Nightshift 50: Staff Training Area
[from here]
The training room let on little of Landel's management style besides the megalomaniac sadistic bullshit refrain S.T. didn't need to rehash, even to himself. Except that he believed in putting his toys away at the end of the day. There was a stack of the corporate padded chairs that were comfortable for just long enough for them to look like they spent real money when the investors showed up. S.T. ignored them and kept exploring.
A bunch of computers with more of those pancake-thin monitors -- no way could you fit a CRT in twice that space. A computer store over in Hacker Square (better known as Kendall) had been trying to hawk 1K CD 'data solutions' to passersby. By now, maybe even cut-rate training rooms rated video-capable drives. He'd come back to them.
When his flashlight hit the dummy in the corner, he didn't jump. He walked over, and poked it in the chest. It wheezed in the manner he hadn't heard since his last Red Cross water safety training montage. Which meant -- jackpot. A quick grope around the dummy (only anatomically correct where it counted, i.e. lungs) turned up a box of latex gloves, which he tucked under his arm before moving on to the main show. A projector cart that would make any middle school auditorium proud. Complete with two black boxes for all their twentieth and twenty-first century video needs.
"Bingo. Seen an outlet?" Oh, right. "Little white round thing on the wall with three slots. Don't stick your fingers in it." He started wheeling the cart into the middle of the room.
The training room let on little of Landel's management style besides the megalomaniac sadistic bullshit refrain S.T. didn't need to rehash, even to himself. Except that he believed in putting his toys away at the end of the day. There was a stack of the corporate padded chairs that were comfortable for just long enough for them to look like they spent real money when the investors showed up. S.T. ignored them and kept exploring.
A bunch of computers with more of those pancake-thin monitors -- no way could you fit a CRT in twice that space. A computer store over in Hacker Square (better known as Kendall) had been trying to hawk 1K CD 'data solutions' to passersby. By now, maybe even cut-rate training rooms rated video-capable drives. He'd come back to them.
When his flashlight hit the dummy in the corner, he didn't jump. He walked over, and poked it in the chest. It wheezed in the manner he hadn't heard since his last Red Cross water safety training montage. Which meant -- jackpot. A quick grope around the dummy (only anatomically correct where it counted, i.e. lungs) turned up a box of latex gloves, which he tucked under his arm before moving on to the main show. A projector cart that would make any middle school auditorium proud. Complete with two black boxes for all their twentieth and twenty-first century video needs.
"Bingo. Seen an outlet?" Oh, right. "Little white round thing on the wall with three slots. Don't stick your fingers in it." He started wheeling the cart into the middle of the room.