X-ember in the Laboratory
[Author's Note: This was written in December for the Litmas 2005 competition on deviantArt. It did not win. It plays with the idea of X-mas, treating the X like the Roman numeral for 10. That's what the dec- in December is for, after all.]
Cell Sixteen in The Laboratory shined with red and green lights, blinking on and off, causing a yellow light to pour into the hallway. Clenoin peeked his head into the door as he walked past. “Someone else decorating for X-ember?” he asked Kakaisha, who was partially obscured by a cabinet.
Kakaisha leaned to the side as she stared into a beaker. It glowed faintly with a reddish tint. “What’s that, Clen?” Surrounding her were several shelves of the red, glowing bottles. The computer’s monochrome screen contributed the green. Together they flickered, illuminating the room in a festive manner.
Clenoin looked away shyly. “Nothing, Kakaisha.” He shuffled his feet as he tried not to make eye contact with the woman. She resumed her note taking on the reddish fluids in the beakers.
He kicked at the air as he walked on past Cell Sixteen. Kakaisha looked up as he disappeared from the doorway.
Clenoin found Clah-mat in the Horticulterrarium. The robot busily sawed away at the trunk of a Silver Fir. Clenoin approached the lumbering robot. “You’re cutting down an X-ember tree?” he asked Clah-mat.
Clah-mat finished cutting down the tree. Without a word, he picked up the Silver Fir and carried it to the processor. With a fluid motion the robot hefted the tree into a slot labeled “Firewood Processing.” Turning to Clenoin, the robot whirred for a moment.
“I am sorry, Clen, I did not catch what you said, as my auditory processors received too much interference from the electronic saw I was operating. What was it you were saying?”
“Nothing,” Clenoin said to the robot. He turned and walked away, finding the door to the Horticulterrarium. As he walked through the door, Clah-mat made a noise. Clenoin looked back at the robot.
“You should greatly consider wearing protective headgear while in the vicinity of the Horticulterrarium. I shall submit a work order to Grinblas and have him fashion you a helmet.” He beeped and clicked for a moment. “Done. He is awaiting your retrieval of the helmet.”
“Thanks,” Clenoin said to the robot as he left the Horticulterrarium. Clah-mat turned and walked back into the dense forest of trees.
He found The Office door where he had left it. Picking it up from the floor, he placed it against the wall. Turning the knob, he pulled the door open. Into The Office he stepped. He heard what sounded like an X-ember Carol playing on a radio. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg filled his nostrils. Finding Grinblas sitting at his desk, Clenoin felt a little better about things. Sitting on The Desk was a picture of Grinblas and his wife wearing red BasilHats. The white trim around the edges covered their insectoid faces, and the white pompoms on the top dangled in each other’s faces. The red felt of the BasilHats complemented the olive color of Grinblas’ carapace.
Clenoin sighed a sigh of relief. “I am so glad that I am not the only one here getting ready for X-ember.”
Grinblas looked at him and clicked his mandibles awkwardly. Sliding the photograph under a pile of papers, he said, “Clen, I’m not quite sure what you meant by that, but I’m guessing you don’t know much about my species.”
Clenoin shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. You see, I thought I heard X-ember Carols, smelled X-ember Spices and saw you and the Mrs in X-ember BasilHats. Did I miss something?”
Grinblas clicked his mandibles together. “Uh,” he began, “there comes a time in the lives of members of my species, where they get what you might call Bloodlust. Scientists aren’t too sure what causes it, though, it’s linked to pheromones due to the fact that it only happens to espoused HKK’Lians.” Clenoin wiped a bit of Grinblas’ spittle from his forehead.
“We don white caps, go out into the Meat Market, and,” he raised his antennae to get the point across. “The caps get red from what we do.”
Clenoin shuttered, thinking about the Meat Market.
“The music and odors you detect are being used to soothe the Bloodlust, so that no reportable incidents happen on company time.” He smiled and winked at Clenoin, who was slowly backing out of The Office.
Grinblas grabbed a helmet from off The Desk. He tossed it at Clenoin. “Don’t forget your helmet!” Clenoin caught it, and ran off through the door. He closed the door to the office, making sure the bolt in the door clicked. Taking the door off the hinges, he slid it under a bunk. He tossed the helmet onto his bunk as he made his way to The BiblioTek.
Strac hunched over a tome. Clenoin approached him slowly. “Strac?” he asked.
The Sorcerer looked up from his tome. “Oh, Clen. What a pleasant surprise.” He pressed a button on the upper right of the tome, and it folded in on itself and disappeared. “What can I do for you?”
Clenoin scratched his arm. “Well, you see, it’s X-ember season back home, and I miss the festivities that ensue. I just want a little piece of the holidays so I don’t feel so far from home.”
Strac thought about this for a moment. Through his bushy eyebrows, he stared at Clenoin. “Sounds like you could use a teleportation spell.”
Clenoin gasped. “You can do that?” he asked, his voice squeaking with excitement.
“No.”
“Oh.” Clenoin looked at the floor, disappointed.
“I can do something for you, though,” said Strac, noticing Clenoin’s depression. “I can bring a bit of X-ember here, to you.”
Clenoin’s face brightened. “You can bring a bit of the festivity and cheer right here, to The Laboratory?”
Strac shrugged. “I wouldn’t be picky. You want me to do it?”
Clenoin nodded furiously. “That would be great!”
Strac stood from his seat and shambled towards an open space of floor. Taking a jumbo piece of chalk from a fold in his robes, he drew a design on the floor. Dropping some powders and potions on the design, he uttered some words that Clenoin did not understand.
In the middle of the circle stood a large, demonic creature. Slumped over his shoulder was a sack, and in his hand was a very menacing switch. His tongue dangled idly from his mouth
“S-Strac!” uttered Clenoin, “that doesn’t have anything to X-ember!”
Strac idly pointed at a book on his table. “Sure it does. Krampus, I believe this fellow’s name is. Traveling companion to SantBasil.”
Clenoin looked at the book, but was distracted as Krampus stepped through the magic circle on the floor. Clenoin backed into the table as he saw the demonic creature approaching him.
“I’m hoping you’ve been a good boy,” Strac said, “because I think he’s coming for you.”
Krampus looked at Clenoin and cracked his switch in the air for good measure. Smiling through a forest of pointed teeth, he reached his hand out towards Clenoin, who crawled backwards over the table to escape the creature.
As Krampus reached out his hand to grasp Clenoin’s collar, he then began to dissolve, crumbling into ash and soot.
“What under the third root of Yggdrasil was that?” declared Clenoin of The Sorcerer.
“Just a some prestidigitation and Virgin’s Blood, nothing special.” He rummaged around in his robe. He produced a small tube of fluid. “You’re looking a bit flustered. Take this emollient, and use it. Within the hour of use, you shall feel a little more calm, and your skin will be softer.”
Clenoin took the tube and put it in his pocket. “Thanks.” He began to leave.
“Clen,” said Strac, “Make sure to use that emollient soon. Also, are you having Tiffin in The Dining Hall today?”
Clenoin nodded. “I always have Tiffin there.”
Strac smiled. “Good. Good. I shall see you there. Don’t forget the emollient.”
Clenoin pulled the tube out of his pocket. Waving it at Strac, he said, “I won’t.” He turned and left The BiblioTek and made his way back towards his bunk.
Sitting on his bunk, he examined the emollient. It had a greenish hue and the consistency of Cassava Root Pudding. He popped the lid from tube and let the fluid pour into his hand. Rubbing it on his face, he began to feel relaxed, and soon forgot the incident in The BiblioTek with the Krampus illusion.
While the emollient worked to ease his flustered nature and soften his skin, he decided to read a book. A tattered book sat by his bunk. The cover read “X-ember, the Reason of the Season.” He opened it and began to read.
“X-ember,” it said, “is a month-long holiday occurring in the tenth standard month of the metric year. Its significance lies in The Universal Decimalization Act, in which all scales were shifted to fit The Standard Gauge.”
On the opposite page was an illustration, showing the shifting of all scales to fit the ten-point system known as The Standard Gauge.
“Oddly enough,” the book went on, “the commemorative season of this event fell around the same time as a Christian holiday. Adopting several of the traditions and customs so as to expedite their transition to Decimalization (X-ion), this was done to get everybody on the same page when the celebration came round.”
Clenoin’s face began to feel warmer. He looked at the figure on the opposite page. It showed X-ians using Silver Firs, SantBasil, The Decorah, and the exchange of presents (X-op) as examples of the adopting of the customs and traditions.
His stomach rumbled. He was hungry. He set the book down and went to The Dining Hall.
“WONDERMENT!” declared those gathered there, using the traditional X-ember greeting. Clenoin saw Kakaisha, Clah-mat, Strac and even Grinblas standing in The Dining Hall. All ten candles on the Decorah were lit and beneath a Silver Fir tree sat ten shiny parcels, wrapped and labeled with a “To: Clen.” The Dining Hall was entirely decorated in X-ember tinsel and ornamentation.
Clenoin smiled at the arrangement. “They were planning this all along.” He felt a warm feeling inside, but later found out that this was just a byproduct of the emollient. Everyone watched with a spirit of cheer as a small, furry creature burrowed through Clenoin’s stomach and jumped into the punchbowl.
Merry X-ember!
Cell Sixteen in The Laboratory shined with red and green lights, blinking on and off, causing a yellow light to pour into the hallway. Clenoin peeked his head into the door as he walked past. “Someone else decorating for X-ember?” he asked Kakaisha, who was partially obscured by a cabinet.
Kakaisha leaned to the side as she stared into a beaker. It glowed faintly with a reddish tint. “What’s that, Clen?” Surrounding her were several shelves of the red, glowing bottles. The computer’s monochrome screen contributed the green. Together they flickered, illuminating the room in a festive manner.
Clenoin looked away shyly. “Nothing, Kakaisha.” He shuffled his feet as he tried not to make eye contact with the woman. She resumed her note taking on the reddish fluids in the beakers.
He kicked at the air as he walked on past Cell Sixteen. Kakaisha looked up as he disappeared from the doorway.
Clenoin found Clah-mat in the Horticulterrarium. The robot busily sawed away at the trunk of a Silver Fir. Clenoin approached the lumbering robot. “You’re cutting down an X-ember tree?” he asked Clah-mat.
Clah-mat finished cutting down the tree. Without a word, he picked up the Silver Fir and carried it to the processor. With a fluid motion the robot hefted the tree into a slot labeled “Firewood Processing.” Turning to Clenoin, the robot whirred for a moment.
“I am sorry, Clen, I did not catch what you said, as my auditory processors received too much interference from the electronic saw I was operating. What was it you were saying?”
“Nothing,” Clenoin said to the robot. He turned and walked away, finding the door to the Horticulterrarium. As he walked through the door, Clah-mat made a noise. Clenoin looked back at the robot.
“You should greatly consider wearing protective headgear while in the vicinity of the Horticulterrarium. I shall submit a work order to Grinblas and have him fashion you a helmet.” He beeped and clicked for a moment. “Done. He is awaiting your retrieval of the helmet.”
“Thanks,” Clenoin said to the robot as he left the Horticulterrarium. Clah-mat turned and walked back into the dense forest of trees.
He found The Office door where he had left it. Picking it up from the floor, he placed it against the wall. Turning the knob, he pulled the door open. Into The Office he stepped. He heard what sounded like an X-ember Carol playing on a radio. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg filled his nostrils. Finding Grinblas sitting at his desk, Clenoin felt a little better about things. Sitting on The Desk was a picture of Grinblas and his wife wearing red BasilHats. The white trim around the edges covered their insectoid faces, and the white pompoms on the top dangled in each other’s faces. The red felt of the BasilHats complemented the olive color of Grinblas’ carapace.
Clenoin sighed a sigh of relief. “I am so glad that I am not the only one here getting ready for X-ember.”
Grinblas looked at him and clicked his mandibles awkwardly. Sliding the photograph under a pile of papers, he said, “Clen, I’m not quite sure what you meant by that, but I’m guessing you don’t know much about my species.”
Clenoin shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t. You see, I thought I heard X-ember Carols, smelled X-ember Spices and saw you and the Mrs in X-ember BasilHats. Did I miss something?”
Grinblas clicked his mandibles together. “Uh,” he began, “there comes a time in the lives of members of my species, where they get what you might call Bloodlust. Scientists aren’t too sure what causes it, though, it’s linked to pheromones due to the fact that it only happens to espoused HKK’Lians.” Clenoin wiped a bit of Grinblas’ spittle from his forehead.
“We don white caps, go out into the Meat Market, and,” he raised his antennae to get the point across. “The caps get red from what we do.”
Clenoin shuttered, thinking about the Meat Market.
“The music and odors you detect are being used to soothe the Bloodlust, so that no reportable incidents happen on company time.” He smiled and winked at Clenoin, who was slowly backing out of The Office.
Grinblas grabbed a helmet from off The Desk. He tossed it at Clenoin. “Don’t forget your helmet!” Clenoin caught it, and ran off through the door. He closed the door to the office, making sure the bolt in the door clicked. Taking the door off the hinges, he slid it under a bunk. He tossed the helmet onto his bunk as he made his way to The BiblioTek.
Strac hunched over a tome. Clenoin approached him slowly. “Strac?” he asked.
The Sorcerer looked up from his tome. “Oh, Clen. What a pleasant surprise.” He pressed a button on the upper right of the tome, and it folded in on itself and disappeared. “What can I do for you?”
Clenoin scratched his arm. “Well, you see, it’s X-ember season back home, and I miss the festivities that ensue. I just want a little piece of the holidays so I don’t feel so far from home.”
Strac thought about this for a moment. Through his bushy eyebrows, he stared at Clenoin. “Sounds like you could use a teleportation spell.”
Clenoin gasped. “You can do that?” he asked, his voice squeaking with excitement.
“No.”
“Oh.” Clenoin looked at the floor, disappointed.
“I can do something for you, though,” said Strac, noticing Clenoin’s depression. “I can bring a bit of X-ember here, to you.”
Clenoin’s face brightened. “You can bring a bit of the festivity and cheer right here, to The Laboratory?”
Strac shrugged. “I wouldn’t be picky. You want me to do it?”
Clenoin nodded furiously. “That would be great!”
Strac stood from his seat and shambled towards an open space of floor. Taking a jumbo piece of chalk from a fold in his robes, he drew a design on the floor. Dropping some powders and potions on the design, he uttered some words that Clenoin did not understand.
In the middle of the circle stood a large, demonic creature. Slumped over his shoulder was a sack, and in his hand was a very menacing switch. His tongue dangled idly from his mouth
“S-Strac!” uttered Clenoin, “that doesn’t have anything to X-ember!”
Strac idly pointed at a book on his table. “Sure it does. Krampus, I believe this fellow’s name is. Traveling companion to SantBasil.”
Clenoin looked at the book, but was distracted as Krampus stepped through the magic circle on the floor. Clenoin backed into the table as he saw the demonic creature approaching him.
“I’m hoping you’ve been a good boy,” Strac said, “because I think he’s coming for you.”
Krampus looked at Clenoin and cracked his switch in the air for good measure. Smiling through a forest of pointed teeth, he reached his hand out towards Clenoin, who crawled backwards over the table to escape the creature.
As Krampus reached out his hand to grasp Clenoin’s collar, he then began to dissolve, crumbling into ash and soot.
“What under the third root of Yggdrasil was that?” declared Clenoin of The Sorcerer.
“Just a some prestidigitation and Virgin’s Blood, nothing special.” He rummaged around in his robe. He produced a small tube of fluid. “You’re looking a bit flustered. Take this emollient, and use it. Within the hour of use, you shall feel a little more calm, and your skin will be softer.”
Clenoin took the tube and put it in his pocket. “Thanks.” He began to leave.
“Clen,” said Strac, “Make sure to use that emollient soon. Also, are you having Tiffin in The Dining Hall today?”
Clenoin nodded. “I always have Tiffin there.”
Strac smiled. “Good. Good. I shall see you there. Don’t forget the emollient.”
Clenoin pulled the tube out of his pocket. Waving it at Strac, he said, “I won’t.” He turned and left The BiblioTek and made his way back towards his bunk.
Sitting on his bunk, he examined the emollient. It had a greenish hue and the consistency of Cassava Root Pudding. He popped the lid from tube and let the fluid pour into his hand. Rubbing it on his face, he began to feel relaxed, and soon forgot the incident in The BiblioTek with the Krampus illusion.
While the emollient worked to ease his flustered nature and soften his skin, he decided to read a book. A tattered book sat by his bunk. The cover read “X-ember, the Reason of the Season.” He opened it and began to read.
“X-ember,” it said, “is a month-long holiday occurring in the tenth standard month of the metric year. Its significance lies in The Universal Decimalization Act, in which all scales were shifted to fit The Standard Gauge.”
On the opposite page was an illustration, showing the shifting of all scales to fit the ten-point system known as The Standard Gauge.
“Oddly enough,” the book went on, “the commemorative season of this event fell around the same time as a Christian holiday. Adopting several of the traditions and customs so as to expedite their transition to Decimalization (X-ion), this was done to get everybody on the same page when the celebration came round.”
Clenoin’s face began to feel warmer. He looked at the figure on the opposite page. It showed X-ians using Silver Firs, SantBasil, The Decorah, and the exchange of presents (X-op) as examples of the adopting of the customs and traditions.
His stomach rumbled. He was hungry. He set the book down and went to The Dining Hall.
“WONDERMENT!” declared those gathered there, using the traditional X-ember greeting. Clenoin saw Kakaisha, Clah-mat, Strac and even Grinblas standing in The Dining Hall. All ten candles on the Decorah were lit and beneath a Silver Fir tree sat ten shiny parcels, wrapped and labeled with a “To: Clen.” The Dining Hall was entirely decorated in X-ember tinsel and ornamentation.
Clenoin smiled at the arrangement. “They were planning this all along.” He felt a warm feeling inside, but later found out that this was just a byproduct of the emollient. Everyone watched with a spirit of cheer as a small, furry creature burrowed through Clenoin’s stomach and jumped into the punchbowl.
Merry X-ember!
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