I squinted against the glare of the sun as I marked a dimension on my Diffractor sketch, calculating the height of the triangle with a few quick strokes. This was my third iteration; the second design had almost worked. I hoped my tweaks were good enough.
A gentle summer breeze rustled my paper, carrying with it the scent of fresh cut hay. I glanced up. My little sister sat on the bench across the stone table, frowning over a math problem to calculate the flow rate of water through an aqueduct.
“Meralay? Will you find a handful of small shiny things for me? Glass or metal, the size of your thumbnail or smaller.”
Meralay’s nose crinkled as she grinned. “What are we making?”
I smiled in return. “You’ll see.”
She threw down her pencil and jumped up. Her sturdy woolen dress flared around her as she sprinted for the house.
I scribbled down the remaining dimensions, double-checking my calculations. Our parents went into town this morning after the milking to talk prices with the merchants. They wouldn’t be back until sundown, making this the opportune day for my experiment.
“What are you doing?” a voice said near my shoulder.
I jumped up. Danson, the neighbor boy, leaned closer, frowning down at my designs. At nineteen, he was a year older than me. My heart skipped a beat at his earthy, salty scent. I stepped sideways to block the page from view. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
Danson reached past me and grabbed it. “What is this?”
“It’s a science experiment.” I reached for it, but he pulled it away.
“You looked way too happy for that to be true.”
“Is fun outlawed now too?” It was a science experiment. But it wasn’t only a science experiment.
“Science isn’t fun,” he said. “And that doesn’t look like a science experiment.” I snatched the paper and put it face down on the table before he could puzzle out the diagram of a spinning disk with mirrors. “You know what would happen if the mayor found out.”
I snorted. “Yeah, I’d get a stern talking to.” But my stomach twinged. They might take my inventions away. I smirked to hide my nerves.
“Rules exist for a reason, Arina.”
“But these are arbitrary. Why no instruments? What makes singing more virtuous than other music? Why are books okay—and schematics necessary—but any visual adornment banned?”
“You learn from books.”
“Nonfiction, sure. But what about fictional stories?” Even those were discouraged.
Danson nodded. “You learn from those, too. They teach kids not to run off with strangers.”
“That’s not the point.”
He frowned. “It is the point. Art is dangerous. And beauty deceptive. You can’t—”
“Look around you!” I flung my arms out, encompassing everything from the bright blue sky brushed with clouds to the white flowers dotting the clover. “Don’t you see the beauty of it all?”
“Exactly. There is already plenty of beauty in the world. You don’t need to add to it.”
I frowned. There was no use arguing. “Why are you here?”
“My mom asked me to check in and make sure everything is alright. With your parents being gone and all.”
It was hardly the first time I’d been left to tend the homestead for a day. I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “Actually, I overheard the cows staging a revolt earlier,” I snapped.
Danson flushed, and I grimaced. More than likely, it was an excuse to come see me. The door swung open, and Meralay skipped over, her gaze focused on the treasures in her hands.
“Whatcha got there?” Danson asked.
Meralay’s head jerked up. She hid her hands behind her back. Danson stepped toward her, but I slid in front of him, my jaw set.
Danson’s dark eyes bored into mine. “This is what you’re teaching her?”
“Thanks for stopping by, but we’re very busy.”
“I can help.”
“With girl stuff.”
He took an involuntary step back before seeing through my ploy. “Arina.”
He watched me with such unblinking intensity that my resolve faltered. Most days, I’d love to while away the hours with him—especially with no parents around. But I still remembered the day he turned my sketchbook over to our school teacher. She burned it.
“Maybe tomorrow,” I blurted, stupidly.
Danson nodded once. “Good to see you, Meralay.” He spun on his heel and didn’t look back.
I turned back to the table and forced cheer into my voice. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Meralay dropped a glittering handful on the table. “He could have helped us.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t understand.”
Meralay scrunched her nose. “Trigonometry?”
“Me.”
***
Over the next hour, I drilled holes in a thin sheet of scrap metal and soldered it to the axis of my Diffractor. I measured again to ensure it hung at the right height above the angled mirrors on the base. We decorated the surface with Meralay’s odds and ends to give it extra reflective facets.
After packing snacks and checking the animals, we dashed through the billowing pastures to the craggy hills near the river gorge. Our cave was set in the side of a rocky shelf, one of many along the river—but this one was our secret.
I pushed the old blanket that hung across the entrance aside to let the sunlight in while I finished setting up. Other pieces of my invention were affixed to the cool stone walls in precisely calculated positions.
I pulled out the rag stuffed in the small opening in the ceiling and placed a stone on the floor where the spot of light landed. Then I covered the opening again and swapped the stone for my Diffractor.
My heart thumped. I hoped this worked.
I crossed to the back corner of the cave, where I’d tucked a funnel-like contraption covered in mirrors behind some rocks. The final piece.
Meralay frowned down at it. “What does that do?”
“It focuses sunlight. All the light coming in will be directed down through the narrow end. Wait here.”
I jogged outside and around to the roof of the cave. There, I twisted the funnel into place over the opening. Back inside, I covered the entrance with the curtain.
“It’s dark,” Meralay said.
“Just a minute.” I ran my fingers along the ceiling, fumbling until I found the rag blocking the opening.
I pulled it free.
Bright light streamed to the Diffractor where the beams split and streaked to the walls. Prisms and mirrors hung throughout the cave scattered the light until dozens of rainbows gleamed on the walls.
Meralay squealed. She twirled around the cave with her hands spread, palm up, as if to catch every ray of light.
I knelt down. “Watch this.”
I spun the top disk, and the entire room danced. Lights swooped and whirled, and more colors than I’d ever seen glittered in the air.
Meralay laughed and ran in circles. I sat back against the wall, unable to stop tears from welling. All this, contained in the simple sunlight that covered the earth each day. It was so beautiful I could barely breathe.
The disk stopped, and the world slowed. Meralay spun the disk again.
Blinding sunshine spilled through the doorway, breaking the spell. I turned, ready to fasten the curtain against the wind, but a figure stood in the opening.
Danson walked through. The curtain closed behind him. “What have you done?”
I sprang to my feet. “Danson, what are you doing here?”
His jaw dropped, and his eyes searched the cave. Colored lights floated across his face.
“Please don’t tell on us,” Meralay said.
I flushed. Danson was right. What was I teaching her? Meralay was still a child, and here I was teaching her to lie.
“It’s only mirrors and prisms,” I pleaded.
My initial shock subsided. I clenched my fists by my sides and straightened my shoulders, steeling myself for his response.
But he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes studied the colors on the walls, as his arm extended toward the wall and hovered an inch from a fractured rainbow.
He looked back at me and cleared his throat. “An experiment. I trust you can make something practical from these designs?”
My shoulders eased. “Thank you.”
Danson stepped backward and looked down, brow furrowed. “I should get home.”
I caught his hand with mine. My eyes snapped to where our hands touched, his strong and rough with calluses. I dropped it and forced my gaze back to his face. “Stay.”
Danson swallowed and nodded.
Meralay spun the disk again.
Danson drifted forward, eyes wide with wonder. He turned, his gaze flitting around like he wanted to see everything at once.
I smiled at the play of light on his face. My experiment was a success. Happiness increased in one hundred percent of participants.
Beauty was a peculiar invention.
***
This story was the winner of The Company’s 2025 Winter Writing Contest!
I loved this story! Such great characters and imagery.
That was so pretty! I want to know more about the world–I love the idea of a society that bans art.
This is beautiful!! The emotion packs a powerful punch and the descriptions are just, mmm, so well done! Great work!