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setting drabbles
Most of New Adapo was unpleasantly raw to Vanadi’s eye. Metal was the most common building material, most of it bare and without paint or polish. Anything else was rough hewn stone, with none of the smooth, sleek surfaces he expected of stonework. The builders seemed to have carved it straight out of the meteor underfoot and called it a day.
Structures dotted common areas which seemed to have no real purpose. He supposed they were meant to be artwork, but sculpture in Vanadi’s experience was pleasing to the eye, made of flowing curves and arches, with intricate and graceful detail. Kitrites were generally acknowledged to be very skillful with the arts, and he liked to think this lent his opinion some weight. The art of New Adapo had nothing in common with the art he’d known in Aluthsa, though. It was solid and heavy, with jags here and there that seemed to underscore silent threats. It was arranged as if each little collection of twisted metal had grown out of the surface it was perched on like a malignant fungus. There was no subtlety to any of it, and Vanadi had to stop himself from wincing whenever his eye wandered over one of them.
Those areas safe for organic occupation, and there weren’t many of them, were incased in some clear substance that left the starkness of empty space around them on display. It was a constant reminder that they were isolated in deep, silent, and almost completely empty space that Vanadi didn’t appreciate. He felt trapped by the rough and inelegant walls of New Adapo, even if none of its occupants would stop him from departing. To where, though? And in what vehicle? It was a very thorough prison, even if it didn’t intend to be.
The room that the little bot showed him to was like none of the rest of New Adapo. The entryway was small, small enough that Vanadi had to duck through it, and for a moment he could see nothing. The lighting was dim, faint after the harsh glaring lights of the hallway outside. Gradually though his eyes – the one still organic eye, that is – adjusted, and he saw the small space in a warm golden glow by several hanging lights along the walls.
It was cluttered, he saw that immediately. Benches and work tables lined every wall, and nearly every inch of them, and a large part of the floor, was covered in projects in various stages of completion. Vanadi couldn’t even begin to identify most of them, but here and there he saw recognizable pieces. An arm, partially deconstructed, with its silvery innards scattered haphazardly about the worktable it was clamped to. A hand rested near it, six fingered, seemingly nearly complete. Vanadi stepped carefully nearer to them, dodging several slender rods on the floor and something made largely of canvas, the purpose of which he couldn’t even begin to guess at. It was partially furled, like a sun shade not in use.
One of the benches was lined with wires and ports, and when he noted the padding along the top of it he realized this must be the bot’s berth. It was small, like the rest of the room, like its owner, and Vanadi doubted he could have comfortably used it had he wanted to. He didn’t, of course. The ports and wires were a cluttered and uncomfortable mess, and wouldn’t have held any appeal to him even if they had been pristine and orderly.
He had to admit, though, the space itself wasn’t uncomfortable. Maybe it was the way she had already seated herself at a bench and immersed herself in the project there, forgetting him entirely, but the area felt to him very lived in. Perhaps that wasn’t possible, its only occupant being a creature of metal and wires, but the feeling persisted. He cleared off one of the benches carefully, moving the scattered wires and pieces to the table behind it, and took a seat at the edge of it. The golden light glinted off of his silvery hand, turning it brass. Vanadi rubbed it with his opposite hand, then turned his eyes and attention to the project that had ensnared her.
He’d seen this one a few times, always toward the edge of the room, never quite engaged directly. The trend continued, and Vanadi watched as it watched him back, perched along a support beam some two meters off of the ground. It was small, maybe a head shorter than he was, although that was difficult to say when it sat with its limbs folded up like that. It wore loose clothing, mostly drab browns, but below that most of its body looked to be flat black or silver. And it had hair, that was new, or what looked to be hair. Rusty brown locks flopped carelessly to the side, looking for all the world like the hair or fur one would find on an organic creature. Vanadi wondered if this hair grew, or if it would always be that length.
He saw no eyes on that silver faceplate, but instead it wore a wide visor that stretched across its face, and nearly from hair line to the nose it didn’t have. The visor glowed a soft green in its little pool of shadow, and as Vanadi watched it flickered once and then resumed its glow.
It had a long fifth limb, a prehensile tail that wrapped around the beam it sat on. It was slender, not even as thick as one of its arms, but that hold did look secure. Though they were folded up now, Vanadi took note of several sender appendages at the end; he wondered if it functioned as a third hand when needed.
He was about to approach, and gathered his weight under him to begin making his way across the room, when it moved. One five-fingered hand rose to the side of its head – three fingers and two opposing thumbs, he noticed – and all at once that visor slid up to rest at the top of its head. It had eyes after all, it seemed. Two large green eyes, black where his where his were white but otherwise very similar, regarded him with what seemed to be a sense of amusement. It winked one of them suddenly with a nod, then the visor was immediately back in place again. It moved with no more warning than that, slinging itself up to a higher beam as if it had never had to contend with gravity a day in its life. He watched as it swiftly vanished into the darker upper reaches of the room, until he couldn’t see it anymore.
Structures dotted common areas which seemed to have no real purpose. He supposed they were meant to be artwork, but sculpture in Vanadi’s experience was pleasing to the eye, made of flowing curves and arches, with intricate and graceful detail. Kitrites were generally acknowledged to be very skillful with the arts, and he liked to think this lent his opinion some weight. The art of New Adapo had nothing in common with the art he’d known in Aluthsa, though. It was solid and heavy, with jags here and there that seemed to underscore silent threats. It was arranged as if each little collection of twisted metal had grown out of the surface it was perched on like a malignant fungus. There was no subtlety to any of it, and Vanadi had to stop himself from wincing whenever his eye wandered over one of them.
Those areas safe for organic occupation, and there weren’t many of them, were incased in some clear substance that left the starkness of empty space around them on display. It was a constant reminder that they were isolated in deep, silent, and almost completely empty space that Vanadi didn’t appreciate. He felt trapped by the rough and inelegant walls of New Adapo, even if none of its occupants would stop him from departing. To where, though? And in what vehicle? It was a very thorough prison, even if it didn’t intend to be.
The room that the little bot showed him to was like none of the rest of New Adapo. The entryway was small, small enough that Vanadi had to duck through it, and for a moment he could see nothing. The lighting was dim, faint after the harsh glaring lights of the hallway outside. Gradually though his eyes – the one still organic eye, that is – adjusted, and he saw the small space in a warm golden glow by several hanging lights along the walls.
It was cluttered, he saw that immediately. Benches and work tables lined every wall, and nearly every inch of them, and a large part of the floor, was covered in projects in various stages of completion. Vanadi couldn’t even begin to identify most of them, but here and there he saw recognizable pieces. An arm, partially deconstructed, with its silvery innards scattered haphazardly about the worktable it was clamped to. A hand rested near it, six fingered, seemingly nearly complete. Vanadi stepped carefully nearer to them, dodging several slender rods on the floor and something made largely of canvas, the purpose of which he couldn’t even begin to guess at. It was partially furled, like a sun shade not in use.
One of the benches was lined with wires and ports, and when he noted the padding along the top of it he realized this must be the bot’s berth. It was small, like the rest of the room, like its owner, and Vanadi doubted he could have comfortably used it had he wanted to. He didn’t, of course. The ports and wires were a cluttered and uncomfortable mess, and wouldn’t have held any appeal to him even if they had been pristine and orderly.
He had to admit, though, the space itself wasn’t uncomfortable. Maybe it was the way she had already seated herself at a bench and immersed herself in the project there, forgetting him entirely, but the area felt to him very lived in. Perhaps that wasn’t possible, its only occupant being a creature of metal and wires, but the feeling persisted. He cleared off one of the benches carefully, moving the scattered wires and pieces to the table behind it, and took a seat at the edge of it. The golden light glinted off of his silvery hand, turning it brass. Vanadi rubbed it with his opposite hand, then turned his eyes and attention to the project that had ensnared her.
He’d seen this one a few times, always toward the edge of the room, never quite engaged directly. The trend continued, and Vanadi watched as it watched him back, perched along a support beam some two meters off of the ground. It was small, maybe a head shorter than he was, although that was difficult to say when it sat with its limbs folded up like that. It wore loose clothing, mostly drab browns, but below that most of its body looked to be flat black or silver. And it had hair, that was new, or what looked to be hair. Rusty brown locks flopped carelessly to the side, looking for all the world like the hair or fur one would find on an organic creature. Vanadi wondered if this hair grew, or if it would always be that length.
He saw no eyes on that silver faceplate, but instead it wore a wide visor that stretched across its face, and nearly from hair line to the nose it didn’t have. The visor glowed a soft green in its little pool of shadow, and as Vanadi watched it flickered once and then resumed its glow.
It had a long fifth limb, a prehensile tail that wrapped around the beam it sat on. It was slender, not even as thick as one of its arms, but that hold did look secure. Though they were folded up now, Vanadi took note of several sender appendages at the end; he wondered if it functioned as a third hand when needed.
He was about to approach, and gathered his weight under him to begin making his way across the room, when it moved. One five-fingered hand rose to the side of its head – three fingers and two opposing thumbs, he noticed – and all at once that visor slid up to rest at the top of its head. It had eyes after all, it seemed. Two large green eyes, black where his where his were white but otherwise very similar, regarded him with what seemed to be a sense of amusement. It winked one of them suddenly with a nod, then the visor was immediately back in place again. It moved with no more warning than that, slinging itself up to a higher beam as if it had never had to contend with gravity a day in its life. He watched as it swiftly vanished into the darker upper reaches of the room, until he couldn’t see it anymore.