Daedalus makes himself tea, pops another immune-system booster, and fights the urge to get off his feet just long enough to change out the air and water filters before collapsing back on the couch and trying to convince himself that he's not running himself down yet, can't.
Just can't afford to, right now. Not when Franz isn't feeling well, and when people are up in arms about flu, of all things.
With that at the forefront of his mind, it's nearly impossible to still it long enough to try sleep.
Instead he lays back and replays outbreak scenarios in his mind, the training simulation programs from his preparations to be chief medical director. Little flashing indicator marquees scrolling by, data gathered in easily accessible figures, a simple action at the decision making control board meant the difference between success or failure. When he shuts his eyes he can still remember the screen and factors to keep his eye on monitoring...quarantining, resource division, research attention and so many other areas to facilitate and ready for a mounted attack on a spreading infection, none of which he has any control over here.
There is no command board at his fingertips. He might try to advise SERO's disease control center, but people born in this day and age knew so much more about how to deal with epidemics on the island. It wasn't nearly so simple, the people anything but docile and compliant to public announcements, no autoreivs to be dispatched or districts to be airlocked at the push of a button.
The lack of control here, along with his distance from any real position of authority was almost paralyzing and frustrating. What was a clinic doctor to do, with nothing of significance to work with beyond individual patient care?
But perhaps he was too high-minded, too full of expectation for a role larger than he was ever meant to play in this world. Accepting that still proved difficult, even after nearly two years of living like this.
First siren had sounded, when he finally decided to pull himself up from dozing off and check for any updates on the computer. His eyes watered at the brightness of the screen, and Daedalus did not check in long, soon returning to see how Franz was doing.
He found him struggling to sit upright. "...no better, my dear?"
no subject
Just can't afford to, right now. Not when Franz isn't feeling well, and when people are up in arms about flu, of all things.
With that at the forefront of his mind, it's nearly impossible to still it long enough to try sleep.
Instead he lays back and replays outbreak scenarios in his mind, the training simulation programs from his preparations to be chief medical director. Little flashing indicator marquees scrolling by, data gathered in easily accessible figures, a simple action at the decision making control board meant the difference between success or failure. When he shuts his eyes he can still remember the screen and factors to keep his eye on monitoring...quarantining, resource division, research attention and so many other areas to facilitate and ready for a mounted attack on a spreading infection, none of which he has any control over here.
There is no command board at his fingertips. He might try to advise SERO's disease control center, but people born in this day and age knew so much more about how to deal with epidemics on the island. It wasn't nearly so simple, the people anything but docile and compliant to public announcements, no autoreivs to be dispatched or districts to be airlocked at the push of a button.
The lack of control here, along with his distance from any real position of authority was almost paralyzing and frustrating. What was a clinic doctor to do, with nothing of significance to work with beyond individual patient care?
But perhaps he was too high-minded, too full of expectation for a role larger than he was ever meant to play in this world. Accepting that still proved difficult, even after nearly two years of living like this.
First siren had sounded, when he finally decided to pull himself up from dozing off and check for any updates on the computer. His eyes watered at the brightness of the screen, and Daedalus did not check in long, soon returning to see how Franz was doing.
He found him struggling to sit upright. "...no better, my dear?"