Dr. Daedalus Yumeno (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gaveherwings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2013-01-19 06:38 pm
gaveherwings) wrote in sirenspull2013-01-19 06:38 pm
Entry tags:
[Voice]
Well, my quarterly review didn't go so well, fellow newcomers. [Wearied, tired, bitter- that's the least of flatlined emotion from Dr. Yumeno here] This is probably a delayed little anecdote to add to the pile, but since we've all been sharing our hardships...
Despite everything, and despite Dr. Pyke fully believing the plight of our little community, that bouncing to and fro between centuries is nothing we can control, un-notified absences are still technically grounds for termination, the hospital board is still angry I haven't been axed years ago...amazing, to hear it all come up now, all that had been swept beneath the rug, but apparently they were so glad to have grovelling hands in back at work for the past two weeks, that it caught me completely off guard- this "we'll talk about it later" actually pulling through.
Another pay cut, and a week's absence apparently swallows the whole of my unused vacation time, backwards and forwards till the summer. It's still a (modified) resident doctor's salary, despite more little nips and tucks made to my job title, so a newcomer shouldn't be dissatisfied. But I'm actually quite tired with fighting to advance my career. I'm tired with trying to reform the health protocols. Whatever respect of tenure I've earned in the past two and a half years has been spent three times over, and rides very thinly on credit.
Many, too many coworkers have given me the cold shoulder. I thought it was just my imagination, at first, but now I know without a doubt- they've said I keep spoiling this good hospital's reputation. It's remarkable, how the opinions of intelligent, rational peers can change to cold and resentful overnight - or with a week's disappearance excused by the unending grace of your Chief Director.
I could have lived with that, once, being a social pariah at work, if I hadn't been under the impression I've been making progress for so long now. I wouldn't have cared less, once.... [There's a soft sound, rueful, and a defeatist laugh] but I've grown much too used to being liked.
An interesting thing this whole ordeal has taught me: Maybe I've become too accustomed to the habits of this day and age.
I'm taking the weekend to downsize a bit... Throw some things away. There's too much clutter of mine, here, and I wouldn't want to leave a pile of waste and sensitive information where I've been, should we all be so inconveniencing as to vanish from this world again .
Despite everything, and despite Dr. Pyke fully believing the plight of our little community, that bouncing to and fro between centuries is nothing we can control, un-notified absences are still technically grounds for termination, the hospital board is still angry I haven't been axed years ago...amazing, to hear it all come up now, all that had been swept beneath the rug, but apparently they were so glad to have grovelling hands in back at work for the past two weeks, that it caught me completely off guard- this "we'll talk about it later" actually pulling through.
Another pay cut, and a week's absence apparently swallows the whole of my unused vacation time, backwards and forwards till the summer. It's still a (modified) resident doctor's salary, despite more little nips and tucks made to my job title, so a newcomer shouldn't be dissatisfied. But I'm actually quite tired with fighting to advance my career. I'm tired with trying to reform the health protocols. Whatever respect of tenure I've earned in the past two and a half years has been spent three times over, and rides very thinly on credit.
Many, too many coworkers have given me the cold shoulder. I thought it was just my imagination, at first, but now I know without a doubt- they've said I keep spoiling this good hospital's reputation. It's remarkable, how the opinions of intelligent, rational peers can change to cold and resentful overnight - or with a week's disappearance excused by the unending grace of your Chief Director.
I could have lived with that, once, being a social pariah at work, if I hadn't been under the impression I've been making progress for so long now. I wouldn't have cared less, once.... [There's a soft sound, rueful, and a defeatist laugh] but I've grown much too used to being liked.
An interesting thing this whole ordeal has taught me: Maybe I've become too accustomed to the habits of this day and age.
I'm taking the weekend to downsize a bit... Throw some things away. There's too much clutter of mine, here, and I wouldn't want to leave a pile of waste and sensitive information where I've been, should we all be so inconveniencing as to vanish from this world again .
video
video
As long as I can be on the train by five, I'll be in the neighborhood of the medical center, or I can meet you further up, in the fourth sector. Have you found a place to drink that's to your liking, so far?
video
Re: video
Loiter long enough there, and we'll see some happy news.
video
How am I to know this charming little place? What is its appellation?
video
It's called Deterra's. I'll wait for you near the front.
action
And certainly, he's glad to at last be meeting Daedalus. Grantaire had enjoyed their initial exchange, mediated though it had been by the NVs and however much distance. A pity they've not yet met, really, and that it should have been such a declaration that brought them together. Still. Take the circumstances as they come.
And there's Daedalus. It's strange for a moment, seeing the image become a physical being, and Grantaire pauses before heading toward the man, greeting him enthusiastically.]
Daedalus, Daedalus, the ill winds that have brought you forth may be called my fortune; perhaps those who claim that every calamity has its positive results are not so far afield. It is an honor, Monsieur, to finally meet you.
action
Daedalus still looks world wearied, bundled in an overcoat over his doctor's clothes, taking in the cold air and appreciating its nip with something akin to wonder, until a Frenchman rounds the corner with spirit to match his previous appearances over the network.]
An honor that's shared, Monsieur. Well met. I wish it were under better circumstances... but better now than never, I'll try to be a good sport- as much as they say misery loves company, company may not feel inspired to return the sentiments.
[The doctor smiles tiredly but already seems to be in a slightly better mood, holding open the door to usher him into the small bar, toward the cozier row of booths to one side. It's a modestly nice place, not a dive, nothing too pretentious.]
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[Daedalus appears every bit as worn as he'd sounded--with good reason, from what Grantaire had understood of the original message--and Grantaire vows to pull him out of it, if only somewhat or for a brief period of time. No reason to muddle in the mire when there's company to be had. And much as Grantaire may recoil from life in general, he knows how to play light and skip around the holes that gape through all that is.]
I declare your selection a fine one, the atmosphere well-suited to subdued conversation as much as to intense debate. [Indeed, it seems a fine establishment, unimposing and happily free of frills. Perhaps a bit, ah, pleasant for his tastes, but that's only a note to make for the future.] And now we shall see how the wine doth flow.
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[A modest warning, the vine-grown gods would call Dr. Yumeno a lightweight, though he only feels it in the company he seems to attract.
Frenchmen. Not even uncorked, and Daedalus is just about ready to swear they're all drunkards... and a people he holds a certain breed of ardor for that he's not ready to disclose so much as privately smile about. It must be that they put on such airs of loving life, even when they're perfectly miserable.
Citizens of Romdeau, by contrast, barely ever tried. That was why Daedalus had found his own people exceedingly dull, with the rare gems of exceptions such ass Re-l Mayer (a class of her own) and Raul Creed... who still fancied himself the Ubermensch.]
You'd be surprised how much boisterous debate happens next door over waffles- [He inclines his head toward the diner on the other side of the wall.] This is where we come to be kind, and a little more civilized. The Skye interns shovel down breakfast quicker than wine- how have you been settling in?
Aside from the time loops- I swear, in my two and half years I've been here, it's only the second time something like that's happened to us. Last time it was the same day repeating itself, for a week.
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Oh, I'm sure I could believe it. I lived long among students, Monsieur; we made a habit of arguing over everything and anything, wherever we happened to be. It's entirely possibly that we argued about waffles, and whether they provide apt fare for revolutionaries-to-be or perpetuate the ills of bourgeois oppression. [He smiles, the expression edged with a sharp bitterness.]
For my part, I have yet to decide how thankful I am that we returned to this world. [Grantaire feels no remarkably deep fondness for this world, but if nothing else, he is glad to have returned with Enjolras.] Though it is, one is compelled to confess, an improvement on the final nights over there. May I ask how the squash-patch world treated you? That world was almost pleasant in some aspects [the night in the forest, sitting against the tree in peace, accepted, finally at ease] until everything shattered.
We can only hope that time does not make a more regular habit of such jaunts. Exhilarating as it was, a small amount of solidity--or what here passes for solidity--would be rather welcome.
Beyond that, I fare far better than might have been expected. Than ought to have been expected, for I have previously shown little talent for caring to adapt to new situations. Something has shifted. It might be said that I've a greater talent for death than for life.
But I speak in torrents and leave you to sit soaked in your silence. Come, tell me of yourself! Say what it is that nips at your mind and drifts through your existence in this strange little world.
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Missionworth was... interesting, if a bit more primitive with technologies than I'm used to. [Daedalus frowns, folding his hands carefully at the edge of the tabletop] I think it's a shame that history seems doomed to repeat itself, with SERO and AGI's bickering about what we ought to do about the Core.
I'm glad to be back in a proofed apartment, though. We were woefully unprepared for the Darkness Decay Effect running unchecked. But if witnessing the birth of such an oppressive phenomenon can be made useful, I intend to do something with it. I've half a mind to inform SERO's research program about its beginnings myself, if they'd listen, because it might be able to prove or disprove some of the standing theories about how to dissolve it.
Since I've been here, nearly three years now, it's been nothing but a continual exercise in adaptation. And just when you think all is right, this place pulls the rug out from under you and scatters all your progress to the winds.
It's very tiresome. Particularly when one hopes to advance their career.
no subject
[As if there is any so singular world or any one way of describing it. But that's rather off-point just now, and Grantaire isn't about to completely overrun Daedalus' talk. He truly is interested in hearing the man speak.
There is another, currently subdued matter: although Grantaire has thus far focused on meeting Daedalus and comprehending the man behind the previously glimpsed image, he is beginning to feel the itching question of when the wine might flow. He'll keep it down for the moment, a show of respect for this apparently quite perspective man.]
The workings and appearances of this world are yet unclear to me. [Mostly, Grantaire doesn't care overmuch about the details of this world. He finds and knows what he must, grasps hold of what he takes to be key.] And I claim little comprehension of this business of creating a career. From what I understand, it is most often tiresome, and at all turns exhausting. And to what end? To what benefit? Is the air clearer at the top, or the venture suddenly enthralling? It seems to me that to work one's life away under the injunctions and ever-wary vision of another would destroy whatever seeming joy of life might remain.
But then, I speak as one with little knowledge and a certain professed privilege. Necessity teaches lessons of its own. As, I suppose, does... What shall I say? Motivation? Faith in certainty? A dislocated passion? [Another smirk.]
Tell me, Daedalus. What is this job to you?
no subject
It's more of a grueling challenge at Skye than Romdeau, day in and out, working in the clinic and with far more patients in critical condition- it's far less of a safe city than my last, which is to say nothing for the complications of abilities and unusual biologies interacting with treatments and medication- it can be a mess.
But it's what I enjoy, and what I do, and what I was meant to do, designed to-
All citizens of Romdeau know the Raison d'Etre is more than something poetic. While some accept their calling as the hand of God on blind faith, I know, I've managed the Wombsys! My people are each designed for a purpose that is carried into their life as a citizen-
Trying to be a doctor here is like fitting a neatly chiseled square peg into a roughly quadrilateral-shaped hole, with dozens of other lopsided pegs competing for limited spaces. I do have passion to fit. I do want to be useful here. I do want to exist in the way I was created for.
...and I'm not in the habit of spontaneity, I'm afraid. [Daedalus shrugs, guilty as charged when it comes to neatly ordered lines and predictable natures.] Even so much as making impromptu plans to go out for a drink- I knew I'd see you eventually, but on such short notice is hardly my usual. Thank you for coming down.
[It's not the easiest walk from the Towers to the commercial strip near Skye Medical Center in the winter, after all. But people of a less-modern age don't seem to mind trekking about in the chill on foot as much, he's noticed.]
Ah- [He reaches for the winelist, hardly giving it perusal before turning it over to his company.] What should we order, by the way, if we're going by the bottle? (I always let Franz pick, when we're out...I have no sense about good wine, compared to you Frenchmen who take to it like life-giving water.)