Sime~Gen Roleplaying on IRC: Snake River Dam Scenario
Episode #2: Pit Stop (5/22/00)
Yubim ties her boat to the dock, waves to the obligatory bench-full of locals at the head of the dock, and saunters down the street of Palisades.
Klyzer readies the Receiving Room for the day's work.
Yubim pulls her cap down over her greying hair with hands knobby from arthritis, brought on by too many years hauling in fishing nets in all weathers.
Yubim is not here to sell fish, however, but to scope out new possibilities.
Yubim has long known that the Palisades locals are more hospitable if certain proprieties are observed.
Klyzer's so-called Sime Center is too small to have separate areas for donation and dispensing.
Yubim therefore walks past the store and makes her way to the cabin where the channel works.
Yubim opens the door without hesitation and walks in.
Klyzer is in fact working out of an old farm house, and uses the front parlor for selyn transfer and a back bedroom as an infirmary.
Yubim: Klyzer, you old snake! It's good to see you again!
Yubim is not idiot enough to make the trip across the lake in the winter.
Klyzer is particularly perturbed today because his Donor Nera decided to take the day off.
Yubim: How has the winter treated you?
Klyzer jumps three feet as the intruding nager and hearty voice disturb his ruminations.
Klyzer: [high-pitched screech] Don't do that!!
Yubim's nager isn't all that strong, even by in-Territory donor standards, but it is definitely hearty.
Yubim chuckles.
Klyzer whirls to face the visitor.
Yubim: It's just me. You'd think I was the whole Gen Army!
Klyzer: Heavens. You scared me out of my skin!
Klyzer: The clinic doesn't open for another half hour.
Yubim has never been one to be content waiting around doing nothing.
Klyzer wrinkles his nose.
Klyzer: You smell of fish. As usual.
Yubim: And how else should a fisher smell?
Klyzer zlins the Gen.
Klyzer: Otherwise you seem healthy enough.
Yubim zlins fairly healthy, for a Gen her age, and slightly higher field than usual from not having donated since the previous fall.
Yubim: I could have told you that.
Klyzer: You really will have to get cleaned up if you want to stay here.
Yubim: Nothing but a bit of winter stiffness.
Klyzer: There is some soap in the washroom that will get rid of that stench. I suggest you use it right away, before I become ill myself.
Yubim snorts.
Yubim has lost this argument before, however, so moves in the indicated direction.
Klyzer: [shouts] And don't touch my good towels. Use the brown paper ones!
Yubim doesn't understand why her smell should be so objectionable, but then, not everyone has what it takes to succeed at a real profession like hers.
Klyzer fusses over the appointments in the Transfer Room.
Klyzer spots a bit of stray lint on the transfer lounge and hurriedly attacks it with a lint remover.
Yubim performs the necessary ablutions with efficiency only somewhat hampered by her stiff hands, and returns.
Yubim: There. That should be clean enough even for you.
Yubim holds out her hands to demonstrate.
Klyzer examines Yubim's hands with intense care.
Klyzer: [mutters] Winter accumulation.
Klyzer: Don't move an inch.
Klyzer goes to a side cabinet and removes a bottle of astringent lotion that is heavily perfumed.
Yubim rolls her eyes in exasperation, but holds still as requested.
Klyzer puts on cotton gloves to protect his hands, a cotton face mask and grabs a pile of cotton swabbing material.
Klyzer lathers Yubim's hands and arms up to the elbow with the lotion and scrubs briskly with the swabs. They come away grey.
Klyzer: I'll have to do your face, too. Keep your eyes closed, please.
Yubim sighs as her hard-won calluses soften to uselessness.
Yubim squeezes her eyes shut.
Klyzer subjects Yubim to a brisk facial treatment.
Yubim makes a face when the treatment is over.
Klyzer: There. That's better. Now let's go rinse you off.
Yubim: I smell like a perfume factory.
Klyzer: Keep your eyes closed.
Yubim wishes it was possible to donate without these hygienic preliminaries.
Klyzer guides Yubim back towards the washroom where she can douse her face in water.
Klyzer: No you smell like a civilized and hygienic being.
Yubim: I'm a fisherwoman. That's civilized enough for me.
Klyzer shudders.
Yubim wastes no time in washing off as much of the loathsome lotion as she can.
Klyzer: Well I don't suppose the horror of having dead skin cells on your own living body would penetrate to someone who handles dead bodies for a living.
Klyzer: But I have my standards!
Klyzer cleans her face with more cotton batting.
Klyzer: There. Much better.
Yubim: Dead bodies or live bodies--we're both in the business of providing sustenance.
Klyzer: Very true.
Klyzer examines Yubim, no longer shrinking from the uncovered portions of her body.
Klyzer: And your hands are stiff.
Yubim shrugs.
Yubim: It was a long, cold winter.
Yubim: And at my age, I'm lucky it's just my hands.
Klyzer: You're a tough old bird. Want me to work on them, then?
Yubim: Sure. You did a good job last fall--I got those socks knitted for my son's birthday, after all.
Klyzer smiles faintly.
Klyzer: Come into the Transfer Room, then, and sit down.
Klyzer: I don't quite have everything ready.
Klyzer: Perhaps you would like some tea?
Yubim: Why, that's quite hospitable of you. It's a brisk morning, even for Spring.
Yubim: And while I drink it, you can tell me how my little granddaughter's been.
Klyzer leads her to an armchair, examining it carefully for lint and dust before he covers the seat with a felt pad.
Klyzer: Karin's quite well.
Klyzer: Except for that guy she hooked up with.
Yubim sits on the felt pad, not disturbed by the precaution.
Yubim is, however, disturbed by the news.
Yubim: Guy? Hooked up with?
Yubim thinks the description bodes ill for her granddaughter's future.
Klyzer: Gascon. A miner. All that dirt and dust.
Klyzer shudders at the thought.
Klyzer thinks, however, that it isn't any worse than fish oil.
Yubim: Does he make a decent living at it?
Klyzer: I believe so. If he doesn't choke to death from getting that stuff in his lungs.
Yubim: Well, I was planning to drop by Karin's place when I finished my business anyway, so I'll check him out.
Klyzer carefully removes several tea cups from the cupboard.
Klyzer knows he only requires two tea cups, but that is an unlucky number, so he takes out one with each tentacle for balance.
Yubim: Wouldn't do for a nice girl like Karin to end up with a ne'er do well, but mining's not a bad life, if you don't want to fish.
Klyzer places all the teacups in a symmetrical pattern on the side-board.
Yubim settles back to wait for the tea.
Klyzer: It's not a bad life if you don't mind living at the bottom of a hole.
Klyzer takes out a pristine cloth and methodically cleans out all the teacups.
Yubim: There are worse places to work, and more dangerous.
Klyzer: Like the bottom of the lake, I suppose.
Yubim: Speaking of dangerous work, are there really going to be as many jobs on this Dam rebuilding project as everyone seems to think?
Yubim: I have four passengers this trip, and none of them locals.
Klyzer: I don't know how many, but it is going to be a big job.
Klyzer: How many Ancients did it take to build that Dam in the first place, with all their forgotten knowledge and machines?
Yubim shrugs.
Klyzer measures precisely the same amount of tea into each of the cups.
Yubim: Well, these four were willing to pay a nice fee to sail with me.
Yubim snorts.
Yubim: I don't think they were so happy about the deal when we got out on the water.
Klyzer: Rough water?
Yubim: The waves were a bit rough, and their delicate stomachs weren't up to it.
Yubim has the lifelong sailor's contempt for seasickness.
Yubim: They're still recovering in the hold.
Klyzer cringes at the thought of being trapped on a small boat in the middle of the choppy seas with four nauseous high-field Gens.
Klyzer: I don't suppose any of them arranged to donate before crossing the border?
Yubim, being unable to zlin, was not troubled by anything but the smell--and it wasn't that much worse than fish guts.
Yubim: I doubt it. They didn't seem the type to plan ahead.
Klyzer takes the singing teakettle from the hearth and pours each of the cups full to exactly the same level with hot water.
Klyzer counts once again to be sure he is pouring a lucky number of cups.
Klyzer: Well, you keep them in the hold until they stop throwing up or they'll have the whole town tossing their cookies.
Klyzer: And you make them shower down before they set foot on shore.
Yubim: Shower?
Yubim: ~~ incredulous ~~
Klyzer: Rinse off. Bathe.
Yubim: What do you think my boat is, a floating hotel?
Klyzer: Dunk them over the side if you have to.
Klyzer: But don't send them to me covered in vomit, thank you very much.
Klyzer hands a cup of tea to Yubim.
Yubim accepts the cup gingerly, being unused to fine china.
Yubim: Well, I suppose I can rinse them off with a bucket.
Klyzer nods with satisfaction as she accepts the cup almost like a civilized person.
Klyzer: That would be better than nothing.
Yubim rather likes the idea of giving those miserable idiots a cold shower, actually.
Yubim thinks it serves them right for smelling up her hold.
Klyzer: And they should come straight here.
Klyzer hates it, but can't avoid this aspect of his duty as a channel.
Klyzer: Don't let them wander around high-field.
Yubim: Well, I'll send them your way, then. Although I doubt they'd tempt anyone, in their current condition.
Yubim rather thinks even a hardened junct might object to a seasick Gen.
Klyzer shakes his head.
Klyzer: Why are your people willing to cross the lake for work, anyway? Are things so tight over there?
Klyzer returns to his fussing over the transfer lounge.
Yubim: Not here, but the dry weather has been hard on the farmers.
Yubim: And the young will go a long way for a chance at a new start.
Klyzer has acquired a genuine antique Householding lounge that has seen several generations. He carefully brushes the velvet so that the nap all goes the same way.
Klyzer: What does your government tell these youngsters about life this side of the border?
Yubim shrugs.
Yubim: Not much.
Yubim: But the rumors say there's good jobs to be found working on the Dam, and that's enough.
Klyzer: We don't exactly have a Border Patrol checkpoint over here.
Yubim: Not my problem.
Klyzer: Gens come across, they're supposed to donate.
Klyzer: And that is my problem.
Yubim: Truth to tell, I think our government wants to get rid of the extra hands before they make trouble, if you get what I mean.
Klyzer places felt pads at strategic locations on the transfer lounge.
Yubim: And they don't make a point of advertising anything that might discourage the process.
Klyzer: Gens come across, they're supposed to be checked for infectious diseases.
Klyzer: That's also my problem.
Yubim grins.
Yubim: Well, I suppose you're lucky that seasickness isn't contagious then, aren't you?
Yubim sips her tea.
Klyzer: A border-jumper shows up here with some filthy contagion, I won't touch him.
Klyzer: That's a promise.
Klyzer starts to lay out all the standard medications used to assist donating and dispensing selyn. He is careful to line all the bottles up neatly.
Yubim shrugs.
Yubim: Suit yourself.
Yubim watches the line of bottles extend across the counter.
Klyzer is careful to count all the bottles and put them in rows with lucky numbers.
Klyzer methodically fills each bottle with exactly the same height of liquid or powder.
Klyzer: The juncts can have them. And there are still juncts, you know, lurking up in the back of nowhere.
Klyzer: Tell them that when you go home.
Klyzer really does not want to be deluged with any more high-field, ill-mannered, dirty, contagious Wild Gens.
Yubim: You don't like 'em, send 'em on to the Dam. They were going to put in a new Sime Center down at the construction site, weren't they?
Klyzer: That's what I hear.
Klyzer has in fact heard a variety of rumors about what is going to happen at the construction site, each more bizarre then the next.
Klyzer: But I don't think it's built yet.
Yubim shrugs; it's really not her problem.
Yubim: I suppose they'll get around to it, eventually.
Klyzer surveys the results of his work and is satisfied.
Klyzer: There're supposed to send some rogue channel out there to take care of it.
Yubim: A rogue channel?
Yubim: What's that?
Klyzer: One who broke the rules. Probably sent there on disciplinary action.
Klyzer refuses to believe the even stranger rumor that some Big Shot Farris channel will take over selyn management operations.
Yubim: Yubim: Oh. Well, figures they wouldn't send their best to a construction camp.
Klyzer: Okay. All ready.
Klyzer: When you've finished your tea, please move to the transfer lounge.
Yubim: Sure thing.
Yubim swigs the last of her tea, sets the empty cup down on the counter in front of the medicine bottles, and lies down on the lounge.
Klyzer himself washed out of the Tecton advancement program and achieved his current post on the recommendation of the Morale Division.
Yubim settles in as comfortably as she can, given the excess of slip covers and padding, and holds out her shining pink, somewhat swollen hands.
Klyzer gingerly positions himself in the channel's seat.
Klyzer savors Yubim's nager; she really is surprisingly vital for a Gen her age.
Klyzer: Okay, first I'll take your donation.
Klyzer examines the hands; they look sufficiently fish-free.
Yubim: Fine with me.
Klyzer: You know the drill. Hold perfectly still until I'm done.
Yubim: Now, now, I've done this before. You don't have to worry.
Klyzer reaches out handling tentacles to immobilize her. Yubim may be experienced, but she is still a Wild Gen, and he will take no chances.
Yubim has never donated to any other channel, so takes the... precautions... in stride.
Yubim has, after all, experienced worse joint pain from pressure every time she pulls in her nets.
Klyzer extends his laterals into position. The traces of the astringent lotion sting a bit.
Klyzer winces in discomfort at the Gen pain.
Klyzer: Okay, let's get this over with.
Klyzer: Make the fifth contact, whenever you're ready.
Klyzer leans close to Yubim but waits for her to initiate.
Yubim thinks that if he was in that much of a hurry, she'd have been willing to forgo the extra brushing on the velvet couch, not to mention the second scrub on her arms and face.
Yubim is eager to get back to her boat, though, and so leans forward as directed to make the contact.
Klyzer draws Yubim's selyn smoothly and carefully, calculating as he functions.
Yubim waits more or less patiently for Klyzer to finish.
Klyzer is careful to terminate the donation at a fortuitous number of dynopters.
Klyzer dismantles the contact.
Klyzer: Very good.
Klyzer: You held nice and steady.
Yubim: No reason to do otherwise
Klyzer: Let me take care of those hands, now.
Klyzer loosens his grip until it is no longer painful.
Yubim relaxes in ~~ relief ~~
Klyzer goes into healing mode.
Klyzer runs his laterals gently over the swollen fingers, stimulating selyn production.
Yubim thinks the sensation of the slithering, ronaplin-smeared laterals is weird, but at least they don't smell like perfume.
Klyzer works on Yubim until the swelling goes down. He does what he can with his field to stimulate healing in the rest of her body, but he is not going to touch any area that has not been sanitized.
Klyzer actually takes some pleasure in seeing the Gens fingers assume a more normal shape.
Yubim's own pleasure at the sight might have something to do with it.
Klyzer: There. That's all I can do for now. You really should return for regular treatments.
Yubim grins.
Yubim: Well, if I keep getting people wanting to charter my boat for a ride over here, I just might do that.
Yubim: It's easier work than fishing.
Klyzer rises from the transfer lounge and goes to bring Yubim some water and a washcloth to clean up.
Klyzer: I really hope that Dam site channel gets here soon. This office is being over-run!
Klyzer: And, forgive me, but these newcomers really don't have any manners.
Yubim: Now that the weather's improved, I'm sure they'll get around to it.
Yubim: They'll learn.
Yubim: Or they won't.
Yubim: When they're down at the Dam site, they're no longer your problem, right?
Klyzer: Right, but they seem to be wandering all over the place.
Klyzer: Just last week one came in to donate and panicked and tried to kick me in the guts.
Yubim: Really? What were you doing to him?
Klyzer: Just taking his donation. He'd never done it before.
Klyzer shakes his head.
Klyzer: I like things to be... orderly.
Klyzer: A vain hope... I guess... out here.
Yubim tuts in a consoling manner.
Klyzer goes to the desk and starts to fill out the record on Yubim's donation.
Yubim: Well, think of all the good you're doing.
Yubim assumes there is some.
Klyzer remembers longingly when he lived in a real city, not a collection of wood huts.
Klyzer: Yeah. Right.
Klyzer: Okay, here's your credit voucher.
Yubim takes it and checks the amount.
Yubim: Hmm, that's a bit more than last time.
Klyzer: Well, you haven't donated all winter, so your field was a bit higher than usual.
Klyzer: Here's your certificate of donation, to keep with your border visa.
Yubim takes out her leather wallet and files it next to her fishing license, Captain's papers, and other such documents.
Klyzer: Thank you for your donation, in the name of the Tecton and Simes everywhere.
Yubim: You're quite welcome. I'll send my passengers around in a bit.
Klyzer rummages in his desk.
Klyzer: I'll be looking for them. And give my regards to your daughter.
Klyzer hands Yubim a bar of paper-wrapped soap.
Yubim takes it, raising an eyebrow.
Klyzer: Ask her to try this. It might help with the grit from the mine.
Yubim: I'll do that.
Klyzer: Tell her to give her loverboy a good scrubbing. He might do it for her.
Yubim: Perhaps.
Klyzer grimaces.
Yubim personally thinks that Klyzer is nuts, but falsely attributes that to his being a channel.
Klyzer: Well, he wouldn't for me. Not even when I threatened to refuse him transfer.
Klyzer: It's worth a shot.
Yubim makes an executive decision to inflict the bar of soap on her passengers, instead, since they aren't in any condition to resist.
Yubim edges towards the door.
Klyzer escorts Yubim out.
Yubim: Thank you for your work on my hands--they feel much better.
Yubim: I'll drop in again, next time I'm in Palisades.
Klyzer: Good. I look forward to seeing you again.
Klyzer, however, does not look forward to seeing her four--count them, four--passengers.
Klyzer thinks he will require the fortification of another cup of trin to cope with this situation.
Klyzer: [mutters under his breath] So much filth, so little time.
Go on to Episode #3: Swab the Decks
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