The scientists had long since dismissed such notions as fractals. It was considered boring computer science. Ariadne however, had simply begun to draw them. Her art was similar to a fractal from the very first, only a static version on paper and not on computer. Still, like the computerised visual equations, her imagery soared in and out of the perspective, giving the illusion of spirals morphing into another set of spirals. Her work appeared very much like a refined series of artistic fractal equations that could be viewed one way from afar, another way entirely up close.
She gathered up a pencil and sat at the side of the bed. Arranging the paper on the small table beside her she began to fill in a small bit of the white space left on the paper, with her exquisitely attuned artistry. The spiral represented so much for her. It was her theme. For Ari, it was the physical embodiment of tears. Into every spiral she poured the pain that was lodged behind her eyes. The final pieces meant nothing to her and once one was complete; she viewed it, emotionally discounted it and set it aside. The process alone was her release and her fuel. Without it, she felt she probably would wither and die.
The scientists had argued vociferously amongst one another about conducting experiments on this version of The Ariadne Modification. Some wanted to see how she would respond if disallowed to draw her spirals, others said that whilst this particular modification was an exception to other Ariadne's of that same crop, it was still unwarranted to spend extra public monies on such foolishness as the response of a mutant to her art.
A quiet knock at her open door barely aroused her from her process. Smiling, the young male looked at the pretty woman sitting, slightly awkwardly and twisted, on her bed intent on her craft. She felt his aura first before realising he was actually in the room. Ari felt the shot of compassion for her emanating from the very tall, very thin young male. "Oh shush Dwayne! I'm fine!" she retaliated, even though he'd not spoken.
‘The Dwayne Modification’ snickered softly, loped slowly into the room, reaching out his incredibly elongated fingers to touch the crown on her head. His gesture was his way of showing her he was trying to understand the mysteries of her intuitive mind. Sometimes it soothed Ari to have such a person attempt to reach her, other times, it was such a thunderclap of emotional intensity thrust upon her soul that it made her head pound and her whole being ache to cry. She flinched instinctively and he quickly withdrew his hand knowing the meaning of it and feeling sadder he hadn’t been able to sooth her.
Dwayne looked down and perused her artwork quietly, still not speaking. He noted the complicated effect of her spirals and yet the simplistic device she used to construct such complexity. It was amazing. Staring it for longer than he should have, he felt dizzy as if the work was drugging him in some way. He flopped down beside Ariadne on her bed and breathed out heavily.
… To be continued. (I hope)