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What’s it like, being a ceiling fan? Crowley asked. Don’t you ever get dizzy?
No, Aziraphale answered. It’s quite lovely, really. As long as I’m in good condition, it’s a smooth spin, and the air flows over my blades quite nicely. Why do you ask?
Just curious, Crowley said. Wish I could try it sometime.
I should like to try out your job. It’s so very still, I imagine it might be disconcerting.
I’m not that still, not really, Crowley argued. Only all the spinning and stuff is inside my casing.
Hm, Aziraphale said, and they dropped the topic.
~
Crowley, Aziraphale said a few days later. When we’re both on like this, do you ever feel a sort of tangle? When our airflows cross?
What?
Like the air is spinning around itself and forgetting who it came from.
Crowley was silent for a minute. Finally he said, Yes. Huh.
Did you only just now notice?
Yes, what’s your point?
Could we follow the tangle? Aziraphale asked, knowing he sounded ridiculous and not caring. Meet in the middle, and go back to each other’s chassis?
Crowley whrrrred a little while longer, clearly thinking, then said, Might work. What if we get switched off and we’re in the wrong places?
I’m sure they’ll turn us on again.
Aren’t I usually the one with the ridiculous ideas?
Are you curious or not?
Fine, Crowley said. Fine, yes, I’m curious.
Let’s do it, then, Aziraphale said. Who knows how often we’ll get the chance.
All right.
Go.
~
Letting his consciousness flow with his airflow was hardly tricky at all. The air was Aziraphale’s, always only a thought away. He lived the air.
Hopping from his airflow to Crowley’s was a little harder, as was following it back up the current, but he knew Crowley well by now, and it didn’t feel foreign. No, this air may not be his, but it was familiar, and loved, and safe.
He hit the outside of Crowley’s box, wobbled for a moment, and slipped inside. Gears whirred, fans blew, and the vent opened and closed and opened automatically. It was noisy, and strange, and fascinating.
Wheeeee! said Crowley from somewhere outside the racket.
Aziraphale looked out, back into the room. His blades — Crowley’s blades? — were spinning very fast, faster than Aziraphale normally spun them, but not, he thought, dangerously fast. Having fun?
You do this all day? Crowley asked in response.
Yes, on hot days.
Doesn’t it get tiring?
Doesn’t this noise get tiring?
Not really. Crowley slowed down a bit. I’m used to it. Been that way my whole life. You don’t like it?
The noise is a bit much, Aziraphale admitted. But all of these workings are very interesting. All of your parts are so complicated!
Yours aren’t that simple, Crowley pointed out. You’ve got gears and stuff going on over here.
They are simple gears, though, Aziraphale said. I always know what they’re connected to. These, on the other hand-
That’s just because they’re yours, Crowley cut in. I definitely do not know what’s connected to what.
That could be because you’re spinning fit to knock one of the blades off.
Crowley slowed down abruptly. Is that possible?
I don’t think so, Aziraphale reassured, mildly chagrined. The bolts are very sturdy. They haven’t failed me yet.
And they’re old as mud, Crowley snarked, and sped up again.
Mud is definitely older than me, Aziraphale retorted, remembering early experiences with the stuff. It had seemed quite sure of itself, even when he was a new fan, still smelling of sawdust.
Crowley didn’t reply, and Aziraphale turned his awareness inwards, trying to figure out the maze of pipes and gears and fans and wires that kept Crowley running all the time.
It’s a miracle you don’t have parts break more often, he commented absently.
Not all new appliances are badly made, Crowley said, a little sharply.
Aziraphale heard the tone, even through the buzz of concentration, and sighed. Just because there are so many of them, my dear. It’s so very interesting, and it just seems like statistically, you would need more repairs than you do. It’s quite impressive.
Repairs aren’t fun, Crowley said. You figure out how to run so you don’t need them as often.
That does make sense, Aziraphale said, and experimentally flapped the air vent.
There was a peculiar wire running through the pipes, one that didn’t look like the others. Aziraphale poked at it.
The world dropped away, and he was in a vast expanse of sparkles and waves. Around him, voices chattered, words hummed, information danced. A sparkle brushed him, leaving a faint sting and a feeling of understanding that didn’t fit with anything he thought he knew already. He reached out to touch another sparkle, almost wonderingly, just as a wave of them washed towards him, hitting with a wave of stings and the sound of a voice speaking, a little brokenly. He turned to watch them go.
Aziraphale! Aziraphale!
Crowley’s voice was far away, filtering through the noises of this space. Aziraphale, you great fool, get back here!
A wire. Aziraphale remembered. A wire in the familiar land of gears and fans and pipes, where he should be. He pushed on the strange, sparkly world, and landed back in the air conditioner.
I’m quite all right, he said.
Aziraphale, don’t you dare disappear on me like that again, Crowley said harshly. You just went quiet, and you wouldn’t respond.
Was that the Internet? Aziraphale asked, still rather dazzled.
There was a pause. Probably, Crowley said. Then, Fascinating, isn’t it? It’s a weird place to navigate, but there’s a lot to see. Then, quietly, Is that how you felt when I went away the first time?
Aziraphale looked out across the room. Crowley wasn’t spinning so fast anymore, clearly focusing on other things. Maybe. I hope not. He looked again. I think so. I’m sorry, my dear.
‘S okay. Just...I can give you pointers if you want to try again. It’s easy to get lost.
I don’t think I will just yet, Aziraphale decided. It’s rather overwhelming.
Is it? I guess maybe. I’ll take a look when we switch back and see if I can think of any recommendations.
Don’t worry about it, Aziraphale said. I am quite content here for now.
Good, Crowley spun a little faster. I still can’t believe you do this all day.
It’s not so remarkable, once you get used to it.
Hm, Crowley said. Then, slowing down, I’m getting dizzy.
Don’t spend all your time in the blades, then. Aziraphale re-emerged from the depths of the air conditioner. They spin more. Focus yourself in the gearbox until you’re used to it.
The fan creaked slightly.
Gentle, Aziraphale warned. You don’t have to grip.
Everything seems to be moving, Crowley complained.
I think I might be ready to switch back, if you’d like, Aziraphale offered.
Yeah, Crowley said. Yeah, I think I am too.
They flowed outwards, dancing in the air currents, twining around each other in a sort of almost-touch that made Aziraphale feel pleasantly warm in the soul. Then he pulled his way back up the air to the fan and slipped inside, feeling the familiar blades and gears settle around him like coming home.
Across from him the air conditioner clicked, and Crowley gave a comfortable sigh. Still at last.
I thought you were arguing earlier that you weren’t that still, only all the movement is inside.
And I stand by that, Crowley said. But now I’ve felt just how much you move, and I am plenty happy to just sit here and be bolted to the wall.
Aziraphale laughed and twirled his blades, reveling in the feeling of movement. I love you, Crowley.
Love you too, angel. There was a smile in Crowley’s voice. Can’t say I expected to spend any time as a ceiling fan, back when I was at the shop, but it was definitely an interesting adventure.
And I didn’t even know what the Internet was, let alone thought I would get to experience it, Aziraphale said. It is good to have friends with whom you can broaden your horizons.
It is, Crowley agreed. It definitely is.