Posts: 7
Preferred Name: Dylan
Pronouns: He / HIm
Character Name: Minerva
Main Account: aLonelyCow
Status: Active
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Post by Minerva on Dec 14, 2015 20:38:32 GMT -5
“Number forty-seven, please go to tent C. Again, number forty-seven, please go to tent C. Number forty-eight, doctor Archer is waiting in the main tent. Number forty-nine...”
The day proceeded as fluidly as it always had every week the clinic moved to its temporary location in the Novus slums; progress was halted as quickly as a vehicle pile up halted traffic, but the various nurses managed to pick away at their massive list of clientele. Though the air reeked of industrial smog and the build-up of trash left to fester in the artificial sunlight, the Minervae Sanctuarium’s deployment of medical tents cleared up the temporary clinic’s air of most pollutants with the use of heavy duty air purifiers. That way the patients could enjoy cleaner air during their stay and the staff would remain healthy and able for the next week’s visit.
An abandoned marketplace within the slums had been purchased by Celia Archer at her expense. The property was very cheap and due to the nature of the slums, no sane businessman had any desire to operate in the location despite its minuscule monthly tax payment. No profit could ever be gained from the marketplace, but the doctor had never aimed to make any credits from the grand endeavor that her operation became.
After the installation of five expansive tents, doctor Archer and her staff began their weekly visits to the slums, with the news of such care spreading by word-of-mouth among the residents. There have of course been issues with thieves and thugs wanting to gain a bit of the wealth miss Archer possessed, but there had been a small deployment of police for the medical staff, employed only after one successful mugging. It was a display of morality, one of the few that seemed to exist within the wicked city, and the police really only went because the doctor paid rather well.
“Number fifty-seven, the doctor is waiting. Number fifty-seven, the doctor is waiting.”
Erato had been given the number of fifty-seven during her visit to the clinic, where she was pointed towards the main tent in the establishment. The central tent sat behind the announcer, who herself stood behind a podium equipped with a small PA system and a list of the clientele who signed up. While the list contained mostly new names from the current day, there were always a handful of stragglers from the previous week, and some had remained on the list for a month. It would be after that day that their names were crossed off and the doctors were forced to assume the worst of their fates.
The tent’s recycled atmosphere was partially protected by heavy plastic sheets over the open archway, though they were easily pushed open to reveal an assortment of medical instruments and machines. Doctor Archer stood over a desk, pouring through a data-slate filled with notes of her previous patients before preparing to insert another entry, her fingers rolling the tablet pen within her grasp. With a careful touch, she lifted the slate up and straightened herself out, smiling tiredly to Lovely.
“Good afternoon,” the doctor extended her empty hand out to her new patient. “My name is doctor Archer, but please, call me Minerva. Now please, all I need is a name and your ailment today and we can begin.”
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Post by Erato on Dec 14, 2015 23:04:14 GMT -5
"...Good afternoon,"
Fifty-seven. She had come as early as she could manage and still ended up as number fifty-seven, she actually wanted to scream, or cry, maybe both.
She was fine, or at least she wanted so badly to be able to pretend that she was fine, but after her neighbors had basically ganged up on her, insisting she required medical care ASAP -and they would know, in such close quarters they could all hear her coughing fits and whines of pain, she was surprised they couldn't check her pulse through the walls as well- she was unable to refuse.
They assured her that this 'clinic' was free, and indeed she wouldn't be spending money here- but she still lost a day's worth of work at the usual spots, and she wasn't going to be getting many tips by playing her lyre while in queue... which didn't stop her from playing though, it did seem to make waiting around for medical care marginally more pleasant for everyone, including herself.
With her shaved head poking out from between the plastic sheets, she smiled back at the white haired woman before bringing herself to fully enter the space. Her voice was soft, as if afraid it would actually be heard by someone other than the woman in front of her; she reached out to shake the doctor's extended hand "I'm Erato Ambrasia--" and stopped when, just as their fingers brushed together, she saw the beads of sweat on her own palm and quickly retrieved it, wiping it on her tights and she plopped herself onto the chair, looking down at her knees.
"I... I'm fine-- I mean, I've been having a dry cough... and fever, for about three or four days now, also have general muscle pain but that didn't really start until toda-" she covered her mouth with the inside of her elbow, her thin body spasming during the brief moment of hacking, "U-until today..." she breathed out hurriedly, the soft feathers on her wings all ruffled up, the little appendages twitching as she attempted to catch her breath.
God, if this is how 'fine' felt then life was not worth living.
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Posts: 7
Preferred Name: Dylan
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Character Name: Minerva
Main Account: aLonelyCow
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Post by Minerva on Dec 16, 2015 16:55:25 GMT -5
During the clinic’s stay within the slums, Minerva had often been called a cold and callous person for her brief reports on her free patients. Average was a typical word she would use to describe a slum-dweller with no fewer than three ailments, although exceptions would appear once in a long while. If the girl spoke truthfully, Minerva would mark her down as one such person; one not-so-average girl who somehow found herself underneath the bottom of the city.
The doctor raised an amused brow at the girl’s spasm. For what it was worth, it seemed that Erato had been taking her life rather well. Minerva silently wished that she kept count of her blessings as long as they would last her. There had been too many wasted lives thrown to the pits of Novus over the years and to merely be alive was worthy of all the merit in the world. Erato would never hear of the doctor’s feelings on the subject of the slums as she preferred to avoid such discussion in favor of actually making a difference in the city.
“We shall keep this brief, if possible,” Minerva smiled despite the obvious exhaustion she suffered. “As always, this clinic is offering the examination and any basic medication for free. You will be referred back to us if there is any serious ailment you are experiencing. Now please, follow me.”
The doctor gave a gentle pat on the girl’s upper back to urge her onward, bringing Erato into a small, private chamber within the main tent, lit by a single industrial torch freely hanging from its chain-wrapped cord. After motioning to one lone folding chair in the center of the room, Minerva leaned over a portable workstation and set down a small black bag on top of its plastic surface, where she began to sort through her tools.
“Were you born here?” She inquired, though remained focused on her task. “You are remarkably healthy, so my assumption is that you were not. Am I correct?”
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Post by Erato on Dec 17, 2015 0:55:16 GMT -5
Speckled wings fluttering at the woman's brief contact, Erato got off her seat and lowered her gaze to meet the doctor's -as she often did standing an inch shy of six feet- she wished there was a way she could make herself smaller, or at least she started wishing for it once she realized she often stuck out in the crowded slum streets if she stood straight and wore anything other than flats.
"And yes... I was told about that..."
She didn't actually know about the medicine, assuming she would have to follow this consultation with a visit to the bazaar (and kissing the miniscule amount of money she had saved up goodbye) so for a brief moment she was excited over the idea of free medication, drowned almost immediately by a wall of shame. Doctors used to come to her house if she was sick, last time she had been to a doctor's office she lounged on a posh waiting room couch in front of a platter of fresh pastries while she awaited her chemical therapy.
She remembered not having had any pastries that day because she was watching her weight.
Now all she could do was briefly close her eyes, sit on the little chair of the examination room and not think about the fact that she had maybe eaten three whole meals in the past two days.
When the white haired woman spoke again, Erato's attention snapped back to her, and if it weren't for the fact that she wasn't facing her she might have caught the girl's chapped lips forming a soft 'o' and her slightly sunken eyes open wide. The question on her origin didn't entirely register when the following statement already had her mind reeling "I... I-I'm really sorry, I know I'm far from needing hospitalization but I'd hardly say I'm rem-m--" she went into another coughing fit, weakly gesturing with her hand once it started subsiding, hoping the doctor had gotten the idea.
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Post by Minerva on Jan 16, 2016 21:36:24 GMT -5
The doctor noted down the patient’s statement with trained resolve, professionally ignorant of her patient’s plight in favor of gathering all the necessary information she required. Thankfully, the basics had already been filed when Erato had been assigned a number, and most of Minerva’s questions would be an act of kindness rather than any form of ignorance. What remained in the dark was the patient’s past, a puzzle for the doctor to piece together, for it laid the groundwork of Erato’s new medical history as a desperate resident in the Novus slums.
“You are not accustomed,” Doctor Archer placed her stylus into the holder of her data-slate, keeping it in hand after gathering up her basic instruments for the examination. Her eyes traveled along the length of Erato’s body, scrutinizing every small detail she could notice while the resident VI scanned for visual scarring and other ailments. This was of course done unbeknownst to her patient; having a VI installed inside a person would sometimes raise an alarm for a patient, especially those from the poorer districts of the city.
“Your wings. They tell a story of a girl who fell from high society, or one who wishes to mimic it.” Despite her possibly harsh words, Minerva offered a smile as she lifted the data-slate once more, plotting out the space for her next segment of notes.
“Dry cough, fever, muscle pain....” She clicked her tongue against the rough roof of her mouth, the noise dampened by the cybernetics nestled within her skull. “As I stated earlier, you are remarkably healthy for what care you can receive. I will still give you a full examination and whatever medication you absolutely require.”
A high-grade stethoscope replaced the writing device in her hand. “What comes next is your choice,” she warned, lowering her gaze from the girl. “I will do what I can to give you a proper examination as you currently are, but the full report requires a physical and blood work, of which I am most interested in the latter.”
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Post by Erato on Jan 17, 2016 13:32:05 GMT -5
So, after a few years now of living in the slums' harsh environment, with its stagnant waters and dry, polluted air, she still hadn't acclimated. She recalled her first year after being reassigned to this place; the constant stomach bugs, coughing up black phlegm and snot from the sheer amount of smog whenever she'd forgotten to go outside with a surgical mask in place, the itchy, flaky skin and rashes that kept her up in tears throughout many nights.
She was convinced she had grown accustomed to that already, that the reason she had reached a point that she didn't feel like her body was constantly failing on her or that she was finally having something remotely similar to a good night's sleep was because her system had finally adapted, because she had finally adapted.
But according to the doc, not so much.
The songbird furrowed her brow and tucked in her wings close "I-I could have simply inherited them..." she mumbled, what did this woman know anyway? or more like how did she know. There was something definitively unsettling, almost disturbing about her physician, particularly her eyes; it was like if she was looking at her beyond what an average human could... just how much of her was really human she wondered as she suppressed the need to shield herself with her arms, it had been a while since she felt this exposed.
She's here to help you, she is providing free healthcare to the poor so she must have a good heart, right?
Repeating that in her head she felt the smallest pang of guilt for not simply being grateful of this person who really was going to help her, and for briefly wondering if the doctor's heart was a mechanical pump or a board of circuits.
"I..I'd like the full checkup..." she tried to grin, turned out to look more like a grimace "It's been a few years since the last time I saw a doctor."
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Post by Minerva on Jan 26, 2016 19:52:38 GMT -5
Assuming the history of her patient had been marked and filed as a mistake on her own part, though not necessarily out of any fear that she was wrong. Minerva had been thoroughly convinced that her short analysis contained a portion of the truth, but the slight loss of trust hung its dreary girth in the air of the medical tent. It was her role as a doctor to understand a patient's history, but the slum-dwellers had always been made a special case. Not everyone wished to remember their pasts nor dream of the impossible.
"It is true," the doctor smiled, taking gentle steps forward with the instrument held firmly outwards. "You could have very well inherited your wings, but whose blood could beget such beauty?" She took special care to patiently place the stethoscope against Erato's chest, though Minerva had offered no vocal warning of the cold device. While she listened to the steady beat of her patient's heart, the doctor lifted her head to stare up at the girl, almost daring Erato to question what percentage was left of the doctor's humanity. The whirring iris of Minerva's eyes did her no favors.
After a minute, Minerva pulled back the stethoscope and lowered the earpiece onto her coat, carefully tucking her tool into a special pouch in her pocket. "Do not worry," she calmly smiled. "If you will allow it, I can gather my data through a small blood sample and a connection to your NUIP jack."
She tapped her hand against her right forearm with a tone reminiscent of knocking against thick plastic. "That way, this can help with keeping accuracy." A lively grin closed her offer. "Sometimes, people can be afraid of it. Or... So they say. I move on, in any case."
What Minerva could not legally mention were the assortment of patients she had always assisted who had their NUIPs burned. Being in the slums gave her some freedom away from the government, but there had always been warnings adrift the slums' rumor mill. Better to be safe than sorry, especially when the good health of others was put on the line.
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Posts: 10
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Post by Erato on Jan 28, 2016 22:48:09 GMT -5
Maybe it was the fever, but her hands felt like they were about to fall off from the cold, so she folded them under her thighs as the doctor approached her with the stethoscope. As the device was placed gently on her chest, Erato tried to take deep, slow breaths while holding back the quick, small contractions of her chest, not wanting to cough all over the woman at such a close distance.
The comment on the wings though caught her off guard and she barely had time to pull her hands from under her thighs to cover her mouth, sparing Minerva of a spray of spit and germs. It had... been awhile since anyone had told her something like that, most anyone who had the energy to interact with someone like her was to catcall, rob her or trying to sell her something, and perhaps she was just saying that to make her feel more at ease... but it was still kinda nice to hear something sweet and almost poetic on her person.
The young bird gave a small nod and tapped lightly at the NUIP jack she had neatly placed at the base of her skull; while splicing had been something she had read extensively on before begging her parents to allow her her speckled wings, repositioning the port was a form of body modification that had never carried quite the same kind of appeal, it was simply... there, you could almost forget it was monitoring (and to an extent, controlling) every aspect of your life if you had near blind trust in the government as an all-knowing, all-seeing entity that knew what was best for everyone.
To a point, Erato thought this way, and the dull sound of plastic coming from Minerva's arm made her wonder what "it" thought of individuals such as her.
"Uhm, had I not had a chance to cover my mouth, would you be capable of getting sick or...?" her mind had drifted, guessing what other parts were plastic before she caught herself, eyes widening and wings flapping anxiously "Ah! I'm sorry that w-was so rude of me I--" she entered another coughing fit, this time violent enough for her to drool a little when her frail body stopped spasming, she quickly wiped away the drool with her sleeve, her wings still fluffed up and flapping as they often were when she was mortified.
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