The Cleaners - Chapter 1

“Good morning! It’s springtime! Isn’t that exciting?” Squeaked the thing on the nightstand. It resembled a human baby except its entire body was stained an off-putting orange. Color #ffb84d to be exact; hue 36 at a 65% light value. It continued on, a little dance accompanying its words. “¡La primavera! ¡La primavera! La-”

Crunch.

No more singing: it was time for business. The Observer rose from the bed, already half dressed. His pet shark Fins watched him contently from the nightstand, chewing up the remaining bits of the alarm thing. He gave Fins a solid pat on the head and walked to the closet. It was filled with suits, as it always was. Every last suit was the same, but The Observer had always liked to think that they had different personalities to them. That made him feel like he was making a choice, and starting the day with a choice was always a great thing.

Fins burped and hopped off the nightstand, her unwieldy legs swirling in the air as she fell. It was not a graceful landing, but she was used to it. Yes, Fins was a shark. Yes, Fins had legs. Would that be a problem? It certainly wasn’t one to Fins. Her only qualm was the horrid aftertaste of a Color #ffb84d Wake-Up Spring Baby. As the squat fish-out-of-water tottled towards her water tin, The Observer chose a suit from the rack. Today, he would be amicable. He could tell it was a good choice because the amicable suit fit just right. The 60% worsted wool and 40% polyester snuggled up to his body and filled him with sociability. Just in the nick of time.

Knock knock knock. The banging on the door was less of a courtesy and more of a breach warning. The Observer tried his best to ignore the noise, focussing on each step he took towards the bathroom. Whatever he thought of, he couldn’t think of the door code. But of course he couldn’t help it. He blamed the suit jacket for making his mind too chatty. The knocking stopped, and one could hear the keypad outside the room beeping. Fins most definitely heard it; she ran to the door, her two front paws scraping against it as she hopped up and down. Just before the door flung open, she jumped back and sat on her haunches.

Through the door burst a woman who, by all standards, was absolutely beautiful. She wore the outfit of a cowgirl, one which perfectly complemented the curved shape of her body. Her blond hair swished hypnotically from underneath a cowboy hat, back and forth and back and forth again. Fins yipped excitedly, and the woman took the wide brimmed hat off her head and set it on the little shark. “Aren’t you a little cutie today?” She spoke in a thick, clearly fake Western drawl. Fins bucked the hat off and rolled over to her stomach. “Yes, yes you are!” The Observer went along with his morning just the same.

The woman sat on the floor and played with the happy creature as The Observer brushed his teeth. He felt the detailed sensation as each bristle of the toothbrush tickled his enamel, sweeping away the rot and plaque that lived in between molars. It was a cringe-inducing feeling that happened from time to time, one that he would have liked to avoid altogether. But he had to brush his teeth, and he couldn’t control his observations. At least he had already made a choice that morning. That was always a great thing.

“Stop thinking like that!” exclaimed the woman from the main room. “It’s creepy!” He rolled his eyes and thought of how much of a silly little girl she was. That was the best way to insult The Clairvoyant, or Claire as she insisted on being called (To The Observers protest, mind you.) She hated nothing more than a diminishing thought. It had a certain energy to it, she claimed. Something like a graveyard at midnight, or an abandoned warehouse, or some other type of dramatic, hackneyed comparison. At least his thinking was somewhat original.

No response came to his mental quips, meaning that Claire was undoubtedly scheming her next prank. “You know it. The wacky wake up bit is starting to get old.” She was now behind him, checking her nostrils in the mirror. The Observer startled slightly, almost spitting his toothpaste 23.76 seconds too early. It had always been hard to focus on anything other than his observations, and Claire would always sneak up on him when he was distracted. Sometimes, if the subject was complex, he would spend hours observing it without any concept of how much time had passed. It was always very hard for him to escape these trances. He was working to get better at it, but for the time being Claire always carried a rubber mallet with her, a miniature version of what you’d see at a carnival strength test. If he was having a complex observation, she would deliver a swift whack to the head and the two would continue on with whatever they were doing.

Claire finished inspecting her face for any blemishes and yawned. “You almost ready?” The Observer had the same schedule every single morning, one that he knew Claire was very familiar with. But still, she would ask each time, just to be annoying. “Just to make some conversation.” She said emphatically. “ Are you sure you didn’t put on your pissy pants and shit suit this morning? You’re so critical.” He spit out the bubbly toothpaste mash and gargled some mouthwash. She was one to talk, in the goofy cowgirl getup. He tried to think of another insult, but his attention began to taper off as he pondered how many snakes had to die to fashion her snakeskin boots. It was three reticulated pythons, each with fangs of one and a half inches. The exact width of each snake was- BONK!

“Hurry up!” She whined as she tossed the mallet back into her purse. “We’re gonna get caught.” The Observer rubbed his head at the point of impact and hurried up his morning procedure. That was one of Claire’s weaknesses: she couldn’t stand crowds. All of the thoughts at once got much too loud for her. The pair always left their rooms a few hours before check in time, and that was usually enough. Neither one liked to take chances though, especially The Observer. So, he sped up in his morning routine, trying his best to shut out the tangents that floated through his mind. Within record time, the two were wrangling Fins into her harness and walking out the door.

The halls of Hotel Infinitia greeted the three with a pristine off-white shine. It was like they were entering the maw of a rectangular beast with excellent oral hygiene. The walls extended up and up and up, shiny doors studding the seemingly infinite plaster. It felt ominous, walking through the narrow path in between the sheer cliffs of housing. A simian-like cleaning lady plodded along a few levels above them, her mop cart sloshing water out the sides as she went. To the lower observer, it seemed that the woman was walking on thin air. That was one of the many tricks that The Hotel held in store for its tenants. The building itself was a prankster, reveling in its ability to amaze and frighten (mostly frighten) the organic beings within it. Because of their shared love for mischief, the Hotel and Claire had formed a unique friendship that completely revolved around bullying The Observer. Luckily for him, The Hotel had spent all night watching a couple on Floor 203 go at it, and was in absolutely no mood for anything other than rest. Still, he stepped carefully.

They stalked through the halls, the jingling from Fins’ tags being the only noise. The Observer would think thoughts at Claire, and she would respond by making faces at him. It was a very refreshing process, one that usually washed away the negative feelings that always accompanied their morning routine. The topic of today’s discussion was Fins. The Observer thought of how she had immediately eaten the alarm thing in one bite. The fact that a baby triggered the kill neuron in Fins’ brain so readily was slightly disturbing.

Claire made a face of surprise and disgust. If either one of them ever had a kid, they would have to watch out. They both looked down at the creature between them. Her stubby body swished back as she walked, completely unaware that she was the subject of an unheard discussion. Still, she was a very good girl. Claire nodded to that. Fins noticed their gaze and looked up happily, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. The Observer knew the face of that shark better than anything else in the world. She had been with him ever since he gave up his name and memory all those years ago, and probably before that too. To this day, he still had no idea how he was related to the creature, why it listened and cared for him like a good-natured little sister. He had Claire try to read her fish mind on a few different occasions, but she had never quite been able to learn the intricacies of Sharkanese. It was okay, he didn’t have to know. They both made the choice to care for each other, and that was a great thing.

That thought received an annoyed look from Claire. Before they could continue their silent debate, they reached the front desk. It was a grand room, filled with hundreds upon hundreds of different doors. A mannequin, the kind you’d see in a department store, sat behind the counter in the middle of the room. Atop its head sat a floppy sun hat that looked quite silly on the otherwise naked piece of plastic. It spoke mechanically, its mouth moving completely out of sync with its words. “Cleaning Crew 173. How may I assist you this morning?”

“We’d like to start our job in U#77128, please.” Said Claire politely. The keys on the computer in front of the mannequin began to clack loudly, even though the mannequin did not move an inch.

“I appreciate your dedication to expedience. Godspeed.” The mannequin’s arm creaked as it raised its hand. It extended its pointer finger, and a door across the room creaked open slowly.

“Thanks Mrs. S! By the way, I like the hat. You look great.” Claire said cheerily, flashing a double thumbs up and a winning smile at the sentient display.

The white plastic of the mannequin's face turned a light pink, its mechanical voice a bit higher. “Why thank you. You look quite smashing yourself.” Claire blew a kiss back at Mrs. S, deepening the red stain on its face. And she wondered why everyone had such wild thoughts about her. Claire flicked the side of The Observer's head punitively. He rolled his eyes and grabbed Fins off the floor. Her sandpaper skin chafed against his suit as she wiggled, the unique sound almost dragging him into another observation. Luckily, the ethereal glow of the open door in front of him was much more captivating. They stepped towards it, letting the light wash over them.

“Ready to clock in?” Claire asked. It brought her some sort of joy to say the same one liner every single time they stepped through a bend door. But The Observer didn’t mind, in fact, he had come to look forward to it. It was a tradition. He grabbed her hand and in perfect synch they stepped through the door, straight into another universe.