A lazy Spring afternoon in London. Just the day on which a person might be inclined to curl up by the window with a good book to while away the hours...
However, such lazy pursuits are not on the agenda for Kaitlin O'Hara. Although her job does let her facilitate such for others. Manning the public information desk on the ground floor of the British Library, the young redhead finds herself witness to the comings and goings of all sorts...
A little boy tugs on his mother's skirt as they enter through the large glass revolving doors, asking where the comic books are. An older gentleman at one of the neighbouring desks embarrasedly searches his pockets for change to pay the late fee on his book. And a harried looking young woman with facial piercings and dyed pink hair with black roots showing through approaches Kaitlin's own desk, clutching a rucksack in her left hand tightly...
Kaitlin sighed inwardly and resisted the urge to yawn. She really did enjoy her job here, but desk duty at the British Library had to be one of the most mind meltingly dull parts of her job. Still, one must earn their paycheck, as her supervisor always told her.
On the bright side, it kept Kevin Miller up in the office from chatting her up and asking if she wanted to see his 'little leprechaun'. Honestly. She might have had a hint of a accent still clinging stubbornly to her speech, but it wasn't as though she was straight out of central casting. She was actually rather proud of her long, dark hair, even if it did contain more than it's share of red.
As the thought crossed her mind, she touched it, making sure it was all still bundled loosely at the back of her head, and glanced down longingly at the HG Wells novel she'd been sneaking looks at while attempting to appear perky and alert for those who came in. She desperately wanted to go back to reading 'The Invisble Man', but business looked to be picking up. Reluctantly, she gave her full attention to her job for the moment.
She notes the small boy with a smile, and the man at her coworker's desk, before the girl catches her attention, and almost overcame her trained reaction to avoid gawking. She down quickly, to avoid intimidating the girl as she approaches by staring. My goodness. Aren't there better things to do with fruit drinks than pour them in your hair?
Carefully making sure the rather catty thought didn't show on her face, Kaitlin looks up with a professional smile firmly in place once the girl comes close enough. "May I help you?"
"Yeah," the girl nods quickly. "Please tell me you've got a copy of Studies in Reflecting Abstraction by Jean Piaget." She puts her free hand on the desk and drums her fingers nervously. Black fingernails, you note. "I really need it for an essay due in tomorrow, and I can't find it anywhere!"
Ahhh. Kaitlin smiles, not a little sympathetically. I've seen -this- before, haven't I now. "Just a moment, I'll check the files. Did you have an author for the book, or any other information?" she asks politely, turning the the small computer her novel is secreted under, and looking up to the girl with the vibrantly colored hair questioningly.
"It's by Jean Piaget," the girl repeats. "He's meant to be pretty famous, or something. Never even heard of him till they set the essay questions..." she trails off with a grumble.
Your monitor brings up the search results almost instantly. The head branch (here) has eight copies. Oddly enough, all of them are currently on loan. Luckily, the system also notes results from the surrounding libraries. Waterloo has two copies, one of which is on loan.
Kaitlin blushes, shaking her head in embarrassment. "Oh. Sorry, You did say that, didn't you." she murmurs, having a look at the display. "Hmm....How odd. All of our copies seem to be currently on loan, Miss." she replies apologetically.
"Waterloo branch has a copy remaining, however. If you like, I'll call them and ask them to hold it for you?" She offers.
"Yes please!" she nods quickly. "Uh..." she fumbles in one of the side pockets of her rucksack, "Do you need my library card to do that or do you just need to give them my name?" she asks, unsure.
Kaitlin smiles a little more. I bet that's an important essay. "I'm not sure." she admits. "Some of the librarians there are more strict than others. If you'll give me your name for now, I'll try that, but have your card ready, just in case?" she suggests, reaching for the phone, and the library directory, and beginning to dial the Waterloo branch.
"Waterloo public library, how may I help you?" a matronly sounding voice on the other end of the line greets you.
As you dial, the girl produces her dark blue library card and places it on the desk, looking on hopefully.
"Hello, this is Kaitlin O'Hara, from the Main Branch." She replied pleasantly, but briskly. Phone voice. Don't waste time, but don't be rude. She mentally recited on reflex. "Our records show that your branch has a copy of 'Studies in Reflecting Abstraction' by Jean Piaget on the shelves, and there's a young lady here who'd like it set aside for her until she can arrive and check it out herself."
As she talks, Kaitlin glances at the card on the desk for the girl's name.
Felicity Kerr, reads the library card, in small black print over the white strip along the middle.
"Certainly, Ms O'Hara," the woman on the other end of the line replies agreeably. "We can put it aside for the rest of the day. Who's name shall I hold it in?"
Kaitlin smiles at the waiting girl reassuringly. "That'll do nicely, thank you. And it's for Ms. Felicity Kerr." She informs her counterpart at the other library.
The woman at Waterloo confirms she'll hold the book before hanging up, while Felicity replaces her library card in her bag. "Thanks. Now I just need to get over to Waterloo, get the book, then pull another stupid all nighter... Oh, well. Thanks a lot for your help!" she waves, heading out of the library.
As she leaves, a slightly older woman with long black hair, dressed in the typical library uniform of brown skirt and waistcoat over a white shirt approaches you from behind the desk.
Kaitlin spies the woman dressed as one of her co-workers from the corner of her eye, and quickly and discreetly nudges her novel even further under the computer. They didn't catch me, did they?
If she noticed your book, she pays it no mind.
Leaning in close, she speaks in a hushed tone. "Miss Origami. You are wanted downstairs. Mr Joker has a task for you."
Kaitlin's eyes widen a little at the summons, and she nods once, stifling the instinctive reaction to pump the messenger for information. Standing up as gracefully as she can, despite a sudden attack of nerves, (After all, she'd only recently been approved for active duty) she arranges the desk for the librarian who would be sent to take her place, and she heads to the entrances to the lower levels the building, nerves giving way to an eager excitement.
After all, working with books is a great deal of fun, but the headquarters of the British Library Association...well, for a book lover, there's no better place to be.
The woman who gave you the message smoothly takes your place at the information desk.
Making your way to the rear of the Biographies section you come across an elevator marked 'Staff Only'. It only takes a quick swipe of your access card to enter, and inputting the 4 digit code on the brass panel to set the elevator downwards to the secret heart of the British Library.
Down past the first two basement levels it goes, before the floor indicator stops showing anything, although if anything the lift picks up speed, whizzing downwards...
Just when your stomach begins its first murmurings of protest at this treatment, your ride smoothly comes to a stop, the doors sliding open with a cheery *ding*.
And so is the true British Library revealed. Massive stacks, two storeys tall at least, line the walls. Smaller, more human sized, bookshelves arrayed at their base like pygmies. Here and there are raised podiums seating British Library researchers, using holographic displays rarely seen outside of science fiction. It's a curious blending of old and new. Not the jarring clash of steampunk, but a smooth merging of Victoriana and sleek high tech. A middle aged man pushing a trolley of manuscripts pauses to nod in greeting as he passes the lift door in front of Kaitlin, before clearing the way for her.
Kaitlin nods happily in return to the man as she steps out of the evevator...and falters slightly. Woo...dizzy. I hate that elevator. Slowly, she regains her equilibruim, and resumes her journey, grinning a little as she folds her hands behind her back and looking around, almost wistfully. There'd never be enough time to read them all, but Sure'n I'd like to try...
Unfortunately, this was not to be, as there was work to be done. Reluctantly, and looking at all the shelves as she passed, Kaitlin headed inward, in search of Mr. Joker, a little seed of nervousness beginning to take root.
It takes a little while to cover the distance, including a brief trip on another elevator up one floor before you reach Mr Joker's office. A woman about your age with light blonde hair stands outside, currently brewing a pot of tea. "Miss Origami?" she looks up at your approach.
Kaitlin winces at her codename, but nods agreeably, biting her lip, but trying not to appear anxious. "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Joker sent for me?"
"Go on in," she nods. "I'll be through in a moment with the tea."
Tentatively, Kaitlin knocks on the indicated doorframe, to announce her presence, and then steps through the doorway, and into the office as instructed. "You sent for me, sir?"
Seated behind a large oaken desk, you find the eponymous Mr Joker, currently dressed in a rather dapper tweed suit with his blonde hair combed neatly back as is his wont.
"Ah, Miss Origami," he smiles as you enter. "Won't you take a seat? I've just been going over your file."
Resiting the urge to sigh at the use of her code name, Kaitlin bobs her head lightly in a nod, and smiles back shyly as she complies with the request, moving to a seat and smoothing her skirt under herself as she lowers herself into a chair. "Thank you, sir."
Just calm down, it's not like they'd send someone as new as me on a life or death mission, right? Right... she bolstered herself, while waiting for the well dressed man to elaborate further.
"Yes," he settles back in his chair as you sit. "You have a lot of potential, but little experience in field work. Fortunately, a job just came up which I believe..."
He trails off as the blonde secretary enters with a trolley, pulling up alongside the desk. "Ah, thank you, Wendy," he says, accepting a delicate porcelain teacup of said drink.
"How do you take yours, Miss Origami?" Wendy asks, bending over the trolley as she pours a second cup.
Kaitlin nods along, intent on what Joker has to say when the tea arrives, and distracts her.
"Oh," Kaitlin blinks, a little flustered by the interruption, but gathering herself quickly. "Um, with honey, if you have it, please. If not, two lumps is fine." she murmurs, smiling embarrassedly.
"Of course," Wendy smiles, amazingly enough having just what you asked for.
Once both of you are suitably provided with refreshments, Wendy quietly exits, allowing Joker to resume. "Where was I? Ah, yes. I believe I have a mission in mind which would prove beneficial to you. Nothing too taxing, but it will provide experience for the future.
"Tell me," he asks, setting down his teacup, "Have you ever been to Hong Kong?"
Warily, Kaitlin lets herself relax a little at Mr Joker's assurances that the mission isn't too breathtaking. "I'm afraid not, sir. I've been briefly to the surrounding area with my mother, some time ago, but never to Hong Kong itself."
"Then this should be a good chance to familiarise yourself with the area, as well, then," Joker notes, taking another sip of his tea. "The British Library has long maintained an extensive presence there, something we hope to continue even after the island reverts to mainland rule.
"In any case, are you by chance familiar with Li Shan's Wenxuan Wuchen Zu?" he says the Chinese phrase without the slightest hint of an accent, before amending in English, "Five Master's Commentary to the Wenxuan?"
OOC: It's a book. Which may or may not be rare in real life. However, for the purposes of the game, it is very rare. Think only a few obscure and slightly garbled copies, if Kaitlin is enough of a bibliophile to know of it at all.
Kaitlin blinks, leaning forward a little. "The name only is familiar. I've heard it mentioned...not a great deal, though." she murmurs, trying to dredge more details from her memory, and ultimately failing.
"As far as we were aware, only a single copy of the original text still existed," Joker frowns slightly. "That copy was in our possession up until 1943, when the library it was held in burned down. However, we have recently been contacted by an individual, who professes to own an original... naturally, he has agreed to sell it to us."
Kaitlin smiles at that, nodding and wondering quietly if she'll get to look at it. Just...wow. Collecting herself, she nods seriously, trying not to get distracted as she begins to wonder what the rare book contains within.
"And I'm to assist in some way?" she asks, almost hopefully.
"Indeed," Joker nods. "One of our men, Professor Haggart, will be able to verify the document's authenticity, and will handle the transaction," his lip curls slightly, "Even if it turns out we are simply buying back what was stolen from us fifty years ago.
"Your role in this, Miss Origami, will be to provide insurance. We don't expect any undue difficulties - we have dealt with this person before, but in case of unforseen difficulties, your abilities could prove crucial."
Kaitlin blinks at that. Bodyguard? Or something else? Nonetheless, she nods agreeably, and promptly. "I understand, sir. Is there reason to believe a third party may interested in the transaction as well?" she asks curiously. My first assignment, and already I'm getting the jitters.
"We have nothing to say that such interference is expected. But by the same token, there are no guarantees. Recemtly some of our agents have reported... difficulties, in the Far East," Mr Joker answers cooly, before giving a reassuring smile. "We don't expect any real trouble with this, but I'm confident you can handle yourself if anything does come up."
Kaitlin blushes and nods, sitting a little straighter in her chair, and nods agreeably. "Thank you. I'll do my best to validate your confidence in me, sir."
"Excellent," Mr Joker says approvingly. "Your flight leaves tomorrow afternoon - you shouldn't be in Hong Kong any longer than two days, so travel light. You have the rest of today off from your duties upstairs in order to make whatever arrangements you feel are necessary."
Recognising an exit cue when she hears one, Kaitlin nods and finishes her tea, preparing to stand. "Understood." she replies briskly. "Oh. Um, will I need to meet with the Professor first, or will that be arranged as we leave?"
"You won't see him until tomorrow at the airport," Mr Joker replies, already picking up the file he was reading earlier. "He lives up in York, and is making his own arrangements prior to flying out."
"Ah." Kaitlin nods, marking that off a mental checklist. "Was there anything else, sir?" she asks as she stands.
Always better to ask permission to go if you're not certain, after all.
"I believe that is all, Miss Origami," he answers smoothly. "Simply follow Professor Haggart's instructions and ensure that no harm comes to him - or the book after it comes into our possession." He gives you a slightly amused look, "So be sure to bring your own paper rather than having to rely on what's nearby, if necessary."
Kaitlin blushes. Forget to bring ammuntion to training just once, and you're branded for life. she grumbles mentally.
"I will, sir." She murmurs embarrassedly nodding respectfully. "Good day."
"And to you, Miss Origami," Joker nods as you leave.
Outside the office, you find Wendy sat at her desk, humming quietly to herself. She hasn't noticed you leaving, and from behind her you can see her computer screen showing pictures of kittens and rabbits that she's scrolling through.
I suppose I'll get used to the codename eventually. she sighs as she leaves the office.
She smiles a little at the overwhelming 'cute' of Wendy's taste in pictures as she walks by. "Thank you very much for the tea." she offers shyly as she passes Wendy's desk, and heads out into library proper again.
Goodness. I wonder if I could skulk about for a bit and have a look at some of these... Kaitlin's gait slows, and she turns as she walks, trying to take in as much as she can.
Wendy jolts a bit at your thanks, quickly tapping the keyboard as the screen changes to a spreadsheet of some kind. "Ah, you're welcome," she replies, blushing a little.
Out in the library proper, surrounded by many millions of books... well, no one questions the presence of a Special Agent in this area, so you certainly have free reign to go where you please. But exactly where? The vast multitude of knowledge presented is more than a little overwhelming without a clear goal in mind...
...Just a quick look. Kaitlin decides, turning toward the first available row of shelves, intent on being a good girl, and not getting too sidetracked.
With a slight giggle, she peruses the available titles to see what jumps out at her, even that simple task seeming rather engaging.
The nearest shelves appear to be devoted to academic texts. In the field of psychology as far as you can see, nearby. With how high the stacks are, and how far they stretch, you wouldn't be too surprised if they contained copies of every single graduate level thesis in the past century.
Interestingly enough, you spot a dozen or so by Jean Piaget at eye level, reminding you of the last patron you dealt with before coming down here.
"Ooh." Kaitlin enthuses, beginning to look for criminal psychology texts. "These could be useful."
She pauses at the familiar name. "Hmm...Jean Piaget?" she muses to herself, pausing to investigate the sorts of books he wrote, on simple curiousity.
There's nearly a dozen books by him - although you spot a few duplicates written in German - first editions, maybe? The majority seem to be centred around child development and learning.
Funnily enough, you spot a copy of Studies in Reflecting Abstraction. Pity none of the books down here are available for lending...
Out of sheer curiousity, Kaitlin picks up the book in question, delicately, in case it's fragile...it seems a bit new for that, but some companies lately had been reducing the amount of glue left in the bindings to encourage the books to fall apart, and the owners to replace them.
Needless to say, Kaitlin favored the death penalty for this particular offence.
Carefully thumbing through the pages, she curiously investigates what the garishily coiffed girl was writing an essay on...
It's not a terribly complicated book - probably because it's based on examining the simple reasoning of young children. It covers quite a wealth of subjects, from reasoning behind mathematics, forming analogies, comparing items by disparate qualities...
There's quite an interesting piece in the second chapter about how a child, presented with two equal glasses of water, one tall and thin, the other short and fat, will always decide the tall one contains more volume at a certain stage in mental development. There are various other little examples to clearly show the various stages of cognitive development Piaget assigns - 7 stages, in all.
Completely losing track of what she had been doing, Kaitlin begins to read, finding the subject matter peculiarly fascinating. She manages to devour nearly half of one of the books in two hours, and shows no signs of stopping, until, fortunately, the rather sturdy athletic watch she wears beeps to signal the end of lunch.
"Eeep!" she blinks, noting the time, and looking embarrassedly up in the direction of the office she'd just left. Hastily replacing the book, and looking longingly at the full shelf, she reluctantly tears herself away, and hurries to the elevator again. Good grief. I hope Mr Joker didn't see that. Completely losing track of what you set about to do is NOT a good way to impress one's superiors. I bet the other special agents don't get all dreamy in here...
You hear a cute feminine sneeze from the other side of one of the stacks just as you hustle into the elevator, but no one impedes your progress, nor attempts to enter the elevator with you.
Kaitlin, still red-faced, sets the elevator to head back up the the regular levels, bracing for the ride, and pondering what to pack for the trip...or, more pointedly, what books to bring.
With a pleasant 'ding!' the elevator deposits you at the ground floor once more.
OOC: Just let me know when you want to skip, and how far along.
Settlling herself, Kaitlin exits the elevator at the ground floor, and mentally prepares herself for two stops as she prepares to the leave the library.
First off, she'd need to go to an office supply store. Carrying a large amount of paper would require not only th paper itself, but a sturdy case of some kind.
Secondly, she'd need to find a gamining store that sold gambling supplies. Large paper and index cards were all well and good, but for her money, unlaminated playing cards were the best small, easily concealable ammunition she had ever tried.
Goals fixed firmly in mind, Kaitlin packs up and leaves the library, excitement over the new assignment beginning to form...
You make your preperations without incident, and before you know it, a new day dawns...
Sadly, your driver isn't the usual model of politely deferential British Library employee, being quite eager to talk your ear off over the fortunes of his favoured football team in the European Cup last night, but mercifully you are soon deposited at Heathrow airport where you meet Professor Haggart.
"Ah, so you must be Miss Origami?" the short, rotund man asks excitedly before you can get a word in. His thinning white hair is arrayed messily about his head, giving him a classic 'eccentric professor' look, which his excitable demeanour does little to disavow. "Yes, Mr Joker told me all about you. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Professor Haggart, as I'm sure you already know."
Kaitlin smooths out the rather fashionable women's trenchcoat she got as a gift from her mother, the practiced movements designed to avoid attracting attention to the fact that several packets of index and playing cards resided in the pockets sewn into the sleeves and lining.
"That would be me, yes. It's nice to meet you, sir." Kaitlin replies warmly, trying not to laugh. "Mister Joker told me about you, as well." she adds, trying to restrain a sigh at her codename, yet again. You'll be hearing it a lot, girl. Make your time....Er, peace with it. Dratted computer is rotting my brain.
"Shall we begin?" she asks with a smile masking her slight worry. Oh dear...I -do- wish he wasn't quite so...exuberant. I don't do very well with small talk...
Indeed, the amiable Professor makes incessant small talk as you make your way through baggage checking and customs, paying little mind at all to your comparitive silence except to fill the air with more noise. It's not until you approach the plane (A British Airways jet, naturally) that he begins to quieten.
As you are seated (first class, naturally) and the stewardess goes through the pre-flight, he turns to you with a somewhat pale look. "Perhaps it's a bit late now, but have I mentioned I'm deathly afraid of flying?"
Kaitlin almost missed the comment, as she settled down in her seat, having grown accustomed to nodding politely to the older man's frenetic conversation.
She actually paused, mid-nod, to give him a sharp look. "Oh dear...Is there anything you need, or that I can do...?"
"Nothing to do but pray," he replies with a touch of regret, breathing shallowly as he fumbles unsuccessfuly with his seatbelt.
"Logically, I know I was at more risk driving to the airport, but I think it's just a primal reaction. If God wanted us to fly he'd have given us wings, and all that..." he trails off with an almost hysterical giggle, still struggling with the seatbelt.
Kaitlin smiles in what she hopes is a reassuring manner, though she's beginning to feel a touch anxious just being near the man. Slipping a hand into her coat, she withdraws an index card, and gives it a mental nudge, rendering the paper pliable, like clay.
Concentrating on the image she wants, she pushes the card into the shape of a tiny bird. "If it helps ease your mind, sir, I'm not exactly God, but I can manage a pair of wings in a pinch." she confides with another smile. "I'll make sure you make your appointment."
"Oh, my word..." he gasps, staring at the paper bird with almost child-like intensity. "That is a marvel..." he slowly reaches towards the bird before pausing and looking up to meet your eyes. "May I?"
Kaitlin smiles a little, readily handing it over, glad to distract him from his fears, at least for a little while, and blushing a little over his enthusiam. "By all means."
"It really is amazing," he murmurs, turning the bird this way and that. "I saw a video once of another agent who could control paper, but it's easy enough to just imagine it's special effects or something. Seeing it done so naturally... how exactly do you do it?" he asks, peering curiously at you.
Kaitlin shrugs modestly. "Practice, mostly." she demurs, smiling a little. "Beyond that, I couldn't explain it. it's just something I find myself able to do."
"Magic really does exist..." he marvels for a moment, before jumping as the plane begins to thrum from the engine startup, hurriedly fumbling with his seatbelt.
Kaitlin finds herself oddly amused by that. "I wouldn't call it magic, precisely." she laughs, unhurriedly fastening her own seatbelt. "It's simply a peculiar....and often useful talent."
The Professor nods a little distractedly, finally getting his seatbelt on as the stewardess finishes her safety spiel.
"You know how they tell you to brace yourself in that crash position against the chair in front?" he asks, going on before you can answer. "It's because the plane will concertina -" he brings his hands together, "Guarantees you'll die instantly."
"Not exactly a cheery thought." Kaitlin notes dryly. "I'll have to remember not to do that, then."
"Well, the alternative is having most of your organs crushed and then waiting to die from that. Or burning or drowning or something else slow and painful," your companion continues morbidly.
"That assumes you're fatally wounded." Kaitlin shrugs cheerily. "There have been people who walked away from a plane crash without a scratch, you know."
"Have you ever met one?" the professor asks, doubt clear in his tone. He falls silent as the plane begins to taxi on the runway, gripping the armrests of his chair tightly.
"You know someone who died in a plane crash?" Kaitlin asks, jumping to the offered conclusion. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry..."
She falls quiet at that, awkwardly letting the silence be, and kicking herself for yet another social blunder.
Professor Haggart looks over at you with a bemused expression. "No, I've never met anyone who's been in any plane crash," he replies. "And I'd like to keep things that way."
Kaitlin blinks. "Oh....dear. I assumed you meant..." she shakes her head. "I think I'll just stop putting my foot in my mouth, then."