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“Holidays” are generally not very celebrated phenomena on the S*n. The S*n in itself has no holidays, and this combined with the fact that most employees have patients that reside on different planets and therefore celebrate different holidays means that there tend to not be any honorary holiday celebrations either.
And even then, is there any point in celebrating the holidays of one’s patients? It’s not as if the date means much at all to the operator, so why should someone like Michael even bother? It’s simply another day of observation and revivals, another day of operating on some idiot who can’t even keep himself from jumping straight into a celebratory bonfire.
…
Michael really hopes that a similar incident won’t happen once again this year. Seriously, she doesn’t know why she was assigned the most accident-prone patient in all of existence, but she digresses. Not like anything can be done about it, anyway, and even if he were to try and give some kind of lecture it’s not as if Charger Block would retain any memory of it, and trust him, Michael has tried to knock some sense into that dimwit’s subconscious.
With that being said, today is December 24th on planet Earth in universe 661, where the holiday of “Christmas Eve” is currently being celebrated by patient Charger Block 6174 in his desert habitat alongside the twenty-three others who inhabit the area.
As Michael makes note of this holiday within his logs, deciding this was important enough to put down (as well as taking the opportunity to create a written prediction involving Charger Block dying later in the day), he hears a slight rustling outside of his operating room’s door.
After a slight pause, fingers hovering over his keys, he makes the decision to simply ignore it for the next moment and hope it was just someone scuffling by, making an unnecessary amount of noise in doing so and goes back to typing up his log.
[Patient has been getting ready for his annual Christmas celebration with his friends since this morning, waking up approximately two hours earlier than usual out of sheer excitement and forcing patient Crown 8253 awake in the process. Patient has been put in charge of decorating this year and has been banned from cooking duty after the multitude of accidents from last year.]
Generally, Michael likes to keep their logs concise; they’ll always detail events in a way that will allow for them to easily be recalled, but also always make them short enough to be skimmed over within seconds in case of any emergency. It always helps to ensure a safe backup if anything unprecedented occurs, and Michael refuses to take any chances. They decide to leave it off here and finish the rest in the evening. It’ll allow for only one log that spans the whole day, preserving space and making the tracking of logs by day easier for future reference.
…
The rustling sound from outside her door is still audible.
Clearly whoever is out there is not someone innocently scuffling by.
In fact, Michael’s immediate assumption is that the person out there is quite the opposite of innocuous. “Intrusive.” “Pushy.” “Meddlesome.” Those are words that Michael would much rather use for the person he suspects is there.
“What do you want?” are the choice words that come out of his mouth the second he opens the door to see an hourglass stood atop a stool and stringing obnoxious, flashing, colorful lights around his operating room doorway. Glancing down at the pinwheel, Sean waves cheerfully as if without a care in the world or even any notion that they’re doing something that would be of great annoyance to Michael.
“Merry Christmas to you too,” she laughs, looking back up and continuing to loop the string of colossal lights around some nails she seems to have pushed in earlier. “Just getting into that holiday spirit. Thought you’d appreciate some joy in your life for once.”
“And just how are… these going to bring, ahem, ‘joy?’ I don’t see what a pile of tacky decor is going to accomplish. What even are some of these?”
“Ohh, those are projectors, they flash these cute little snowflake projections onto surfaces. Thought they’d be cute, I saw ‘em in a catalogue Crown was flipping through the other week. Look at me, so observant.”
“I think obtrusive would be more fitting. What makes you think I’d want these?? If they’re so appealing to you, you can just put them around your own door, thank you very much, I have no need for any of this.”
“I put the basics around my own room, lights and junk, but I was thinkin’ about it and why would I go all out on a room I don’t even plan to spend my Christmas in? ‘Meaningless,’ as you’d say.”
…
“What are you implying?”
“You’re smart enough, you know what.”
A few bewildered sputters come out of Michael’s mouth before she can form any coherent words or phrases. What. What??? He can’t be serious.
Except he is. Oh, he is, and Michael is fully aware of it. It’s an infuriating habit of Sean’s, doing things all on a whim, and expecting others to mindlessly play along.
“This is ridiculous. This looks ridiculous, anyone else around who doesn’t have patients from planet Earth in universe 661 is going to think I’m insane.”
“They’re not gonna care, do you think they’re gonna knock on your door and point out anything about your decorations?”
“Your decorations—”
“They’re on your door—”
“Which is your doing—”
“Whatever! Point is, no one cares besides you, you’re fine, really I think you should loosen up for once and—”
“Why are you here anyway??? Why not go up to one of your other thousand friends? Someone else with a patient on Earth who actually cares about the holiday and wants to spend the day with you.”
“There was a giant get-together between a bunch of us yesterday, so I thought I would so-graciously spend some time with my dear pal Michael who never speaks with anyone else and would most definitely spend Christmas all by his lonesome.”
“Why does that even??? Whatever, why do you care, we don’t even celebrate the holiday on the S*n. And I’m shocked you didn’t force me to go with you.”
“You wouldn’t’ve liked it anyway, it was pretty big, you probably would’ve just left a few minutes in without telling anyone, I know you. So! I thought I’d just come by today, the day before the holiday. Besides, it’s convenient for both of us. You and I both know Crown and Charger Block are gonna be inseparable, so we can keep an eye on both of ‘em at once.”
“And what are you going to do if, I don’t know, Crown dies and you aren’t in their room when they’re being recovered and miss the window?”
“You really think Crown is going to be the one to die today?”
“...I mean, you never know—”
“They’ll be perfectly fine.” Sean waves a hand beside them, their body language just as dismissive as their tone. Michael can feel his scowl worsening, with Sean unfortunately being correct about this statement. Crown’s only died once in the six months of them being alive, and frankly, Michael’s nothing but envious. Oh to have such a low maintenance patient… He rolls his eyes and allows for the hourglass to continue: “And besides, worst case scenario, I’ll just transport myself back to my room with my menu. But really, between the two of them, I think we should focus any and all worries onto Charger Block. When’d he die last?"
“Yesterday at 17:34, omnipresent standard time. In case it’s relevant, he was playing a game with your patient and ran backwards in an attempt to catch a tossed projectile, leading to him recklessly launching himself off a cliff. He was recovered seconds after his death as Crown tracked down the recovery center the moment he fell off, knowing he’d die upon impact.”
They don’t hesitate in their answer, reciting it as if it were second nature. Really, all of Charger Block’s deaths have been so ridiculous it’d be hard to forget the vast majority of them. Death by fork jammed into toaster, death by attempting to wear a rattlesnake as a scarf, death by snorting up three pints of sand to prove a point, the list goes on.
Sean chokes back a snort, steadying his hand against the wall for stability.
“Ohh, I remember that. Man, that was fun, did you look at Charger Block’s face as he began to fall??”
That was to be expected. Of course he isn’t taking any of this seriously. Does he ever? Can he ever take anything seriously??? Is that even a part of the hourglass’ skillset??? Michael wishes she knew.
But that’s irrelevant and she can dwell on that later.
“No, I did not, I was too busy preparing for his recovery since apparently that wasn’t obvious enough.”
“Oh the snark, you can lighten up every once in a while you know.”
“I would make the argument that work and staying on top of things is eons more important than, ahem, ‘lightening up.’ I have my priorities straight—”
“Maybe a bit too straight—”
“Then would yours be too lopsided?”
“I’d say balanced—”
“As if, do you ever do anything outside of the bare minimum—”
“Oh, it’s fine, one day of joy alongside work isn’t gonna kill you, and you’ll be in that hole of a room the whole time anyway. It won’t be too, I dunno… obtrusive, in your own words.”
Michael taps his foot against the floor, contemplating his choices. The easiest thing to do would be to shut the door on Sean now, effectively shutting down the idea, and proceeding to ignore them for the rest of the week.
But then he’d have to deal with the hourglass’ constant knocking and calling out…
And it’s not like their point regarding watching both patients at once was inherently bad. In fact, Michael wouldn’t mind having another pair of eyes watching Charger Block and his antics, and with that pair being the rather observant ones belonging to Sean…
…
“If you get rid of those projectors you can come in.”
Sean’s face seems to light up at these words, stepladder rattling underneath her.
“Deal. Juust let me finish up with these lights.”
“Hurry it up or I’ll lock the door on you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Crown doesn’t fully understand the concept of Christmas. From what they’ve heard, it’s a more religious holiday to celebrate the birth of some guy who lived thousands of years ago (or something like that, anyway, they didn’t get all the details). With that being said, no one in this desert is religious. No one in this desert knows more than the basics of this story. Crown learned this tale through some book they found and skimmed through out of boredom whilst their best friend was asleep and they had nothing to occupy themselves with. Crown sees no meaning in this story at all, and furthermore, doesn’t see why the holiday is being celebrated by this bunch of people in the first place.
But it’s whatever. They’ve been told it’s tradition around here, and with it being their first Christmas, the annual celebration is meant to be particularly special, so they’d feel bad saying anything about it, especially after CB had been rambling excitedly about it the whole month.
So, they’ve taken it upon themselves to simply tag along and watch out for CB. They got a (relatively basic) gift for everyone and plan to help out with decorations for the day. If they enjoy the holiday, they enjoy it, and if they don’t, that’s fine as well. It’s simply another day.
Or something like that. They don’t know, they really just got here, they’re just trying to figure out how everything works. Ideally, they’d like to find some kind of meaning in the holiday, though that’s probably more difficult than it sounds, huh?
Currently, it’s eleven in the morning and Crown finds themselves attempting to gauge whether or not the size of a long piece of ribbon would be fit with their good friend CB.
“Do you think this is long enough?” CB seems to be pondering hard as he holds the bright red, sparkling ribbon in his hands, visualizing something in his head as his eyes wander around. Crown can only assume that this thing is the large cactus they’ve been hearing about since the first of the month: a large, prickly cactus, taller than three Charger Blocks stacked together, as he’d described. Supposedly, someone different is in charge of finding this legendary cactus, transporting it to the center, and rooting it into the sand each year.
“Why did we come here first anyway? Like, instead of seeing the cactus.”
“ ‘Cause Pebble hasn’t come back with it yet. Usually it takes a few hours to find and transport and uhh… plant it. ‘N stuff. So we just kinda have to wing it.”
He doesn’t seem too bothered by this, putting the roll down and picking up a different one, with this being golden, sparkly, and having a much rougher texture than the previous one.
“Hey this one looks kinda like you!”
He puts the ribbon against Crown for direct comparison, said comparison being… just a little off. Crown’s bowl seems to be a bit less metallic than the ribbon and perhaps a little more yellow-toned, with said yellow also feeling more orange than the duller gold of the ribbon.
But like close enough right?
“Yeah, kinda… hey, what’s the ribbon usually for anyway?”
“OH oh did I never explain?? Basically, we like to circle it around the cactus and poke it through the spines. Make it all festive. OH THAT REMINDS ME we also need those lights, the string ones, those are cool too. Hm what color do we get this year…”
The gold looks kind of like them, huh…
Hm.
“We could grab purple maybe. That’d kinda look like you.”
Sure, the purple might be a little too vibrant when compared to the duller shade that Charger Block is, and perhaps it would clash with the more earthy tone of the gold ribbon, but again, close enough right? And the pair would make for good contrast.
“That’s a cool idea wait wait wait yeah, hold this I’ll go grab some,” exclaims CB, shoving the thirty meter roll of ribbon into Crown’s hands and running off.
…
Yeah, thirty meters should be more than enough, they conclude with a snort. Was he really worrying about it not being enough?? How much ribbon usually goes on the cactus??? It can’t be enough ribbon to cover up the entire thing, right???? As silly as it sounds, it’s quite amusing… and something they wouldn’t put past CB of all people. Yeah, he would want a shiny, gold-wrapped cactus with bright purple lights and a gigantic star up on the top, wouldn’t he?
But that’s what’s fun about CB. So Crown wouldn’t mind layering a ridiculous amount of ribbon over that cactus. It’d be fun.
After a brief pause, they grab another roll of gold ribbon, this one being ten meters. Just in case CB found that thirty meters was insufficient.
CB’s a little weird. He’s reckless, kinda stupid, lacks the foresight to prevent dying, acts before he thinks, so on, so forth. But that’s just what makes him him. Crown doesn’t think they could ever go as far as to do things without putting much thought into them. In fact, they might think too much. But that makes for good balance, right?
They’re quite glad they met CB. He’s definitely made adjusting to life much easier, despite how clueless he seems sometimes, but at the end of the day, they’re glad that they’re spending this silly holiday with him and the rest of the people on this desert.
“Yo, I got- I got the lights! They’re kinda pink-ish when they glow but like that’s fine right no one else is gonna care, they’re cool,” CB calls, and as Crown rounds the corner to take a look, they notice that he seems to have entangled himself within the lights.
“Didja get that star you mentioned too? The one that goes on the top.”
“We use the same one every year, I think uhh… I think Pine probably has it in his storage. I’ll ask him about it later tonight, let’s just get these.”
Crown nods, stepping down on the string of lights to let CB step out of a few of the loops he’s somehow gotten stuck in.
“Cool. What’s next?”
“Telephone said they wanted us to go help out with cookie decorating. They should be done by now, I think they started baking at uhh seven or something.”
“Just decorating?”
“Oh uh. Last year I burned myself while trying to get the cookies out of the oven. And I ate a bowl of cookie dough. And I slipped and dropped the carton of eggs so we had to go get new ones last second. So I’m banned now, but I mean c’mon those were all like. One time things, I’d do fine now.”
“As if! You’d probably… I dunno, say 'hey I think we can use the sand outside as sugar, right?’ And then you’d try it to prove a point and they’d taste all weird.”
“I would not, who would do that?? Some idiot right. Some guy who would. Uh.”
“Get tangled in lights while testing them out?”
“Y-Wh-Hey, no, no, who would do that, not me. I just uh. Tripped. Yeah. And they conveniently fell on top of me like this. Total accident.”
“Yeah man, whatever.”
The sound of ceramic clinking against a table the pinwheel is anything but used to being there causes him to flinch slightly, the sound being one he had not anticipated. Though really, such reactions are to be expected whenever Sean is in the picture.
“It’s hot chocolate infused with earl grey. Sounded like a good idea, so I wanted to test it out. Give it a try, c’mon,” beckons the hourglass as they elbow Michael, holding a mug in their own hand. Michael glares at them from the side, attempting to maintain focus on the panel. She has to keep her eyes on the device, as monitoring that kid is especially important today. Hell, the guy’s already gotten himself tangled up in wired lights. Had he not been helped out, he could have, who knows, tripped and fallen off of a cliff (again, might she add).
“Later. I need to make sure those two get back safely and—”
“Oh they’ll, be fine, just believe in them for once—”
“I have no faith in that patient of mine—”
“How about this? I’ll keep watch over them for now and you tear yourself away from this thing… I swear, it’s like you’re married to that console.”
“I am not, I simply put a lot of effort into my job that I worked very hard to get.”
“Whatever you say, just— hmm, let me try something.”
With a clap of their hands, a projector sheet materializes above Michael’s blackboard, and after a second of messing with the console (of which Michael had attempted to stop before their hand had been swatted away), a projection of Charger Block and Crown appeared on said sheet. The lights begin to dim slowly, allowing for the visibility of the projector to increase.
“There ‘ya go, now you can relax while not missing a thing. Genius idea, I know, I know, no need to thank me.”
“Was not going to. Is this really just how you do all of your work?? What that giant TV is for??”
“It’s efficient, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, for someone who wants to put in as much effort as you do…”
Sean rolls his eyes in the corner of Michael’s own line of sight, but what does she care? With a sigh, she reaches over to grab the blue mug Sean had placed down for her and takes a tiny sip.
“For the record, I do my job wonderfully, I’ve yet to receive a single complaint from Lumynex, thank you.”
“You can’t seriously be bringing this up—”
“Not my intention, not everything is a personal attack, I’m just defending the effort I put into my job.”
“...Whatever.”
There’s a brief silence where the two simply look up at the screen, watching as their patients traverse the desert to get back to where the celebration would be taking place later that evening.
“How is it?” asks Sean after a moment.
“How’s what?”
“The drink.” She points to the mug held between Michael’s hands.
“...Right, uh. Not horrible. Less sweet than I thought it would be.”
“Knew you’d like that aspect.”
“I never said I liked it.”
“Yeah, but do you dislike it?”
Michael scoffs before taking another sip of their drink.
Frankly, Michael doesn’t see much point in things that have no significance to her. Little drinks like this, for instance. Things she doesn’t need. She’s not even a tangible object, technically, she was just placed into a form that resembles one. She doesn’t need food or liquid to survive, she doesn’t need to do anything for peace of mind, she has one purpose and that purpose is to do her assigned job.
So really, he doesn’t quite know why he’s here and dealing with this wishy-washy hourglass who keeps pushing the concepts of ‘fun’ and ‘enjoyment’ onto him. If one were to ask, he’d probably say something curt like “it’s a way to keep them off of my back,” though even that would feel like a wrong answer to Michael. He truly doesn’t know why he deals with all of this. Again, he could’ve just shut the door on Sean earlier in the day and locked them out. He didn’t have to let them in at all. This whole thing, the concept of being here and celebrating a holiday that has no purpose to Michael, it lacks any meaning at all.
And if they were to bring this up to Sean, Sean would hold back a snort and tell them to loosen up, to “have fun for once,” “enjoy themselves,” “try not to be so uptight,” etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. She’d completely miss where they’re coming from and why they want to maintain focus on their one purpose in the first place, which, in itself is nonsensical.
Sean was around when the incident occurred. Sean witnessed the aftermath. Sean, more than anyone else besides, say, Noah, should understand where Michael is coming from with these beliefs. Christmas is nothing but a stupid holiday, one that Michael should pay no mind to outside of referencing it alongside their patient’s various deaths.
…
This is stupid.
A long sigh sounds from him as he looks up once more to watch the projection. CB and Crown seem to have returned to the center, where the plaza still seems empty without that large cactus they bring in annually, and have begun to (quite poorly) frost childishly shaped Christmas cookies.
“Returned from the craft store without any deaths… impressive, huh? Good on Charger Block,” muses Sean as they swirl the liquid around their little mug. “You were so adamant about him dying on the way.”
“It’s a likely scenario.”
“Have a bit of faith, I’m telling you. Those objects are smarter than we may think.”
“Yours, maybe,” mutters Michael underneath her breath. Which was a mistake, especially with how obnoxiously perceptive that hourglass is.
“Charger Block has his moments. And even then, his drive to keep going makes up for everything, right? With persistence like that and the ability to keep trying, I’d say he has a pretty bright future ahead of him.”
“If this is your way of trying to force a moral into my head, it isn’t working.”
“Worth a shot. Point still stands though.” She waves her mug in the general direction of Michael, turning to face them as she does so. “What’s the point of existence if not to learn and enjoy it as much as possible, right?”
“I feel like your definition of ‘point’ is different from mine.”
“Have you ever considered that that might stem from you devoting everything to a company you don’t even care that much about as a whole?”
Their tone feels a bit sharper than usual, as if the question wasn’t something that they had planned to say and instead came out of their mouth due to pure impulse. As Michael glances over, he can see Sean’s eyes widen slightly as they realize what they’ve said, although they don’t follow it up with anything.
“...Yeah. Sometimes I think about that. But really, what else is there for me to devote myself to besides the job that keeps me tied here?”
…
“Yourself.”
“I think I made it too brown.”
“How did you even get it to be brown?”
“Y’know those like. Those checker patterns they put on stuff with like the green and red and yellow?? I wanted to make a yellow but when I mixed the red and the green together I ended up getting this brown.”
“Plaid?”
“Yeah that, I wanted to do that.”
“You know you can’t make yellow out of green and red frosting right?”
Crown snorts a little, their hands shaking along with their laughter, ruining the straight line they’d been pumping onto the snowflake cookie before them. CB turns away, ensuring his face is out of sight.
“Well uh— I. I knew that. Yeah I was just… trying to test you. See if you’d point it out. And you only did now so I guess you failed.”
“Yeah right man.”
It seems like it’s CB’s first time decorating cookies as well, or, at the very least, that’s how it appears to Crown. Considering his lack of knowledge in the realm of mixing frosting colors, Crown doubts the guy has had any previous experience with the matter at all.
“...I like that Santa cookie you got there. With his off-center eye. And the green suit.”
“Okay look Santa can have a different suit if he wants to, who are you, the fashion police??”
“Green is not his color.”
“He’s being experimental, let a guy live, sheesh.”
“Whatever… is that stocking your last cookie?”
“Mhm yeah. Yeah I’m just about done… does the brown look okay with the played?”
“Plaid.”
“Yeah, plaid, that’s– that’s what I said.”
“Sure it is, but anyway I think… someone will want it. Probably. Maybe. When it’s the last one left.”
“Well I think it’s nice and I’ll eat it if no one else will accept it for who it is.”
“...It’s nice.”
“See you get it.”
Crown watches CB finish up his cookie in silence for a bit, the room bright and warm with the setting sun blaring through the window and the yellowed fluorescent lights above only adding to the atmosphere. As fun as this is… they still don’t quite get it. What this is all for. How this is related to Christmas. Why ‘Christmas’ is so important here.
“...Why do we make cookies anyway?” they ask after a moment.
“Huh? For Santa, duh.”
CB answers without looking up, tongue out as he focuses on the cookie in front of him. His answer also feels second nature, escaping him without any thought. Leaning against the counter, a ‘hmm’ sounds from Crown as they glance at their own finished batch of decorated cookies.
None of them are necessarily bad. A little amateur, maybe, they can admit that much, but they’re cookies that the average person would look at and consider edible and appetizing. Their snowflake cookie is green-frosted with a bit of white to outline the thinner shape of the snowflake, their christmas tree has neatly lined lights strung around and a large white star, their ornament is coated with red and speckled with little green stars, etc. Decorating them was fun. Much more fun than sitting still and frosting fifty or so cookies sounded at first.
Though they aren’t quite sure if decorating the sugar cookies in itself was what they found “fun” about this experience.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that, but why does he want ‘em?”
“‘Cause Santa eats a plate of cookies and drinks a glass of milk while he leaves presents.”
“Huh… if our cookies are bad d’you think he’ll give us bad presents?”
“Nah, Telephone said he likes all cookies as long as they’re edible.”
“Is that why you were taken off baking duty?”
“Wh– I could make a splendid cookie if I wanted to, you know.”
“Yeah, and that’s why you’re banned right? They couldn’t handle your baking prowess.”
“Exactly, see, I’m just too good.”
“Hmm… if the cookies are for Santa, then why do we make a bunch for ourselves?”
CB looks up, eyes wandering towards the ceiling as he taps his finger against the counter. Pressure still on the piping tube, a swirl of frosting comes out on the side of the baking sheet.
“Well, it’s fun, right?”
“Huh?”
“Like. Like making and decorating and sharing these. Everyone gets cookies and everyone gets to laugh about them and have a good time.”
“Huh…”
Crown’s own eyes wander up at the ceiling as they think.
Hm…
‘Everyone,’ huh? Could that be it?
Crown doesn’t normally find shopping fun. They don’t find gathering fun. Despite that, collecting each of the Christmas decorations required earlier with CB was pretty fun.
Crown wouldn’t consider sitting there and frosting cookies to be inherently boring on its own, and it’s not anything that they would’ve dreaded in any other circumstance, but it was significantly more fun with CB’s antics, like when he’d tried proving a point by piping icing into his throat until he choked. That was certainly amusing, apart from the immediate effects involving CB coughing all over the place and downing three glasses of water, and Crown doubts they would’ve laughed that hard had incidents like that not happened. It’s fascinating.
Maybe that’s the general theme. ‘Togetherness.’ Being with those one cares about and doing things for others to spread joy just as others have spread joy to Crown. Something like that. Crown’ll have to see once the festivities truly begin in an hour or so. But that might be the gist of it. Just the general sensation of being together as a group.
They don’t mind that. Not at all. It’s more nice than anything else, actually.
When they were first ‘born’ into this world, it was the people of the desert who helped them stand onto their own feet and adjust, and these past six months have allowed for Crown to become a part of this community, as quiet as they usually are. So, perhaps this holiday, ‘Christmas,’ can be their way of repaying everyone for their efforts. Perhaps that’s what ‘Christmas’ means to the people here: being together as one and acting as one large community for everyone within. And Crown’s happy to be a part of that.
“Hey, CB, you think the cactus is here yet?”
In the couple of hours that have passed since Charger Block and Crown had gotten back from decoration shopping, Sean’s answer has refused to leave Michael’s head despite the rapid topic change that had occurred shortly after.
“Yourself.”
That… makes no sense at all whatsoever. What did they even mean by that? For himself? Himself? What ‘self’ is there to live for? He only is ‘alive’ (not even) because Lumynex declared him suitable to become an operator for reasons not even Michael knows, and because of that, is it not most logical to maintain the good graces of this company? Is that not what the pinwheel should ‘live’ for?
Nonsensical. But it’s not like Sean ever makes sense now, does she?
It’s ridiculous. Sean, her words, her ideas, all of it.
“That cactus is pretty nice, huh?”
Their very voice seems to catch Michael off guard, with the pinwheel flinching the minute it cuts through her thoughts. The cactus… right. She looks up to see a large cactus, one that looks about double her height, tinted yellow by the setting Sun.
“I was surprised they found one at all the first year I witnessed this tradition,” comments Michael. “With how it’s described, you’d think it was a myth.”
“Can you be anything but cynical? Have even a little bit of faith in them? If it’s a tradition, it’s obviously existed for at least a while, right?”
“To be fair, does it not sound unrealistic? Like a dream some kid would have.”
“Unrealistic to you. Not to them. Besides, they live there, they’re the experts.”
“...Sure.”
To Michael, the entire concept of Christmas, especially to this group, is unrealistic. Obviously this ‘Santa’ guy isn’t real, and obviously he doesn’t leave gifts because he’s not real. Magic sleighs and flying reindeer clearly don’t exist and the very notion that they do is stupid. She doesn’t get how anyone could believe that.
“You’re thinking about how ridiculous Christmas is again, aren’t you?”
The pinwheel looks up, glaring at Sean as they speak.
“How did–?”
“C’mon, it’s written all over your face, you look like you’re about to go ‘bah, humbug,’ as if you’re Ebeneezer Scrooge or whoever.”
“I would not say that.”
“It’s an exaggeration.”
“I never know what is and what isn’t an exaggeration with you.”
“Whaaat, I’m honored… but that’s irrelevant. What I was trying to get at were your incredibly nihilistic thoughts.”
“Not nihilistic. I simply think that frivolous things don’t mean anything to me specifically as an operator who doesn’t have need for them.”
Sean audibly groans at this statement, burying his face in his hands before looking back up at Michael. It’s funny— this is usually how Michael would react to anything ridiculous said by the hourglass. ‘Role-reversal,’ if one would.
“I don’t think you really get why people indulge in ‘such frivolous things,’ do you?” they sigh. “The want for more?”
“I thought this was established. Enlighten me, just do it, I know you were planning on it anyway. Probably would’ve talked my ear off even if I’d told you not to.”
“Hah! That’s pretty likely, yeah." Looking up towards the projector, he begins to speak again, eyes locked onto the projection of the two patients haphazardly circling around a tree and tossing tacky gold ribbon around it. “But it’s for good reason, no? I know how against joy you are, but it’s worth a shot, and why not shoot that shot on the holiday of joy, right?”
“Get to the point.”
“I was. Ahem… time is generally something limited. For those down there, they have until recovery centers cease to exist. There are some on planets who have yet to discover recovery centers who only have until their very first death to ‘live.’ Even you and I might have some kind of expiration date we don’t know about, whether it be related to our bodies or our actual selves.”
“Doubtful.”
“You never know. And that’s exactly why I, and I’m sure many others enjoy being so ‘reckless’ and spending time on such ‘insignificant things,’ because I, at the very least, want to spend my time alive doing what I want. Living in the shadow of someone else, doing only as one is told, isn’t that such a sad existence? That’s what I can’t help but think every time I look at you.”
Charger Block and Crown seem to have finished up with the ribbon, having looped an entire roll of it around the large cactus, one smaller roll left behind and forgotten on the ground beside them as they’ve begun to toss up the lights, shining, flashing, and bright purple with a slight pink hue.
“You only get so much time to live, right? So why not make each day fun? That’s my own philosophy.”
“And how is that related to me?” asks Michael, voice tense. “That’s how you think. It’s not any sort of thought process I think I could ever adopt.”
“It’s something I think would help you find more meaning.”
“How so?”
“Hm… having something to look forward to each day tends to give people the motivation to keep going until the next. Even small things like, I dunno, Christmas each year are little events that might not mean much to you, but mean a lot to those who push through each day in hopes of making it to the next Christmas.” Their eyes are glued to the projector, particularly to their own patient, sat atop Charger Block with a starstruck expression as the two sit back and admire their work, the Sun having fully set behind them. “Were you paying attention to Crown earlier?”
“...No. They’re your patient. I was trying to keep an eye on Charger Block to make sure—”
“He didn’t die, right? You’re pretty predictable… Well, to put it short, the excitement in their eyes is greater than it was earlier, isn’t it? It’s their very first Christmas. What do you think made this change?”
Michael’s fingers tap against the empty mug as she thinks, her eyes now focused on patient Crown 8253.
“...What made the change?”
“At least try and give an answer. C’mon, you’re smart.”
…
“Did they find some kind of meaning in the holiday?”
Sean grins.
“I knew you could gather that much.”
“Yeah, but so what? How does their own discovery effect me?”
“All I’m saying is, if they went from seeing the holiday as meaningless to something to look forward to… you can as well, right? Find something to look forward to each year, that is?”
Michael doesn’t respond, continuing to look up at the projector in silence. A large tower of people seems to have succeeded in placing the final star at the top of the cactus and the group, now sprawled out across the ground and eating poorly frosted cookies. Muted laughs echo in Michael’s near-empty room.
“Just food for thought. I can’t do anything to change your mindset, but… It’s always nice to try, hm? This has been pretty fun in general. Hah, would you be up for inviting me again next year? Maybe that could be something to look forward to.”
Glancing over at Sean, Michael finds herself hesitating a bit before responding.
They could easily reject this. Say no, tell Sean he’s not welcome, ignore any further attempts at interaction. It’d be simple. Simply shutting the door and deadlocking it to prevent anyone else from entering ever again.
And yet…
“Whatever. Sure. Just keep the decorations away from my room.”
Sean’s eyes widen a bit at this response, though she covers it up with a laugh.
“At least let me keep the lights.”
“As long as they aren’t eye-bleedingly flashy.”
“No promises!”
“You’re actually insufferable.”
“Yet you let me stick around anyway.”
“Not out of free will.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
With the lights dimmed and the sky of the projection dark, the brightest thing in this room at 20:21 omnipresent standard time is the shining star atop that giant cactus, radiating and allowing for the rest of the room to glow.
“Merry Christmas, Michael.”
…
“...Yeah.”
Admittedly, Michael still sees little meaning in this holiday that isn’t even celebrated on the S*n. It’s nothing someone like her would ever need or even want to celebrate.
But perhaps something small like this each year wouldn’t be all too bad.
“You too.”
[Sean came by unannounced and now wants to make it a tradition. I’m not too opposed. They put the projection of our patients up on a sheet to keep a closer eye on them, and I admit, that wasn’t a half bad idea.]
[That aside, patient has been relatively tame today. He didn’t die, for one, exceeding my own expectations, and he also managed to go without messing things up for the group (apart from a minor choking incident where he coughed up frosting onto a few of the cookies, which nobody ended up noticing somehow due to him covering up said frosting with a new layer). Patient seemed particularly pleased with himself after successfully decorating the tree without issue.]
[Patient is very excited and already planning for next year’s celebration despite this year’s not being over yet. Sean also won’t quiet down about it despite not being from the planet where this holiday is celebrated. Sean’s threatening to hijack my logs if don’t finish writing this one right n]
Fin.