07-29-2013, 01:43 PM
Torri accepted a second cup of coffee with an affirmative nod. There was something about paperwork which lent itself toward sipping a hot beverage, which explains the Styrofoam cup alongside the spread of folders and computer screens sprawled around her. The administrative assistant placed a packet of sweetener alongside and a stirrer, should Torri require it, and honestly, the doctor was tempted. Yet it was too difficult to get used to drinking her coffee black on her first deployment to have to deal with breaking the habit again should active duty come up once more. It was best to maintain her taste buds as they were.
"No thank you," she said and ignored the little colored packet as best she could.
She was hours into her credentialing. The office now had fresh traces of DNA sample, urine and stool samples, retinal scans, prints, a TB test, vaccination boosters and a head CT - all of which could be used for everything from confirmation of her identity to identification of her remains. She was only mildly bothered that she was forced to go through the charade all over again. She knew for a fact the CCD had access to the exact same sample analysis she gave when she arrived in Berlin, then when she was in Rio, and so on and so forth. But every office wanted their own records, apparently.
"Alright, I'm done." She announced with the final stroke of the keyboard. For an MC assignment, she judged a psyche test to be a bit extreme, but after spending a night in CDPS custody, she wasn't exactly naive. Torri assumed the CCD knew the most intimate details of her life. Hell, she figured next stop was a gown, speculum, and pap smear.
The AA stood, studied all the check marks on Torri's screening, and nodded approvingly. "Very good. Follow me please." Torri signed, brought along the styrofoam cup, and followed.
The CoD was about how she expected it to be, filled with all sorts of staff and military officials. Yet, when she was led to an exam room, Torri's brow furrowed. They seriously weren't going to require pelvic exam!
"Please sit in the chair and remove your jacket. A PA will be with you shortly." The AA keyed in a room ready signal on Torri's file, closed the door behind her, and left.
Torri sighed and did as she was told. She unbuttoned the uniform's jacket, revealing a fitted white button up shirt beneath. Yet as nothing was mentioned about the shirt nor about replacing it with a gown, she simply laid the jacket across the back of a chair and sat on the exam table. To pass the time, she powered up and browsed to a current events feed on her Wallet. It was a website which compiled headlines across all her favorite blogs and news agencies. She didn't have time in her busy schedule to keep up with things like this, except in circumstances such as these. Waiting in an office. Sitting on the metro. Etc.
"This is a terrible idea. Vulpesnet/Nicholas Trano" She read and a sour taste ired her mouth. The foolishness the man spouted was endless. Yet as soon as Torri read the blog post, she couldn't refrain from commenting.
COMMENT: (Dr. Weston, 9:45 AM, MSK)
Everywhere the CCD goes, peace and prosperity follow. Mr. Trano should walk the streets of Mexico City, if he can survive them, then walk the streets of any Dominance capital, and see the difference for himself. Allow your kin the extreme honor of being in the Ascendancy's presence, and let them decide for themselves. The civility of the CCD is a gift worth sharing.
Knock.
Torri glanced up just as she submitted the comment to witness a white-coated PA enter. The man introduced himself as Gordon, glanced at Torri with that glazed over, seeing nothing but a sack of physiology rather than a person, and asked her to roll up her sleeve. Torri complied, unoffended by the look - she certainly understood it, and asked what vaccine she was getting next. Out of curiosity at least.
"Not an immunization," Gordon answered, preparing a jet-injector syringe. Torri frowned. She hated those things.
"Then what?" Gordon came over after fitting the gun with a metal cartridge.
"Don't move." He ordered, turning Torri's arm prone.
"Ugh!" She grit her teeth at the whoosh when the gas cylinder released and a sharp pain twinged throughout her forearm. Gordon placed a cotton swap against the small wound, instructing her to keep pressure on it for the time being.
Pressure? No shit genius. She turned her arm over to look at the injection site. It was red already, and when she ran her fingers across the overlying skin, she could feel a tiny bulge about the size of her thumbnail.
She blinked in surprise, and Gordon looked up as he was disarming the injector. "A microchip, Captain."
Torri fixed him with a flat stare, "Doctor," she corrected, and Gordon nodded, but did not apologize.
"That'll be all then. You're released, please see the dossier for your next appointment." Gordon promptly left.
Another rapid knock and the AA let herself in, explaining she would now be shown to the office of one Ms. Constantine. Having no idea who that was, Torri nodded and slipped on her jacket once more, thinking. A microchip? For a MC? As they left, she had a strong feeling she was about to learn why.
A long walk later, Torri was introduced to one Mrs. Florsheim, and the AA from the CoD disappeared.
Edited by Torri, Jul 29 2013, 05:24 PM.
"No thank you," she said and ignored the little colored packet as best she could.
She was hours into her credentialing. The office now had fresh traces of DNA sample, urine and stool samples, retinal scans, prints, a TB test, vaccination boosters and a head CT - all of which could be used for everything from confirmation of her identity to identification of her remains. She was only mildly bothered that she was forced to go through the charade all over again. She knew for a fact the CCD had access to the exact same sample analysis she gave when she arrived in Berlin, then when she was in Rio, and so on and so forth. But every office wanted their own records, apparently.
"Alright, I'm done." She announced with the final stroke of the keyboard. For an MC assignment, she judged a psyche test to be a bit extreme, but after spending a night in CDPS custody, she wasn't exactly naive. Torri assumed the CCD knew the most intimate details of her life. Hell, she figured next stop was a gown, speculum, and pap smear.
The AA stood, studied all the check marks on Torri's screening, and nodded approvingly. "Very good. Follow me please." Torri signed, brought along the styrofoam cup, and followed.
The CoD was about how she expected it to be, filled with all sorts of staff and military officials. Yet, when she was led to an exam room, Torri's brow furrowed. They seriously weren't going to require pelvic exam!
"Please sit in the chair and remove your jacket. A PA will be with you shortly." The AA keyed in a room ready signal on Torri's file, closed the door behind her, and left.
Torri sighed and did as she was told. She unbuttoned the uniform's jacket, revealing a fitted white button up shirt beneath. Yet as nothing was mentioned about the shirt nor about replacing it with a gown, she simply laid the jacket across the back of a chair and sat on the exam table. To pass the time, she powered up and browsed to a current events feed on her Wallet. It was a website which compiled headlines across all her favorite blogs and news agencies. She didn't have time in her busy schedule to keep up with things like this, except in circumstances such as these. Waiting in an office. Sitting on the metro. Etc.
"This is a terrible idea. Vulpesnet/Nicholas Trano" She read and a sour taste ired her mouth. The foolishness the man spouted was endless. Yet as soon as Torri read the blog post, she couldn't refrain from commenting.
COMMENT: (Dr. Weston, 9:45 AM, MSK)
Everywhere the CCD goes, peace and prosperity follow. Mr. Trano should walk the streets of Mexico City, if he can survive them, then walk the streets of any Dominance capital, and see the difference for himself. Allow your kin the extreme honor of being in the Ascendancy's presence, and let them decide for themselves. The civility of the CCD is a gift worth sharing.
Knock.
Torri glanced up just as she submitted the comment to witness a white-coated PA enter. The man introduced himself as Gordon, glanced at Torri with that glazed over, seeing nothing but a sack of physiology rather than a person, and asked her to roll up her sleeve. Torri complied, unoffended by the look - she certainly understood it, and asked what vaccine she was getting next. Out of curiosity at least.
"Not an immunization," Gordon answered, preparing a jet-injector syringe. Torri frowned. She hated those things.
"Then what?" Gordon came over after fitting the gun with a metal cartridge.
"Don't move." He ordered, turning Torri's arm prone.
"Ugh!" She grit her teeth at the whoosh when the gas cylinder released and a sharp pain twinged throughout her forearm. Gordon placed a cotton swap against the small wound, instructing her to keep pressure on it for the time being.
Pressure? No shit genius. She turned her arm over to look at the injection site. It was red already, and when she ran her fingers across the overlying skin, she could feel a tiny bulge about the size of her thumbnail.
She blinked in surprise, and Gordon looked up as he was disarming the injector. "A microchip, Captain."
Torri fixed him with a flat stare, "Doctor," she corrected, and Gordon nodded, but did not apologize.
"That'll be all then. You're released, please see the dossier for your next appointment." Gordon promptly left.
Another rapid knock and the AA let herself in, explaining she would now be shown to the office of one Ms. Constantine. Having no idea who that was, Torri nodded and slipped on her jacket once more, thinking. A microchip? For a MC? As they left, she had a strong feeling she was about to learn why.
A long walk later, Torri was introduced to one Mrs. Florsheim, and the AA from the CoD disappeared.
Edited by Torri, Jul 29 2013, 05:24 PM.