Sime~Gen Roleplaying: District Controller's Office Scenario
Episode #181: The Concerns of the Little People (3/25/00)
Nick follows Arat to the infirmary, having taken over when Beni fell asleep in his chair.
Nick hopes that the alleged shortage of bandages and other supplies is simply another case of an overworked, semi-hysterical channels pushed near the breaking point by a week of riots.
Gree notes an official-looking channel type approaching, looking a bit more under control than the ones who have been trying to see to the flood of casualties.
Gree is a plump Gen store-keeper type, who looks like he might be rather jolly when he isn't nursing a nasty lump on his head.
Gree gets up to place himself in Arat's path.
Gree: Excuse me, I've been waiting for over an hour. How much longer will it be before a channel can see me?
Gree: ~~ irritated, upset, and headachy ~~
Arat could hardly avoid seeing, not to mention zlinning, Gree considering the guy has jumped up in his face.
Nick moves closer to cut the nager.
Arat: I will see you. I have just come on shift.
Gree: ~~ relief ~~
Arat in fact has not just come on shift, he is playing hooky from required paperwork of a nature too sensitive to supervise Snake during it.
Gree: Thank goodness. I've got to get back to what's left of my store.
Gree: The shenned rioters tore it apart.
Gree: ~~ resentment ~~
Arat has begun to realize that his District paperwork is of less importance than properly babysitting his grand political scheme, with things moving as quickly as they are, and being in the emergency room gives the public better access to him. Not to mention, it does wonders for his entran.
Gree: Something ought to be done about them.
Arat leads Gree over nearer to the wall, where they won't be in the way of people rushing past.
Gree: They may or may not have a grievance with the Water Commission, but what have I ever done to them?
Arat zlins Gree's injury.
Gree was hit by a flying jar of peaches as he tried to shoo unwanted non-customers out of his grocery.
Arat comes to the conclusion (as have 1 hour of channels before him) that Gree is more upset than injured.
Gree could definitely use a chance to scrub the peach juice out of his hair, as well.
Arat is very careful not to touch the stuff.
Gree: The only labor done in my store comes from me and my family. We're just trying to make a living, so why pick on us?
Nick pastes a sympathetic look on his face, in an attempt to calm the patient so that Arat can work on him, and get him out of here.
Gree: They smashed all my canned goods, and ripped the flour sacks open. Spilled perfectly good food on the floor and trampled it.
Gree is at least as upset about the waste of good food as by the loss of inventory.
Arat is rather disgruntled when he discovers the man is not particularly badly injured, and could easily have been treated by somebody in the outpatient ward, but he summons patience with a supreme effort.
Gree: It's going to take us all day to get things back in order, and sitting here isn't getting the store clean.
Arat is temporarily distracted by applying a healing field to Gree's head area, and therefore takes a moment to think of something appropriate to say.
Arat's difficulty is he's never had anything to say to the individuals of the proletariat.
Arat doesn't have any problem at all when it comes to addressing them as a group, which is another thing entirely.
Arat: Fortunately, your personal injury is not severe enough that you will be unable to help.
Gree: Good. Can't leave my wife to handle something like this alone.
Gree: What if they came back?
Gree gets ~~ alarmed ~~ at the thought.
Gree: What if they've already come back, while I was waiting here?
Gree is suddenly very anxious to leave.
Arat: If you feel any dizziness or nausea, or experience any vision problems, stop working at once.
Arat: If you must return here, try the outpatient ward. For someone with your relatively minor injury, the service will probably be quicker there.
Gree: Yes, Hajene.
Gree is shifting his weight from foot to foot, inching towards the exit.
Arat releases Gree's head.
Arat wasn't planning on actually leaving the building, after all.
Gree: Thank you for seeing me.
Gree has not totally forgotten his manners, even if half the city has.
Arat nods.
Arat: Be careful.
Gree hurries out, intent on taking the most direct route back to his store that is consistent with keeping his hide in one piece.
Arat frowns after the man.
Anieel timidly approaches, holding out a bandaged hand.
Anieel: Excuse me, but could you help me with this?
Anieel: I've got to get back to the kitchen in time to start the evening soup.
Arat thinks that he should have arranged for some sort of panel or counseling group to handle the concerns of people like Gree. Clearly he isn't the correct person to do so, it is a waste of his talents. Then again, maybe this can be one of his suggestions to the government: That the concerns of the little people are not being addressed.
Arat turns distractedly from the door and zlins Anieel.
Anieel: Those poor unfortunates do count on the assistance we provide, particularly the Gens....
Anieel, being Sime, feels the usual urge to protect selyn sources.
Anieel would in fact be busily chopping carrots if she hadn't slopped boiling oatmeal on her hand during the breakfast seating.
Arat: Of course.
Arat: Let us move away from the door.
Anieel follows Arat.
Nick does his best to give Arat nageric quiet in which to work.
Nick's best is actually pretty darn good, in this instance, due to his extensive experience with working at TBT concerts.
Arat can't believe it; another injury that could have been handled by the outpatient ward. Clearly a sign that people are freaked out by the current events.
Arat: Excuse me for a moment.
Anieel: I work at the 34th Street Haven, you know.
Anieel: ~~ confidingly ~~
Anieel: We provide over two hundred meals a day for poor unfortunates.
Anieel: I only regret that there's so little we can do for them.
Arat did not hear any of this, as he had excused himself and taken a moment to instruct a nurse to stand on the sidewalk outside of the emergency room doors with a couple of guards, and direct people without life threatening injuries to the outpatient entrance.
Anieel: They require so much more than food, really: shelter, clothing, a decent job that will let them hold their heads up again.
Arat returns to Nick and Anieel in time to hear Anieel's last words.
Arat takes Anieel's injured hand, and examines the bandaging job.
Anieel's bandage is the old and yellowed type one might expect a soup kitchen to stock; what can one expect from donations, after all?
Arat can't immediately spot an unoccupied orderly, nursing assistant or even a child intern in the mob of scurrying personnel.
Anieel's hand underneath the bandage is definitely blistering badly.
Arat therefore removes the bandage himself, with fastidious care.
Anieel gasps as the blisters are rubbed.
Arat's strong preference is to not touch patients at all, until they've been cleaned up, unless of course it's a life or death situation. Or unless for some unbelievably bizarre reason, the District Controller and only available Farris is not needed for any life threatening injuries and is the only person available to handle minor cases, while there is nobody available to cut off bandages.
Arat will have some recommendations regarding the emergency room procedures during civil emergencies, when this is over.
Arat: Has there been more, or less, call for your organization's services since the unrest began?
Arat zlins the injury carefully.
Anieel: Oh, much more. There are people who came from all over for the protests, who don't have a place to stay.
Anieel: And others who are displaced by the disturbances.
Anieel: We are actually trying to serve an extra 50 meals during the emergency, although it has caused some difficulties with the neighbors.
Arat: When did this happen?
Anieel pauses, trying to figure out if Arat is asking about her hand, or the neighbor problems.
Anieel guesses the hand.
Anieel: I slopped some oatmeal on it this morning.
Arat would estimate several hours ago. He can't fathom somebody waiting several hours after getting burned, and then picking the emergency room as her destination.
Anieel: It was a silly thing to do--people required that oatmeal to keep them going.
Arat shakes his head.
Anieel was perhaps sillier to keep on serving instead of getting the hand cooled down right away, thus doubling the severity of the burns.
Arat holds the hand gingerly in both of his, and allows himself to tune out her words in favor of working.
Anieel sees that Arat isn't listening and turns to Nick instead.
Anieel: Have you ever worked at a soup kitchen, Sosu? It's very rewarding, I promise.
Nick has on occasion eaten at a soup kitchen, but assumes that she means something else.
Anieel: Even a few hours a week can make such a big difference to the lives of those poor unfortunates.
Nick: I know.
Nick: I wasn't always a Donor.
Anieel looks at Nick with renewed interest and sympathy.
Anieel is always more interested in "poor unfortunates" than in people who don't have to look up to her for their daily oatmeal and soup.
Arat comes out of it long enough to requisition a passing orderly to go find him a clean bandage and a washing bowl with water, soap and towel. It is a monumental task under the circumstances, but the Controller's direct orders inspire genuine effort.
Anieel notes that Arat has come back to the world.
Arat turns back to Anieel.
Anieel: And you, Hajene?
Arat: Pardon me?
Anieel: Have you ever thought of how rewarding it would be to help feed the poor and downtrodden?
Arat's expression reveals that the thought had never crossed his mind, at least in that particular way.
Anieel: They are so grateful, you know.
Arat considers the support of the people to be a duty, rather than a reward, and particularly he considers that the duty is only to "his own" people, none of whom currently require such assistance in the literal sense.
Arat: Your service does much good for the community. [says safely]
Arat: Particularly in this time of trouble.
Anieel smiles beatifically at this praise.
Anieel: Thank you, Hajene.