|Tory Wyler has always been defined by (theabsence) wrote in repose,|
@ 2020-05-02 19:33:00
|Entry tags:||*log, kit vaughn, tory wyler|
Area-52 Labs: Tory and Kit
Who: Tory Wyler and Kit Vaughn
What: A curious doctor meets a curious scientist.
It is a bi-curious situation.
Where: Tory's lab at Area-52
When: This week
Warnings/Rating: Probably low
Tory wasn't about to admit that his little start-up was off to a little bit of a rough start. Maybe he was too exacting when it came to hiring people, but nobody seemed to fit his very specific qualifications. He wasn't the kind of guy who would compromise, though; he knew what he needed in a team and he wasn't about to bend. He could do most of the work himself for a while before anything got really dire, but onboarding someone in the middle of ongoing projects wasn't ideal, either. So, he was sighing to himself a lot as he hummed around the little lab, running tests on the soil and the water he'd gathered from the surrounding area in the previous week.
He wouldn't lie that he actually enjoyed doing the raw analysis, but he also knew there would come a point where it wouldn't be worth his time to do so. If nothing else, he would need someone for this. He could work his way up to the more...social aspects of the Initiative. Which again, was currently a single person. And, given Tory's peculiarities, it was best for everyone involved that someone else handled that. The interviews were proving that much, and of course, the recent spate of memory weirdness hadn't helped matters any.
But, he still loved his little lab, and not just because he spent more time there than his own residence. It was decked out in some pretty state of the art equipment, juxtaposed with some rather old furniture posing as lab benches. He didn't have fancy requirements for the furnishings; they had to be stable, and that was about it. There were some plants scattered about, in various stages of what he was sure might be a slow death. Most of them looked healthy enough. He thought. He'd even gotten them little sun lamps because the place was a mostly-windowless cube and the one outside wall was in the back office. He didn't think flickering fluorescent lighting was enough for a plant to grow by.
Tory stood at the terminal which controlled the Daisyworld simulation on the wall opposite the door (cheap plastic nameplate on the outside, which read "Green Sciences Initiative, L.V. Wyler, Director"), and input his latest set of Repose data, frowning at the incredible averageness of it. Shouldn't a place where you could call up other people's memories like you were scrolling through Netflix display some kind of ecological evidence of weirdness? He scrubbed his mess of red hair out of his eyes and kept on typing as he pulled the new data in.