Workstations In Site 101 Alpha
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Irish Ann scratched her head. Surely this was not the actual report. She typed in another message.

Again. Not what she had expected. She scratched her head some more. The specimen data sent by Bio-engineering must be here somewhere. She clicked Exit on the window, and promptly re-opened it.

Again. Still not what she had expected. All of the files are from yesterday. She scrolled down the feeds, expecting them to pop up eventually. She had reached the end of the page. Nothing. She scrolled back up.

"This is frustrating", she muttered, "Bio-engineering was supposed to send their specimen reports an hour ago".

The page refreshed:

BIO-ENGR SPECIMEN REPORT SPECIMEN #50: GENGALISK
Specimen Status: Comatose
Solution Given: 51% Compound 178-A, 20% Hetogen Sulfide, 16% Compound 121-B, 13% Water
Treatment Progress: E- Critical Condition
Possibility of Death: 73%
Notes: Remove artificial implants in the subject; it is expected that it will be deceased within four days. It is less costly to re-use the augmentations for other projects. Salvage whatever useful body parts/organs we can still remove from the organism and send them to Cryo-Storage. ~ Dr. Bachnar

Irish Ann snarled internally as she read the big, red Failure block next to the report. Failed experiments were none of her business, but dealing with the aftermath of paperwork was an irritating addition to her regular schedule.

She clicked the report and did a quick copy-paste over to the document editor, adding in the necessary timestamps, report number, Revolution watermark and Bachnar's digital signature. All of which took about ten seconds each to find on the toolbar and edit onto the document. Regardless, Irish Ann grumbled. It wasn't that she hated this job, it was that incompetency from the other departments, no matter how much they fucked up; she was the one who has to document it all.

New rations at the cafeteria? Document it.

Security personnel ending up missing after going for a walk around thee cells? Document it.

Minor containment breach? Document it. Never mind if the Item had entered a rage state. Never mind if the Item can slide through any surface and corrode anything in its sight. Document it until it goes away.

—-

Oh, but look at the time. Her shift was over.

Somehow, Irish Ann had instinctively known her work time was over without glancing at neither the clock display on the screen, or the time on her classic analog watch.

She checked her watch to be sure.

Yes, it really was the end of her shift.

Time in Site-101-Alpha moved differently compared to the real world. A second is two seconds. A minute has sixty-five seconds. An hour, eighty minutes. The bad part of it was that her shift, and her salary, were by the hour. So technicality couldn't get her anywhere.

She got up her chair with a burst of rare gratitude, stretching her arms as a meek compensation for the four hours forced on her by Command. She wrote a note to the person working the next shift and logged out of the terminal.

Ron

Gengalisk died. Hahaaha. You owe me $160 ;p
Your work is already on. Feeds have been highlighted. Stay awake!

~Irish

And with that, she stretched her arms some more and went out of the cubicle.

—-

The office she was in was one half of a converted laboratory, adjacent and accessible only through, first, the specimen chambers and the current lab sector, but now it was next to armory. Currently, the Insurgency occupied three rooms spread on two storeys; the office and general experiments room, and the bar, mess hall, and Command sector were one storey above the special experiments and Item containment chambers, accessible through a now guarded stairwell linked to the mess hall part.

She stood facing the blast door, sliding her bronze keycard over the panel. The blast doors opened with a sense of finality not belonging to the current moment.

She made her way to the bar, propping herself up on a stool facing the bartender, Natalya, a pretty redhead from the Division. Most of the male personnel working the office had thoughts set on her. Few had luck, but the ones that did were very lucky indeed. Irish Ann blinked hard to remove a bad thought in her head.

Looking around, it seems that only her, Lou from the cafeteria, and Chang from Security were Natalya's customers this afternoon. Irish blinked hard again. Why was she thinking about it so much?

"What'll it be tonight, Annie?", Natalya crooned, as she made her way to Irish.

"The sweetest bourbon you have, please." Annie said, sounding somehow too polite.

"Right on it." Natalya purred.

—-

Some seconds later, the bourbon was served. Irish took in the aroma of her liquor before drinking.

Lou took the seat next to Irish and gestured to Natalya. Natalya winked, and began preparing an order of non-descript gin.

"So, how's the office life treating you, Annie?" Lou asked, his Boston accent complementing his cheerful, young face.

Annie finished her drink before replying. "Well, all of the reports from Security have been done, there was a brief altercation with a medic from the UIU, and the Gengalisk is dying."

Lou smirked. "A medic?"

"He got lost. This was the fourth time this month that an agent from UIU got lost and approached the expedition scouts."

"What a bunch of morons, they are". Lou said.

"Aren't you guys in your right minds?", Chang butted in from the booth on the far side of the bar, obviously very drunk and irate, "we've lost another Gengalisk. This last one was my frieeeend."

"You know I was the one who raaaaaiiised it in the Bio chambers when it waaaas just an eeegling." The drunk guard added.

"Go take a nap, Chang, you're drunk." Lou shouted to the guard.

No response. Chang had passed out.

"Eh, yeah. Right. I should get going and cook up the night's menu.", Lou said, facing Annie, "See ya gals in the mess."

He stood up and went out of the bar.

"Well, I guess it's only you and me now, Irie." Natalya teased. She grinned warmly.

"So, maybe we can take a little break before the night shift, no?"

"Well, I don't know, Tal. I have a lot of work to finish." Ann said.

"I'm sure Ron will take care of it. You, on the other hand, you look like you could really use a break."

"Heh, suuuure I do."

Ann slid up the bar range, taking Natalya's hand, and eagerly kissed her.


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