Like most of the routine, for Kohler the Cafeteria had its own almost ritual significance.

The cavernous chamber was one of the few places where people actually seemed to let their guard down socially. Past the lines, and the sneeze guards, past the disinterested "cooks" in their hair nets and aprons. Past the unsettling warmth of the plates and cups, perpetually "fresh" from the assembly line, there was the almost primordial comfort of just sharing a meal with another human being.

Now Kohler was a yellow paste guy, and he never got tired of the stuff. He called it "banana pudding". The man had obviously not had a real banana in decades, but the color matched some childhood preconception of the brightly colored fruit in an alphabet book, and the notion had stuck fast in his brain.

He satisfied himself that he had caught the place between rushes, took up his tray and utensils, and shuffled along with the others with his elbows tucked in tight and the bottom of his forearm resting against the grip of his pistol. The place was hardly crowded obviously, but the notion of having people stacked up behind him made him uneasy just the same.

There had been a time when he would have felt comfortable coming here off duty. A time when he could potentially run across people he had dealt with the night before and just endured the awkwardness in line before they went their separate ways. These days things were sufficiently tense all over to where he did not want to risk getting caught in a corridor unarmed or unarmored, and he dreaded the notion of having to arrest one of the cook staff.

If he couldn't trust his food, well, cold "take out" was going to get old real quick.

He made a little small talk, took his loaded plate and helped himself to a glass of pinkish "punch" beverage from the machine before he made his way to his usual table, back to the wall and with a commanding view of the chamber. He took his seat, adjusted his duty belt, and then slipped his fork from its little napkin pocket.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:43, Tue 05 Jan 2021.

Bob came out of the kitchen, heading over to joint the other Sec officer. "Light" he greeted cheerfully, sliding a small packet over to John. "Protein ration, make you grow up big and strong like me."
Tipping his own packet (gravied mince) over his meal, he tucked in.

Kohler chuckled as he leaned forward and took the packet. "Like you? Not sure I really want it in that case..." he joked as he took the valuable pouch, opened it and began to squeeze every last drop onto his meal.

"You been saving these up? Haven't seen them up for grabs in months." he asked in a low tone, and once he was sure that the pouch was exhausted he set it on the seat next to him.

"Heard a rumour from Scott down in Medical that this whole last generation is something like fifty pounds lighter on average than us that were born outside." He continued and shook his head."I mean I know they're doing the best with what they have, but that's a lot of protein to come up with for this many people..." he observed as he took a fork-full and popped it in his mouth.

After he finished chewing the greasy mouthful and had washed it down with some of the punch he jerked his chin towards Bob "How's the shoulder?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 16:29, Thu 07 Jan 2021.

"Nah, call it side benefits of being in external exile."
Bob met John's interested look, realising that he had to say more. "Okay, I have expressed opinions unpopular with the admin. As a result I am assigned to patrol of the abandoned sector, where there is no-one to talk to who might agree with me and require the Admin to have two brain cells to rub together. In the abandoned sector are various uncontrolled flora and fauna. One species of the latter is what the Labcoats call 'albino mole rats' which I call 'required habituation target practice' and the kitchen calls 'protein ration substrate'. Basically, I do my habituation shooting them, kitchen turns them into rations. Armorer signed off on it."

"Wouldn't be surprised, everything is short and getting shorter, even average heights."

Bob rotated the shoulder in question. "Ah, it's fine. It was just a bad fall after all. Worst thing about the whole thing was that she had me doing falls -just falls- for like a solid week afterwards. Hurt a lot more than the shoulder did, let me tell you."

Kohler could not help but feel some guilt as he took another fork full of greasy extruded paste and ate it slowly. The protein ration helped with the taste, there was some sort of spice somewhere in there, and the meat was a rare treat for a man who was theoretically supposed to consume between three and four thousand calories a day depending on his activity level.

"Well, it's appreciated." he replied with a nod as he chewed.

He could imagine the dozens, probably hundreds of people now crammed into the sub levels. Bloated stomachs and hollow eyes, gaunt and sullen as they bedded down in the dim cramped chambers reeking of humid barn heat and body odor.

And here they were, up at the Cafeteria, and still on full ration at that. But for how much longer? Who could say?

When Bob said aloud that he had voiced opinions contrary to Admin, Kohler reflexively glanced around without moving his head too much. Kohler was an "Outer", always had been. But while his stance was publically known he had grown more discreet as of late in bringing it up.

When the edge was taken off his hunger he took another sip of his drink and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Bruise on my thigh is huge, but it's healing alright..." he replied conversationally. A wrench had sailed out of the crowd earlier in the week and had nailed Kohler just under his riot shield. "Been trying to find some detergent, my best suit still reeks of tear gas. I've got coffee packets for trade, comb and a brush still. If you come across anybody."

He tapped his fork on his plate idly. "Don't see us lasting much longer if this keeps up. Not sure what they're gonna do" he spoke in a low voice and shook his head as he stared at his plate.

"For the tear gas talk to Jonesey, Tech section 4. She has the social skills of a dead half-brick, but she knows her chems. Stupid to use tear gas down here anyway. You should have heard Environmental's complaints."

Bob laughed. "Hell, they will hide their heads in the sand and hope it all goes away of course! What else does Admin ever do?" He made no effort to keep his voice down, although he wasn't shouting either. "Mandatory lobotomy for all Admin I figure."

"Can't argue with results though. Sure it clogs up the filters but we just don't have the numbers to just wade in there with hats and bats alone if we see crowds like we did last month." he replied in a quiet tone with a shrug. "Hartigan's still out with a broken hand, and Russell's on the light duty roster now, not sure why." he sighed softly and took another mouthful.

The lack of discretion obviously made Kohler a little uncomfortable, but he said nothing.

"Admin's just like any other sector. Some are pretty damn smart, and their hearts are in the right place, they are just insulated from what's going on in the field. Others, well." he shook his head. "But working on this sort of scale, I mean, I get it...you can't just throw open the door to thousands of people. It needs to be organized...but not having a real plan at all to get us back out there. It's not exactly encouraging."

He glanced around again. "What would you try to do if you were in charge?" He asked with another jerk of his head.

"Hmm, good question. Small groups, scouting multiple directions to maximise intel while minimising risk. Limited exposure, frequent return back to Med to try and figure out exactly what it is kills people Outside. Concentrate on gathering biomass for the moment, it is the most critical shortage."

"That could work..." Kohler agreed with a few nods. "Like anything down here there would be hiccups, people trying to rush the door or sneak out, people trying to get on or off certain scout teams. Probably casualties, and those are never popular." he shrugged. "But it's better than not having a plan at all, in my opinion" he added in a low tone.

He sat back with his half full cup of punch. "I do wonder sometimes, what it's like up there. Twenty years is a long time...long time." he was silent for a moment, and thoughtful. "How are you getting ammo to shoot these things? If you don't mind me asking. I've had the same rounds in my mags for at least...three years now?"

"Well, I do end up kicking some of them to death but remember the armorer signed off on it. I have to wear a smartlink and instead of 'breath control, breath control; trigger control, trigger control' I get 'your footwork was off here' and 'why did you sweep this target, fire on the next, then come back to the first? Sloppy' but its my hab rounds.

And then of course it is unofficial. I am not Category:agriculture. What I supply to the kitchen falls under personal items. I trade for it. Some of that trade is ammo."

Addison stepped wearily through the door to the Cafeteria. The scent combination of cleaning solution and food, a thing that did not generally set her ill-at-ease, bothered her nose more than usual today. It had already been a hectic morning in the medical wing.

Addison requested the brown mush--the most flavorful, in her opinion--with a side of the white lumps.

Staring down at the dishes as she was served, her mind wandered up through the bunker tunnels and into the unknown of the outside. Were there vegetables growing up there? Cattle? Trees filled with fruit? Had such things been blown away by the event? If they had, did they grow back?

Addison accepted her tray with a smile and pushed the thoughts aside.

She caught sight of a familiar face among the tables--known to her through his work as a reserve EMT. Addison lifted a hand to wave.

John nodded along as he listened to Bob's explanation.

The Black Market was a popular option for many residents. One could even argue that his own search for laundry detergent was an effort to circumvent the standard ration. But it still did not feel entirely comfortable.

If someone was trading away ammunition, ammunition that they did not have any way of replenishing to his knowledge. Ammunition that kept under high security, that was especially concerning. But he gave Bob the benefit of the doubt. It was probably all above board, probably.

When Addison entered and looked their way he raised a hand to return her greeting and pulled out a seat at their table. He never really had any in depth conversations with her, but she had conducted one of his work physicals, put in several medical trainings and helped him to restock his kit with supplies.

Of course she was also one of those that reviewed the charts he submitted...not always his strong point.

But today he was just looking for conversation, and he figured as empty as the hall was, it was polite to invite her over.

"You know Addison?" He asked Bob after he had pulled out the chair.

"Yeah, some. She takes some of the medic cross-training, right?"
Bob smiled up at her. "Welcome Doc, but are you sure you want to associate with two notorious subversives such as us? We were in fact just discussing ways to reverse the mandatory Admin lobotomy."

Addison was surprised to see John pull out the chair, but moved to head over. She didn't know either man well, but was predisposed to like anyone who volunteered for EMT duty.

"Thanks." She put down her tray and settled into the seat.

Her eyebrows shot up at Bob's comment. As a matter of fact, Addison knew that she likely shouldn't be interacting with anyone saying anything too subversive too loudly.

Her career as a medical professional had come with the necessity of a facade of neutrality. To her patients, she had to be a thoroughly non-political figure, safe. Addison saved her opinions on the state of the bunker for late night conversations with the closest of friends.

However, she doubted either man was seriously discussing anything too sketchy here out in the open of the cafeteria. Bob's humorous bark was probably more subversive than his bite, she thought.

Addison had had a little more interaction with John than Bob, and he seemed like an above board sort of guy.

"I think my reputation will make it," she replied with a humor-laced smile.

John's slight cringe was evidence enough that he was a far more cautious sort that Bob. True enough they agreed that the shelter could benefit from begining to work towards outside settlement, but Kohler possessed a quieter way of going about it.

He had been keeping his head down for months now, working away, and it seemed that even some of the Security staff were getting pretty vocal. No wonder he had been moved to a more isolated section.

"Don't mention it" he replied as Addison sat down.

"How are things over the Medical?" He asked as she got settled. "Bob and I were just talking about rumor of some of the newer generations being a little, well, underweight" he said in a tone meant only for their table. "It's got to be hard, trying to feed, what? Seven thousand people now." he mused. "I've noticed it a little bit, malnutrition I mean, some edema...hair loss." He said grimly as he took another fork full of the greasy paste. "But I figured they were probably trading away their rations..."

"hooch," Wallace interrupted as he sat something down on the table for them"anything with starch some bright boy decides to turn into cheap hooch"

the package was a plastic bottle half full of murky liquid" Like this stuff. I just took it off one of the staff... don't ask I ain't saying...made her sick,

"level G-4 near the incinerators...ya didn't hear it from me. Take yer time don't rush off like I just told ya something. "

"Busy," Addison replied with a sigh. "Never a shortage of people with broken bones or runny noses."

She nodded at John's commentary.

"No one's starving to death--luckily, but I agree with you. We're starting to see the effects of things like chronic vitamin deficiencies. We're lucky to have the ability to synthesize all that we do, but it can't compare to the options people used to have. Variety's a large part of the battle for nutrition. You can get sick on three thousand calories a day if they don't have all the things you need. Not to mention the amount of food allotted is based on a human average, which is, well, an average. Plenty of people need more."

She looked up at Wallace with surprise as the bottle is set onto the table, interrupting her frustrated thoughts.

"You should tell your staff member to come see me today. This stuff's more likely to kill you than get you drunk. Tell her I won't make a report, but that she needs to see a doctor ASAP."

John shot Bob a knowing look as Wallace set down the bottle. He refrained from glancing about and seemed to try earnestly to keep from reacting outwardly.

"Thanks for letting us know" he told the man sincerely. "Things are rough enough without people starving themselves for a drink or going blind off some bad batch. We'll check it out" he assured him.

He sighed after a moment. "Don't worry about your worker, I know you're short handed as it is." He nodded in agreement with Addison's advice and looked back to Wallace. "Want your name in the report? We can keep it confidential if you like, but Admin's been known to kick down some nice perks for solid tips. We'll just make it anonymous if not, either way" he asked softly and shrugged before he took another sip of his punch.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Thu 14 Jan 2021.

"And people have been known to get beat within an inch of their life for said tips...no thank you...just get that swill refinery shut down." Wallace shook his head. and walked back to the kitchen.

Bob eyed the bottle, sighing internally. It had been a long day already. "Oh well, like The Major says, Sec is always on duty." He looked over at Addison. "Tell me Doc, are you willing to test that to confirm that it is in fact dangerous and how long would it take you?"

"Honestly, it'd probably only take me about twenty minutes," Addison replied, holding the bottle up to the light. "Most likely this is filled with methanol, which is simple to test for. It's just alcohol--but the kind that burns up your insides. Could also be bacteria or lead."

She took a bite of her food, thinking about the day's schedule.

"If you guys wanna wait around after we finish here, I can probably get it done right then."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:32, Fri 15 Jan 2021.

Kohn listened to the two after Wallace had left, and nodded when Addison suggested she could test the liquid once they were done with lunch.

"Sounds good. It would be nice to have for the report." he agreed, then glanced to his bracer and the time display. "I'll probably hit the head, and take a look at the map for G-4 area. Want to meet outside the lab in...thirty?" he asked the two and glanced between them as he got his tray ready to return onto the "dirty" rack near the exit.

"Sounds like a plan," Addison agreed. "I'll head back to the wing as soon as I finish my lunch."

She gave John a nod when he stood and dug back into her food.

Bob finished up his food, then sat back sipping his mix and watching Addison. She was worth watching, with her small economical gestures as she ate. Probably something to do with being a doc, although it might just be her nature. He didn't say anything, content with company.

After everyone finishes lunch Addison can get to her lab and run a basic test or three. Figuring out it's a mix of several alcohols is child's play. but there is something else in the "juice" that seems like something more than just basic leftovers from distillation and dirty pipes...something organic.

Investigate,or research, or Medical expert please...difficult 12, if you can get success on all three let me know for more info.