PrinceAlexus
ButtsnBallsKRISS MAUSER
LOCATION: SCVRS
TIME: SATURDAY MORNING
"'48. Its atomic number is 79.'"
Kriss glanced around the lounge area, checking to see if anyone had left a smartphone or laptop that he could consult. His own phone, an old flip-top model, was lucky to even have Solitaire. He had owned a smartphone before, a few years ago. But that was before training. Kriss had seen the numbers. The death toll. People couldn't stop using them, even in a vehicle going twenty miles over the speed limit. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the slideshows, but he had seen the casualties first-hand. He didn't want to blame smartphone manufacturers. They weren't forcing people to text and drive. But they were making it easier. Fingerprint-unlocking. Voice detection. Talk to text. Everything was becoming more and more convenient. The numbers between drunk driving and "distracted" driving were getting terrifyingly close to each other. Last year, more people were involved in collisions from their phone than from alcohol.
Idiots.
Fortunately for everyone, the little incident last night was neither of those. Readings indicated her blood pressure had dropped dramatically, causing dizziness and fainting. She was stable by the time they reached the hospital and Kriss doubted she would be admitted for long. They had returned to the squad building without further incident, minus a brief stop to grab a cheeseburger for dinner. He had considered ordering a pizza (the local pizzeria was on his phone's speed dial) but it was late, so he settled for a combo meal. It was gone within a half hour of parking the ambulance, and after a brief shower and "good night" to Kelly, who decided to return home, he crashed out in his bunk.
He slept through the sunrise, so his morning jog was a bit warmer than usual, but otherwise it looked to be another classic Saturday. Sit around and wait for a call. Maybe finish the crossword puzzle before the new one was delivered. Unlikely. It was still missing most of the answers. They weren't kidding around with their 3-star ratings. Snap didn't have the energy to work up any more answers the night before and she wouldn't be in until noon. Kriss glanced up at the clock. 11:53. She would be here at any time. He considered the prospect of having an actual breakfast before lunchtime, but the cereal bar was still working just fine. Maybe he would hit the town for lunch.
*slam!*
The sound of metal banging against metal indicated the arrival of Snap. Kriss ignored the noise, then raised an eyebrow and glanced toward the door. He didn't recognize the footsteps. It sounded like a pair of boots rather than Snap's squeaky sneakers. He heard a soft cough, like someone clearing their throat, and he remembered that there was no one at the front desk. Tossing the newspaper and pen onto the table, he buttoned his collared shirt and ran a hand through his hair. Look good, feel good. Whoever it was, he was representing the SCVRS and needed to be professional. He stepped out into the corridor and into the front office, if you could call it that. It was the size of a jail cell, with a wide front window (minus the window) and a wooden desk covered in paper that really, really needed to be rearranged.
He was greeted by a young woman. Late teens if Kriss could hazard a guess. She had brilliant red hair resting over her shoulders and behind her back and dull brown eyes. She looked eager, but nervous, and her hand hovered over the front pocket of her jeans where her phone was. To Kriss, though, all of this was eclipsed by her shirt. Specifically, it was an SCVRS polo, identical to his own. She was a volunteer, but he had never seen her before. He turned and checked the staff list for new names, but there were no fresh entries on the large whiteboard mounted to the back wall, nor was anyone scheduled to come in at noon besides Snap. She wasn't wearing a name tag, much less a badge, so she couldn't have completed training, and Snap hadn't mentioned any new volunteers. But here she was, wearing an SCVRS shirt and looking uncomfortable. Kriss blinked a few times, unsure of how to proceed. Crew worker? Visitor? Hello?
"Hello!"
The girl grinned and waved briefly in his direction, quickly returning her hand to her pocket. She was clearly struggling to resist getting on her phone. At least she wasn't rude. Unlike Kriss, who only now realized he hadn't addressed her yet.
"Hello," he said flatly, grabbing a pen from the desk and lifting the check-in sheet. "Your name?"
"Allison Hawthorne," she replied crisply, standing on her toes. Combined with the leather work boots she was wearing, she was almost as tall as Kriss. He turned to examine the whiteboard.
"Your name is not on the board. Are you a visitor?"
"Nope! I'm an EMT. I work here."
"No you don't," Kriss shot back a bit sharper than he intended. "Your name is not on the board."
The young lady scowled comically, then shrugged. "Well I don't know what to tell you. Does it say 'Ally?' That's my nickname."
"No, it does not," Kriss replied, starting to become impatient.
"Then write it in," a voice called out, accompanied by the loud slam of the metal front door. Snap appeared in the window a few seconds later.
"This is Allison Hawthorne. She just moved into Sol City. Said she was an EMT-1, so we ran a background check and she's passed all the preliminary courses. I know it's not standard protocol, but I'm authorizing her to volunteer for a week to see how she does."
Kriss complied, writing the name in his angled blocky handwriting at the bottom of the list with a dry erase marker.
"You ready for this weekend?" Snap asked, reaching into her pocket and frowning to find it empty.
"Yes," he replied, grabbing a can of honey-roasted peanuts from a desk drawer labeled [THE DRAGON] and tossing it to Snap, who cheered up instantly. The drawer contained nothing but snack food, and no one was allowed in it except Snap, for obvious reasons.
"Good. Allison will be on deck with you. Head on back," she said, motioning for Ally to head past the desk. Kriss listened to her boots tap along the corridor and sighed silently to himself.
"Hey," Snap muttered, tapping a finger on the desk to draw Kriss's attention. "Go easy on her. I'm making her work a 12 today. I know you don't like chipper people, even if you won't admit it, but she's new and I might not be there to help her on a call. I've already talked to the other squad chief and he says she's very professional on call. She's part of the team for the next seven days. Help her out, or I'll pull rank on you."
Kriss nodded, unable to stop the hair on his neck from rising. The only thing worse than Snap being hungry was Snap pulling rank. He had never made her mad enough to do it and he wasn't about to start now. He wrote Ally's IN and OUT hours on the board, then returned the marker to the desk and headed to the lounge area. He found himself face to face with the young woman, who was seating in one of the few chairs, typing away on her phone. He ignored the loud tapping sound and returned to his crossword. The clue from earlier was still unanswered. He picked up the pen and clicked it in and out, irritated. How many four-letter elements were there? Iron, lead,...neon...no, none of them fit. The third letter was L.
"Hey, Kriss? What's the WiFi password?"
Without getting up or turning to look at her, Kriss passed her a sticky note. She leaned forward and accepted it, glancing back and forth between the phone and note. An idea occurred to Kriss.
"Its atomic number is 79," he said aloud.
"Gold," she replied, still typing in the password.
"Thanks," Kriss responded. He sounded unimpressed, but as far as he was concerned, she had made a good first impression.
