Addendum and Plastic!

Well, this has been a bit of a turbulent year. Guess I don't really like being the bad guy and leaving my friends in bad situations.

That last post got a little away from me. But sometimes...you just have to write the feeling down, you know?

Anyway, as a sort of compensation for my rampant emotionality, I'll share the infamous "plastics" scene from my beloved first story (the one that I dropped because it would take ages to finish).

Ffian turned and pulled her quilt up higher, smelling the sweet smell of dew on grass. She sneezed and sat up suddenly, casting about her. This wasn’t home or her Aunt’s house, she remembered, yawning widely. Sizha’s horse stood grazing to one side of the clearing, but Sizha was not in sight. Ffian relaxed and examined her surroundings; if the horse was here then Sizha was coming back.

She was in a clearing ringed by large trunked trees, creating a low canopy a dozen metres above. There was a trickling stream nearby, refracting the sunlight in dancing crystalline patterns and to one side of the low-burning fire, there was a hollowed out stump with a tarp over it.

Ffian stood and stretched, yawning again, then stumped over to the tree trunk and lifted the tarpaulin slightly. Dry firewood was stacked there with a small wrapped bundle lying on it. Ffian unwrapped the oily cloth and wasn’t very surprised to see a small hatchet, its head scratched and pitted, but the edge honed to a shine. She carefully rewrapped the hatchet and secured the tarpaulin, before looking around for something else to pique her curiosity.

A pressing need burned at her lower belly, and Ffian cast about looking for what she knew wasn’t there. Thankfully, her parents had been avid campers and almost every summer since she could remember they had enjoyed the great outdoors for weeks at a time. A thought crossed her mind as she sought a place to relieve herself, perhaps why they had loved the outdoors, the forests and nature so much was because they had come from a place like this. Perhaps this was the place they had come from. The thought gave her hope and she was smiling by the time she returned to the camp.

Sizha was re-wrapping her wet hair into its braid; her face had a look of intense concentration, the lips pulled up on one side as she wrapped a leather strip around it.

Ffian laughed at that face and Sizha looked up at her, her face going cross. “Here, I’ll help you.” Ffian offered, tying the leather strip while Sizha held the braid firmly in a fist. “There, all done.” Ffian said, her hands roving lightly over the twined hair. It was hard and soft, flexible like rope and yet quite strong. Ffian winced at the thought of it being pulled though.

Sizha’s eyes slid over Ffian’s clothes and her eyes turned thoughtful. “What’s this?” She asked, poking at the blazer’s buttons.

“It’s a button.” Ffian said, a little confused since she thought they had them here.

“I know it’s a button!” Sizha said, clapping Ffian’s blazer with her hand. “What is it made out of?” She emphasized, fingering the material.

“Oh, sorry.” Ffian apologised. “It’s plastic.” At Sizha’s blank look, Ffian elaborated. “You have wood and stone, then metal, and then you have plastic.” She screwed up her face trying to make a comparison. “You know how you have sand, and then it can be melted to make glass?”

“Yes.” Sizha nodded, tapping the button with a fingernail.

“Well, plastic is a bit like that – it’s not natural, you have to make it. But it can be hard or soft, depending on how they make it and what they use, so it’s replaced a lot of things in our society – because metal is precious and wood burns, we use plastic to make many things.” Ffian tried to make the explanation as simplistic as possible.

“So…” Sizha began, her face growing thoughtful, “Can you make swords out of it? Can you make houses?” She asked.

“No. Well, no we don’t usually make swords out of it, metal is still better for that. But we can make houses out of it, although we still mostly use bricks and wood.” Ffian said.

“So what use is it then?” Sizha asked, contemptuously. “Why is this better than a wooden button I could get anywhere?”

“There are many people on my world. There would be no trees left if we all used wood instead.” Ffian rebutted. “And if I took this button off and left it in a drawer and came back in ten years, it’d be exactly the same. It’s cheap, it’s easy to make and it lasts, without making us lose all our forests.” She stated a little defensively.

“So there are lots of trees on your world – on Titan?” Sizha asked.

Ffian’s face fell. “No…we…we use too many trees each year, and replace them with less. That’s why our world is changing; they call it climate change or global warming. At least, that’s what my teachers always say.” Ffian said, toeing the ground with her shoe.

“I see.” Sizha said, sympathetically patting Ffian’s hand. “So how do you make this…this plastic?” She asked.

“I don’t know.” Ffian answered, helplessly. “It’s made in factories with big machines and things…” She trailed off.

Sizha looked at Ffian curiously, but let it drop. “I understand. Anyway,” she said, standing “I was going to say we need to get you some different clothes if you don’t want to stick out here. We’re nearing Cerrekus and...”