Backstory: Even nerds need to eat Who: Phillip Hughes and Meg Odgerel-Bolormaa When: Early October, 2008 Where: MI7 R&D Cafeteria What:Phillip tries to catch up with his work and bumps into a faelike bouncy ballMeg. Friendly chatter and innocent not-quite-flirting ensue.
Phillip was trying to catch up on the medical records of all the people under MI-7s care. He needed to know the records inside out, which is why he was walking towards the canteen for lunch while carrying one of the files, reading it dutifully and trying to commit it to memory. The cassock didn't go over do well here, so he was dressed in a plain slacks and one of his black shirts. The collar unnerved people, so for the moment he kept it in pocket. Hopefully, he'd get comfortable enough here to go back to his clerical garb. He found it comforting. But different environments called for different dress codes. Engrossed in the medical file, he was oblivious to everything else.
Meg didn't wear her earbuds and ipod while walking through corridors; behind her computer she needed the extra direction to be pulled in, but just walking to the lunchroom was attention-grabbing enough that she didn't require it.
She grabbed the handle of the door and fell into it, using her weight to push it open. Meg almost let it go when she saw someone rather sightlessly about to walk through it.
"You should be careful, I almost let go of the door!" she chastised the stranger brightly, indeed holding it open dutifully.
Philip stopped suddenly, glancing at the young woman. "Hm? Oh. My apologies," he offered with a smile and a nod of his head. "Engrossed in my work."
"That's okay. But you know, it's really not a good idea to read and walk at the same time. Unless you have eyes located some place other than... your eyes," she pointed out, looking at him expectantly.
Phillip managed a chuckle. The woman's spirit reminded him of the youth that he used to work with both in London and Brazil. "No. Only the set here that God gifted me with," he said, tucking the file under his arm. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if someone here had a set of extra eyes. Might be worth checking R&D."
Meg's eyes widened, having found a soulmate. "I know, yeah!? You know, I work down in Research, but there's some places an analyst can't go and I do wonder..." She was obviously visibly wondering now, eyes rolling up to the right in thought, back still against the door.
Phillip chuckled, sticking out his hand. "Phillip Hughes, Medical and Biological Research. And you are?"
Meg took his hand and looked at him with her wide eyes. "You would know, wouldn't you? If they were growing people with extra eyes? Or implanting alien eyes that allow you to see through space and time?" She shook it, her bracelets jingling along with the motion, but didn't respond to the question.
"Not yet. Not much clearance yet. Just started here a few weeks ago. Besides, have to catch up on paperwork and histories," he said. "So, does little miss curiosity have a name? Or do I need security clearance for that?"
"Oh- ha, no! Saranchimeg Odgerel-Bolormaa," she recited, her tongue sliding out of her Liverpool accent into the more native Mongolian. "You can call me Meg."
Phillip smiled, glad to meet someone who could pass for normal here. Granted, he did have a very odd standard of normal, but most of the people here just put chills down his spine. "Would you like to grab lunch, Meg?"
She looked at the door she was still holding. "Oh! Yes, I did mean to eat, not be a door stop! Meg pushed her glasses up her nose and pushed away from the door to go stand before the grill area. It was late for lunch- she generally ate only when there was a gap in her work- so she didn't have to wait before going up and asking for an eggplant panini.
"I haven't been here much longer myself- I got transferred over from MI-6. Are you from AF or Clandestine?" she asked as she picked up two bananas.
Phillip grabbed a sandwich and an orange and placed them on his tray. "Civilian. They took an interest in my research," Phillip said without false pride. "But the chance to work here, well, the opportunities are unattainable anywhere else. So, what does an analyst like you do around here?"
Meg had unlearned the behaviour of grabbing people in excitement, but she had the inclination to. "What SORT of research?" she asked attentively, eyes off her preparing food.
Phillip didn't answer for a moment, grabbing a bottle of water and setting it on his tray. The article had been published, so it was common knowledge in the medical community. "Examining the physiological effects of paranormal activity."
"ALIENS?!" Meg's voice raised up in pitch and volume. This was amazing and she told him, albeit in a rapid, breathless rant.
"HAVE YOU EVER ACTUALLY EXPERIENCED PARANORMAL ACTIVITY? HAVE YOUR PATIENTS- HOW MANY HAVE YOU HAD? I always thought that there had to be some incidents covered up by the government so as not to cause panic- are they all centered in the countryside- I never agreed with the idea that they would be- why would aliens go to the countryside? There's nothing there! Except cows!"
Phillip's eyes went wide and he put a hand over her mouth. "Quiet!" he hissed, glancing around. "Or you'll get me kicked out of here." Leading her and their lunches away to a table in a corner, he steered her into a chair.
"Not aliens. At least, I've never worked with that. Mostly things like tribal magic in Brazil and then exorcisms and the occult here in England," he explained, waiting for the inevitable laughter.
Meg's face fell. She was so tired of being told it was magic. Stupid convenient and necessary lies. One shoulder fell and she turned into it to get her sandwich.
"If you're here, then you're here, you know? They don't fire you unless you're like, treasonous. Otherwise your purpose or intelligence or whatever outweighs your quirks."
Phillip shook his head.
"I can't believe that," he said quietly. "This place, scares me a bit. But the opportunities.. If I can figure out how we can control this to help people, then the benefits could be amazing. "
"Why does it scare you? It's a building?" Meg replied, snickering and at the same time, cheerfully.
"The people. The organization. It's like a bad premonition. The feeling that if they don't need you, they might kill you," he explained.
Meg laughed. "Oh, it's the same in 5 and 6. Everything is hush hush," she said, trailing off into shushes behind a fingertip. "But they're people at the end of the day. People with families and pets and hobbies and usually a kinky secret or two- it's ALWAYS like that. It's an adrenaline thing I think, you have to be a complete and total addict for it!" She move to the cashier and asked for a cup.
Phillip held up his hand. "Please, I hear enough about kinky secrets in the confessional."
Meg took that as a joke that she hadn't heard before but was pretty sure it was supposed to be funny-- meaning she giggled infectiously. "Alright, alright- but I'm just saying that work and the amount of effort one puts in is what counts, not loudness or strangeness or anything because if you're going to be the best, you're probably deficient in other areas. Like me- I'm very good at what I do but I literally drove my roommate in college insane. Like, she had to be taken away for a hospital stay; it wasn't entirely my fault because anthropology or archaeology or something was eating her brain but I don't know. But that's why I office by myself- at least, that's why I THINK they office me by myself, which is alright because that means I get to sing as loudly as I want."
She went to sit down and immediately started shamelessly peeling a banana.
Phillip chuckled and smiled at her. "I'd love to here more of your story sometime," he said as he sat down and took a sip of his water.
That was an unusual response, a response that Meg generally misheard and had to be corrected on.
"What would you like to know?" she asked, settling in her seat and looking like a very apt pupil.
"Anything. Everything. If we're going to be coworkers, seems good to know about each other. I like to hear people's stories. What did you do before coming here? What's home like? What do you do for fun? Of just anything you want to tell me. "
Meg's eyes rolled up as she thought. "Er... alright. I was born in Liverpool, youngest of five. I've got three brothers and a sister and they're RAF, RAF, Navy and Consular Service, in that order. My parents emigrated to England when the Russians took over Mongolia- that's where they're from, my father was a General in the army that went kablooey when the invaded during the Cold War. I went to University of Warwick and I have a Masters in Statistics and a Bachelors in Politics and Sociology. That's one major, not two- I'm smart but I'm not that smart. Well, maybe I am, but I'm not one to jut be wholly study oriented. I mean, I like to learn, I'm good at it, but I like to do lots of things, preferably at one. And university was just so lovely for that; I was in a band and I was on student council and I failed at a lot of intramural sports and you can't fail at intramural sports if you spend all your time studying. Well, you can, but probably not for the same reason I did, which was I've never been good at football and basketball. Or broomball- have you ever played? Where did you go to school?"
Meg finally took a breath, then a bite of her banana.
Phillip smiled a gentle smile, the kind of someone who was used to listening to people for long amounts of time. After all, it was part and parcel of being a priest. "Never really played much broomball. Played a bit more footy down in Brazil when I was there for a few years. Did Medicine and Immunology at Cambridge, then worked as a physician in London until my life plans altered a bit. Entered the Jesuit novitiate, worked in Brazil and London, studied philosophy and theology and now here I am. Priest, Scientist, Doctor."
"Isn't that contradictory? I mean, do you start studying stuff and then, after a certain point go: 'Uh! It must be a miracle!' and then move on? I mean, like science and religion are like... angry mums who's kids have fought and both are convinced their child didn't start it!"
Phillip smiled. "No, it's not. To me, science just proves the existence of God. God gave us brains that we should use them. And by being a scientist and a doctor, well, I believe that's part of what God has called me to do. I think I serve God both by being a priest and by being a scientist and a doctor," he explained.
"That's a lot of ways to serve God," she pointed out, then shrugged. "Buddhist," she pointed to herself, "even thought I went to a Christian primary. It was a good school, but mostly it was two blocks away from the restaurant-- my parents own two restaurants in Liverpool-- so my brother could come pick me up and get back quickly."
"Actual believer or just because it's convenient?" Phillip asked, his voice curious and not judgmental.
"Like Stan Lee always says- hello, true believers!" she replied brightly and picked up her sandwich, chomping a nice size bite . "Religion is convenient?"
"For some people it is. It's not always about belief. " Phillip took a bite and continued. "Some people just go for the ritual, some view it as just consolation. "
Meg thought about it for a moment as she chewed another bite of her sandwich.
"Actual believer, I guess... though Buddhism doesn't really require a lot of faith, not like Christians or Muslims. I mean, one of the tenants is don't just believe whatever cause I've said it- 's not really something you can do in most religions."
"True. But it requires a certain path, and a core philosophy that I'm not sure everyone could agree to," Phillip said. "Buddhism does have the eightfold path and the basic tenants. Although, you don't have to believe anyone rose from the dead, which might be a bit easier for a technician."
"I believe people can rise from the dead," she said with unblinking, innocent honesty.
Phillip nodded. "Any person or only in special circumstances?" he asked curiously.
"Both. Probably. I haven't ever seen it completely proven as impossible so I don't think that it should be ruled out. Besides, stories have to come from somewhere don't they? I think creativity works like Pratchett says- little pebbles of thought hitting skulls until it knocks one with the proper hole in it, at the proper angle at the right time, but like, the little pebbles come from somewhere!" Meg happily bit into her sandwich.
"Well, if I ever see evidence of that, I'll be sure to buzz you so you can come witness it," Phillip said with a grin as he took another bite of his lunch. "My explanation would be that the pebbles come from God."
She shrugged. "I don't know. God is like... aramaic for incomprehensible, or something. Consider the lily," she started somewhat comically, then stopped. "Wait, I don't know how that joke ends."
Phillip chuckled. "I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone begin to cite scripture and refer to it as a joke," he said with a smile. "But I'll concur on the incomprehensibility. But that to me is just the amazement. That God is so incomprehensible and yet so close. I see God in everything. Maybe that makes me gullible and naive, I don't know."
"Maybe. But I believe in aliens and it's not so bad to believe in things, I think. In this job it helps to have an open mind, think outside the box and all that. I don't think it makes me gullible or naive, I think it just makes me willing to challenge preconceived notions and shows I have the ability to think independently. At least, that's what my Mum says."
She finished her sandwich and rested back in the chair.
Phillip nodded. "I think an open mind is the most important thing one can have," Phillip said simply as he finished his lunch. "Especially in terms of faith and belief. Your mother sounds like a smart woman."
"Smart and brave. She ran 4000km from Mongolia through the heart of China with my father and two eldest brothers to escape the Communist Army. They had help, but she was still very brave," she explained. "I don't think I could survive that, but she also says that gas is most dangerous when it's pressurized; I mean, that's not always true, but the sentiment is, I think. I hope. Yeah," she nodded brightly through her own confusion. "You get what I'm saying."
"We don't know what we're capable until we're put under pressure and tested," Phillip added. "That's amazing. I'm sure you're just as amazing and talented. And I already know you're brilliant since you work here."
"Are priests allowed to flirt?" she asked with a funny, amused and cheery look on her face, all rolled into one.
Phillip laughed. "Are you accusing me of flirting with you?" He held his hands up in surrender. "I'm just being friendly. My intentions are honest and pure, I promise."
Meg laughed because it was better than feeling stupid for accusing a priest of having impure intentions. Well, impure for a priest. It was kind of sad that she looked so hard into things and she was sure that if she really stopped and thought about it she'd be quite depressed about the whole lack-of-dating thing. But she rarely did- she was too busy.
"That's fine, it was just a question," she nodded enthusiastically, then picked up her tray and stood up. "I've got to get back to work. But I'll see you around yeah? If they don't fire you, which I don't think they'll do, as I stated before."
Phillip smiled. "I'm grateful for your faith in me. And it was lovely to meet you. I hope to see you around, and entertain you with my antiquated and innocent pseudo-flirting," he joked as he gathered up his medical files and stood up.
Meg waived with her whole arm rather than just her hand and very nearly skipped off.