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Rain. Jay didn’t really know what a storm was. On his planet, they didn’t have rainstorms, just rockslides, and earthquakes. The sight of the rain served as a stark reminder of how different things were here on Earth. For example, his planet didn’t have this absurdly strange book that sat on the table in front of him. Ask him to construct a four platform living habitation for an extended population? That he could do. Or repairing a fusion transport vehicle? Easy. He turned to his best (and perhaps only) friend, Melody. 

“What do I do with this again?” he asked. He felt a tad annoyed, since normally on rainy days they would go for a walk, as they both enjoyed the rain. Unfortunately, there was something Melody called ‘lightning’, which was apparently a great deal more dangerous than rain. Which meant no going outside.

She laughed, not mockingly, but simply a laugh of genuine amusement. “It’s a coloring book. You color it,” she said. 

Jay blinked and stared down at the book in front of him. The front featured a smiling reptilian creature, which Melody had called a ‘dragon’. He squinted at her. “Color it?”

Melody stared at him, the amusement fading, replaced by curiosity. She leaned across the table and flipped the book open to the first page. It featured the same ‘dragon’, this time rendered in simple black lines. “It’s blank, so you can add whatever you like.”

Jay studied the image intensely. “So this is a blueprint then?” he asked after a long moment. “It’s not a very good one. There are no measurements, for starters.” And there were no specifications or alternate views either. How could one expect to build a dragon from this?

“You mean to tell me you guys have a bunch of super-advanced stuff your planet, and superpowers-

“Cognitive aural effect,” he pointed out. 

“Telekinesis,” She shrugged. “Same difference.”

“Not really,” he muttered under his breath.

“Is too,” she said, grinning. “Here on Earth, we call it telekinesis. You move stuff with your mind. Anyways, you have all that, but you guys don’t have coloring books? What about books? Pictures?” 

“We don’t. It’s not necessary. Free time is spent honing our cognition, and when we are not training, we utilize all of our time to build and advance our planet. And we do have books, but ours are useful ones. They have diagrams and instructions.”

“Oh...” she frowned. “That sounds...”

“Practical.”

“Boring,” she finished.

He made eye contact, squinting slightly at her. She squinted back with equal intensity, her eyes sparkling with amusement despite her feigned seriousness. “You’re weird.” She stood up, walked over to a cabinet, and took out a yellow box, then returned to the table. Opening the box, she spilled its contents across the table. Several, small cylindrical objects of various kinds tumbled out, rolling around. 

Jay picked one up and examined it closely. “Are these some kind of ancient weapon casings?”

Instead of answering the question, Melody simply replied, “Watch.” She picked up one of the objects and rubbed it on the paper. 

Before Jay’s eyes, the paper changed color, from white to something that reminded him of the skies of his home planet. He gasped softly. “How did you do that? And what color is that?”

“Orange,” she replied. She paused. “Do you guys have color on your planet?”

He shook his head. “Not like that. I mean, not usually. But that color reminds me of the sky back home,” Jay murmured. He missed it. Not all of it, but he did miss some aspects. 

“What color do you call this then?” she asked, holding up the object.

“Sky,” Jay replied. 

Melody gave a sharp laugh. “Our version of ‘sky’ is blue. Like our sky.” She handed him one of the objects. “Here, you try.”

Without thinking, Jay lifted the object without moving, using only his telekinesis. Melody immediately reached forward and snatched it, disrupting his grip. “Use your hands,” she insisted. “It’s more fun.” Once more, she handed the object to him. 

He took it in his hands and immediately dropped it. Awkwardly, he reached forward and picked it up again, gripping it tightly between his fingers. Using his hands for such a simple task still felt awkward, considering they were unnecessary except for manipulating the heaviest or most complex of objects. 

As he brought the object to the page, his grip tightened to the point where it shattered. Jay flinched. Clearly, he’d underestimated the cohesive strength of these... whatever they were. He looked up, wondering if Melody would be upset - no doubt such devices were probably expensive - but she seemed unfazed. If anything, she was amused.

“Okay buddy, easy there,” Melody said. She handed him another one.

Hesitantly, Jay took it. He pressed the point against the paper and rubbed it back forth. A streak of color appeared on the page. Immediately he was reminded of rolling fields of grass and the leaves of Earth’s trees. An odd sensation, one he could only describe as similar to satisfaction, burst inside him like a magma cauldron. “What are these?” he demanded, without looking up. 

“They’re called crayons. We humans use them to color pictures. To create art.”

“Why?”

Melody shook her head. “Because it's fun.”

Jay nodded, though he was only half-listening. His entire attention was focused on the product in front of him. Fun? Art? He knew a little about the concepts, thanks to Melody. But he’d never done any before. There was no point. Training and improvement always kept him busy. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he could feel the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“Are you smiling?” Melody asked.

“Maybe?” Jay said. He put down the crayon. He started to reach for another, then stopped himself. There were several different colors, all different shades of the color spectrum. He didn’t want to make a mistake. Whenever he was tasked with building a specific device, every part had to have its place. A single fastener or couplet out of place meant disaster. “What color do I use next?”

Melody tilted her head quizzically. “Any you want.”

“What color are these ‘dragons’ supposed to be though,” Jay persisted. “What are their specifications? For example, the colors of your ‘traffic lights’ indicate something specific.”

“Yeah, but that's different. In art, the whole point of coloring is to do it how you want.”

“Why? Is there no officially mandated method yet?” Yet another thing about Earth that didn’t make much sense. What was the usefulness of doing it how he wanted, if there was a proper, officially mandated method?

“Like I said, it’s fun.” Melody reached across the table and colored one of the other spines, this time with blue. “Try it.”

Jay stared at the assortment of crayons on the table. None of this made any sense. There had to be a right way to do this. Yet Melody insisted there was none, it was just for fun. Taking a deep breath, he selected another crayon, this one similar to Melody’s hair, though hers appeared a few shades lighter than his crayon. “What color is this?”

“Red,” she replied.

He started to bring the crayon to the paper then stopped, peering at the image. So far, Melody had colored two of the dragon’s spikes, one orange, and one blue. And he’d colored part of the dragon’s arm green. “Where does one place these colors?”

“Huh?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“You colored one of the spikes blue. Where does red go?”

“Anywhere you want.”

Jay stared at the page, feeling like his head was spinning. He never really had to choose to do something before. Usually, there was a manual for these kinds of things, on the rare occasion it was necessary. With great trepidation, he brought the red crayon up to the page and started coloring the dragons head. In swift, circular motions, the red began to overtake the white of the page. He found himself smiling again, and before he knew it, he’d colored over half the dragon. 

Setting the red crayon aside, he selected a blue one and rubbed that on the page. More color. But this time the shade of Earth's atmosphere on a clear day, undisturbed by all but the faintest of clouds. Then he tried one called yellow. That one reminded him of several signposts he’d observed while walking. For the next several minutes, he tested out all the crayons, delighted by each new shade of color.

In no time at all, the image was completed. An odd cacophony of colors adorned the dragon’s hide. It looked nothing like the one on the front of the book. “So why do humans do art? Is it useful training?” Jay asked finally, looking up. 

“No. I mean, they say it's good for your mind or something but it's not exactly training the way you guys do.”

“So what is it for?”

For several moments, Melody didn’t respond. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

Jay held up his hands. “Then why do it?”

Melody chewed her lip. She stared out the window, where the rain had lessened slightly. Her gaze shifted, getting the odd vacant expression humans tended to have when they were thinking deeply. Then she turned back to face him, staring him directly in his eyes. “Why did you do it?”

“That’s not an answer. That’s a question.”

“I know,” she said with a wry grin. “But why did you keep coloring?”

He blinked at her, then stared down at the colorful image. Why had he continued? There had to be a right answer. He drummed his fingers against the table, a habit he’d picked up from Melody. Was he enhancing his abilities? No, not particularly. Nor was it accomplishing some grand purpose, such as a habitation structure or transportation. Try as he might, he could think of no practical reason he’d continued to color the picture. Yet, looking at the picture brought an odd sensation, one of satisfaction, excitement, and pride. 

Then it struck him. This was something all his own. No one else would color an image in exactly the same way. “Because,” he began slowly, trying to find the correct Earth words for the sensation stirring within. “It’s unique. It’s mine. This art is impractical, yet it’s special too.” he paused. “No one else can make a piece exactly as I did, or as you could. I suppose it is a way of expressing oneself, the way all of you humans seem to be so different, yet your differences don’t make you superior or inferior. And... it was fun.”

Melody gave a low whistle. “Dang. You probably described it better than I could have.”

Jay fell silent, his gaze drifting to the window. The rain had settled to a steady drizzle. Once more he found himself contemplating the many differences between Earth and his planet. Art. He didn’t really know what art was. On his planet, they didn’t have anything like it, just practicality and purpose. Hierarchy. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder, what would his planet be like if it did?

August 14, 2020 06:33

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