Code Word - Eddie
I have a best friend. His name is Eddie.
Originally, I called him Teddy, like a teddy bear, because he’s just as soft and fluffy. But he reacts strangely to the letter “T”. The moment he hears a word that starts with it, he shudders all over. I suppose in his language it must mean something unpleasant. Yes, there is an almost insurmountable language barrier between me and Eddie. He has a different mentality, a different character. But we get along pretty well. You could say he’s the first real best friend I’ve ever had.
At first, we simply worked together in the repair section of the spacecraft, lining the interior hull and fixing small pieces of equipment. I won’t lie - Eddie is smarter than I am. He mostly handled wiring and microcircuits, while I processed metal and tightened bolts. In that way, the two of us - so different - complemented each other perfectly.Then there was an accident. A small one.
Something exploded in the storage unit directly beneath my sleeping quarters. The blast tore down the wall beside my bed. Since then, the left side of my face hardly resembles something human anymore. More like a marinated piece of pork.I already had trouble communicating before that. Now? I could scare children just by standing still.
That’s when Eddie and I became close.
He found me under the rubble. He covered my face in saliva and somehow saved my remaining eye from further damage. Management decided not to fire me, but instead assign me as Eddie’s assistant. Safer. Lower pay. Still better than being written off and sent back to Earth. For several months now I’ve been following Eddie everywhere - if that’s even the right expression. His tracks are confusing, and I’m not nearly as good at climbing walls as he is. I still need to figure out all the harnesses and safety lines before I can actually be of real help to my “mentor.” I’m glad Eddie doesn’t get angry. He’s a good guy. Even if I don’t always understand him.
For example, his real name - not the one I gave him, but the one he was given...at birth, I suppose - sounds like rubbing one hand against another in a very specific rhythm. No matter how many times he tries to show me how to reproduce it, I always get it wrong. And then he leaves. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look disappointed. He just leaves. But when I call him Eddie, he fixes his gaze on me and waits for something.
We mostly communicate through gestures. Mostly I’m the one gesturing. Even among his own kind, Eddie isn’t particularly talkative. As far as I know, he doesn’t have a girlfriend or any other friends besides me. I’ve always reached out to people, ever since I was young. I tried to connect. I just wasn’t very good at it. I talked too much. Or not enough. I said things I shouldn’t have. Or said nothing when something important needed to be said.
My defect is obvious.
Why Eddie keeps his distance from everyone - I don’t understand that. He’s just like the others. They’re drawn to him. They try to communicate. But he avoids them. He probably would have avoided me too, if we didn’t work together.
Our bond took time. It only became real friendship after he saved me. Because I’ve always been rather lonely, I remember thinking, well...sacrificing half my face for a new friend isn’t such a bad deal. The explosion didn’t bring much regret. Neither did the disfigurement. Recently, while we were sitting in the mess hall, I told him, “You know, you’re amazing”. He just looked at me, silent. But I swear something flickered in his completely black eyes. At least in two out of five. Eddie has six eyes, like all arachnids. One of his eyes is completely blind, I assume. Arachnids are spiders whose bodies can reach a couple of meters in length, not counting their legs. In a resting position they stand about one meter tall. Sometimes they straighten their legs, which makes them reach the chest of an average adult human. Eddie does that when he’s displeased. He straightens up, looks at me, and moves his mandibles. “Don’t grumble.” I tell him, fighting the overwhelming urge to pet him. Before the accident, I assumed arachnids were as rigid as Earth spiders. But when he rescued me, I had the chance to touch his legs. They were, as I said, soft. Like a plush toy.
“I’ve never seen anyone talk to them before.” a voice suddenly said near my ear. I turned around in fright. I hadn’t seen a human in this sector for half a year. Hearing actual speech startled me. “Do you understand him? And me?” the man continued.
“No, of course I don’t understand him,” I said “I just try. But I understand you perfectly”.
The stranger in the medical coat wrote something in his notebook and asked about my condition.
“Excellent,” I replied. “Just a little lonely. There are no other humans here, and the other arachnids don’t approach me. Except Eddie”.
“You could try communicating with sounds,” the man smiled. “They respond quite well to sound.”
After that, I whistled.
Eddie looked at me like I was an idiot.
“See?” I said “He’s clearly not impressed. I’ll just keep talking to him normally”.
“Very well,” the man smiled again. “Tell me - do you feel there has been progress in your mutual understanding?”.
I thought about it.In the last few months, I’ve felt a connection with Eddie. But I wouldn’t say our conversations have grown deeper. I answered him something along those lines, without too much detail. After all, I didn’t know who he was. When we left Earth, I saw our medical officer during examinations, and it definitely wasn’t him.“I’m just a scientist,” the man said, as if reading my thoughts. “I study arachnid behavior and their interaction with humans. I’ll ask a few questions and leave.”. “Fine,” I said, not particularly enthusiastic. “What would you like to know? I know Eddie very well. I can tell you a lot about his species.”. “That won’t be necessary,” the scientist replied thoughtfully. “The only question is whether he has ever attempted to consume you.”. “Consume?”. “Yes. For instance, have you noticed him attempting to make a meal of you?”. The question was outrageous.“Eddie is my friend,” I said. “He would never do that. We’re always together. Our bond isn’t something you fools can understand.”
After that, the scientist made a few notes and left, and I stood there, completely bewildered.How could anyone even suggest such a thing?Unlike friendship between humans, Eddie physically cannot have ulterior motives. We have nothing to divide. Nothing to expect from each other. The fact that we keep choosing each other’s company for so long may be the purest form of attachment living organisms are capable of.At work I’m nearly useless to him. As a conversational partner, I’m mediocre at best. And yet he stays beside me.I turned toward Eddie.“Buddy,” I asked quietly, “you don’t want to eat me, do you?”He let out a soft clicking sound.
