Settling In
Aug 27, 2012 1:23:30 GMT -5
Post by Dr. Nik Kenjutsushi on Aug 27, 2012 1:23:30 GMT -5
Schools felt so different than hospitals.
Hospitals were cleaner and well-lit, with the smell of disinfectant and metal in the air as clear as a nurse's perfume. Everyone had a purpose when they moved, whether they were racing for a crash cart or slowly wheeling a body to the morgue or taking a leisurely stroll with a patient to run a couple tests. No energy was wasted and every action had a predictable reaction. Phones rang in the same tones across the wards; non-medical personnel were regulated to designated areas to sit, stand or pace; every person had a job to do and by God they were good at it or else someone would die. Everything in a hospital was black and white with no room for gray areas. It was a sterile existence, and death always seemed to loom over one's shoulder regardless of the capacity for life.
A school, on the other hand, was overflowing with life. Despite the inherent dirt of hundreds of teenage bodies and the dimly lit corridors, this place seemed to glow with a warmth and intensity that forced that expectation of life upon those treading its halls. Students and teachers alike walked with leisure or ran with desperation, but not everyone was motivated to a specific place. People crashed into each other, stepped on toes, apologized and moved on; each conflict seemed to resolve itself in a nonsensical yet breathtakingly simple solution. No two situations were the same, just as no two students were the same. Cellphones rang discordantly with music and quips and jingles, each one answered with a different personality than the last; staff and students and security mingled as if at a party rather than work; and while everyone had a job to do, rarely did people come to harm if it was not done properly. There was always more time here - time to make mistakes, learn, and correct them. Everything was gray and chaos, but it lived and breathed like a sentient being.
Indeed, being in a school was certainly different than being in a hospital. Nakia knew this, and loved her choice even more for it. This is where she belonged now; not in a sterile clinic where everyone always had problems that they demanded she fix. No... she belonged here, where her instincts as a mother and knowledge as a doctor could mesh into someone more that she had been. She could be as her children saw her here... and there was nothing more in the world that she wanted.
Breathing in the late summer air, the pale woman adjusted her broad-rimmed hat to shade her face from the bright sunshine and walked forward, well-worn white flats scuffing slightly on the sidewalk. She took her time walking across the campus, enjoying the freshness of summer life around her as her doctor's coat whipped around her legs in the warm breeze. A briefcase rested in her hand, carrying all the medical documents and wavers she'd used as a practitioner back in Japan (in multiple languages), as well as the official files of her and her family. It would not do for one of them to become injured or ill and have to call Eisai for the documents.
The infirmary was easier to find than she thought it would be; it made sense, she supposed, as children needed to arrive quickly while in distress. The door was simple and solid wood - no glass (even warped) to deny those inside privacy. She brushed her long pale fingers against the brass lettering and smiled, removing the hand to tuck her hair behind her ear before turning the handle.
Almost immediately upon entering the room, her expression became neutral and clinical. Now her duty was as a doctor, not a mother or as a woman. She surveyed the small area, noting the various labelled cabinets and the six small beds sparsely made, then the young man sitting at the desk across the room. She paused for a moment, then walked into the room, leaving the door ajar behind her.
"Hello," she greeted softly, her voice even and heavily accented. "Who might you be?"
Hospitals were cleaner and well-lit, with the smell of disinfectant and metal in the air as clear as a nurse's perfume. Everyone had a purpose when they moved, whether they were racing for a crash cart or slowly wheeling a body to the morgue or taking a leisurely stroll with a patient to run a couple tests. No energy was wasted and every action had a predictable reaction. Phones rang in the same tones across the wards; non-medical personnel were regulated to designated areas to sit, stand or pace; every person had a job to do and by God they were good at it or else someone would die. Everything in a hospital was black and white with no room for gray areas. It was a sterile existence, and death always seemed to loom over one's shoulder regardless of the capacity for life.
A school, on the other hand, was overflowing with life. Despite the inherent dirt of hundreds of teenage bodies and the dimly lit corridors, this place seemed to glow with a warmth and intensity that forced that expectation of life upon those treading its halls. Students and teachers alike walked with leisure or ran with desperation, but not everyone was motivated to a specific place. People crashed into each other, stepped on toes, apologized and moved on; each conflict seemed to resolve itself in a nonsensical yet breathtakingly simple solution. No two situations were the same, just as no two students were the same. Cellphones rang discordantly with music and quips and jingles, each one answered with a different personality than the last; staff and students and security mingled as if at a party rather than work; and while everyone had a job to do, rarely did people come to harm if it was not done properly. There was always more time here - time to make mistakes, learn, and correct them. Everything was gray and chaos, but it lived and breathed like a sentient being.
Indeed, being in a school was certainly different than being in a hospital. Nakia knew this, and loved her choice even more for it. This is where she belonged now; not in a sterile clinic where everyone always had problems that they demanded she fix. No... she belonged here, where her instincts as a mother and knowledge as a doctor could mesh into someone more that she had been. She could be as her children saw her here... and there was nothing more in the world that she wanted.
Breathing in the late summer air, the pale woman adjusted her broad-rimmed hat to shade her face from the bright sunshine and walked forward, well-worn white flats scuffing slightly on the sidewalk. She took her time walking across the campus, enjoying the freshness of summer life around her as her doctor's coat whipped around her legs in the warm breeze. A briefcase rested in her hand, carrying all the medical documents and wavers she'd used as a practitioner back in Japan (in multiple languages), as well as the official files of her and her family. It would not do for one of them to become injured or ill and have to call Eisai for the documents.
The infirmary was easier to find than she thought it would be; it made sense, she supposed, as children needed to arrive quickly while in distress. The door was simple and solid wood - no glass (even warped) to deny those inside privacy. She brushed her long pale fingers against the brass lettering and smiled, removing the hand to tuck her hair behind her ear before turning the handle.
Almost immediately upon entering the room, her expression became neutral and clinical. Now her duty was as a doctor, not a mother or as a woman. She surveyed the small area, noting the various labelled cabinets and the six small beds sparsely made, then the young man sitting at the desk across the room. She paused for a moment, then walked into the room, leaving the door ajar behind her.
"Hello," she greeted softly, her voice even and heavily accented. "Who might you be?"
