sixthiterationlogs | change always comes bearing gifts [open]

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change always comes bearing gifts [open]

WHO: Helen Magnus
WHERE: The Inn
WHEN: 24 September
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: N/A
STATUS: Open

Over the past two weeks, Helen had received two boxes. One was large, about twelve inches by twelve inches and the other, the one she'd awoken to this morning, was about half that size. She had opened neither of them. They were suspiciously unmarked and since no one had anything of new or fine quality in this place, she suspected that they'd come from their captors.

Should she trust such a thing? Helen wasn't the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth, normally, but this was quite a bit different than something she'd received from a dignitary or a friend of a friend. This was something that could prove useful, possibly, or sinister. It was absolutely unknown and while she'd never been afraid to take a plunge, she was a bit afraid of what this might mean.

Others had received gifts. She'd seen several small animals over the past few weeks, puppies and kittens, and there couldn't be anything sinister about either of those, could there? And yet, Helen's two boxes were suspiciously silent. Neither seemed to have a live animal inside them and, as such, she'd left them unopened.

She took them to the Inn, deciding that if she was going to open them that she'd at least be in a place where others might be around so she could possibly get help if things went awry. She wasn't in the interest of having her face blown off, after all, and especially not doing so all alone where no one would hear her scream. No, she'd take both boxes to the Inn and open them there and hope for the best.

She delicately touched the edge of the smaller box, lifting it just slightly, then stopped. "Oh, bloody hell, Helen. It's just a box. Whatever harm came from opening a box?"

Her mind swirled with quite a few adages from Alice in Wonderland in response to that and she cursed beneath her breath. In this, her mind was her own damned prison. She finally just yanked off the lid of the first box and saw a dozen vials. She picked one up, examining it, and just around the edges she could smell a hint of orange. "Essential oils. Hmm. Perhaps there's hope for the other box yet."

Emboldened by her success with the first box, she pulled the lid off the second and revealed a set of needles and more vials. They'd been labeled penicillin and she laughed in relief. "Dear God. Something of use. There's hope for this place yet."

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He sees the needles, but his eyes are drawn more to the other vials and the smell coming from them. "Orange," is what he says, his senses highly tuned to the slightest rustle and the smells coming from something. He narrows his eyes when he sees what it must be coming from, raising his brow. The needles help him piece this together and when Cougar settles down opposite her, he's smiling because he knows he can trade.

"You are a doctor?" he guesses, given her reaction to the needles.

"I am, yes. Dr. Helen Magnus," she said, extending a hand across so that he can shake it. She knew his face from having been in the village for a while but to her recollection, they'd never spoken.

"Medicine is certainly something I'm excited to have. We have so little in the way of supplies. I worry that all I can really do is patch the worst of it and hope for the best."

"Cougar Alvarez," he introduces himself in turn with a sharp nod of his head, eyeing the box at her fingertips as he settles in and studies what she's received. "Do you have specialties?" It's good to know that there is an actual medical professional, though, because while he can do field medicine just fine, he would be lost with more serious injuries.

And after the earthquake, he has the feeling there may be some of those to come.

"I was a surgeon back home," Helen confirmed.

"Though I did most of my work with...unusual patients. Those with incredible abnormalities, that sort of thing. My field of medicine is likely not going to be of much use here but I have quite a bit of theoretical knowledge that I hope will prove more useful when my practical experience is hampered by the lack of supplies."

"I'm only a field medic," Cougar says, so already he's grateful to hear that she's likely more equipped and talented than he'll ever be when it comes to a scalpel. He narrows his eyes, though, wondering what sort of abnormalities she could be talking about, because how strange can medicine get?

"This place," he says, gesturing around him, "it is strange too, no? Your skills, can they not be used here, too?"

"It is definitely what I would consider strange," Helen agreed. "So I do hope my skills are of use. I've been working on a few different things since I've come here - some herbal medicines, for one, and soap for another. These things will hopefully be useful in both."

Helen could already think of several uses for the essential oils for both cosmetic and practical purposes.

Cougar tips his head to the side and gestures to the oils, then to her. "Would you trade?" he asks, because he thinks he could find some purpose with some of the oils, if only to work on sore muscles within the household, and besides that, he does have something that she might want. "I have a vial of chloroform," he offers. "Or a stitching needle." Because he thinks he can spare one of the three.

"I would absolutely trade for access to one of those things," Helen said, her face brightening at the very prospect. She wanted a needle more than anything, if only because she felt like it was something she might be able to get true use out of.

"A needle, perhaps? For one of the oils?"

He's got two of them on his person, carrying them around in case of emergency. He digs into the little satchel that he's made for himself (with the help of the needle) and holds it up like it's golden, giving her a proud smile, like this is a victory that he's somehow earned instead of having been given it. "It is good, know from experience," he says, bearing his neck to her so that she can see the mark of the scar that's started to heal.

"The oil would be appreciated," he promises. "Very much so."

"Absolutely, I understand. I've been working on making some from some of the plants around here," Helen said, offering the vial of oil to him in exchange for the needle.

"Once I get some workable options, I'll be sure to share them with the rest of the community. It's difficult, working from nothing to try and make something workable."

He presses a hand over his heart to offer silent thanks as he takes the oil, knowing that now he has two needles. One will never leave his side because he knows he must keep it in order to be useful, but the other could still see use in trading. "Anything for sore muscles?" he asks curiously. What he's taken will work when applied with massage to a degree, but he also likes the idea of setting a rub on and leaving it.

"Or something for disinfectant," he adds, because the conditions around them are far from good.

"There's mint that I've found growing wild," Helen said, trying to decide what she could do for a muscle rub. "And I believe someone is growing peppers. Between the two of them, we could make a workable liniment to ease sore muscles."

She would have to work on it, honestly, but now that she had a project to work at she could dedicate some time and energy toward getting a good result.

He gives a thoughtful sound, because he knows that sore muscles are going to become an issue, especially as winter nears and physical labour goes up as a result. "I will trade what I can. I have small pelts, but also food," he says, from the hunting that he does. "Jensen, he chops wood. Think he may throw out his shoulder, if not careful."

And then, all that will heal him is care and time.

Helen laughed a little and shook her head. She knew all too well about people who worked too hard, considering her own struggles with getting Kate to rest herself.

"We have a whole community of people who work too hard and don't consider the consequences," she said. "I'll be keeping an eye out for things to help with muscles, all right?"

Cougar nods with appreciation, seeing as Jake's going to throw out his muscles if he doesn't get careful, so Cougar can at least work to ensure that he's helping. "Yes, that will be good. Thank you." He gestures to himself. "Cougar," he introduces himself. "Cougar Alvarez."

"Helen Magnus," she offered in kind. "It's a pleasure." Helen paused for a moment and then made a wild guess just based on how he spoke and his surname. If she was wrong, so be it, but if she was right, possibly it was a language he'd be more comfortable in.

"Hablo espanol," she said, giving him a little bit of a smile. "Y tu?"

Cougar's smile is honest, now, breaking into sheer relief as he gives her a look that says that the strain of using a second language has been weighing at him. Other than Raven, he has always needed to think twice, then speak once. "It's my first language. Most of my team thinks that I am just quiet. Maybe this is true. More, it is because it takes a very long time thinking to speak English and Jensen has already opened his mouth by then."

He gives her a cautious look, checking that his speed isn't too frantic.

"You aren't the only one who doesn't speak English as their first language. Luckily Thorfinn also speaks one I speak," Helen replied back, grinning at him. Spanish was one she was a sight more familiar with on a regular basis than Danish, though, so at least this one came easier.

"I have to wonder if this place isn't selecting people on purpose. What's the likelihood that I would come here, speaking both Spanish, your first language, and Danish, which is Thorfinn's?"

Cougar should learn better English, but they were always so frequently stationed in countries where his other languages helped. Where it wasn't Spanish, it was Pashto more than it'd been English, so Cougar had never tried too much. "It is strange," he admits. "But maybe there is a point."

"Could you help to teach me better English?" he wonders.

If he is going to make an effort (a real one) with Jake, he thinks maybe he should prove it by learning more English.

"Absolutely," Helen said, the word tumbling out without so much as a thought. The idea of being somewhere without language, the most basic of communication, was something abhorrent to her. Just as she'd promised to help Thorfinn, she'd help Cougar to the best of her ability.

"Any time you'd like, I'm happy to help. Free of charge. It's my gift."

He nods his head, glad for it. He can offer things, but if she's willing to give it to him free, then he won't argue. "Gracias," he says with a nod of his head. Before, he'd been too stubborn and hadn't seen the point. Even now, he knows that whatever he and Jake has is new, but in a place where he can't give Jake candy and technology, he has to work on something else.

"I think, maybe, people will appreciate. And, easier for me to talk," he points out.

"If it's my job to help translate, I'm happy to do it," Helen said. She cannot imagine it's any less important than trying to be doctor and surgeon to these people, after all, and if she can help Thorfinn and Cougar feel more at ease, she absolutely will.

"If you need me, you find me, all right? I can translate whenever you like. It doesn't matter what time of day or night it is. I don't mind it. I barely sleep as it is."

"Better that I learn," he insists, because he had learned Pashto within a matter of a year, why not English? "I'm a quick learner," he promises, especially now that he's going to be trying harder in this venue. "But yes, I will find you. It will be a good way to pass time," he adds, seeing as the monotony of a routine can never hurt to be broken up.

During mealtimes, the inn becomes full of sound and activity, but most of the day, most of us are out at our daily grind. It's a cool and quiet place to stop in for a break, and I've just finished washing the dirt from my hands back in the kitchen when a voice floats in from the front room.

Stepping through, towel still in hand, I spy Helen, relief clear across her face as she peers down into not one but two divinely-gifted boxes.

"I only got one box when I got mine, I'm kind of thinking I should be jealous," I say as I step over.

Helen laughed a little and shook her head. "No, they came at two separate times," she explained. She tapped at the larger box, the one the penicillin had come from.

"This one came about a week or so ago. The other one came this morning. I just didn't know if I should trust it, or not, so I hadn't opened them until now. I am wary of this place."

"That's probably wise," I agree with a low chuckle. "Even so, I congratulate you on your restraint. I opened mine right away in true masochistic form. I haven't heard of anybody getting anything dangerous yet, though. Just vaguely creepy." That is, beyond the fact that getting a mystery box out of nowhere from an invisible benefactor is already really fucking creepy.

I look into the boxes, and my eyebrows shoot up at the sight of the penicillin.

"When you said useful, I was thinking maybe a pair of nice gloves or a spade. That's amazing."

There's a school of thought that suggests I ought to be angry or worried about this, and maybe at point I will. But yeah, I admit it. I have gone native and I'm just happy to see that whoever runs the place legitimately isn't waiting for us to all die.

"I was relieved. At least this is something I can use to do more than stop bleeding or wrap an ankle," Helen said, tapping lightly against the edge of the box for emphasis. As a doctor, she felt duty-bound to try and help those with her even if her tools were limited. It was endless frustration to know that she could do little more than a mother with a first-aid kit when it truly came to healing someone.

"I had thought about trying to grow it myself," Helen admitted. "Though without a microscope, there would be no way of knowing if I actually cultured penicillin or something dangerous."

"Yeah, I don't know that it would be worth the risk." Of course, we have no way of knowing whether what's in that box is actually penicillin without a microscope, either, but I'm not sure how much value there would be in promoting paranoia. Besides, with how Helen had reacted to the boxes in general, I'm think she's already thought that far ahead.

"Of course, the ideal situation would be to never have a need," I add with a considering tilt of my head. We might not have modern medical technology here, but we've got modern medical knowledge, and prevention is the best cure, as they say. "It's probably worth considering going over some basic health practices with everyone before the weather turns."

"I had thought about the same, honestly. Hand washing can do a great deal of good," Helen said, giving him a quick smile. "And especially to those who are preparing food. I don't know that everyone is modern like we are, they might not know about germ theory yet."

Helen had never minded taking on a teaching role, though, and if she had to instruct their little society on basic cleanliness and antibacterial protocols, it wouldn't be a hardship.

"I've been meaning to ask you to teach me your recipe for the milder soap. I have a feeling we're going to be going through a lot of it."

Not that I don't have enough on plate, but the way I figure it, we need to be sharing knowledge with each other as quickly as we can. There's no way of knowing who might be gone tomorrow, taking everything valuable they know with them.

"At least with the hopper up and going, we know we'll have a consistent source of lye. Those first weeks were not pleasant without soap," I add with a laugh.

"Right, I just took a lye discount," Helen explained. "I calculated the bare minimum I would need to be able to get it to saponify and so the fat ratio is higher than the lye ratio. After it set, I rinsed it and then I cured it for three weeks. It's a little harsher than what I would make at home, of course, but I haven't made my own soap in decades."

She laughed a bit too, thinking of those first weeks without soap. "Now that I've got it going, I can constantly be making it and curing it so we won't run out of soap."

"Next time you make a batch, you think I could help?" The chemistry I have no problem with. The theory I already understood. But I know from experience that the execution of these things isn't always so clear cut, especially when you're dealing with unpredictable variables.

"Hell, maybe that could be a class," I suggest with an affable shrug. "Some of us shadowing you during the process. The more people who know how to do it the better, right?"

"I'm happy to show you. It's unfortunately something that's touch and go. There's chemistry, yes, but it's a little more like cooking when you actually get down to it," Helen said, laughing softly.

"It's probably wise to do a class, though. From what I've heard, there's already been two disappearances. Who's to say there won't be more? Someone needs to know how to do the basics if we disappear."

"There have been," I confirm, my lips thinning with the recollection. You can keep your head down and work the problem a step at a time, but some things are more difficult to ignore. It's one thing to objectively know disappearances have happened, but another to recall the people who went.

"I've been doing my best to pass on what I can about tending to the fields. Fortunately, Kate has experience in that area, so it's not entirely resting on me. I have a feeling that unless somebody decides to get generous, we're going to be struggling to feed everyone as long as we're here. That's just the nature of the situation as it stands."

"I know a bit about growing things but I'm afraid it's only so far as my own rose garden goes," Helen admitted. "So I wouldn't mind learning from you, either, so that we can cross-train. I think that'd be beneficial for everyone."

She tapped her mouth a bit, thinking. "It might not be a bad idea to do a skills inventory. Then we know who is capable of what and where we're lacking."

"You're doing better than most people, roses can be tricky," I say with a lop-sided smile. "But you're right, of course. The more people who share expertise, the better. And keeping an inventory definitely couldn't hurt. We're lacking in record keeping in general, but then, I've been married to the scientific method for so long, to not keep notes of everything seems weird."

The problem, of course, is the lack of paper. What a punch in the nuts that is.

"There are slates in the schoolhouse. It's possible there's some limestone around here we might use for chalk." Not exactly ideal, but better than nothing.

"Makes me feel like a little girl again, using chalk and slates," Helen said, laughing lightly. "And yes, I'm a scientist as well. I'm used to logging things and cataloging results, being able to compare things. It's driving me mad not to be able to do it here. Simple things like the soap I can manage, yes, but if I'm looking to make medicine, I need to be absolutely accurate."

It was a true concern, especially considering she'd have to eyeball anyone's height and weight should it come to actually administering medication. An overdose would be deadly and possibly unavoidable, given the inability for her to truly calculate things.

"It's been a while since I've practiced medicine in less than modern conditions."

"Were you thinking about setting up a laboratory?" I ask. "Might not be a bad idea if you've got an extra room. It wouldn't exactly be a clean room environment, but you could control more of the environment, at least. Set up the standard protocols, maybe even pick up an eager assistant or two," I add with a smile. It still surprises me a little how much the people around here volunteer for.

"I can bring you by medicinal herbs when I come across them, too. I was eventually hoping to start cultivating more, but the field has been taking up most of my time."

"I have a house with four bedrooms," Helen said, thinking about what it would take to set up a makeshift laboratory. She'd done it before. She should be able to do it again, if she had to, and it seemed that she would have to in this place for a longer period of time than she originally thought.

"I could dedicate one to making medicine, to keeping it as clean and pure as possible. If it's just one room, it won't be as hard to keep it from being cross-contaminated."

"And let's be honest here, anything is better than what we've currently got," I point out with a resigned little smile. "Sometimes I wonder if the point of us being here isn't just to see how resourceful we can be. Like we're being held by some sort of sadistic hippie wanting to reject the notion of technological privilege." I laugh, shaking my head. "And then I realize I am thinking about this stuff way too much."

"I, for one, am happy to forsake technological privilege if I'm simply allowed to return to a place where I have a choice to do so," Helen said, laughing at the prospect of being some sort of scientific hipster. She had run into a few of that sort of thing in her day, for lack of a better term, and she would give anything to have the luxury of declaring herself the same while having access to all the tech in the world.

"I'd give anything for a centrifuge and a semi-clean room at the moment. That's all I want."

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change always comes bearing gifts [open]

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