Post by Vidar (PROJECT: RAGNAROK) on Dec 9, 2020 6:59:07 GMT -8
Christmas Under the Desert
The lab was massive. But it was cold and it was sterile. The walls were, for the most part, smooth, with fading painted yellow stripes giving it a somewhat futuristic look. There were recessed lights on the ceiling lighting the halls and the rooms. There was the ever present scent of recycled clean air. But there was something else in the air; it was a thick sweet scent. The machines were running and the scent was coming from them; well, not the machines but what the machines were producing.
Candies, sweets, treats for the season; Vidar had gotten the machines to work once more. It had taken some elbow grease and a lot of work,and a lot of patience, but he had gotten them to work.
As for the ingredients? Well, that included a lot of stealth; he had sneaked out of the lab in the dead of night, made his way to the nearest city - which was miles away - and then returned under cover of darkness, all within a time span of several hours, all too avoid the attention of a particular easily angered Fist.
He had bought other things while out there. Why? He didn't know. There was a strange feeling inside of him, a strong and powerful desire; was it sentimentality? Was it homesickness? Was it? He couldn't tell but it did not matter. The urge was too strong for him to deny, and he had spent quite the pretty penny buying these things and now there he stood, inside the largest room in the building - it used to be some kind of hangar, a holding place for aircraft and tanks.
It was a cavernous space. It was perfect for what he wanted to do. In front of him was the biggest cacti he could find in the area. Well, normally, one used a tree; in particular, a fir or a pine, but he did not have access to a Frasier fir tree in the Southlands, but he did have access to a lot of cacti. These massive plants that he had found, in particular, were larger than normal. In fact, this one loomed nearly ten feet tall with at least half a dozen jutting "arms" and the whole thing was covered in large thorny spikes.
It wasn't the same. But it would do. His supplies stood beside him in various paper bags and one by one he opened the bags and got to work pulling out what was inside. Yards of beautiful bright colored lights, several packages of multi-colored ornaments - shatter proof, of course - as well as one more bag of more ornaments although these were shaped like boots, snowflakes, sleds, penguins, whatever had caught his attention in the store. There as also a large bow that he had picked up and planned to place at the very top of his makeshift Christmas tree.
This was all routine. It was something he used to do, so long ago, back when He was alive still.
The lab, back then, had also been cold and had the same scent. The scientists were growing weary that year. For some reason, Doctor Kringle tried to give everyone some piece of mind and had awoken Vidar and had given him specific instructions; go out, find this particular tree, cut it down, bring it back. Then go buy what's on this list.
The scientists had not been allowed to see what Vidar was up to. They had been given strict instructions not to enter the room he had been holed up in. Do not enter, under any circumstances, or face consequences.
That made them nervous. What was he up to? Had the old man finally snapped? Were they going to be gotten rid of?
But then, the doors to the room had opened and they were allowed to enter and what they saw had left them all in a state of slack jawed shock; it was a tree, a beautiful, brightly shining, Christmas tree. It had been twelve feet tall, bejeweled with glistening lights that shined bright like miniature stars, topped with a glowing angel that shone much like if it were a real celestial being descended from heaven above to brighten their lab and bring and inspire hope in their pathetic mortal souls.
Doctor Kringle, a strict man, stood nearby. He had his hands in his pockets. Vidar remembered this fondly, even as he placed ornaments upon the spines of his cactus. Why did he recall that particular day, that particular image of his creator?
The old man was never cruel or heavy handed. He was firm. He was strict. But he was fair. He took special care of the scientists under his roof; celebrated birthdays, small events, nothing big, and encouraged them to experiment, to test things, to come up with ideas. He treated each of them individually, with a great deal of personalized care, so he could nurture their intellect and abilities individually.
But, despite all of that, the man rarely smiled. His face was usually stone, set, analytical, and always studious. He was studying the people around him, their reactions to him, to each other, to themselves.
But, on that day, in Vidar's memory, the old man was standing nearby, looking up at the angel atop the tree. He was looking up at it with an expression that some could describe as, perhaps, reverence. His glasses gave off a soft glow as light from the tree reflected off the lenses. But, none of that mattered. What did matter to Vidar was that the white haired Doctor Kringle was smiling. It was small, a tug at his lips, but it was there nonetheless.
The cactus looked silly. It glowed in the center of the hangar, creating a small area of bright multi colored lights in the center of a darkened, dimly lit, room. The light bounced off of the shatterproof Christmas ornaments and thus glowed brighter. He was alone in there; just him and the cactus. But, he was used to this; he was used to the solitude after so long.
It looked silly. But, maybe, just maybe, Doctor Kringle would smile again.
Vidar placed the final small decoration on the cactus. He stepped back, allowed his eyes to scan over the tree once more, "Merry Christmas, Doctor."
WC: 1,050