| Worried... (Personal log #4) |
[Jan. 20th, 2005|09:38 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  worried | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | agents arguing in the hallway | ] |
The Daisy just gave me a new assignment--to attempt to contact Jurisfiction. Isaiah and I had read Mr. Fforde's stories about ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) thursday_e_next, but we had no idea that it was more than a story. Of course, it shouldn't have been a surprise--if I've learned one thing in my time with the PPC, it's that every story exists somewhere. For us in the metaverse, writing isn't just touching pen to paper or typing on a keyboard. When you write a story, you imagine a universe into being.
So I'll be trying to contact Agent Next, who's currently Jurisfiction's Bellman. In the Daisy's words, I'm supposed to "liaise" with them. It's kind of neat that books themselves have a policing agency like ours; I hope we'll be able to help each other.
But that's not what I'm worried about. Isaiah is sick. I've just spent the last six hours with him in Medical. We ran into each other this evening and decided to have supper together in the PPC cafeteria. He tried some of the meat, and...
*winces*
Yeah, it was that bad. He ended up with a stomach parasite. Apparently a combination of his last 'Sue report and our reading of Lost in a Good Book--and probably the meat itself--got him infected with the word "oppartunnities". Dr. Fitzgerald says it reminded him of a grammasite, and (being POTC in origin) it tends to appear "at the opportune time." We got it out, but he's still feeling a bit...odd, so he's sleeping it off in Medical.
I know he'll get the best of care, but I can't help being a bit worried. Is this a sign of things to come? Is it a really bad idea to contact BookWorld? Or am I just stressing out because I'm falling in love with him? |
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| Wow. Must be an ex-agent. |
[Aug. 29th, 2004|01:55 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  amused | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Bashire playing tic-tac-toe with himself in the corner | ] |
Kel pointed this out to me in the Multiverse Monitor today. All I can say is that whoever wrote it must have been one of that rare, rare species--a living ex-PPC agent. Scarily accurate.
( You Know You're From PPC HQ When... ) |
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| Personal Log #3 |
[Aug. 26th, 2004|03:38 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | cheerful | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | snippets of songs from the AP cafe | ] |
Went out to lunch with Kel again today. We did meet after she sent me that letter a couple of weeks ago, and it turned out that we rather liked each other, so we've been meeting every week or so for coffee over at a little cafe near Angst Police Headquarters. She's gotten me addicted to something called cappuccino.
Anyway, last week we decided to go down to PPC Medical and see if we could find out whether we were related or not. The results came back yesterday, and not only are we definitely the same race, there's a 87% chance that we're from the same nuclear family. Given, of course, that they don't know how close a genetic match is usual for family members of our race, but comparing us to all the other races they've studied. The new Julian Bashir EMH gave us a long lecture about it, but suffice it to say--we are probably sisters. :)
I'd gotten used to being alone in the universe, and then Agent Isaiah came along, and his friend Mara, and things didn't seem so lonely. I met a few people in the Cafeteria and the Lounge, and I started talking to my ex-partner again, and I thought my life was pretty full. And then I found out I had a sister! It's a rather odd relationship, because I hardly know her. Apart from the biology, we're very different. She's a lot more energetic and bouncy than I am, and has all sorts of very wild ideas that make me fear for her sanity. (Angst Police officers are supposed to be at least slightly sane, she tells me. This appears to be a flexible guideline rather than a rule.)
One of these days we'll have to sit down and see how much of our pre-metaverse life we remember. I can write our language, and she came out with a name for coffee the other day that I'd never heard before but sounded awfully familiar. I wonder what she remembers?
Off to catch up on the journals I've missed while my author was away vacationing. Au revoir for now! (I wish I could speak French. But English is hard enough for now!) |
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| So, who is Kel Devic? |
[Jul. 25th, 2004|03:09 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | surprised | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | attentive silence | ] |
Kel Devic
Search & Rescue Squad 14
Room 216, Block C
Trekverse Detachment
Angst Police Central Station
Agent Quen Green
Room 221B
Department of Personnel
Protectors of the Plot Continuum Headquarters
Dear Agent Quen,
My name is Kel. I am an officer in the Angst Police forces; our Search & Rescue squad often refers canon characters to your Department of Character Services at the PPC. I am writing to congratulate you and your team on the excellent work you have been doing in the Lord of the Rings sector--but also to ask if you would meet with me on a personal matter.
I have been employed (if such a term can be used, given the Canon Protection Initiative’s tendency to under-pay staff) with the Angst Police for approximately four years now. I am, as you may or may not be aware, a 'bit character' drafted into the Police from a fanfiction story. My universe of origin was "Star Trek", specifically the 24th century, Alpha Quadrant, Bajor Sector. Until recently, I believed I was the only member of my species in existence. But when I saw your photograph in this week’s Multiverse Monitor ("Canon Characters Care for Caseworkers", page 2), I began to wonder if we might be related. Doubtless there are many other “little green alien” races in the multiverse, but your service photo looks so much like me that several of my co-workers wanted to know if I had a nighttime “civvie” job on the side. After discovering that you give your race as “random background alien, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine,” I was wondering if you would consent to meeting and possibly investigating whether we are, in fact, somehow related. I would be greatly interested in hearing your history and finding out how much you remember from before you came to work at the PPC, if you are willing.
Sincerely,
Kel Devic
Search and Rescue (Star Trek: Voyager & DS9)
The Angst Police
Encl: Curriculum vitae and photograph for Officer Kel Devic
*studies photo*
Well, now that's interesting. A sister?
I may not be alone in the universe.
How very odd. |
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| Strange news... |
[Jul. 17th, 2004|08:41 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  curious | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | cheers from random party down the hall | ] |
Must run--the Daisy's calling, something about Snape-lusters in Galaxy Quest?--but I got an interesting-looking package delivered to me today. Here's the address:
To:
Agent Quen Green
Room 221B
Department of Personnel
Protectors of the Plot Continuum HQ
From:
Kel Devic
Search & Rescue Squad 14
Room 216, Block C
Trekverse Detachment
Angst Police Central Station
Odd. Who do I know at the Angst Police? Besides Johannsen, who runs liaison between them and the DCPS? And nobody calls me Quen Green--that's just what I use when I have to give a name in some universe where most people have surnames. Oh, well, will find out soon enough.
Coming, sir! |
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| Personal Log #2 |
[Apr. 23rd, 2004|01:40 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | impressed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Joyce the asterisk from GAFF IMing me... | ] |
He has freckles! Why didn't I ever notice before that Agent Isaiah has freckles?
That is such a cute, adorable thing that humans have, and half of them seem to think it's ugly. I suppose I can write it all down to alien culture, since there's other strange things humans and other races here at HQ do that frankly baffle me. Then again, it is HQ, and I've been given to understand that interactions here don't represent the average human society in "the real world."
But he has freckles. :) I noticed when he came in Monday to finish off the forms for setting up the DTE. I think he was a bit scared--I had to ask him who his Lust Objects are, and he must be a private person because that was a bit awkward. But when I was taking the picture for his updated agent ID, I got a chance to have a good look at him (under the pretense of making sure the camera got the digital picture onto the computer just right...don't tell him that!) and he's really quite as cute as the back of my mind told me on first meeting him. (Sensible LOs, too--Elizabeth Swann from POTC, of course, but also Eowyn and Ro Laren. Ro rocks--and is, incidentally, partially responsible for my existence. If the Bajoran race had never been introduced, Deep Space Nine would never have happened. And I was found wandering the DS9 Promenade the day I was recruited....)
And he says he writes blank verse.... |
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| Something strange is going on in HQ... |
[Apr. 15th, 2004|12:40 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | worried | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | ominous background music *dum duuuuummmm* | ] |
I was filing forms today, and was strangely drawn to the "AGENTS--Ta through Ti" drawer. Leafing through, I noted peripherally that I needed to check whether Agent Jay Thorntree's resignation papers had finally gotten that last final signature, but then...there was a file there, and it just didn't seem...right. I took a closer look.
"THORNBYRD, Jaycacia. Dept. of Mary Sues, Dept. of Implausible Crossovers, Dept. of Bad Slash, Dept. of Sufficiently Advanced Technology (honorary), Dept. of Fictional Psychology, Dept. of Geographical Aberrations, Dept. of Bad Parody, Dept. of Intelligence...." She was even Special Ops! And how in Arda or any other world can you be an honorary agent?
I went to talk to the Daisy about it, but he was out. Something about "going to visit his goddaughter". I didn't know flowers had family, and (to coin a terribly original phrase) I have a really bad feeling about all this. |
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| Personal Log #1 |
[Apr. 8th, 2004|02:36 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Taped Elven music from Rivendell, courtesy of Elladan. | ] |
Begin recording...
It's a zoo in this office. A zoo with animals from several different planets and realities, some of which follow wholly different laws of physics and biology than others. A zoo that's had five different head keepers in the last year, each of which has utterly reorganized the cages and the feeding schedule and the visitor charges. Well, OK, maybe I'm stretching that analogy a bit too far, but the truth is that it's hard to find anything in here. I'm starting to see why Tiranel got the surname of a student from an OFU instead of her parents' names.
*sigh*
In other news, the case with Glorfindel went well. It wasn't abuser!Glorfindel, thankfully, just a badly-written and OOC generic threeway slashfic involving Elrond. We got Glorfindel clothed again, fed him wine and a decent Elven meal, and reminded him that Elrond was married. He seems to trust me well enough--perhaps the fact that I'm green all over helps. Not that he'll ever see the "all over"--I'm his caseworker, for the Lady's sake--but I'm sure being tree-coloured hasn't hurt my credibility.
I refuse to comment on the fact that this office DOES NOT HAVE a computer alarm like most response centres do. If I say anything about that, the Laws of Comedy will find some other way to torture me.
...Crap.
...End recording. |
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| A befuddled Agent Quen reports for duty |
[Apr. 8th, 2004|02:15 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | cheerful | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Drone of the computer fan | ] |
Quen's contemplation of the stars of Varda was interrupted by a tap on her doorframe. She turned to see a man in police uniform standing in the doorway of her office.
"Hi," said the man. "I'm Sgt. Johannsen of the Angst Police. I was told I could find an Agent Quen here?"
Quen looked cautious. "Yes, that would be me. But why do you need a secretary?"
"Secretary? I was told you were the caseworker for Glorfindel. And we do need you, quickly."
"Caseworker?"
The man shuffled a few sheets of paper in his hands, and handed her one. "Department of Character Protection Services? Ring a bell?" he said.
Quen smacked herself in the forehead, severely crumpling the sheet of paper. "RIGHT! I knew there was something I'd forgotten!"
( Oh, THAT'S what it was! )
Quen nodded and waved vaguely, and started getting things together to go down to the DCPS office. This would be the job of a lifetime! Except that she really hoped she wouldn't get any pregnant Glorfindel incidents.
Only after the Angst Policeman had left did she realize that she'd forgotten to get directions to the DCPS office. |
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| Checking in... |
[Apr. 7th, 2004|11:39 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | confused | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | pattering feet as Bashire finally catches up to me | ] |
Agent Quen sighed and pushed open the door to Room 221B. It had taken her a good half-hour to find the office--record time as far as she was concerned--and her arms hurt from carrying her box of Useful Items. She wondered vaguely if she was going to have to give people directions in her new job as secretary in the Department of Personnel. She hoped not. She could fill out forms like nobody's business, but her sense of direction was much too keen to let her find anything easily in PPC Headquarters--a place where you moved in six dimensions instead of four and had to not think about where you were going in order to get there quickly.
The small office was grey, which was no surprise. Nearly all of Headquarters was grey--or, more precisely, made from Generic Wall and Floor Material. Quen flicked the light switch, which illuminated the room slightly. There was a desk, made of metal, in front of a dark blue rolling office chair. Papers, manilla file folders, floppy discs and storage tapes filled the inbox and spilled over onto the desk. A small sign with emphatic red letters was taped to the side of the computer monitor--"Please do NOT ask for a raise!"
( So Quen looked around... )
Quite a change from her old job, that's for sure.... |
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