Buffy Meissonier | The Newsflesh Trilogy (bythesoundngsea) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-12-09 06:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~2013 december, ~40 points, ~~buffy meissonier (bythesoundingsea), ~~sam temple (samtemple) |
WHO: Buffy Meissonier and OPEN
WHAT: Listening to her feeds from the police station and the Council Chambers
WHEN: Monday morning
WHERE: Her room, then on her way to work and at the Courthouse
WARNINGS: TBD, likely low
STATUS: Open/Ongoing
Buffy had been lost with her muses the night before, and so hadn't had a chance to go over the feeds from the previous Friday. She had a lot of different microphones recording at various places in Madison Valley - official places, mostly, although anyone who'd invited her in - local or refugee alike - was likely to have had a bug stashed somewhere. It was simply the way Buffy operated.
Closing the document on her list that she was more or less content with (she'd have to go over it again when she was more clear-headed and distant from it), she put on a pair of headphones (she hated earbuds) and tapped into the recordings that she was just now getting time to listen to.
Most of it was nothing - that was how it always went. Boring chat about nothing important. She learned a lot about peoples' evenings, where they went to eat, who they were sleeping with. Recently, it was a lot about money, and how they didn't have enough to buy all the Christmas gifts they wanted for their children, or about how people weren't particularly looking forward to seeing all the family that would be pushed their way over the holiday.
Really, in some ways, Buffy found the feeds to be an interesting snapshot of pre-rising life. But, as interesting as such things were, they weren't what she was listening for. She was listening for anything that might give her a clue to either a) how and why they were there or b) what the council was thinking - and planning to do - about them. Georgia would probably be pissed if she knew Buffy had these feeds - but in another sense, Georgia probably already knew. She was one of the people who knew her best, after all.
After listening through a good hour of meaningless chatter, things finally started to get interesting. Or, at least, potentially got interesting. They started discussing the refugees. Apparently, some of the locals weren't at all pleased with having refugees on the Council. "It's not their town." "What the hell gives those freaks the right to have a say in what we do, anyway..." Not all of them agreed - there was dissent to this opinion - but the opinion existed. And it wasn't just one person thinking it. They continued on to talk about whether they should end refugee representation, and talked through a thousand things - good and bad - about what should be done about the situation. Apparently, nobody knew any more than they ever had about what had brought them here, or what had trapped everyone in the town. Great.
Georgia should hear this. She probably wouldn't want to, knowing her ethics, but Buffy thought that she should, anyway. She shot her a quick text message, then gathered her equipment and headed to work.
It had surprised her a little that they'd hired her. Not that she wasn't far more than talented enough for the job, but she assumed that the City was smart enough to realize someone as good as her was also good enough to hack them. And it wasn't as if they had earned any sort of loyalty or respect from the refugees.
Oh well. She was earning money and getting information, which was good enough for her.
It was a rather busy Monday morning in Madison Valley, as Buffy walked down the street towards the courthouse where she worked, her backpack slung over her shoulder, containing all of her tech equipment that she'd jerry-rigged with parts from Radio Shack when she couldn't find the proper bits. It worked well enough, though, even if it wasn't as neat and clean as her stuff back home.
Mounting the steps, she stepped out of the way of someone coming down the stairs, still tensing at the proximity of all the people.
"Good morning!" she said cheerily and a bit vapidly, always willing to use her cuteness and the perception of her flakiness to hide the genius that she was.