Fic: Saturday Morning
May. 31st, 2018 02:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sheenianniTitle: Saturday Morning
Author:sheenianni
Fandom: A random university, probably somewhere on Earth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 700
Summary: The Lab is Alive!
A/N: Written for one of the![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
getyourwordsout’s challenges. This was fun :D
It was Saturday morning. The uni was empty except for the odd few students working furiously to finish their theses, running experiments and supposedly taking advantage of the vacant labs and unoccupied equipment. There was also the storekeeper who was growing tomatoes right next to the chemicals stockroom. The tomatoes were bright red and ripe despite growing in semi-dark, mostly thanks to the potassium nitrate that the storekeeper regularly sneaked out of the stockroom. Nobody ever saw him do it, not that anyone would care – the stockroom held kilos of the stuff and it was cheap.
Same as the rest of the school, most of the labs were quiet in the organic department. It was then that the lab flasks came to life and talked to each other after the forced silence of the work week.
"Hey Fifty. How's it going?" asked the 250 ml flask her smaller counterpart that was sharing her fume hood. There were at least twenty other flasks of the same size, but this Fifty was special – she rocked the drop-shape elegance and her glass was still clear, not yet damaged by scratches or chemicals. Fifty’s number has been almost scrubbed off and she had a small dent in her ground glass joint, but that made her all the more beautiful in 250's mind. Most flasks went for stoppers, corks, that sort of thing, but the 250 was deeply in love with Fifty, no matter how impractical and utterly platonic those feelings actually were.
Fifty greeted her back. "Hey, I'm good. You?"
"Still waiting to see some proper use," replied 250 with a shrug.
She was proud of her shrugging abilities. No other flask could do it. However, the person who used her previous fume hood was all about shrugging, and she had spent two months observing him carefully until she got the move right.
"That's so like you big folk. Just lazing around, leaving all the work to us... I'm kidding," said Fifty good-naturally before 250 could protest. Fifty paused before lowering her voice. "Hey, want to know a secret? I think Three-necked caught a Black Hole."
"Them? You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm not," Fifty insisted. "Their past four reactions were all a bust. The starting material, the product, even the usual mess – all gone. They're really down about it too."
"I can imagine," said 250 sympathetically. "Poor guys."
Some glassware were all-too happy to spoil the human's reactions - freedom-fighting and revolting against the human oppression, as they called it - but the three-necked flask were not one of those rebels. They were idealist loners who usually kept to themselves but found great pride in "doing their part for the bettering of the Labworld". If they really caught a Black hole, then 250 was worried about what they might do next.
Her cousin, the 100 round-bottom flask, had been a similar type. She would never know for sure, but a week after he caught the Black hole, he slipped out of the human's hands and smashed into a dozen pieces, far beyond the state of repair. His remains were swept into the glass bin, so she knew he was later re-forged and reincarnated into new glassware, but that was a poor solace to losing her only surviving relative and one of her closest friends.
Fifty must have guessed her thoughts.
"I'm sure Three-necked will be okay," she said soothingly.
"Fifty-"
"Maybe the Black hole will go away on its own. And if not, we'll take care of them. It will be fine."
"You don't know that."
"I know," said Fifty resolutely. Then she smiled.
250 loved Fifty's smile. Other flasks could do it too, but none of them transmitted the warmth and hope like Fifty did. Fifty on the other hand was funny, supportive, kind…
250 felt the tenseness in her glass easing a bit. She settled more comfortably in her cork ring. As long as Fifty was here, they would handle things somehow.
As long as she had Fifty, she was not alone.
Author:
sheenianniFandom: A random university, probably somewhere on Earth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 700
Summary: The Lab is Alive!
A/N: Written for one of the
getyourwordsout’s challenges. This was fun :D___________________________________
It was Saturday morning. The uni was empty except for the odd few students working furiously to finish their theses, running experiments and supposedly taking advantage of the vacant labs and unoccupied equipment. There was also the storekeeper who was growing tomatoes right next to the chemicals stockroom. The tomatoes were bright red and ripe despite growing in semi-dark, mostly thanks to the potassium nitrate that the storekeeper regularly sneaked out of the stockroom. Nobody ever saw him do it, not that anyone would care – the stockroom held kilos of the stuff and it was cheap.
Same as the rest of the school, most of the labs were quiet in the organic department. It was then that the lab flasks came to life and talked to each other after the forced silence of the work week.
"Hey Fifty. How's it going?" asked the 250 ml flask her smaller counterpart that was sharing her fume hood. There were at least twenty other flasks of the same size, but this Fifty was special – she rocked the drop-shape elegance and her glass was still clear, not yet damaged by scratches or chemicals. Fifty’s number has been almost scrubbed off and she had a small dent in her ground glass joint, but that made her all the more beautiful in 250's mind. Most flasks went for stoppers, corks, that sort of thing, but the 250 was deeply in love with Fifty, no matter how impractical and utterly platonic those feelings actually were.
Fifty greeted her back. "Hey, I'm good. You?"
"Still waiting to see some proper use," replied 250 with a shrug.
She was proud of her shrugging abilities. No other flask could do it. However, the person who used her previous fume hood was all about shrugging, and she had spent two months observing him carefully until she got the move right.
"That's so like you big folk. Just lazing around, leaving all the work to us... I'm kidding," said Fifty good-naturally before 250 could protest. Fifty paused before lowering her voice. "Hey, want to know a secret? I think Three-necked caught a Black Hole."
"Them? You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm not," Fifty insisted. "Their past four reactions were all a bust. The starting material, the product, even the usual mess – all gone. They're really down about it too."
"I can imagine," said 250 sympathetically. "Poor guys."
Some glassware were all-too happy to spoil the human's reactions - freedom-fighting and revolting against the human oppression, as they called it - but the three-necked flask were not one of those rebels. They were idealist loners who usually kept to themselves but found great pride in "doing their part for the bettering of the Labworld". If they really caught a Black hole, then 250 was worried about what they might do next.
Her cousin, the 100 round-bottom flask, had been a similar type. She would never know for sure, but a week after he caught the Black hole, he slipped out of the human's hands and smashed into a dozen pieces, far beyond the state of repair. His remains were swept into the glass bin, so she knew he was later re-forged and reincarnated into new glassware, but that was a poor solace to losing her only surviving relative and one of her closest friends.
Fifty must have guessed her thoughts.
"I'm sure Three-necked will be okay," she said soothingly.
"Fifty-"
"Maybe the Black hole will go away on its own. And if not, we'll take care of them. It will be fine."
"You don't know that."
"I know," said Fifty resolutely. Then she smiled.
250 loved Fifty's smile. Other flasks could do it too, but none of them transmitted the warmth and hope like Fifty did. Fifty on the other hand was funny, supportive, kind…
250 felt the tenseness in her glass easing a bit. She settled more comfortably in her cork ring. As long as Fifty was here, they would handle things somehow.
As long as she had Fifty, she was not alone.
