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Like, this mindset makes everything that happens in the story absolutely hilarious, in particular the whole first interactions bit.

From Rocky's point of view he sent a simple model of the local star systems to indicate where he was from hoping these new creatures would indicate where they were from. He put it in a protective cylinder and sent it over to the ship. Something enormous climbs out of a hole in the side of their ship... Wait, did one of the creature go OUTSIDE its ship in a a god damn plastic bag just to catch it??? I better aim it at where it came out of so it doesn't do that again. Then when the cylinder gets back, the creatures have indicated where they're from by attaching a lollypop stick with chewinggum to the model... which has mostly fallen off in the heat. Also they put distilled fire in the cylinder???

The creature then climbs outside its ship, again, chiseled a lump of its ship with a hammer so it can send you a sample so you can join to it and... its made of thin sheets of soft lead???

Then on finally talking to this large creature he realises it's incredibly delicate like a jellyfish, so god damn stupid, has essentially no memory, and cant do basic maths. And you're supposed to be saving you're entire civilisation with this squishy idiot. But then a while later it turns around and explains relativistic time dilation and background radiation like its something he should have figured out already.

Ive heard multiple people describing Rocky seeing Grace like the equivalent of a dog, but he's really is more like hes a three and a half year old blind jellyfish. Its living in a frozen semi-vacuum of highly explosive gas, can't remember anything, needs to nap constantly or it becomes noticeably more stupid, and it's here to save the world.

I'm slowly forgetting your face...

Reminds me of the time we dared a brick oven pizza restaurant to make a pizza with so much garlic we couldn't finish it.

Boy did they deliver. The pizza had (no exaggeration) a solid inch of chopped garlic on top. It was fucking delicious. Multiple times we spotted restaurant workers peeking at us from the kitchen, with an obvious "my god they're actually eating it!" energy.

Of course we left a massive tip. Leaving the place we felt like triumphant Olympians gold-medaling the Pizza Event.

Only one problem.

Bear, aged 8, was the leader of this particularly chaotic takeaway. I overheard them pretending to phone another customer - customer order 125 - and explaining that their delivery would be delayed by approximately fifteen minutes due to a “rockslide.”

“Hey, wait a minute, what was that?” I asked.

“Are you order number 125?”

“No, I’m order number 165.”

Bear said severely, “we don’t give information about other people’s orders.”

“That’s very professional,” I said, “but what was that about a rockslide?”

Bear said, “that’s not your order.”

“Sorry,” i said, justly chastened. “Was it a big rockslide? Is it on the news?”

“If you need information about your order, you will get it.”

My pretend phone then pretend rang, so I had to answer it. It was the takeaway.

“Number 165? Your order will be delayed by five minutes.”

“Oh,” I said, “why?”