|Airdate||October 30, 2006|
Snowflakes is a single BrainPOP movie aired on October 30, 2006.
While contemplating the mysteries of life, a mass of various orange hues among other, darker orange hues contrast against the infinite snow-born background of a nuclear winter. The only living thing, if you could even call him that, stares desolately into the only other ’thing’ available other than himself and the snow-covered ground. What the living-Orange-Mass stares unto is yet another infinity- a gray sky that refuses to let up. The mass remembers a vague file. The file transcripted memories of a different color: blue. And also yellow. There was white too, like the ground, but the white floated inlaid in the blue.
The Orange Mass shook his heavy head. His nostalgia was misplaced. The file was surely corrupted. Damaged beyond belief. Outside of sparing images and obscured voices, this was all he knew. Everything around him was his reality, and he knew it. There had never been anything except desolate grays, and whites, and, of course, his own oranges.
Still, whether with or without the Orange Mass’s permission or even better judgment, he found himself often lost in those memories. Whether real or imagined, he found names within the blurred files and indistinct memoirs. He treated them as fiction. Like novels and books and comics and TV. Of course, to the Orange Mass, those words were all fiction too. All there was, was the white, the grays, and the oranges. Nothing more and nothing less. But humor them the mass did. And again he was lost.
This time, there was a different color. It reminded the mass of himself, sort of orang-y. But it was softer.
If I were to mix myself with the ground below, it would sort of be similar, the mass thought.
The Color’s torso was a different color. Like the ground, thought the mass. Whoever or whatever it was, it spoke to the Orange Mass. He knew he’d understood the words at the time, but as the memory replayed like a Movie (another word of fiction, thought the Orange Mass) of some sort, he couldn’t understand them. The Orange-Mass replied, but the speech was different. This time he understood. It was something about a plant–he didn’t really remember. Instead the Orange Mass focused on the world behind the strange-sounding Color. Again there was the strange sky, and the strange ground. Everything was strange. There was bright light. It was all so strange. But it felt right. Like it belonged there.
It was all just a corrupt memory, thought the Orange Mass, still reminiscing against the white ground and the gray sky.
The white bits making up the ground came from the sky. They came in drones this day. The Orange Mass still stared into the sky. He allowed himself to look back into his thoughts for just a little bit more. A little bit more.The ground’s bits from the sky did not know this, however. And they fell and fell. At first they melted on contact with the Orange Mass, as they had since forever. Slowly, thought, they piled up. And for the first time he could remember, the Orange Mass could look up a different color than a gray sky. Soon after he witnessed a white one, so similar to the ground but darker, softer. The Orange Mass was no longer subject to such uniformity. He dreamed and dreamed. And soon he lived in the world with the strange-speaking colors and the strange multi-colored skies and the strange ground and the strange shapes and the light. Everything that felt right, and soon the world was only gray and white.