Bend Down Thy Gracious Ear

Posted on Tue 25th Feb, 2020 @ 4:28pm by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran & Elizabeth Anderson M.D.
Edited on on Tue 25th Feb, 2020 @ 10:08pm

1,737 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Brown Sector
Timeline: MD -3

"Weren't you going to show me your office?"

You pathetic wretch, Damion thought, amused at himself. Is that really the best line you've got? Still, he did want to see Elizabeth's Brown Sector office, have a look at entrances and exits, see its surroundings, and so forth. It seemed a shame to come all this way down-station and not stop by it.

"If you're really interested," she said. "I have bare furniture in there now, though nothing decorative. I thought a plant or two for now ... maybe something I find in the market. I don't want to make the mistake of having things appear ... too nice? Does that make sense? I don't want them to feel out of place or ..." she searched for a word in her database, "outclassed."

"That makes perfect sense to me," Damion said. "I agree; anything you decorate with down here, you should buy down here. Helps the local economy. And you never know. If I were one of your clients and saw something my mother or a friend had made hanging on your wall, I'd certainly think well of you. Any small thing to warm people toward you would likely be a good idea."

"Thank you, I hadn't thought of it from that point of view. This is why I needed you to see all this, I think. You have that spontaneous understanding of biological life that I'm still working to acquire." She smiled up at him. "It's down this way. That's the way back to the market, and I'm really just ... a stone's throw away?" She quirked her eyebrow at him in question. Sometimes she wasn't sure she was using a Terranglo idiom correctly.

"That's the phrase," Damion said. "Some people say 'a hop, skip, and a jump,' but that's a mouthful. It's good that you're this close to the market. People can find your office coming or going."

Elizabeth nodded, leading him toward the door. "That thought did cross my mind, but really, I rented it because of this little tree." She pointed to the clay wall about three feet high, behind which some kind of desert tree was growing. "It doesn't exactly match anything in my database, but it is most like a mesquite tree from Earth. I imagine it's simply from a similar climate."

Leading him over closer, she added, "See the leaves? They are small and slender, and there are quite a few of them. I saw in the database that leaves like that are common in dry climates, because it keeps the moisture from evaporating from the tree. Isn't that a wonderful design? To go way back to our beginnings, that's another reason I believe in a creator and a design." She was quiet, pensive, for a moment.

"Life wants to survive, wherever we find it. I imagine this tree is from Bajor, but it could be some other dry planet ... even Vulcan, I suppose. It's built to survive in that kind of drier climate, and here it is, transplanted to a place it never would have been ... except someone saw it as a piece of home and stuck it in the ground. Someone occasionally throws water on it, too." She leaned against the wall and looked at the few weeds growing at the base of the tree. "I wanted to be close to something living that is surviving here on very little. It will remind me of the people I want to serve."

"I remember that conversation," Damion said after a moment. He reached out a hand and brushed his fingertips lightly against the tree's slender leaves. "What you just said makes me regard you even more than I already do."

Elizabeth glanced up at him and smiled, but made no comment on his regard for her. It was an area she didn't really want to explore, until she knew just what she herself was able give him, ... and until she could figure out exactly what he meant by 'regard'.

"We do seem to wind up in a lot of gardens, and discuss deep subjects, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," Damion said with a smile. "Deep subjects make some of the best conversations."

She straightened up, giving the tree a last glance, then patted the wall once, and added, "So, my office. Step right this way, gentle being, and see where I hope to bring ... hope." The counselor led him across the small courtyard to a door opposite the tree, and pressed her thumb against a panel there. The door swung open on hinges instead of snicking back as was normal in higher decks, and she frowned slightly. "Do you suppose that's as secure as our bulkhead doors?"

"Not a bit," Damion replied, shaking his head. "I could remove this door from its hinges in under two minutes with a nailset and a putty knife. So do keep it locked when you aren't in here."

"Good advice. She led him into the first room. "There's really not much to see. It doesn't look like my office upstairs much, does it?" She looked around, noting the shabby gray desk and a few green chairs she'd found in the market nearby. "Logic tells me that this will be more comfortable for people here, but ... pride, I suppose? Could I have developed that human trait?" she asked, without expecting an answer. "Hmmm, well, anyway, something wants me to make everything soft and cozy, as I hope my office always is. I haven't hired a receptionist yet. I'm thinking someone suitable will show up and either ask for the job, or want to trade work for help or ... or whatever."

Looking through critical eyes, it did seem a bit run-down and unsuccessful for a doctor of any kind. Biting her lip, she looked at him and asked, "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure," Damion said. "When I was living like these people are, I wouldn't have been caught dead going to see a counselor. And really, we didn't have anyone qualified for that, anyway. So I can't speak much for what your office should look like. I do think anything that looks like your office upstairs, or Dr. Graves' office, wouldn't be suitable down here. Simple as they are, they would seem unimaginably fancy to people here, in a lot of ways. The carpeting alone, the way the lighting looks." Damion turned in place and thought.

"Having no rugs is good; too much of a tripping hazard. I like the plants you've got. I could maybe crochet you something with plant-fiber yarn bought from the market." Damion paused to think. "You'll need modifiable lighting if you don't have it. This wavelength reminds me a lot of home--it's industrial white light and harsh. Lighting you can change for each patient might be the most cost-effective way to make this room more comfortable."

Elizabeth's eyes leaped at the idea of having something he'd made decorating her office here. "Something to hang on the wall?" she asked. "Or maybe something a client," she emphasized gently, "can wrap around them if they feel the need for comfort ... or hiding?"

"Perhaps an afghan or blanket to drape over the sofa and also a wall hanging?" Damion suggested. "A blanket with fringe. And sofa pillows. Shorter people will want them so they can sit with their feet on the floor."

"That's a good idea, thanks! The clients will use this as a waiting room. I think I'll have some books and toys in the corner, but I have to find some that are obviously used, without being trashed. Maybe a little table there and some baskets from the market?" the counselor said. "I like the idea of a softer light in here, though still bright, and a changeable light in the consulting room. Come see if you think what I have will work." They walked through the door, also not the modern sliding pocket door the base offices always had, and looked around.

"I can turn off the overhead lighting, but I'd still like something softer up there. I suppose I could access something that would tell me how to change it, but would you believe I've never done that?" Anderson looked at him, a smile lighting her face. "Just call me helpless. But look," she led him over to a lighting fixture between the two comfortable, but well worn, chairs she'd installed in the corner. "This is all stuff I bought in the market, and let me tell you, I'm getting good and bargaining! Or maybe they just want me to think I am," she laughed.

"But this is what I want you to see. Watch." There were three shaded lights on a pole that stood on some kind of square wooden base. As she touched each shade, light came on in that shade only.

"I know it's probably common to you, but remember," she reminded him, "my experiences didn't include a home with furnishings that weren't provided in an institutional setting, until recently. I also know it isn't magic, but doesn't it feel like it?" She pulled her hand back and admired the yellowish light coming from the three parts of the lamp.

"It does. I like touch-activated lamps," Damion said. "We used to have a cat, Mr. Whiskers, who figured out how to work the one we had in our bathroom. He would bat at it and have a grand old time making the light go on, get brighter or dimmer, and then go off. His favorite time to do this, of course, was when we were using the bathroom. Annoyed my Dad no end, especially if he was shaving. He'd always complain it was wasting power, but Ma insisted we keep our cat." Damion chuckled. "I think Dad didn't actually mind Whiskers playing with the light. He could have easily tossed him out of the room or exchanged the touch-activated light for a static one. I think he just liked to tease Ma by complaining."

Elizabeth smiled to think of the domestic situation Damion described. She tried to picture Damion and her in a future scene of such comfortable hominess ... but she had no experience to use as a foundation. "I want to know more about your parents," she told him. "Let's wander over to the market and see what we can find to eat. Hopefully, something we recognize."

 

RSS Feed