Sanitation Reigns Supreme as Cultural Cornerstone in Parallel Benin

As I navigate through the bustling streets of this parallel Kingdom of Benin, I find myself enveloped by an ambiance that quite literally smells of daisies. It's as if someone has bottled springtime's fragrance and sprayed it liberally throughout the air. In this particular version of the 17th century, sanitation isn't just a practice—it's practically deified.

Edo's grand cityscape stands steadfast like a testament to cleanliness. Instead of the earthy scents of a pre-modern era, I'm greeted by the fresh aroma usually reserved for countryside blooms. The key to this splendid freshness lies in the "Aquatic Hygiene Ritual" which, true to its grand title, is less a series of personal ablutions and more akin to a community-wide baptismal celebration. Sanitation in this Benin isn't just about removing dirt; it's a collective cleansing of the spirit and, apparently, an unyielding social expectation.

Walking through the Royal Palace, renowned in other timelines for its bronze masterpieces, I discovered an unexpected marvel—a gallery of hand washing stations. This isn't just a utilitarian display of pots and ceramics, though. These washing stations are pieces of art, each one lovingly crafted with care and precision. A local guide explained that the king himself mandates such splendor, promoting community bonds through shared cleanliness. With a reverent nod, he declared, "Cleanliness is next to kingliness," almost as if the phrase itself were echoed from celestial realms.

The focal event of the year, “The Scrub,” is a far cry from the war reenactments led by warrior clans that one might expect. This timeline swapped the clattering of swords for the soothing suds of soapcrafting contests. Communities gather to cheer their champions in soap sculpting—a curious, foamy art form. The soap bars, with their intricate designs and delightful perfumes, are the weapons of choice here. Watching lathering techniques with the fervor of an audience at a knightly tournament, I noted an irony: the most prestigious shield here is made from soap.

Yet, there’s a whimsical twist to this pristine obsession: a vulnerability to minor ailments. Dust particles, cast aside with almost religious zeal, have turned into unlikely foes. Folk tales now circulate in cautionary tones, likening dust mites to mythical beasts of calamity. This ironic tale of downfall makes me ponder the unintended consequences of sanitation rulership—a society so clean, it’s almost fragile.

There's also a curious avoidance of written documentation. The rationalization for this evasion? Fear of the written word as a vehicle for invisible malefactors—presumably microbes hitching rides on the inscriptions of scrolls. Instead, storytellers, clad as though auditioning for an ethereal play, narrate vital records and agreements. Listening to a treaty manifest as theatrical poetry was surreal, the immaculate performance underscoring their pure and unblemished storytelling tradition.

Indeed, this timeline has embraced hygiene as its core, influencing everything from social policies to the arts. And yet, as I reflect on their lack of sneezing, I find it neither melancholy nor majestic; simply a faint note in a symphony of choices led to consequence.

As I pause to take in another fragrant whiff, I marvel at the world they’ve crafted here in Parallel B-72. It's a testament to the beauty and oddity of cultural extremity, mixing hilariously peculiar with oddly thoughtful.