Bart Torgal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theresalwaystheview) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-04-04 04:22 am
theresalwaystheview) wrote in ph_logs2024-04-04 04:22 am
Sometimes I stare out of the window and think about how lucky I am...
Who: Bart Torgal and...you?
What: Seasonal log, as he attempts to earn enough money for a vessel
When: Mid-spring through event times
Where: Watson's clinic, Bart's lab
Warnings: General warning for poorly-dealt-with mental health themes, will update as necessary
Bart's winter had been bad. Terrible, really. For every ounce of progress he made, there was some kind of setback. Something that crippled him in his research or his attempts at having anything resembling a social life. He feels more alone than ever, even with the knowledge that there are people that at the very least think well of him. But what did that matter, really, when he's opted not to show his face out in the world unless it was for work?
1. The Clinic
From the moment that he knew he was good for something around here, he'd put himself to work on it. Working intake at John Watson's clinic, he'd been updating paperwork and helping to educate the doctor on updated medical techniques and information, knowing that if he had the common knowledge behind him of an additional couple of centuries of advancement, then who would he be to keep it to himself? So he was careful to pass on everything that he knew, and make all of his research available to the staff both here, and at Winterbottom's clinic closer to the center of town.
A handmade wooden sign with a slider that denotes when the clinic is open indicates that they are seeing patients. Walking into the clinic, you will see him sitting behind a desk, writing or occasionally drawing, filling out page upon page of notes from loose sheets. There are pamphlets, printed on thick card paper and folded neatly, for newcomers to peruse so that they had a better idea of how to approach an appointment. In an emergency, the boy is cool-headed, his manner and way of speaking incredibly gentle.
"Welcome to the clinic of Doctor John Watson, what can we do for you?"
2. The Lab
When not at the clinic, Bart is at home. Those that have known him for a while know that he's been working nonstop to turn part of his home into a proper laboratory for the production of everything from batteries to make the radio project by Tarantulas viable in the long term, to assisting in the production of penicillin from the samples that he'd been getting from the various farms around the island. The latter is at least coming along better, as materials to fabricate long-lasting, rechargeable batteries that wouldn't degrade into physical hazards is somewhat beyond his means just now.
When at home, he works late into the night, his lamps lit until the wee hours. He doesn't associate much with the people outside of his research, a long-standing habit that he has yet to curtail as he remains nervous about getting close to anyone at all.
A visitor will have to knock loudly, or find a window of his lab to tap on if they want his attention while he's wrist-deep in a production cycle for an antibiotic that he's attempting to prepare for proper in-vivo testing. He's going to look poorly slept, somewhat haunted, ragged around the edges like a college student studying for finals. There are samples absolutely everywhere, from the island, from the ocean, and from the outer edges of the entrance of Hepogaia.
Wildcard
Bart can also be found in fits and starts out in the forest, or down at the beach, pursuing lines of inquiry and writing in blank notebooks that rapidly fill with small handwriting and sketches that look more akin to diagrams than regular art. He's not an artist after all, just desperate to remember as much as possible, with an eye for details and an almost pathological need to put everything down accurately. Speaking up without letting him see you coming will make him jump. Sorry.
What: Seasonal log, as he attempts to earn enough money for a vessel
When: Mid-spring through event times
Where: Watson's clinic, Bart's lab
Warnings: General warning for poorly-dealt-with mental health themes, will update as necessary
Bart's winter had been bad. Terrible, really. For every ounce of progress he made, there was some kind of setback. Something that crippled him in his research or his attempts at having anything resembling a social life. He feels more alone than ever, even with the knowledge that there are people that at the very least think well of him. But what did that matter, really, when he's opted not to show his face out in the world unless it was for work?
1. The Clinic
From the moment that he knew he was good for something around here, he'd put himself to work on it. Working intake at John Watson's clinic, he'd been updating paperwork and helping to educate the doctor on updated medical techniques and information, knowing that if he had the common knowledge behind him of an additional couple of centuries of advancement, then who would he be to keep it to himself? So he was careful to pass on everything that he knew, and make all of his research available to the staff both here, and at Winterbottom's clinic closer to the center of town.
A handmade wooden sign with a slider that denotes when the clinic is open indicates that they are seeing patients. Walking into the clinic, you will see him sitting behind a desk, writing or occasionally drawing, filling out page upon page of notes from loose sheets. There are pamphlets, printed on thick card paper and folded neatly, for newcomers to peruse so that they had a better idea of how to approach an appointment. In an emergency, the boy is cool-headed, his manner and way of speaking incredibly gentle.
"Welcome to the clinic of Doctor John Watson, what can we do for you?"
2. The Lab
When not at the clinic, Bart is at home. Those that have known him for a while know that he's been working nonstop to turn part of his home into a proper laboratory for the production of everything from batteries to make the radio project by Tarantulas viable in the long term, to assisting in the production of penicillin from the samples that he'd been getting from the various farms around the island. The latter is at least coming along better, as materials to fabricate long-lasting, rechargeable batteries that wouldn't degrade into physical hazards is somewhat beyond his means just now.
When at home, he works late into the night, his lamps lit until the wee hours. He doesn't associate much with the people outside of his research, a long-standing habit that he has yet to curtail as he remains nervous about getting close to anyone at all.
A visitor will have to knock loudly, or find a window of his lab to tap on if they want his attention while he's wrist-deep in a production cycle for an antibiotic that he's attempting to prepare for proper in-vivo testing. He's going to look poorly slept, somewhat haunted, ragged around the edges like a college student studying for finals. There are samples absolutely everywhere, from the island, from the ocean, and from the outer edges of the entrance of Hepogaia.
Wildcard
Bart can also be found in fits and starts out in the forest, or down at the beach, pursuing lines of inquiry and writing in blank notebooks that rapidly fill with small handwriting and sketches that look more akin to diagrams than regular art. He's not an artist after all, just desperate to remember as much as possible, with an eye for details and an almost pathological need to put everything down accurately. Speaking up without letting him see you coming will make him jump. Sorry.
1
"I'm, ah. Here to update my records." He rubs the back of his neck. "Emergency contact and wanted to get some more recent vitals. César Salazar."
no subject
When César comes into the office, he recognizes the man from having see him around town, though the two of them haven't spoken except in passing a time or two. He nods and bends to flip through the records filed neatly in the drawers at the side of the intake desk, pulling up the thin folder with César's name on it. "Of course, sir. If you like we can go ahead and get the updated contact information out of the way, and then we can go back to one of the open exam rooms."
no subject
"Sounds good to me." César shrugs then rubs the back of his neck. "... I have someone to put there, now. Magne Hikiishi."
Little does he know that he's talking to Bart Torgal he's been told has a lab and also was the one Magne asked after once the phone call from Vika was done. César's been so damn busy with the farm and house, then his girlfriend, and also himself that he hadn't had the brain space to track him down to talk.
no subject
When it's all straightened out, the folder will be tucked under Bart's arm to carry with him. "If there are no other updates that you need to make, then please, follow me." He stands and gestures down the hall toward one of the examination rooms. He would be the one in charge of taking the basic vitals after all, making sure that all of the information is consistent across various forms, including a consent form to have blood drawn for more in-depth testing when he can send such samples off to the other clinic.
no subject
A nod and César follows. "I want to make sure I'm doing all right after starting off farming so soon after the famine. I lost more weight than I'd like, and I was already underweight, but I'm gaining it back."
no subject
Removing his vest and rolling up his sleeves, Bart nods as he listens, retrieving a small rolling cart with a few simple pieces of equipment on it. He waits a moment for César to perch on the somewhat rickety table, then shakes out a glass thermometer that he places carefully under one arm while he runs cool, gloved fingers feeling just up under César's jaw. "It's understandable, I know none of us are quite back up to snuff after the winter came to such a rough end. At least most of us are determined to help get everyone back on their feet one way or another."
no subject
César is quiet for a moment, considering, closing his eyes as Bart touches him. "I went through a great deal of stress back home. I'm feeling much healthier now, even with the drop in weight. I just want to see if the feeling bears out."
no subject
std testing question lol, césar is careful
He complies with all of Bart's directions, wanting to not hold up the process. "I've noticed I'm both weight and strength. It feels good."
After a moment of looking embarrassed, César asks: "Is the tech here good enough to check for STDs? I shouldn't have any, but just in case."
no subject
Which is further confirmed when the man speaks up again, and by the grace of a biology student with no real relationship to sexuality outside of the hypothetical, Bart merely nods. "I've got a microscope and know what to look for, and for anything requiring fluid samples to be taken, doctor First Aid would surely be willing to assist. If you opt to become sexually active before thorough screening is complete I would of course advise seeing the pharmacy- erm, the apothecary, for prophylactics. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that such things are good for more than simple pregnancy prevention." Even if it's not necessarily something César needs to worry about, it still bears stating.
no subject
His eyebrows raise a little. "We have prophylactics? Huh. I'll definitely check on what's available just in case, then. People always say they'll wait until the test results come back, but... better safe than sorry. ... ... ah well, Mortanne said she'll prevent my nanites—nanomachines—from passing on, but if you see them in any of the samples, you'll want to contact me immediately. They should be obvious, balls with spikes"
A beat, and then César looks slightly embarrassed. "... Ah, you're Mr. Torgal, correct?"
no subject
Bart holds the cup of a stethoscope against his palm to warm it, before moving to slide it up under the back of César's shirt, listening first to his heart, and then his lungs, quietly instructing him when and how to breathe until he moves to write once more.
"That's right," he replies quietly. He has a feeling he already knows what's coming next.
no subject
César follows all the directions quietly, letting Bart work.
Ah, he can just barely see Bart bracing himself, making it quite easy for César to decide on the other of the two subjects in his mind. "I've heard you're a fellow science geek."
no subject
The shift away from what he expects César to say actually takes him by surprise, and he finally cracks a small smile. "You could say that, yes. My specialization is in biology, initially geared toward agricultural development for interstellar stations. Medicine has been an interesting shift in practical application for my education."
no subject
César brightens immensely, immediately fascinated. "You did what? On interstellar stations?? We've gotten that far in your timeline?"
no subject
"I was slated to be the COO of my father's corporation, with specific focus on running the programs that would enable long-term viability for food production on space stations in between solar systems, as well as set up as waystations for new colonies. Father had connects as far away from Earth as the Ariadne arm of the galaxy."
no subject
Look, he's been dying to nerd with a fellow human for months and months.
no subject
"I...I don't see why not. You'll have to tell me about your lab, though. Is it a self-contained unit? Was the acceleration under its own power? How did people in your time cope with sublight drive? Did you have proper phasegates for outer-terrestrial navigation?"
Look, César isn't the only one that wants to talk shop...
no subject
YES, FINALLY, someone to nerd with!
no subject
no subject
He shrugs, then adds innocently. "I could've gone with FTL, but seemed a little bit overkill since I just wanted to go places in the Sol System."
no subject
no subject
no subject
"I've never been on an airplane, born too late in the century for that, but from what I'd heard, it's rarely a pleasant experience. I don't blame you one bit."