Title: The Department of Statistical Improbability
Summary: No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here.
This is a collection, and a series of collections of challenge responses. Some of the challenges are formal, such as the 3 Sentence Ficathon or Dreamwidth/Livejournal's fan_flashworks, some I make for myself (taking prompts from story cubes) and others are more general flashfic. I'll detail which each fic is.
And yes, I cribbed the summary from the Sandia Report's long term nuclear waste warning message. It has a certain pathos.
Chapter Title: ways down (with the flow) and up again
Chapter Summary: Navigation takes effort, in the Oldest House.
Written for the fan_flashworks prompt drop. Stream of consciousness.
Jesse is going to save actually asking her questions on how everyone else gets to Mold central for a later date. There are more immediate concerns to identify the hows and whys of, once she makes contact with the research team.
That contact is a while away, still. Lets herself drift down in the gentle grasp of her own - of the OoP's - power, minute after minute. No glowing droplets of healing lifeforce - she needs a better name for that, but nothing's jumping out at her, unlike the Hiss, and Polaris is stoically silent on the issue - to absorb into her skin like a recording of reversed mitosis if she dashes herself on the floor. There is plenty of time for her musing.
Ladders? It's an awfully long way down for that. Or do they wait for a convenient building shift? Commute to work through Oceanview? She can't imagine that would be at all practical, or feasible, on a daily schedule, but this is the FBC. Jesse still hasn't found any way to top two levels of the Mail Room that doesn't involve flying, and she knows that's in use. Was. Was in use. And will be again, presumably, once the Hiss are shown the door and kicked through. She can just imagine the headache of having to be the one to decide on that. Boxes the thought. She is not the Director, weirdly official portraits be damned. Might stick around as Ahti's assistant, if he'll have her.
There is, of course, the mundanely obvious answer of the lift shaft she is floating through, but that avenue is quite thoroughly destroyed. It would take weeks of work to reconstruct, not to mention the extra time spent getting workers and material through both Hiss and Mold. But those are thoughts are for the future.
She lands, light as a feather and five times as deadly. Time to get to work.