MISSION LOG
Title: Space Out
Characters: Nemu Kurotsuchi, Open
Location: Alpha-1, Gotei Ent. HQ
Timeframe: February 6, Evening
Status: Open, On-Going
Warnings: General obliviousness on Nemu's Part. Strangeness. Textbook Speech.
Nemu had been staring at the wall for some time, considering the textures and patterns of the speckled tile. She did not daydream as other girls might have done; such a concept was alien to her. How could one dream in the day? Needless to say, Nemu was lacking considerably in the imagination department.
She glanced back down at the paper baring lines upon lines of tiny, neat numbers resting upon the front desk. The general receptionist was ill and, out of kindness, Nemu had offered to stand in. Little did she know how long the hours were. She was not suffering from boredom - people with endless questions and contemplations never grew bored - but she was concerned for her father. Had he eaten? Had he remembered to bathe himself? She continued scrawling digits across the page.
Wisely, her father had set very strict stipulations for her working. One of them was that she would not fail in her private studies, though she was no longer in any sort of formal schooling. Education, he had said, was a continuing, constant process. So, to amuse herself, she had begun to write the times tables.
12 x 1000 = 12000 she finished, placing the spent sheet atop a pile of like-numbered papers. She retrieved a fresh sheet and began with 13 x 1.
Characters: Nemu Kurotsuchi, Open
Location: Alpha-1, Gotei Ent. HQ
Timeframe: February 6, Evening
Status: Open, On-Going
Warnings: General obliviousness on Nemu's Part. Strangeness. Textbook Speech.
Nemu had been staring at the wall for some time, considering the textures and patterns of the speckled tile. She did not daydream as other girls might have done; such a concept was alien to her. How could one dream in the day? Needless to say, Nemu was lacking considerably in the imagination department.
She glanced back down at the paper baring lines upon lines of tiny, neat numbers resting upon the front desk. The general receptionist was ill and, out of kindness, Nemu had offered to stand in. Little did she know how long the hours were. She was not suffering from boredom - people with endless questions and contemplations never grew bored - but she was concerned for her father. Had he eaten? Had he remembered to bathe himself? She continued scrawling digits across the page.
Wisely, her father had set very strict stipulations for her working. One of them was that she would not fail in her private studies, though she was no longer in any sort of formal schooling. Education, he had said, was a continuing, constant process. So, to amuse herself, she had begun to write the times tables.
12 x 1000 = 12000 she finished, placing the spent sheet atop a pile of like-numbered papers. She retrieved a fresh sheet and began with 13 x 1.