citylogs | [ closed ] out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field

I have no doubt in my ability to keep a simple plant alive with accurate instruction. [His plan from the start was to ask Tighnari. It's not like there are BOOKS he can reference.]

In this, you should really have more doubt. Haven't you heard of a green thumb? Or a black thumb?

One person's natural affinity to care for a living thing, or another person's lack of patience to, has no bearing on my ability.

[Where does he get this confidence from.]

Which is your way of say that you have an affinity for caring for living things, and that you've the patience to. Hah! That's a laugh. [ says kaveh, who's certainly better at taking care of things (feeds himself once every three days) and far more patient at it (tends to get jittery if someone's taking too long their turn at tcg), as he finds a chopping board. ] Tell me, what have you taken care of in your life, and is it still alive to say something about it? And do you have a knife?

[That mint plant is alive through pure tenacity alone since Alhaitham decided he wasn't going to be responsible for it.]

Drawer to your right. [A stall, in a way, as he briefly considers the answer: you, of course. A truth since Kaveh first collapsed, drunk, in the spare bedroom of his new home that both of them have carefully avoided since. Avoided every time Alhaitham drags him back from the tavern. Avoided every time he pays off Kaveh's monthly tabs at the cafe. Avoided every time there's an extra bag of fruit, to be cut fresh, among the groceries.]

I could ask you the same thing. When was the last time you watered that mint plant, anyway? Are you sure it wasn't already a husk before you left?

[ the drawer slides open. kaveh obtains a knife. he makes a noise much like a sumpterbeast being dragged into a river. ]

I knew I forgot something. It's going to be dead; it's so dead. The neighbour is going to see me take that empty pot out of the house and she's going to never let me live it down.

I still don't know why you wanted it so badly. Fresh mint isn't expensive. [Says the rich guy who has never not been upper class.]

Says you. [ ugh. bourgeoisie. kaveh's knife comes down with a thunk. the onion halves. ] And there's something nice about tending to something alive. See? That's why you wouldn't do with a garden; there isn't a price or a set limit of energy to quantify it. You're not the kind of person who allocates limitless resources for a finite project, but that's what gardening is.

There is a finite amount of light, water, and nutrients that any plant needs. An excess of any can be just as fatal as deprivation. Even the space needed to grow has a maximum before it's unable to expand it's own form. Perhaps you would have a point if we were discussing an animal but, in fact, limited resources are the only thing a plant needs.

Is it your position then that the exact measurements of water, light and nutrients for each plant would ensure that each plant will always flower and yield to fruition? Say that to any farmer, and they'll tell you the variables are far more complex, otherwise every plant in every field will yield under normal conditions.

[ but that is interesting. as the onion peels apart in his hands: ] Even if the onion were to grow, though, I just realised - not all plants would work. If there aren't insects, there are no pollinators.

A farmer can't truly control every variable. Crops are at the mercy of the weather every day. Your mint plant was at the mercy of your poor attention.

[Limited resources are still limited resources even when unobtainable by the one who needs them.

Anyway. He nods.] If we were ever unable to rely on this place's self-replenishing, our diets would be limited to whatever plants can be grown from their own cuttings.

[More dissappointing: there would be no meat.]

Two mint plants grown in indoor conditions with perfectly measured ratios will still turn out differently, Alhaitham. One might even fail entirely. There may not even be a perceivable reason why. That's the thing, with living creatures - you can't measure such things. Plants count.

[ ... ] Oh, but that's terribly depressing. Is onions and root vegetables day in and day out worth living for?

Perhaps not perceivable, but you can remove the other potential causes to narrow the difference down to a genetic factor and make a reasonable assessment. But the caretaker can't be held responsible for something's innate inability to thrive. Those issues are statical outliers. Take a random assortment of mint plants and most will respond to the same care with only superficial differences.

And we could be here all night and the next morning trying to establish a metric for when life ceases to become worth living.

[Which is Alhaitham's idea of a good time, granted.] I wouldn't give up over onions.

[ the look that kaveh casts over his shoulder manages to both be half scathing and half decidedly fond. there are sumeran academics, and then there's whatever that alhaitham is. ]

We're shelving the discussion on mint plants to when we have a mint plant between us to murder. Fair enough? Preferably several so that we can take turn seeing if a living mint plant and a dead mint plant makes for superficial differences.

And do it, if you are asserting you aren't a coward. [ because there's a reason why kaveh and alhaitham get along: ] I would give up over onions, even if there were potatoes in the bargain. Name the first metric for when life ceases to become worth living, and I'll see if it's worth arguing against.

[ the debate slides along like so - the ebbing and flow of an argument batted about with the casual understanding that the stakes at play are so insignificant they aren't worth defending over. kaveh's hands don't quite cease. the onion is peeled. the meat is prepared. the rice is steamed after kaveh rigs a mechanism with a large bowl, a pot lid and a serving spoon, and soon, the apartment wafts with the scent of spices tossed over an oiled pan.

kaveh emerges from the tailend of the discussion on if a life is not worth living if sweets are not involved to say: ]

Sugar makes people happy! It is well-known that sugar is as addictive as some of the prescribed and controlled drugs, and even some of the weirder things that come out of Avidya Forest. It follows that sugar withdrawal is equally terrible. And do you know what else would make me happy? If you can make yourself useful for once and set the table. Or are we going to eat straight out of the pan like condemned undergraduates?

[Truly, Alhaitham's natural knack for existing on the wrong side of human normality must almost seem intentional with how he is a constant vexation to the people around him. Unfortunately, he's just like this.

His shoulder shrugs as his sign of agreement to drop the mint plant topic. For now. But if they find seeds or living mint plants he is absolutely obligating Kaveh to this experiment.

Kaveh immediately follows up with a challenge to take the next debate, and Alhaitham's lips curl into the faint impression of a smile.]

Fine. [He holds up a finger.] Since you would already give up over onions, there's no point going down.

[So they go up. Cheese, art, comfort, books (Alhaitham insists he won't give up over those), socializing, what starts as a scale turns into a mental scatter plot of points trying to identify the area in which living becomes not even worth surviving.

Somehow it gets around to desserts.] Is this your way of confessing to a sugar addiction too?

[Which he punctuates with a huff, but he does lean off the counter to open a different cabinet for plates and cutlery.] In that case, is life worth living without alcohol?

It has to be. [ the meat and onions are corralled onto a plate. kaveh sifts through another cabinet to find two bowls for the rice, and then balances all three along his arms with the aplomb of someone who's been to and successfully earned a degree from architecture school.

the dishes slide onto the table. ] My argument on this point is sophist in nature. If alcohol is capable of ruining lives, then it follows that there had to have existed a life worth ruining. Ergo, the life is worth living without alcohol.

[ and then kaveh looks. ] But it'd be significantly less fun! There was a man on the device who sampled every beer this place had. Can you imagine that being the first thing you do upon arriving? But somehow, it's not even out of the question. They've innovated more than just the elements of the city that we can see.

Every beer? It's barely been a day. [Alhaitham raises a brow.] You wouldn't even be able to tell what you were tasting after a point, and what good is the data if it's sloppy?

[Of course he feels the need to critique the methodology here. You'd think some of these people have never had to write a thesis.

Anyway. He slides into the chair.] But fine, I agree that life without alcohol is still worth living. So we can count that variable out.

Right? Though as far as his explanation had gone, he'd simply wanted to get terribly drunk to test if there are any public indecency rules in this world. He hadn't woken up in handcuffs, however.

[ kaveh settles himself along his side of the table. he fishes out a fork for himself. it's his turn: ]

The capacity to gain new knowledge, or lack thereof. Essential?

Edited 2023-07-19 01:32 (UTC)

[Alhaitham narrows his eyes.]

The need to progress is as inherent a drive to humanity as to consume food and procreate--and is only possible through new knowledge. Can it even be called survival for the mind to degrade even if the body does it?

[Now that he's split hairs about this being a Need and not a Want:] No, I wouldn't live a life where I no longer had anything to learn.

[ kaveh's smile shows teeth. ]

We're in agreement, then. What's this, the first real thing we've agreed on today? Luckily for us, it seems that there's still plenty to learn about this world in the interim.

That's nothing unusual. [Disagreeing on anything and everything, only to find the one topic they are aligned on.

He strikes his fork into a piece of meat first, popping it whole into his mouth. It tastes as he expects--that is, it tastes of Kaveh's cooking and that is something deeply normal and familiar in an unfamiliar place. Letting him take over for dinner was a good idea (as if Alhaitham doesn't leave Kaveh to do the cooking as much as possible).]

[ kaveh eats. meat and onions; you couldn't get anything more simple. he'll have to be creative, kaveh thinks, with the limited range of ingredients they have. or he has. the discomfort lingers along the set rails of that thought: if he lives apart from alhaitham, it will be a singular 'i', rather than 'we'.

still: ]

The lack of books here will be an issue, though. That is, if all the books are like the ones you've found.

[Alhaitham stops. Wrinkles his nose. Proceeds with the next bite.]

Even without books, there's always practical discovery.

[But the bigger issue is: how quickly is Alhaitham going to get bored without a single piece of literature to read. Even a novel.]

[ ugh. ]

You're not suited for the practical. Or rather, this world isn't suited to you being practical. The last time you were practical about anything, you toppled a government. Our government.

Our government was building an artificial god. [And Kaveh, incapable of minding his own business, would have been leading the charge the minute the traveler walked across his path. Alhaitham doesn't call him out on that because he doesn't have to.] Cyno was there too, you know.

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