Human Edge

Returning from Limbo with frozen hands still, the chill air even in Human's Edge didn't exactly help her warm up. She had something to do, still. Throwing a blanket over herself — a somewhat cute one, light blue with the picture of an angel cartoon — she grabbed her medical tools and went to that storage room, now unguarded. She put her hand on the handle but hesitated before opening.
Out of education, she knocked on the door and waited for it to be answered.

"Come in."

She would find the boy working on a handgun, one devoid of ammunition, and rather old and in poor repair. But he had a book of instructions, cleaning supplies, and ample time.

So here he was.

"Doctor Roth. I'm sorry I wasn't more helpful yesterday... I still get a little nervous around... people."

"Good afternoon, Samuel." She got in the bedroom and sat on a crate, adjusting the blanket over herself to cover more of her body. "Someone gave you something to do then? Looks like something Thomas would do. He did scavenge some old stuff from the Starport last time we went there."

"He didn't... the man outside did. Mr. Kappa."

Holding up the pistol frame he examined it in the light, and then glanced at her, expression still bland. "I appreciate it. It's like a puzzle - it's simpler than fixing people."

She nods. "Guess there's someone that loves doing equipment maintenance for once." Karlotta smiles faintly. "Field Medicine is an easy job to actually do, but a very demanding one. It's as rewarding as punishing as well."

"I suppose."

He frowned, scratching at some rust with a fingernail.

"I find the idea of someone else relying on me to be a little bit... stressful."

"Everyone relies on everyone else, and that's the base of society. Some roles just have more direct contact."
She looks downwards some.
"Back in the training, people had different opinions on what was the worst part of the job. This is something the university didn't approach much. We used to talk with the veterans as well. Many were our teachers and instructors. It was kind of scary to listen to what everyone else commented on being the worst part of it because many times they spoke from memory. And you say things differently when you speak from emotion."

"That's true."

He glanced at her. "What's the hardest part for you?"

"Having everyone praise what you did when you know that you worked subpar, that you could have done better. Impostor syndrome always hits women harder, I know. A lot of it involves you, really. You weren't even supposed to be so well, but if I was a real surgeon, you would still have two good arms. Living knowing that I failed my first patient is tough."
She rubbed her eyes within her clothes.
"And the smell of diethyl ether on everything you have sucks."

"I guess I can understand that."

Glancing at her, he added, "I guess I just don't feel a lot right now. It's easier to focus on things."

Setting down the gun parts, he added, "You look awfully tired. Are you getting rest?"