#sayer banging on the walls of this fic: THE FRUIT OF KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL!!! PLATOS CAVE!!! LET ME IN I CAN DO EITHER OR BOTH OF THOS

[kamil-a]

end of s4 spoilers hale fic hiiii

when jacob hale looks up, he sees the sky.

it's a brilliant shade of blue. higher up than any ceiling, crisscrossed by wires here and there between buildings. puffs of white, clouds, float lazily across. it makes him dizzy to look at. he sits down heavily on the concrete before he falls.

concrete, there's another new one. well, technically not new, he thinks, but.... no, new, it can be new. as far as he's concerned he's never ever seen it before. he's seen tile and linoleum and sometimes carpet and metal and the rough, chalky surface of typhon itself, but not sidewalk. it's harsh and scratches his hands.

wind. birdsong. he's behind a building, alone save for a few full garbage bins (aerolith standard, familiar) but he can hear the chatter of people walking around, probably doing a great deal better getting out of their pods than he. the rattle rattle rushing-by of people with stretchers for those who have done worse.

uncontrollably, he starts to cry. the sky blurs. he curls up, buries his face in his knees. the fabric of his pants is familiar against his cheek. he cries even more.

he half-expects (hopes?) any second now to hear a whirr from inside his head, and for the tears to stop like a faucet turned off- do not waste fluids, a lecture on the dangers of dehydration. it doesn't happen, of course. he keeps crying. he can't stop it alone.

eventually- he has no idea how long- there is a sound, a chime in his head. general notice. it is sunset, speaker informs everyone. hale lets the broadcast wash over him. your schedule will be delivered individually. you should be wherever you're supposed to be when the sun goes down.

and then, softer, just to him- i recommend watching.

so he looks, of course.

it isn't the quick dimming of lights he's used to. slowly, the sky begins to change. it's almost too subtle to notice it until suddenly there it is, the sky lit up in pinks and oranges. more colors he's never seen before. it's breathtaking. (every breath he does take smells of something new.) he wants to look away, hide his face in his hands, but it has been recommended that he watch this. so he looks. of course.

when it is finally all dark-

well, what did you think of your first sunset?

there is even more of a smile than usual in speaker's voice.

"i-" hale coughs, unused to speaking. his throat is dry. he tries again. it waits for him.

"it's beautiful," he says, more because he thinks it's what speaker wants to hear than anything else. it's objectively true, though. it is beautiful. he just doesn't know what to think about it.

his stomach twists.

you must be hungry, speaker says, but he really doesn't want to eat right now. well, speaker has all the data. perhaps he is hungry.

i would have you report to the cafeteria, but... in this case, i think your current location is an advantage. you will want to stay inconspicuous, and there is very low traffic to this area until the garbage gets removed tomorrow morning. I'll have something brought out to you.

he sits. he thinks about food. fine, maybe he's hungry. after a few minutes a small construct (is that what he looked like?) rolls out to him bearing a container and a large bottle, before sweeping up some loose dirt and litter and rolling away.

I gave you more than your usual hydration portion to account for the lost fluids, speaker explains. the practicality grounds him. he starts out with a sip of whatever it is- the same electrolyte solution as he's used to. emboldened, he opens the container. vegetables, thats something he knows. instant mashed potato. the protein source is unfamiliar, but the smell makes his mouth water. speaker is thrilled about it, so he's fortunately saved from having to ask.

aerolith dynamics is proud to inform you that that is grilled salmon you've got on your plate! So recently brought back from extinction, and immediately jumped to the top three in favorite protein source surveys among our earth division. go on, have a bite.

he bites. chews slowly, swallows. it's not bad. he couldn't say what's in it. salt, perhaps.... lemon?

you don't get that on typhon, do you! speaker sounds smug.

"I've had fish," he says automatically. he doesn't like the dig at typhon's food. he can't explain why. he just doesn't. he takes another bite so speaker won't ask him about it and he doesn't have to admit that the lab-synthezised "tuna fish" sandwich he and some other brave souls tried out at lunch for a week before it was recalled didn't resemble this whatsoever. and that this probably tastes, objectively, way better. his stomach churns. he feels sick. you dont simply skip a meal at aerolith and waste valuable food, and throw off your nutrition plan. he forces a bite of mashed potato into his mouth.

your brain needs proper nutrition to run. as he eats and drinks he can start to see the shape of what bothers him, and it's so stupid. it's embarassing. he can't tell speaker, can't risk insulting it, but he can think the words at least. speaker is in his head but not, you know, in his head.

he's earthstained.

literally- as in, the gravel in his boots and the dirt on the back of his pants. but also, it has only been a few hours and already he has looked up at the sky. he has seen his first sunset, and tomorrow he will probably see his first sunrise. he knows how dark the night gets, the sounds of birds. every breath he takes smells of earth.

when things go back to normal, he-

they won't. not his normal, anyway. he's going to be "set free".

but- he cant help but imagine going back to the only life he knows- if he did ever go back. he would be like all the others, another resident who sighs and says they miss clouds, they miss birds, that they miss the way the air smells after it rains, the air smells so sterile here. someone would say they miss being able to watch the sunset and he would agree. and he would miss the sunset too.

he- sven-he, not hale-he- had been asked for feedback, that time with the tuna sandwich. he'd been the first to take a bite, and he'd said "it's good", earning various doubtful looks from everyone else (and one the nutrition technician will be delighted to hear that, thank you for your feedback.) the person sitting across from him took a bite next. they chewed it thoughtfully, swallowed, and said "it's not bad, but it's not the real thing."

he forces into his mouth another bite of the real thing.

sayer would probably know a story about this.