a sharp, clean thing
I, uh. Huh. Haven't had any original fic in awhile. There's probably a reason for that: I couldn't tell you half of what's going on under the surface here.
It's for prompt_in_a_box, round 43, for the prompt "rain". I was walking to my car earlier and found myself reflecting on what I think smells clean, and it somehow turned into this.
He opened the door of his apartment for me, turning on a light. It illuminated a handful of chairs and a table, and the shadows it left hinted at other objects farther into the room, and at rooms beyond.
"It's not much, but at least it's clean, right?" He laughed weakly, turning on one light after another. The supersonic hum they produced barely made my eye twitch, after so much time in so-called civilization, but something of my irritation must have come across in my expression, as his immediately fell flat. "What?" he asked, tired. "What did I do now?"
Where do I begin, I thought, but resisted the urge. It was hardly his fault that his culture so highly valued things anathema to myself. "Clean," I said mockingly, spreading my arms wide. "You people have no concept of the meaning. Clean isn't a space free of sediment and lower lifeforms, it's one free of toxins and carcinogens."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive," he argued.
"True, but your society so often favors the latter to the former. Ridiculous, when earth and insects were here long before your synthesized biowarfare and poisonous smog."
He shook his head. "Just because humans caused those things doesn't mean we like them. Hell, a lot of them were created trying to get rid of natural poisons - viruses, bacterial infections, mold-riddled food."
"So their intended, yet unsuccessful, purpose justifies their existence?"
"You're twisting my words!"
I was. Arguments have had their moments of enjoyment, but more frequently from the way my opponents reacted rather than the discussion being held. I smiled, and remembered to keep my mouth closed this time. Humans did so frighten at the sight of pointed teeth. Quite a curious reaction, given their apparent dominance over anything with teeth resembling my own. "Alright, we'll shelve that matter for now. Returning to the original discussion: what would you consider clean? An empty room of pure white plastic, hermetically sealed to prevent the smallest creature from gaining access?"
He laughed. Laughed. I found myself nearly gaping at the insolence, which apparently only amused him further. "No, no," he gasped, a hand to his stomach. "That's not clean, that's sterile. Going to that kind of lengths to be clean would leave people half dead. We need bacteria to function, and something like that would kill them all nondiscriminantly. It's pointless to make something so clean nothing can survive there, not even us."
"So," I asked again, eyes narrowed. "What do you consider clean?"
He shrugged, a grin still tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't know, a bookshelf freshly dusted and neatly organized? Something that was intended to be presented a certain way, and fits that intented image perfectly."
"So, art." Curious.
"Yeah, maybe." He tilted his head to the side, observing me. "Why, what's clean to you?"
I shut my eyes to imagine it. "So much time passed while I was asleep. So many of the places I would call clean are gone now, long gone. And," I added, opening one eye the smallest bit, "some of them would be less 'clean' and more 'deadly' to your kind. So I will be brief, and choose a recent event." Closing my eyes once more, I breathed in, and for a moment it was as I remembered it. "Very early on, when I was lost and confused, I was caught in a thunderstorm. The closest cover was a small patch of trees on the other side of the clearing, and in running for it I stumbled into the mud several times. By the time I reached the trees, the storm had lessened to a gentle mist, and the burgeoning sunlight and wind were tracing shapes with the droplets where they hung in midair. As the clouds faded, the sunlight burned the mist away, and all that was left was dew on the grass, a faint rainbow, and the scent of earth in the air." It was perhaps the most perfect moment I had experienced in this second attempt at life.
"That's beautiful," he murmured, abruptly pulling me from my memory. Wondering when I'd lain down, I shot to my feet.
"That," I said, "is clean."
"So, clean is beautiful," he said, and then, "oh."
I smiled, not bothering to hide my teeth. "Now you see."
"Yeah," he said, looking bewildered. "I guess I do."
It's for prompt_in_a_box, round 43, for the prompt "rain". I was walking to my car earlier and found myself reflecting on what I think smells clean, and it somehow turned into this.
He opened the door of his apartment for me, turning on a light. It illuminated a handful of chairs and a table, and the shadows it left hinted at other objects farther into the room, and at rooms beyond.
"It's not much, but at least it's clean, right?" He laughed weakly, turning on one light after another. The supersonic hum they produced barely made my eye twitch, after so much time in so-called civilization, but something of my irritation must have come across in my expression, as his immediately fell flat. "What?" he asked, tired. "What did I do now?"
Where do I begin, I thought, but resisted the urge. It was hardly his fault that his culture so highly valued things anathema to myself. "Clean," I said mockingly, spreading my arms wide. "You people have no concept of the meaning. Clean isn't a space free of sediment and lower lifeforms, it's one free of toxins and carcinogens."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive," he argued.
"True, but your society so often favors the latter to the former. Ridiculous, when earth and insects were here long before your synthesized biowarfare and poisonous smog."
He shook his head. "Just because humans caused those things doesn't mean we like them. Hell, a lot of them were created trying to get rid of natural poisons - viruses, bacterial infections, mold-riddled food."
"So their intended, yet unsuccessful, purpose justifies their existence?"
"You're twisting my words!"
I was. Arguments have had their moments of enjoyment, but more frequently from the way my opponents reacted rather than the discussion being held. I smiled, and remembered to keep my mouth closed this time. Humans did so frighten at the sight of pointed teeth. Quite a curious reaction, given their apparent dominance over anything with teeth resembling my own. "Alright, we'll shelve that matter for now. Returning to the original discussion: what would you consider clean? An empty room of pure white plastic, hermetically sealed to prevent the smallest creature from gaining access?"
He laughed. Laughed. I found myself nearly gaping at the insolence, which apparently only amused him further. "No, no," he gasped, a hand to his stomach. "That's not clean, that's sterile. Going to that kind of lengths to be clean would leave people half dead. We need bacteria to function, and something like that would kill them all nondiscriminantly. It's pointless to make something so clean nothing can survive there, not even us."
"So," I asked again, eyes narrowed. "What do you consider clean?"
He shrugged, a grin still tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I don't know, a bookshelf freshly dusted and neatly organized? Something that was intended to be presented a certain way, and fits that intented image perfectly."
"So, art." Curious.
"Yeah, maybe." He tilted his head to the side, observing me. "Why, what's clean to you?"
I shut my eyes to imagine it. "So much time passed while I was asleep. So many of the places I would call clean are gone now, long gone. And," I added, opening one eye the smallest bit, "some of them would be less 'clean' and more 'deadly' to your kind. So I will be brief, and choose a recent event." Closing my eyes once more, I breathed in, and for a moment it was as I remembered it. "Very early on, when I was lost and confused, I was caught in a thunderstorm. The closest cover was a small patch of trees on the other side of the clearing, and in running for it I stumbled into the mud several times. By the time I reached the trees, the storm had lessened to a gentle mist, and the burgeoning sunlight and wind were tracing shapes with the droplets where they hung in midair. As the clouds faded, the sunlight burned the mist away, and all that was left was dew on the grass, a faint rainbow, and the scent of earth in the air." It was perhaps the most perfect moment I had experienced in this second attempt at life.
"That's beautiful," he murmured, abruptly pulling me from my memory. Wondering when I'd lain down, I shot to my feet.
"That," I said, "is clean."
"So, clean is beautiful," he said, and then, "oh."
I smiled, not bothering to hide my teeth. "Now you see."
"Yeah," he said, looking bewildered. "I guess I do."