022. He taught a dozen classes over the years, and when I ask if he has a soft spot for any of them, he says it would have to be his last.
“She— Stratt recruited me after school, you know?” he told me, his words slightly choked with the grimmness of the memory. I didn’t know that, but it puts things in perspective. “So I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.”
He won’t share anything personal, which makes sense to me. But he says he spends some of his downtime each week combing through the messages, sorting out spam and finding new treasures. Many of his students survived his return, and I’m sure they have a lot to chat about.
#3: Taking in the fresh air
It’s something we take for granted every day, but from the look in Dr Grace’s eyes, I know he never will again. He chose this house for the beach nearby, and he spends nearly every sunrise there, relishing in the world he saved for all of us. The Hail Mary had an immersive screen system and could play nature sounds over the speakers in any room, and the Eridians tried their best to build him a habitat, but nothing’s the same as the real deal.
“You never appreciate the little things until you’ve been in the silence of space,” he says.
He’s also visited national parks, lakes, and even just gone on slow walks to the end of the road and back, which he told me “sounds lame, but the human brain will make anything magical if you let it.”
Sixty years ago, the natural world looked very different to how it does now. Humanity’s most unprecedented mass extinction event, the Astrophage Disruption, still has ramifications in the current day. Biodiversity in North America was destroyed by earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, and snowstorms in quick succession, and the species that survived are still struggling to recover. Before the crisis, forests covered 33% of the United States. Today, that value stands at a wavering 11%. Cold-resistant species still stand, and initiatives began reintroducing sensitive flora in the 2060s to measurable success, but our planet is still far from what it used to be.
“It’s more than enough for me,” Dr Grace said, glancing out the window. “I’m just glad we could save it.”
#4: Pioneering new science
Is this one even a surprise? Dr Grace chuckles when I ask this, which makes it sound like something he’s heard before.
“I can’t keep myself away. My body’s just about ready to give up on me, but my mind’s still whirring,” he said.
The WSC announced the safe arrival of nine Eridians on Earth a year ago this Sunday, and since then, leaders and researchers from across the world have been meeting with our interstellar neighbours with unwavering eagerness. Already, our rudimentary knowledge of xenonite has expanded, with implications for medicine, construction, space travel, and more, and our understanding of Eridian language and culture is growing by the week. Dr Grace is Earth’s biggest expert on all things Eridian, and he’s been eager to share his knowledge.
“I had about fifteen papers running back when I lived on Erid. I never actually finished any until I got bored on the trip home. Now, I’m slowly trying to get them published,” he said.
If so, I tell him, he’ll probably have the record for the longest academic comeback in the history of… ever.
He likes that idea, if the goofy grin on his face is to be believed.
#5: Hanging out with his best friend
It’s the final point on this list for reader retention purposes, but in truth, this is the first thing Dr Grace tells me, and the point he keeps coming back to throughout our interview.
“He’s my person. I think I’d go crazy if I couldn’t see him,” he told me, showing off a framed photograph of him and the Eridian, Rocky, on Erid.
I recognise Rocky instantly, as anyone would. The whole world was witness to his and Dr Grace’s unlikely friendship when the contents of the Beatles were released over the course of the 2050s. Video log after video log showed their chemistry, grit, and undeniable bond in real time, and they became a symbol of hope in a decade defined by fear.
They’re the face of one of the cereal brands on Dr Grace’s kitchen bench — Xeno-Bites, toy included. There are statues of them sitting together, discussing their native cultures, erected in peace gardens and science schools alike. The Beatles arrived when I was in middle school, and I remember the indoor playground being flooded with kids doing the crab walk and speaking in Rocky’s modulated tones. Those same kids who, just months before, had sat and stared off into the distance with worry in our eyes too big for our young bodies, not knowing if we would ever live to be the same age as I am now.
When I tell him this at the end of the interview, we’ve already been talking for a long time. He’s tired, and he warned me at the beginning that emotions take a toll on his body. For a moment, he’s silent, wringing his hands, and I wonder if he’ll end the interview there.
Then, his face dissolves into a watery smile.
“Thank you,” he whispered, even if I should be thanking him.
Dr Grace and Rocky spend most of their spare time together these days, whether that be at the Eridian Biodome or outside of it, exploring the strange Earth they’ve both been thrust into. Dr Grace writes his papers with Rocky, watches the sunrises with Rocky, replies to his emails with Rocky, and has tried and failed to convince top WSC executives to let him bring Rocky with him to his “boring meetings” for emotional support. They’re attached to the hip, I garner, and he agrees.
“Who wouldn’t be?” he asked.
It’s refreshing to see a happy ending for Dr Grace, whom the world put through so much. I can tell from the slow way he moves and the shaking of his hands that space and time have taken their toll on him, but there’s also a strength within him unmatched by any other person.
His incredible journey ends here in Washington, in a secluded cottage he chose for its proximity to the things he loves. As my photographer and I gather our things at the end of our interview, I ask him if he ever gets lonely here, living semi-independently down the road from civilisation.
“Oh, the opposite,” he said. “Humans are great and all, but it’s peaceful here. That’s all I want: my peace.”
We pack ourselves into the car, politely declining his offer of a few opened cereal boxes he’s decided he doesn’t like, and he signs an Eridian goodbye from the front porch, supported by that beautiful xenonite cane.
This is the first interview Dr Grace has given to the press since he landed over a year ago, and though I can’t help but wonder why he chose BuzzFeed for his media debut, I’m left feeling overwhelmingly grateful for his time.
·· ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
3 hours later:
The forest air was like nothing I’d breathed in thirty years.
I’d been here more times than I could count, but even still, it took me by surprise. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it again; to being able to step out of a building and breathe deeply for as far as the eye could see, my footsteps leaving marks in the ground.
The woods behind my house were small and full of young growth, coaxed to life by a local group. But there were old trees, too — some as old as me, or older — and those were the ones that made me feel at home.
Rocky walked ahead of me, a happy rumble emanating from his carapace. By my side, Maya slowly helped me along, over the stones and bumpy roots that threatened the beaten path we’d walked before. She didn’t speak unless necessary, which I appreciated; she knew how much the silence meant to me these days.
Up ahead, Rocky tripped over a root and took a tumble, and I chuckled deep in my chest at the sight.
Sometimes, I felt like I was taking a dog on a walk. He’d scamper off, darting through the brush and playing with ferns and mushrooms and babbling brooks. Earth had long given up on stopping me from taking him on unauthorised spacewalks, so long as I made sure he wasn’t a biohazard to the Eridian Biodome when he got back. I’d had to hose him off a few times before, laughing as he yelled and ran for cover while I sprayed his muddy xenonite suit with water. I didn’t think I’d ever smiled so hard.
The people from BuzzFeed had left hours ago, taking their notebooks and cameras with them, but the stories I’d shared still sat with me. I didn’t think the journalist would use many of them — she had a short, engaging article to write, and I’d rambled about my adventures with Rocky for hours — but it had felt good to tell them anyway.
The whole experience had been surreal, honestly. I’d expected her to ask about the Hail Mary, about my mission, about Erid, or even what life had been like before Astrophage. I hadn’t expected her not to care, or at least not to focus on how I saved the world.
It had been refreshing to talk about the ‘now’ rather than the past.
But the absence of those questions left them lingering on my skin, so I’d asked to come here for the afternoon.
The sounds of the forest were soothing, and the fresh air cleared my head better than anything. My body sensed it: this primordial tie to the Earth. It finally let go.
I’d never really processed the grief of leaving my home planet, let alone the traumatic circumstances that engulfed my final hours on Earth. I still had nightmares of being slammed to the ground, of grabbing at breaking grass with all my strength, digging my hands into the dirt — this terrestrial place I was so desperate not to leave. On Erid, I’d wake up in a cold sweat, my hands gripping the sheets, and Rocky would spend precious minutes calming my mewling cries with words well-worn into the walls of the house he’d built for me.
I’d never gotten closure, even when Rocky had told me Sol was saved. I’d accepted that it would probably live with me forever: the chest-deep, stomach-squeezing feeling that came with my displacement from everything I’d ever known.
Even after returning to Earth so many years later, I still felt far away.
Because it wasn’t just Earth the place that was taken from me; it was Earth the time as well. Decades faded from my view at the same speed as the sight of that pale blue dot did, 2021 slipping out of reach as the Hail Mary shot off into the stars.
I never got to know what came of the launch, or those thirty years of waiting. I still didn’t, not fully. The entirety of humanity continued along one path, and I shot off on another, alone. They shared one experience — the war, the famine, the human spirit — and I had to forge my own.
Now, after the arduous journey home, I still felt lost. I was out of my time. And my heart ached for things it wasn’t physically possible to ever get back.
But the forest soothed. The forest was old, impossibly so, and it had stood the test of time. Many of these trees had been here when I’d left, and though the birdcalls were different, my ape brain didn’t care.
“This tree is stupid,” Rocky muttered as he picked himself up from the ground, and I smiled.
I had my person. I had my home.
That was all an old man like me needed to die happy.