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Shades of White
April was a strange woman. She’d grown up in a small town, where people whispered and called her a freak. When she came of age, she moved to Berkeley, thinking she would blend in. Even by Berkeley’s standards, she was still odd, but she at least found friends who appreciated her.
April hated color. It upset her, triggering anxiety attacks or fits of anger. Her clothes were all white or light grey, her apartment was decorated with the blandest beige furniture she could find, and she always took public transportation. She had a driver’s license, but stoplights upset her.
Obsession was not uncommon in Berkeley, and if that was all, April might not have stood out. But there was one other thing about her that caught the eye. Her hair naturally grew in snow-white.
She wasn’t albino. Her skin had a healthy complexion, and the doctors she’d seen were at a loss to explain it. Her friends joked that she hated color so much, she’d driven it out of her blood entirely.
Until one spring day, when one of those friends knocked on April’s door. It was a quick and hard tap tap tap. “April? It’s Sarah. Are you in there? I texted you.”
“Come in,” April called. “It’s not locked.”
Sarah pulled open the door, stepped inside, and looked around for her friend. She caught a trace of April through the doorway to the kitchen, and took a quick step that directly: “Did you-”
“Robe,” April called out.
“Oh. Right.” Sarah took a quick step back to the door. She kicked off her shoes, and then grabbed one of the three grey robes that hung on a peg by the door. Throwing it over her shoulders nicely covered her electric-blue tank top. “Did you see the news?”
“I avoid the news,” April replied. She was in the kitchen. For her, cooking was an activity that took some time, and that had to be conducted with thick gloves. As a teenager, she’d tried eating only pale foods, but nutritional deficiencies forced her back to a more normal diet.
She rationalized that she was like a nuclear reactor technician: handling dangerous substances for the greater good.
“Right, whatever. There was a story about you in the New York Times. It’s a huge deal. Like, a bunch of generals resigned and there are going to be charges and stuff.” Sarah rushed into the kitchen and started reading from her phone. “Leaking military transport exposes hundreds of children to experimental chemical weapon ‘Agent Lollipop.’”
“I’m not a child,” April replied. She didn’t look up from her work.
“No no. This was twenty years ago. Look.” Sarah shoved her phone until April’s nose. On the screen were pictures of several other young people, all about April’s age. They all dressed blandly, and a few had snow-white hair.
“Huh,” April said. “Neat.” She pronounced the word crisply.
Then she went back to chopping vegetables.
Sarah frowned. She furrowed her brow. “Are you… not getting this?”
“You are the twentieth person to text that article to me. Though you are the first to come over in person when I ignored you, so thank you for being a good friend.” April briefly smiled. “I understand completely. First there are going to be friends who pity me. Second there are going to be doctors who want to flush the toxins out of my blood so I can be ‘normal.’ Then there are going to be lawyers who want me to cry about how awful my life is so we can sue the government for all its worth.”
Sarah frozen. He jaw opened and shut. Finally she blurted out: “But your life is awful.”
April snorted, and a smile touched her face again -- strained through it was. “Your life was awful when your brother was dealing with drinking. If a doctor said he could flush the bad spirits out of your blood so you wouldn’t care a loved one was drinking themselves to death, how would you have reacted?”
A hot snap overtook Sarah’s tone: “That’s not even close to the same thing.”
“They are to me. Because they’re both wrong.” After a moment, April added, “And I’m glad your brother recovered. I’m sorry if that was too personal.”
A long silence hung between them. April continued to chop vegetables. Sarah stared.
“Anyway. Now that that’s over, you want to hang out?” April spoke like nothing had happened. “You already walked all the way over.”
April hated color. It upset her, triggering anxiety attacks or fits of anger. Her clothes were all white or light grey, her apartment was decorated with the blandest beige furniture she could find, and she always took public transportation. She had a driver’s license, but stoplights upset her.
Obsession was not uncommon in Berkeley, and if that was all, April might not have stood out. But there was one other thing about her that caught the eye. Her hair naturally grew in snow-white.
She wasn’t albino. Her skin had a healthy complexion, and the doctors she’d seen were at a loss to explain it. Her friends joked that she hated color so much, she’d driven it out of her blood entirely.
Until one spring day, when one of those friends knocked on April’s door. It was a quick and hard tap tap tap. “April? It’s Sarah. Are you in there? I texted you.”
“Come in,” April called. “It’s not locked.”
Sarah pulled open the door, stepped inside, and looked around for her friend. She caught a trace of April through the doorway to the kitchen, and took a quick step that directly: “Did you-”
“Robe,” April called out.
“Oh. Right.” Sarah took a quick step back to the door. She kicked off her shoes, and then grabbed one of the three grey robes that hung on a peg by the door. Throwing it over her shoulders nicely covered her electric-blue tank top. “Did you see the news?”
“I avoid the news,” April replied. She was in the kitchen. For her, cooking was an activity that took some time, and that had to be conducted with thick gloves. As a teenager, she’d tried eating only pale foods, but nutritional deficiencies forced her back to a more normal diet.
She rationalized that she was like a nuclear reactor technician: handling dangerous substances for the greater good.
“Right, whatever. There was a story about you in the New York Times. It’s a huge deal. Like, a bunch of generals resigned and there are going to be charges and stuff.” Sarah rushed into the kitchen and started reading from her phone. “Leaking military transport exposes hundreds of children to experimental chemical weapon ‘Agent Lollipop.’”
“I’m not a child,” April replied. She didn’t look up from her work.
“No no. This was twenty years ago. Look.” Sarah shoved her phone until April’s nose. On the screen were pictures of several other young people, all about April’s age. They all dressed blandly, and a few had snow-white hair.
“Huh,” April said. “Neat.” She pronounced the word crisply.
Then she went back to chopping vegetables.
Sarah frowned. She furrowed her brow. “Are you… not getting this?”
“You are the twentieth person to text that article to me. Though you are the first to come over in person when I ignored you, so thank you for being a good friend.” April briefly smiled. “I understand completely. First there are going to be friends who pity me. Second there are going to be doctors who want to flush the toxins out of my blood so I can be ‘normal.’ Then there are going to be lawyers who want me to cry about how awful my life is so we can sue the government for all its worth.”
Sarah frozen. He jaw opened and shut. Finally she blurted out: “But your life is awful.”
April snorted, and a smile touched her face again -- strained through it was. “Your life was awful when your brother was dealing with drinking. If a doctor said he could flush the bad spirits out of your blood so you wouldn’t care a loved one was drinking themselves to death, how would you have reacted?”
A hot snap overtook Sarah’s tone: “That’s not even close to the same thing.”
“They are to me. Because they’re both wrong.” After a moment, April added, “And I’m glad your brother recovered. I’m sorry if that was too personal.”
A long silence hung between them. April continued to chop vegetables. Sarah stared.
“Anyway. Now that that’s over, you want to hang out?” April spoke like nothing had happened. “You already walked all the way over.”
Pics
Alternate Title: The Meh Emoji IRL
Okay, so I'm surprised I'm the first to comment on this.
I suspect this will be one of the more controversial entries, for one main reason: the supposed message to take away form this is kinda shit.
This would be easy to write off if not for the fact that it's also pretty decently written. There are a few gripes I have: the author used hyphens (might be en dashes, actually, but those are like if an em dash got circumcised anyway) instead of em dashes, and it took me a moment to realize Sarah was quoting a newspaper headline, because of the lack of quotation marks.
The opening paragraphs about Berkeley were also superfluous for the most part. The author lets us know that April is weird even compared to other folks, because that's how Berkeley do, but then he/she does this a few more times.
It was chuckle-worthy the first time, but you don't have to repeat yourself.
What really hampers my enjoyment of this story, though, is this creeping feeling that the author wants me to believe April is in the right here. And she's not. She's arguably doing more harm than good by not saying anything about the incident that apparently caused her to be a creepy husk of a person.
The color phobia thing is a tad ridiculous, but okay, most phobias are, and we're putting on our low-key sci-fi goggles for this affair anyway. But how am I supposed to believe that this condition, which is clearly harmful and was caused by irresponsibility on the government's part, should be left alone...? You could argue April is only applying this to herself, but she clearly sees curing oneself of a disease (like an actual disease caused by a fucking chemical weapon) as morally wrong.
I get that this might be an allegory for autism, and how a lot of people on the autism spectrum would rather stay as they are than be "cured," whatever that means. But autism is something that usually develops naturally, and most people on the spectrum are far more well-adjusted to everyday life than April here.
It seems like a bad case of false equivalency.
Unless you believe autism is caused by vaccinations, in which case I've got some bad news for you.
This bugs me. I admire how solidly put together the story is, but I'd rather not re-read it.
Okay, so I'm surprised I'm the first to comment on this.
I suspect this will be one of the more controversial entries, for one main reason: the supposed message to take away form this is kinda shit.
This would be easy to write off if not for the fact that it's also pretty decently written. There are a few gripes I have: the author used hyphens (might be en dashes, actually, but those are like if an em dash got circumcised anyway) instead of em dashes, and it took me a moment to realize Sarah was quoting a newspaper headline, because of the lack of quotation marks.
The opening paragraphs about Berkeley were also superfluous for the most part. The author lets us know that April is weird even compared to other folks, because that's how Berkeley do, but then he/she does this a few more times.
It was chuckle-worthy the first time, but you don't have to repeat yourself.
What really hampers my enjoyment of this story, though, is this creeping feeling that the author wants me to believe April is in the right here. And she's not. She's arguably doing more harm than good by not saying anything about the incident that apparently caused her to be a creepy husk of a person.
The color phobia thing is a tad ridiculous, but okay, most phobias are, and we're putting on our low-key sci-fi goggles for this affair anyway. But how am I supposed to believe that this condition, which is clearly harmful and was caused by irresponsibility on the government's part, should be left alone...? You could argue April is only applying this to herself, but she clearly sees curing oneself of a disease (like an actual disease caused by a fucking chemical weapon) as morally wrong.
I get that this might be an allegory for autism, and how a lot of people on the autism spectrum would rather stay as they are than be "cured," whatever that means. But autism is something that usually develops naturally, and most people on the spectrum are far more well-adjusted to everyday life than April here.
It seems like a bad case of false equivalency.
Unless you believe autism is caused by vaccinations, in which case I've got some bad news for you.
This bugs me. I admire how solidly put together the story is, but I'd rather not re-read it.
There are:
A lotta stories this time around that I don't quite understand. April seems to be saying that having a treatment to remove a person's love and concern is just as bad in her eyes as having a treatment to remove a person's fear and hatred. If that's the point the story's trying to make, I'm gonna need some more discussion of it...
Mike
A lotta stories this time around that I don't quite understand. April seems to be saying that having a treatment to remove a person's love and concern is just as bad in her eyes as having a treatment to remove a person's fear and hatred. If that's the point the story's trying to make, I'm gonna need some more discussion of it...
Mike
>>Baal Bunny
Maybe it'd be explained better if the whole conflict of the story wasn't diffused in six lines. Like, April drops the bomb about Sarah's brother, Sarah snaps, April apologises and they're best pals again. End of story, even though this is where it should start, if the author wants to make a lasting impression.
April seems to be saying that having a treatment to remove a person's love and concern is just as bad in her eyes as having a treatment to remove a person's fear and hatred. If that's the point the story's trying to make, I'm gonna need some more discussion of it...
Maybe it'd be explained better if the whole conflict of the story wasn't diffused in six lines. Like, April drops the bomb about Sarah's brother, Sarah snaps, April apologises and they're best pals again. End of story, even though this is where it should start, if the author wants to make a lasting impression.
Bottom slated for thinking white hair would at all stand out in Berkeley.
Okay. I'm kinda stuck on this one. I am going to let all the generalized suspension of disbelief stuff roll because, I think, functionally, the only reason any of that really bothers me is I'm thinking rather hard about the story. In the moment it hung okay.
The problem that I'm trying to grapple with is not so much the message of the story, but rather how it is delivered. Like, the comparison just... doesn't really hang correctly? I mean, even setting aside that some people WOULD take that answer, there is a bit of difference between being temporarily emotionally put out by events in your life and having severe impediments to actually living that life that "No, you" fails to adequately address.
Like, it crosses into really dangerous territory to discuss concepts of quality of life and what have you, but there is something to be said for the fact that April herself... doesn't really seem to be particularly satisfied with her own life? Which then makes it even harder to buy into the (as presented) questionable argument of "this is me and I don't need to be fixed." Like, if you want to sell that as the story's core concept.
I dunno. This is hard for me. The important thing to hang onto though is that my core complaint is not necessarily the message, but that the the message is delivered, at least I feel, inadequately. I don't buy it. There are people who maybe do not need to be/should not need to be "cured." On the other hand, there are people who do "need" or do want to be. And I think you fail to sell her on being either of the former.
Everything else here is fine (though I do think you'd benefit from being deeper in April's perspective to better sell her views), but I do think this particular hurdle is a big one.
Thanks for writing!
Okay. I'm kinda stuck on this one. I am going to let all the generalized suspension of disbelief stuff roll because, I think, functionally, the only reason any of that really bothers me is I'm thinking rather hard about the story. In the moment it hung okay.
The problem that I'm trying to grapple with is not so much the message of the story, but rather how it is delivered. Like, the comparison just... doesn't really hang correctly? I mean, even setting aside that some people WOULD take that answer, there is a bit of difference between being temporarily emotionally put out by events in your life and having severe impediments to actually living that life that "No, you" fails to adequately address.
Like, it crosses into really dangerous territory to discuss concepts of quality of life and what have you, but there is something to be said for the fact that April herself... doesn't really seem to be particularly satisfied with her own life? Which then makes it even harder to buy into the (as presented) questionable argument of "this is me and I don't need to be fixed." Like, if you want to sell that as the story's core concept.
I dunno. This is hard for me. The important thing to hang onto though is that my core complaint is not necessarily the message, but that the the message is delivered, at least I feel, inadequately. I don't buy it. There are people who maybe do not need to be/should not need to be "cured." On the other hand, there are people who do "need" or do want to be. And I think you fail to sell her on being either of the former.
Everything else here is fine (though I do think you'd benefit from being deeper in April's perspective to better sell her views), but I do think this particular hurdle is a big one.
Thanks for writing!
>>No_Raisin
>>Baal Bunny
>>Samey90
>>AndrewRogue
Whoops!
Thanks to everyone for the feedback. This story's initial version was over 1000 words long, and when it got compressed for length, it lost a few relevant details. Criticism like that it could be taken as implying vaccines cause autism made me cringe, but is totally fair when reading the literal text.
Probably the biggest thing to get dropped is that the original story had a lot more little moments to show that April is a functional member of society. She has a job, she pays her rent every month, she has loyal friends, and she's trying online dating but her profile scares people off. Her argument that she's not disabled, just different, is meant to be validated by her having a happy life.
In short...
>>No_Raisin
You nailed the authorial intent on the head, but I failed to execute on it well enough for it to come through.
Still! I'm planning to turn this story into a longer humanfic, so this feedback was all super useful. Thanks everyone!
>>Baal Bunny
>>Samey90
>>AndrewRogue
Whoops!
Thanks to everyone for the feedback. This story's initial version was over 1000 words long, and when it got compressed for length, it lost a few relevant details. Criticism like that it could be taken as implying vaccines cause autism made me cringe, but is totally fair when reading the literal text.
Probably the biggest thing to get dropped is that the original story had a lot more little moments to show that April is a functional member of society. She has a job, she pays her rent every month, she has loyal friends, and she's trying online dating but her profile scares people off. Her argument that she's not disabled, just different, is meant to be validated by her having a happy life.
In short...
I get that this might be an allegory for autism, and how a lot of people on the autism spectrum would rather stay as they are than be "cured," whatever that means. But autism is something that usually develops naturally, and most people on the spectrum are far more well-adjusted to everyday life than April here.
>>No_Raisin
You nailed the authorial intent on the head, but I failed to execute on it well enough for it to come through.
Still! I'm planning to turn this story into a longer humanfic, so this feedback was all super useful. Thanks everyone!