Sime~Gen Roleplaying: District Controller's Office Scenario
Episode #175: No More Goodies for You (3/14/00)
Lalique arrives at the medical examination wing two hours before the start of her shift.
Lalique's Tecton uniform is perfectly starched and pressed, but her face looks weary and she has dark rings under her eyes.
Lalique, through careful observation, has noted the places where Rifan keeps his stash of uppers.
Lalique knows that Rifan will arrive at least an hour before the start of his shift, and by that time his stash will be gone.
Lalique makes a swift but thorough circuit of Rifan's office and work area collecting pills, which she tosses out the window to be swept up by the grounds-keepers.
Lalique doesn't think it will take the channel long to find a refill, but she would like to work for at least one day without the tension his over-charged system is inducing in her.
Lalique's early-bird mission accomplished, she goes to put on a pot of tea and slumps into a chair.
Rifan shows up about an hour and ten minutes early for his shift.
Rifan is a short, dark, neat channel with a somewhat narrow face and a sharp look about him. He is carrying his travel mug and some work he'd taken home with him.
Lalique: ~~ Tecton standard Gen calm and optimism barely masking weariness ~~
Lalique: Oh, good morning, Hajene Rifan.
Rifan has a terminally bad home life and will do anything to avoid it, even if only mentally.
Lalique: I thought I'd follow your example and get an early start.
Rifan: Sosu Lalique.
Lalique: The tea's almost ready.
Rifan greets her but looks at her with a frown. Lalique sure has been dragging ass lately.
Lalique: ~~ professional greeting and welcome ~~
Rifan: Thanks.
Rifan wonders why Lalique is in so early if she's so tired. Not that he doesn't appreciate her trying to put more time in, he does. He'd rather work with a Donor than without.
Lalique is pleased that Rifan remembered to say thank you.
Lalique reminds herself that it doesn't matter if you are a Donor, an entertainer or a whore, the main point is to keep the customer satisfied.
Lalique musters the energy to start the day through sheer force of will.
Lalique: ~~ Tecton standard support ~~
Lalique: What kind of tea would you prefer, Hajene Rifan?
Rifan: Whatever you're having is good.
Rifan: I wanted to look over the reports on those schoolkids coming in today.
Rifan: Did you know they're doing prescreenings in the schools now?
Rifan: This is the first year they've done it for seven-year-olds.
Lalique: Oh, that's marvelous.
Lalique: No, I hadn't heard about it.
Rifan bustles about, putting away the work he'd brought home.
Lalique quickly finds the requested folders of children's files and brings them to Rifan's desk.
Rifan had been surprised the first time Lalique brought him something he'd mentioned offhandedly, but has since gotten used to it.
Lalique goes to the teapot and decides to splurge with a Narosian blend, Cinnamon Sunset. She pours a generous dollop of honey into each cup.
Rifan checks his stash and is surprised when it's missing.
Rifan opens and closes a few drawers and mutters to himself.
Lalique: Here's your tea, Hajene.
Rifan assumes that whoever took his pills was too lazy to filch their own. Getting more will be minor hassle-wise, but a waste of time. Rifan doesn't like wasting time.
Rifan: Thanks. [grumpily]
Lalique deliberately diverts Rifan from his search and stands watching him.
Rifan takes the tea and has a sip.
Lalique thinks it is hard enough to get ordinary Simes to eat, let alone Simes on amphetamines.
Lalique sips her own tea, projecting pleasure in its warmth and sweet spiciness.
Lalique thinks that the honey in the tea isn't the healthiest thing in the world, but at least it contains calories.
Rifan takes the hint and drinks more tea, though he does open one of the kids' folders with his other hand.
Rifan would rather be silently nagged by a Donor than screamed at by his wife, any day.
Lalique moves closer to Rifan and steps up her support. She wants him to feel really good without the pills.
Rifan settles into the support, turning pages.
Lalique hums under her breath a tune from an operetta sung by an ingenue about how fresh and new and wonderful each new day is.
Rifan is glad he is here instead of at home having frying pans thrown at him and listening to the kids bickering and crying.
Lalique lets her weariness drop away and eases herself into the nager of that role. It isn't Tecton standard but it should be refreshing.
Rifan nearly spills his tea.
Rifan turns around to look at her in surprise.
Rifan: What in the world is that?
Lalique blushes.
Lalique: Oh, sorry, Hajene. Was that too much?
Lalique: It's a song from an operetta. It's very cheerful.
Rifan had known that Lalique's training was less than standard, but this is the first time she's done anything unusual that couldn't be passed off as simple lack of practice.
Rifan: I'll say.
Lalique shades her nager back closer to Tecton standard, preserving just a hint of the melody.
Rifan: Why don't you rub my shoulder while you're at it. The right one.
Lalique: Certainly, Hajene.
Rifan's wife is a Gen. She makes up for the low odds of hitting a dodging channel by throwing more often.
Rifan really hadn't expected to have to dodge a frying pan when he was already halfway down the front sidewalk, so wasn't as alert as he should have been.
Rifan: Did you get that meeting you wanted?
Lalique controls her thrill of pleasure. In his drug-driven workaholism, much of the time Rifan seems no more aware of her presence than a convenient hat-rack.
Rifan hopes that Lalique managed to get together with Arat, so that they can stop trying to juggle her schedule.
Lalique moves deftly to Rifan's side and begins to massage the shoulder in question.
Lalique: Yes, Hajene. The Controller was able to fit me in this time.
Rifan flinches as she touches the bruise, but sighs as her hands and nager go to work on it and the sore muscles.
Rifan: Great.
Rifan puts down the empty tea cup and flips through a different case folder.
Lalique enjoys the cool sensation as their fields overlap and she goes to work on his systems.
Rifan is sure the upper management has no idea just how much of their subordinates' time they waste when they keep rescheduling meetings like that.
Lalique was appalled to realize just how much of her fine field control she has lost after years of mostly serving renSimes.
Lalique would be happy to practice every day for hours if Rifan would just hold still.
Lalique: He told me there was nothing to worry about.
Lalique didn't believe that, of course, but she keeps the concern out of her field.
Lalique remembers that the Second Channel of Disenay said there was nothing to worry about when they planned the jail break that destroyed their Householding.
Rifan is on the verge of becoming engrossed in the child's past history.
Rifan: That's good.
Rifan has always found behavioral problems interesting, even though in his current line of work he hasn't much opportunity to treat them.
Lalique hums a little louder, diverting her thoughts from anything that could spoil the pleasant mood of the moment.
Lalique concentrates on achieving a deeper mesh with Rifan's (amazingly drug-free) personal rhythm.
Lalique's fingers trace the line of his shoulders with a now genuine, sensuous pleasure.
Rifan, like any red-blooded channel, is more than capable of losing his mind when a matching Donor's field commands him to do so.
Rifan therefore is soon staring into space, without turning any pages, and not particularly minding.
Rifan: [rather enjoying it, in fact]
Lalique floats in the long-denied sensation of touching a Sime whose potential is close to hers.
Lalique realizes that she is coming on too strong and reluctantly damps her projection down to standard parameters.
Rifan's pencil rolls off the folder and lands on the floor.
Rifan shakes his head, coming out of the daze.
Lalique tries to regain her equilibrium by reading over Rifan's shoulder. The report should be dry enough to clear her head.
Lalique: There, Hajene. Now that you're feeling more relaxed, let's get to work.
Rifan recovers enough to realize what she just did to him.
Lalique: ~~ calm optimism ~~
Rifan almost retorts that work was what he'd been trying to do in the first place, but thinks the better of it.
Rifan bends over to get his pencil.
Rifan: Right.
Lalique catches the annoyed expression and realizes that she almost blew it.
Rifan reopens the folder he'd been looking at.
Rifan wonders, speaking of pencils, if he left a little something in his pencil box. He often does.
Rifan reaches for, and opens, the pencil box.
Rifan finds nothing there (besides pencils, that is) and puts it back. What a lousy coincidence. Or had some jerk been through his entire office looking for the stuff?
Lalique notices the move to the pencil box.
Rifan tells himself he'll deal with it later. He'll undoubtedly have to prescribe something to one of the kids, and that would be a good excuse to make a side trip.
Lalique adjusts her projection to include not simply calm and optimism, but also confidence, vitality and strength reminiscent of the effect of the uppers.
Rifan feels better, and decides it's a plan.
Lalique has a little song on this theme also, something about a war chief who conquers all he surveys.
Rifan's tolerance for humming, unfortunately, is inversely proportionate to his mood at any given time.
Rifan thinks it's going to be a long morning.