by sparks (mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/245393.html)
Jack Johnson, M.D., lowers the personnel file and narrows his eyes. He doesn’t like the man standing before him, the new face in the familiar hospital family. He’s young and handsome, what Jack was maybe fifteen, maybe twenty years ago. The young man sticks out his hand and introduces himself with a Mexican accent, thick enough to be exotic but not thick enough that Middle America can’t understand him: “Mariano Julio Vasquez, pleased to meet you.”
Jack’s face is defiant, his jaw set, his nostrils flared — but he’s a professional, and he’ll behave accordingly. “You’ll call me Dr. Johnson here,” says Jack, shaking Mariano’s hand with a measure of contempt. He lets show just how much he dislikes this arrangement.
Mariano’s young face looks troubled, but he doesn’t back down. “Of course, Doctor Johnson,” he says, pronouncing doctor with lilting emphasis on the second syllable. “I look forward to learning a great deal from you.”
“Well,” says Jack, looking down the six-inch height difference between them with his steely blue gaze, “even I’ll admit you come highly recommended. But this isn’t Mexico City. We do things differently around here. You’ve impressed some other people, to be sure, but that’s a far cry from impressing me.”
[Episode #1.4921, September 13, 1972]
For all the stories Scot had ever heard about college dorm rooms, this one sure wasn’t that bad. Cramped, sure, but what else could you expect from trying to fit enough furniture for two students into one bedroom?
Through the walls, he could hear the kid in the next room being lectured by his mother. So the part he’d heard about hearing everything from other rooms was true. Scot felt bad for the guy, because his mother would not shut up about how he needed to be careful and not go to parties and not bring girls back to his room–like the guy would listen to her–and get good grades because she would be damned if she would waste her money–
Scot was glad his parents weren’t worried about any of that. He’d always been a “good kid,” one of those kids who got good grades and never caused their parents any worry. He walked around the room aimlessly, rearranging the items he’d already set out with no real intent behind the motions. Scot knew he needed to make a good impression on his roommate, because they’d be spending the year together and he didn’t want it to start off on the wrong foot.
Two was suspicious.
Two was often a sign of more bodies that just hadn’t been found: someone buried, someone burned, someone hidden, or someone drowned. Or someone in another jurisdiction, even, someone that hadn’t gone into Alan’s office. They were only just starting to communicate with other networks now, after finding the second body.
The first one had been a prostitute. Female, African-American, 22; height: 5’5″; weight: 147. She’d had bad teeth, gum disease, and fingertips yellowed from smoking cigarettes. She’d also been missing approximately 40% of her blood, despite a lack of blood at the scene. Just her, with a ragged little hole chewed into her forearm, and no blood whatsoever. And no signs of a violent struggle. Her name had been Amanda, but everyone called her Mandy.
Weird. Very weird.
Kazuki was cooking instant ramen when Ryota arrived home.
“Really?” Ryota leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms folded across his chest. “Tonkotsu from a packet? That’s very unlike you.”
Kazuki’s face was turned away from Ryota, but the tense line of his shoulders was altogether too telling.
“It’s been a long day. I felt lazy,” said Kazuki. He did not look up as he stirred the noodles lightly with his chopsticks.
For any other person, a lazy meal of instant ramen would normally involve simply boiling the noodles and chucking the contents of the accompanying seasoning packets into the water. Not for Kazuki.
There were mushrooms simmering in Kazuki’s saucepan. In another bowl, a soft-boiled egg was marinating in broth. Next to it was a plateful of neatly chopped spring onions and shredded nori. It was typical of Kazuki, really. Yet, in the four and a half years since they had moved in together, Ryota had never once seen Kazuki cook something from a packet if he could help it.
There was something wrong.
“Please try to stay still, Private Klein,” said the magister as his assistant held the tin appendage to the stump of Simeon’s left arm.
Simeon forced himself not to shift and look down as the metal warmed against his skin. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling of the No 1 Procedure Room of Queen Mary’s Hospital, Roehampton, and considered the weight of the tin fingers resting on his belly.
That is going to be my arm, he thought.
They called it a marriage, but Devryn was under no illusions. He was a hostage, a guarantee of obedience to their new overlord, a resource like the fields and towns that had been included in the terms of their oathtaking. There had been no war, but it was a surrender nonetheless – and even though he knew there had been few choices, all of them bad, when it came time to depart, he turned away from his mother the Baroness and her consort without granting them the absolution he knew they craved.
Omar had sighed the moment he unzipped the body bag and saw the young man’s pale, placid face. You became very inured to the realities of death and mortality very quickly in this job (or you did not keep this job for very long), but it always gave him a little twinge to lay a body on the slab that had been younger than him. Although, what was the line you heard from men in nasty mid-life crises? You got older, but the corpses stayed the same age. Something like that.
He thought things like that, but what he said into the recorder as he began the examination was, “Colin Stafford, white male, age twenty-seven, height sixty-nine inches, weight one hundred ninety-two pounds.” The name and the age had been retrieved from the driver licence that had been in the wallet that was now in a plastic bag in a locker waiting for whenever they found this poor kid’s next of kin. The driver’s license had also said he was 5’10, but Omar had proper measuring instruments. Sometimes bodies shifted a little in size immediately post-mortem, but Omar had seen enough to know that 5’9 was exactly the height where men put on a slightly taller pair of shoes and lied at the DMV. The shoes he’d taken off of the former Mr. Stafford’s feet and put into a locker had just enough of a heel to them.
“Police report indicates time of death at around 11:30 AM. Current time is 3:17 PM. Subject was found collapsed in a grocery store and was unable to be revived by paramedics. Concern that COD is infectious disease.” Everyone liked to get The Stand ideas in their heads every time a seemingly healthy young person keeled over, all thoughts that swine bird cat flu was coming to fell us all in the produce aisle. Omar had protective gear covering his face, as he always did, but he didn’t think he was dealing with patient zero, here. People died. Unexpectedly. Even young handsome ones.
Idolatry > Active Units > S > Saisuke & Shizumu > Events > [5th ARC] Ticket Purchase Masterpost
1: moku∫eito@europa: 2086/04/29(Mon) 23:18:15.92 ID: e6b82b70c
Hey SS Fans! Tonight’s the big night – tickets for the 5th Album Release Concert go on sale shortly.
The concert will be held at the Ganymede Ingentodome on Wed. May 1st at 19:00 UTC.
This thread is to coordinate last-minute ticket orders. Please use it only for ARC tickets.
See my SS Merchandise & Memorabilia thread for other orders.
The 4th ARC tickets sold out rapidly, so for those fans from colonies far from Ganymede,
transmission lag might prevent you from getting your ticket before they sell out.
Please post your address locator, prefecture, and colony, as well as the number of tickets you’d
like to reserve. Trustworthy fans who have paid consistently in the past and whose names are on the
whitelist can provide payment information later. New fans will need to private message me
Hope to see you all at the concert!