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Mar. 11th, 2008 08:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
h_hollisterNow, the important thing to note here is that Hippolyta Salazar (hee hee) has not been sick since her run-in with some LOL'd flowers a ways back. And, prior to that, she'd not had any sort of problems, minus the whole 'stuck in cryostasis after getting her ticket punched by Saddler controlling the Right Hand' thing.
So she takes her nanobots for granted, so what? Who wants to be sick all the time, anyway? She can shake off a flu bug like water off a duck's back. Strep throat, no way. She's found the cure for the common cold, and it's robotics. Hell, even food poisoning isn't an issue.
Imagine her surprise, then, when she goes to use the facilities after her morning coffee, and only barely manages to hit the bowl in time. Up comes the coffee, as well as the banana she ate to fuel her morning run.
Um.
After she wipes her mouth and rinses it, she sits down on the edge of the tub and crosses her arms. Her eyes roll up, like she's addressing Our Heavenly Father, and purses her lips.
"Hey, guys, what the hell gives here?"
And a million million itty bitty voices pipe up in her skull, sounding for all the world like they're...chagrined. Embarrassed. And hiding something.
"...Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not the ones losing your breakfast."
"Okay, okay! Just...don't let it happen again, guys. I'm a busy woman, I don't have time for full-body data-core dumps."
She's answered by silence. Nervous silence. Damn it, this is no time to be dealing with her 'bots. If this is the beginning of the end of their effectiveness, she's not sure she can handle going through a full system flush again. At least this time they're not clamped onto her white blood cells like miniature vampires...which reminds her to finish the thank you note to Ruthven and Djehuty. And so her mind darts off on a tangent as she laces up her running shoes, and it's not much longer before she's off into the chilly London morning for her jog.
Incident forgotten.
So she takes her nanobots for granted, so what? Who wants to be sick all the time, anyway? She can shake off a flu bug like water off a duck's back. Strep throat, no way. She's found the cure for the common cold, and it's robotics. Hell, even food poisoning isn't an issue.
Imagine her surprise, then, when she goes to use the facilities after her morning coffee, and only barely manages to hit the bowl in time. Up comes the coffee, as well as the banana she ate to fuel her morning run.
Um.
After she wipes her mouth and rinses it, she sits down on the edge of the tub and crosses her arms. Her eyes roll up, like she's addressing Our Heavenly Father, and purses her lips.
"Hey, guys, what the hell gives here?"
And a million million itty bitty voices pipe up in her skull, sounding for all the world like they're...chagrined. Embarrassed. And hiding something.
Sorry, Miss Hollis...Mrs. Salazar. Don't know what happened there. We'll, um, look into it. Don't panic.
"...Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not the ones losing your breakfast."
Aaaaaactually we did because when you lose your breakfast we do too...
"Okay, okay! Just...don't let it happen again, guys. I'm a busy woman, I don't have time for full-body data-core dumps."
She's answered by silence. Nervous silence. Damn it, this is no time to be dealing with her 'bots. If this is the beginning of the end of their effectiveness, she's not sure she can handle going through a full system flush again. At least this time they're not clamped onto her white blood cells like miniature vampires...which reminds her to finish the thank you note to Ruthven and Djehuty. And so her mind darts off on a tangent as she laces up her running shoes, and it's not much longer before she's off into the chilly London morning for her jog.
Incident forgotten.
