Sophie
Medical Staff
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There had been little external response from the reticent medical student since the Junior Detectives and instructors assembled at the provisional shooting range. While she was not called upon to demonstrate any adeptness at the use of firearms, she had little difficulty with them. Her father had given her proper instruction since she was twelve-years-old, much to the initial chagrin of her mother. Yet, they would all agree on principle that every little bit of knowledge Sophie could acquire from either one of them would be beneficial—to know more is always better than to know less. Thus, as Sophie Conrad watched the exchange between Jason West and Kidman, she was suitably impressed at how the instructor tailored the lesson to suit the fearful Junior Detective, instead of closing the door on her hesitance. All these, she observed and recorded in silence.
Undoubtedly, there was no one strength Sophie possessed that was more salient than her observational acuity. Always, she preferred to pause and consider the situation with its myriad details before formulating an action plan. Some matters, upon proven evidence and continual repetition, were immediately solvable—there was little hesitation at applying pressure to a bleeding wound before deciding if it required stitches or how many… But, other matters, such as writing up the fifth haemodialysis order for an elderly gentlemen with acute and likely irreversible multi-organ failure required so much more reflection.
In this manner, Sophie entered the abandoned storage facility.
She allowed her senses to absorb the space, her mind already dividing the expanse along imagined gridlines. Dust particles flooded the stale air, reflecting sunlight as they drifted along.
“The ladder on that wall is not safe,” she hazarded a warning, gesturing lightly towards the iron-alloy structure that was suffering from extensive oxidation damage. A zigzag of stairs, further on the interior and though partially damaged from some form of impact, would be a safer choice to the mezzanine level.
Then, the strangest sight came to be: A broken Kokeshi, its lacquered golden grain stark upon the sand-laced concrete floor. It seemed almost grievous, the subtle smile on its painted face incongruent to its fate, but another detail caught her eye. With the unsharpened end of her pencil, Sophie pointed towards jagged hints of a smooth cylindrical groove within the doll.
“There was something in here.”
Undoubtedly, there was no one strength Sophie possessed that was more salient than her observational acuity. Always, she preferred to pause and consider the situation with its myriad details before formulating an action plan. Some matters, upon proven evidence and continual repetition, were immediately solvable—there was little hesitation at applying pressure to a bleeding wound before deciding if it required stitches or how many… But, other matters, such as writing up the fifth haemodialysis order for an elderly gentlemen with acute and likely irreversible multi-organ failure required so much more reflection.
In this manner, Sophie entered the abandoned storage facility.
She allowed her senses to absorb the space, her mind already dividing the expanse along imagined gridlines. Dust particles flooded the stale air, reflecting sunlight as they drifted along.
“The ladder on that wall is not safe,” she hazarded a warning, gesturing lightly towards the iron-alloy structure that was suffering from extensive oxidation damage. A zigzag of stairs, further on the interior and though partially damaged from some form of impact, would be a safer choice to the mezzanine level.
Then, the strangest sight came to be: A broken Kokeshi, its lacquered golden grain stark upon the sand-laced concrete floor. It seemed almost grievous, the subtle smile on its painted face incongruent to its fate, but another detail caught her eye. With the unsharpened end of her pencil, Sophie pointed towards jagged hints of a smooth cylindrical groove within the doll.
“There was something in here.”
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