trans_9 | Bad Handwriting and Everything [Open]

The upside to using paper and pen instead of data pads for taking notes on patients is that it's intuitive and you can fiddle with things. The downside is that, at the end of a shift, a lot of the notes have to be shredded for privacy reasons, and the details have to be entered into the data pads anyway. Despite his usual devotion to efficiency, Howard doesn't mind this. It's a nice way to review the day and cement anything he might have learned.

The Quarantine's mostly empty now, which is a definite plus. All those kids were getting Howard crankier and antsier than usual. He brought in a box of toys from the Warehouse, though he didn't bother to check the age ranges for them, so he hopes someone who cares a bit more will take out all the choking hazards before any of the children regress to toddlerhood. He doesn't want anything to do with children; he had enough of that back in that dystopian nightmare he called home. All they do is cry and scream and demand things and kill each other and eat all the food and lie and burn down buildings and generally make life unpleasant. Not that adults are always better, but at least someone's around to enforce order here.

He hums a snippet of Cliffs of Dover to himself, chewing on the end of a Tinker Toy, and starts typing in his notes.

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Zouichi looks at him like he's crazy; apparently the sultry sounds of Missy Elliot haven't survived into fame in 3005 A.D. Or it's just something Zouichi wouldn't have recognized anyway. "'Get your freak on'?"

What does that even mean?

Apparently, the answer to Howard's question is 'yes'; he merely smiles indulgently at Alan, who uses his beakhold to climb up onto Zouichi's hand.

"I don't know. But I don't really need to." In fact, now that he's decided which category to file the Council's actions under, Zouichi doesn't really care. "I'm sure they can take care of themselves."

"I think 'Your' is spelled with a 'U R' in the title, too," Howard says, probably doing nothing to improve Ms. Elliott's standing in Zouichi's mind.

"Probably, but don't you care if they'e getting in the way of you protecting people?"

'Get ur freak on'? That doesn't... what? Maybe it's best not to know.

"Yes. And I plan to do whatever I can, with or without their help. It's not like this is the first time I've had to operate in the dark -- I'm just not used to people on my side being the ones to withhold information." He shrugs.

"What would you suggest I do?"

"I don't know. Just because I think you might want to care about something doesn't mean I have your answers, young grasshopper. But just saying, if you wanted to run for Council I'd vote for you." He taps the Tinker Toy to his chin. "But in my experience Councils are usually pretty useless because of all that infighting and secret-keeping, so they'll probably be obsolete soon anyway."

He smiles. "I really doubt they'd ever welcome aboard someone like me. Thanks for the vote of confidence, though -- it's nice to know someone will support me if I ever run for something 'pretty useless'."

"I've supported you for things that weren't pretty useless," Howard says. "What do you mean, someone like you?"

"That's true," Zouichi says, completely deadpan. "You've never been anything but a supportive, understanding comrade in my times of need. Forget moo-cow milk; from you flows abundantly the milk of human kindness."

"...any number of things, really. I'm less than two years old, so clearly I don't have the experience required. I'm synthetic, so clearly I don't understand concerns particular to fully organic sentients. I don't feel adequate remorse for the combatants I kill, I'm clearly out to get everyone to 'register' their powers, I'm new to the ship so I clearly don't understand anything about our situation."

Zouichi shrugs. "I'm sure someone determined to do so could think of even more."

"Which is a good thing, because you are the neediest of people. All you ever do is ask for things and find yourself wanting, but it's not your fault, because you're so fragile and helpless," he says with a disdainful look and a sniff. Then he whines, "hey, I ran from dinosaurs for you."

"You know most of those arguments are stupid, right? Because they are stupid. I'd trust you to be aware of organic concerns more than some random moron with a pulse and white blood cells. I mean, even if this is all hypothetical."

That's dangerously close to a compliment, Zouichi. If this carried on any further he's going to have to make fun of your bird again.

Zouichi sighs, but manages to keep a straight face. "You're right, Howard. But oh, sometimes I just despair of ever finding a use for myself in this war. What use could the Daligig have seen in someone whose only real talent is sitting around and looking pretty?"

He shakes his head. "Maybe. But people believe what they want to believe. And manipulating that desire is what politics is all about."

Zouichi has a kind of dim view of politicians. Back away from the bird, Howard!

"Aw, look on the bright side, Zou. At least your fair looks will bring joy and hope to the valiant soldiers who go out and do all the Ohm-killing." He shrugs. "You're just resigned to people not liking you? Way to stand up for yourself, man."

That gets an actual laugh out of Zouichi. "I used to spend most of my time fighting off flesh-eating zombies that thought I looked tasty. I think I can overlook people disliking me because I'm not human."

Whether he realizes it or not (probably not), it's not really in Zouichi's nature to defend himself, anyway -- just other people.

Howard hasn't heard Zouichi laugh often. He takes it as a small victory each time. "Whatever you say, Zou. I guess zombie apocalypse is the best self-esteem builder there is. You don't need other people."

Bad Handwriting and Everything [Open]

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