Who Kezresan, Aignes, Nerysrau
What Computers don't solve all problems.
When Day 13 of Month 1 of Turn 2718
Where Computer Lab, Fort Weyr

kez_default.png icon1.jpg

Computer Lab
// This large, square room next door to the library has been outfitted as a computer laboratory for fort's residents. The edge of the room is lined with desks on three sides. Upon each desk is a computer. In one corner of the room one can see three printers and three scanners set up for ease of records transcribing. In the center of the room a screen for projecting pictures on can be pulled down. A large heavy oak table, battered and worn with time, sits in the middle of the room with rather uncomfortable looking wooden chairs. A projector for projecting slides, and even film if some enterprising fortian wanted to, is located on this meeting table and lines up perfectly with the pull down screen. The final detail is that shelves and metal cabinets with office supplies and a comprehensive library of equipment manuals and books with titles like "Word Processing, a Weyr Archivist's guide" and "how to convert pictures to the large screen" and "Virtual Book Keeping, what every Headwoman and Steward Should Know" and still others with less original titles and still more with simple operating manuals for each of the pieces of equipment therein.//

Kezresan is spending his free time the computer lab. It is not really his first choice, given technology is not really his thing. One might be able to draw this conclusion rather easily given that, although he is sitting at a monitor, and it is on, the healer-turned-candidate is sure to look entirely out of his element. Curled over the keyboard, brown-eyes squinting at the screen, there is a look of concentration on his face the likes of which few (if any) have seen. His tongue is sticking out the corner of his mouth. Just a hint of it, but it's there. Hands curled into fists, just his index fingers are extended to tap-tap-tap very slowly and precisely at the keys. Each stroke comes with a glance down, a careful depression of the proper key, and then a squint back at the screen to ensure that, yes, it did translate into the right stroke.

The healer isn't the only candidate doing battle with technology this afternoon, although Aignes may be understandably easy to overlook seeing as she's tucked under a desk in the very back of the lab. There's a mass of colorful cords around her and a schematic of some sort, although this is one knot she's beyond her capabilities to deal with. She peers at the page and then rotates it 90 degrees and than another 90 degrees before dropping and sitting up. Unfortunately, there was also the desk right above her and there's a dull bang as her head hits oak table and a sharp "Shards!" escapes.

It's that 'Shards' that draws Kezresan's attention, the healer willing to overlook the thump as he tap-taps away at whatever he's working on. But that swear? That sets his healer-senses to tingling. A jerk up from his hunch, a rapid blinking as his eyes adjust to seeing things that are not tiny letters on a glowing screen, and he scours the room for the owner of the voice. "Aignes?" which must have been said too loud, as another victim patron of the computer lab is quick to 'SHHHH' him with a hiss. A scowl for that, before he's looking back at the poor, unfortunate soul beneath the table. "What are you doing?" Still too loud, given the distance, and it earns Kez an irritated sigh from Angry-Tech-Person.

Aignes crawls out from underneath the desk, a delicate maneuver since she's still wearing her normal skirt, but she manages, while also rubbing at the spot on her head that had been hit. Any more cursing is only whispered from her and when her name is called out, she has her own blinking as she looks up. "Kezresan?" Another blink and yes she's confirmed that. As for what she's doing, she glances back at the tunnelsnake's nest of chords she just escaped from. "'Maintenance'." Complete with finger quotes. "They said this would be easy!" It's a loud whisper, but even so the betrayal in her voice towards whoever they might be is evident. "What are you doing?"

"Maintenance?" and, air quotes aside, Kezresan sure sounds dubious in the repetition of that word. A frown toward Aignes, a squint toward the cords, and a little grimace. "That doesn't look easy in the least," he agrees, scooting his chair a little closer and ignoring the side-eyes being shot at him from Angry Tech Person. As for what he's doing? A glance back at the screen, another grimace. "Typing." Super informative. "Work for the infirmary," comes the expanded version. "Trying to update records. Apparently it is time to 'get with the times'," also with air-quotes. "Whatever that means."

Aignes scowls over at those cables, the bane of her existence for the day. "There's supposed to only be one way the cables could go in… but I've tried and tried and just no way fits." For clearly Aignes has not realized that three is the magic number for getting a cable to fit and just skipped on to four and five. "Typing… but don't you already have the records written out?" That probably gets the loudest tsk from the Angry Tech Person, but nothing more than tsking.

"Absurd," for cables, and the ways in which they are supposed to go into things. "Clearly, they gave you terrible instructions," because Kez is going to make an assumption that it is the paper, and not the person, at fault for the confusion. He's got your back, Aignes! "And yes," he sighs, twisting in his chair to consider the screen with a glower. "We do, but… apparently some people have handwriting that is difficult to decipher…" ah, healer-handwriting. "Not me," he assures (and he means it, too). "But, some of the other healers…" so, you know. "It's slow typing it out," especially when typing is really chicken-pecking. "There's also the argument that the computer records won't fade," which Kez seems to think is ridiculous given the snort and barely suppressed roll of his eyes.

Nerysrau will just be wandering around like some kind of lost soul — don't mind him, he's just that dude who keeps getting out of the infirmary when he shouldn't. Oh, look, shiny toys! He moves right in on Aignes and Kezresan, needing to know RIGHT NOW what they're doing. "my mom's god good handwriting. For a Healer." Which is, to say, 'barely legible'.

"Right?" Aignes will readily agree and give one last glare to the mess. "Maybe I should just admit defeat, coil them up and hand it back for the next person." Surely one of the candidates (or an apprentice somewhere) will be able to figure out that mess. Or do the right steps to get that extra dimension cables seem to reside in to align correctly so things can be placed as they should. As for the argument about computer records not fading, she shrugs. "They say that, but AIVAS was lost for how long?" Never mind that the records were still waiting to be reclaimed centuries later. As for the newcomer's sudden arrival, she blinks yet again. "Okay…" and also a glance towards the door to see if said mother might also be appearing?

Kezresan looks rather dubious at that mess of cords. Clearly, a master should be called to handle it. Way out of candidate and apprentice league. "Yes," he agrees, happy to give Aignes an excuse to bail on the project. And clearly, convincing himself that conversing with her is a worthy excuse to abandon his own project. "Exactly!" Computers? Totally unreliable, clearly. Nerysrau's sudden appearance, and the mention of his mother, gets a confused and somewhat startled look from the Healer, Kez's gaze going around in similar fashion to Aignes before he declares, "Mine is perfectly legible. I've never had a complaint." And, really, it /is/ perfectly legible, as he will demonstrate with an offering of the record he's currently trying (and failing) to enter into the computer. "See?" And yup, tiny but neat, straight, militant letters. Totally legible.

Mission Confusion: Accomplished! Nerysrau smiles down upon the mass of cords as though they're small, cute puppies, ignoring the dread thought that his mother might soon be joining them here — it's an unlikely scenario, as the woman is much too busy doing healery things to be bothered with technology. Nerys, on the other hand, is deeply curious about these computer things, and edges in even closer. "What're you two doing anyway?" Out of courtesy, he peers at that militant handwriting and nods approval. "Very neat. If only you could manage to pass that skill oon, I wouldn't have to squint so much."

Aignes is fully of the opinion that nobody should be that fond of the tangled mess of computer cables that she has found her self saddled with and so the weaver will scoot a bit further back from Nerysrau's smiling, even as she starts to try and wind up one of the cords into something more manageable which first means untangling it from all the others. "Chores. And I'd prefer writing. I'd offered to help file the maintenance requests but they said they wanted someone that actually understood all the jargon to do that…" She rolls her eyes. Not like she could have been any more confused and lost than she was with this busy work.

Tangled cords are not cute puppies. This is a fact that Kezresan seems to firmly believe. And so Nerysrau's look of adoration is met with… blatant staring. Of the 'what sort of creature are /you/' variety. Furrowed brows and persistent frown, and even after Kez catches himself at it, it takes him a moment to tear his eyes away and do something appropriate with them. Like look at his own handwriting. "Yes, well. It takes nothing more than diligent practice." Hours and hours of it. "Anyone can do it," he decides. "What she said," comes on the heels of Aignes' explanation of what they are doing. "Or, rather… yes. Chores." His chores might not technically be his chores, but he's doing them! "They want someone who understands the jargon to write the notes, but they hand you instructions," presumably with jargon, "and send you on an impossible mission to plug in sensitive computer equipment?" Cause cords are totally sensitive and stuff. "Ridiculous." And then another look at Nerysrau, and a pointed, "What are you doing?"

Nerysrau is one of those oddball nerdy creatures who thinks computers and all things associated are awesome and cute —- LIKE PUPPIES. Fortunately, he isn't going to actually pet the cords; that would be going way too far, even for him. Back to the handwriting, though. "So you say." He is going to doubt that, though, as most people don't seem to have gotten the hang of it. He looks back and forth between Aignes and Kez, frowning. "They like torturing you?" Maybe they're candidates, and Nerys is just slow in catching on. Hardly unusual. "Me? I'm just getting away frm the Infirmary. Got nough being a an aide for the day."

There's still the box nearby that Aignes was sent in here with and it's not going to take too long before she goes 'close enough' and tosses that only marginally coiled cable into the box and moves onto the next one. "They were color coded. Instructions didn't even have words. I can read a pattern, but this…" She waves a hand at the schematic and the monitor she was supposed to be plugging in. "Jibberish." Give her crochet patterns or embroidery designs any day. And yes, Aignes definitely has her white knot on her shoulder, there for the world to see. "At least it's better than dragon washing in the dead of winter." Cause yesterday was fun. "Or I think Finn is still cleaning off those steps."

A snort, and Kez is shoving his handwritten notes back into the folder form which they came. "I do say so," he insists. Which is not really a worthy argument. And he knows it. "It isn't torture," insists the healer who is, yes, also a candidate. His knot, however, has been conveniently "forgotten" somewhere along the way. Oops? Totally accidentally on purpose. "It's our job to help the Weyr," even if he's technically helping the Hall right now. "But this," and he flashes a pointed glance to Aignes' tangled mess of cord and color-coded diagrams, "is absurd. Just hand it back and tell them to send someone else," he urges. But as if reminded of the task at hand, he twists in his chair and stares at the screen once again. "True," for dragonwashing, and for Finn and his stairs. "Whatever he did, I'm sure he deserved it." Maybe. At the mention of the infirmary, of Nerysrau being an aid there, Kezresan's gaze returns right quick. "You are not a regular?" He's fairly certain of that. "I don't remember seeing you /in/ the infirmary," he notes. "I'll trade. You type, I'll…" aide? Sure.

Nerysrau beams, positively gleeful, at the pair of candidates. He really is slightly off his rocker, folks. Don't mind him, he's had a long day of avoiding actual work, it's starting to addle his wits. "Jibberish, indeed." He'll agree with a swift stolen look at the diagrams Aignes is holding. But wait, Kez is offering him work, and he begins to crabstep carefully away. "Um. Maybe next time. I gotta go…" wherever work isn't. "… get my…" Nap on. "… um." All that hemming and hawing later, he's at the door. "Well, be seein' ya. Good luck out there." POOF; GONE.

"That was odd," Aignes will waste no time commenting on the aide's behavior as soon as he exits the lab door. And also, she doesn't exactly need much more encouragement to pack it all in. It's past lunch time. Chore time is over! "Maybe this box was a test." Whether she actually passed or failed the hypothetical test, she has no idea. But the cables do all fit in the box along with the diagram she was handed, so good enough. "Don't stare at the screen too long. You'll get a headache or something. I'm going to go hand these back." And probably find food before her stomach starts rumbling loud enough to be heard in Ista.

And there goes Kezresan's long-shot chance at getting out of typing things. A heavy sigh, resigned and disappointed, comes as the healer-turned-candidate turns back to his work. "Maybe," he agrees, for that box of hers. A squint at the screen comes… just as she's telling him to stop, and Kez can't help but smirk a bit at the advice. "True," he agrees, rubbing at his temple as if a headache might actually be coming. "A few more lines, and I'll stop," he decides, eyeing the file dubiously before flashing Aignes a faint smile and a pleasant, "Alright. See you later, Aignes." And then right back to the chicken-peck method of data entry.

Add a New Comment