Any Inspiration?
Dr Keto stormed into his office and loathed the fact that you
couldn't really slam sliding doors. Not loudly, anyway. He tried
nevertheless.
He had spent the last two hours chasing round the ship after
various crewmembers. Originally he had been after White Wolf, but
then several people had evidently thought it would be good fun to
lure him away with lines such as, "Ow, I have a headache," and "What
should I do about this cut on my arm."
Even Dr Keto's ointment-obsessed brain had eventually realised that
this was all a ruse to get him away from the hamster. When he
returned to where he had last seen it/him, however, he found that the
door was locked, sealed, coded and just about impregnable. So he had
returned to his office.
Sighing and taking a seat, Keto began to rifle through his latest
batch of complaints about his treatments.
Over the past few weeks, the doctor had begun to wonder, perhaps
even to believe, that some of his ointments were just not as
effective as he thought they were. People had been complaining of
rashes, pains and, in one memorable case, complete incapacitation
below the neck, and then claiming that these afflictions were due to
his ointments.
The problem, Keto suspected, was in his supplies. This ship just
didn't have pure enough ointment sources. All the bottles and vials
around the ship were full of inadequate ointment.
It would be useful, he mused, if somebody could design a machine
that could analyse an ointment and work out how concentrated and
efficient it would be - or how ineffective. He shrugged, dismissing
the thought temporarily, but then decided that it couldn't hurt to
ask Holly to keep an eye open.
"Holly," he said. The computer's face appeared on the screen in
the wall.
"What?" it said.
"Just a thought - if anybody happens to be capable and willing to
design an ointment-analysis machine..."
The computer's eyes rolled as he said the word 'ointment'. Keto
ignored it.
"...then I need one," he finished. Holly smirked.
"Sure," he said, then vanished. Sighing once more, Keto returned
to the complaints, the pile neatly covering the desk.
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OOC - feel like helping, Steev? Just an idea, no pressure. And I
never said the machine had to WORK. ;)