"...Mm.  You look like a man with questions that are not just what my name is."

"How astute of you to notice. They more or less boil down to whether you're going to cause, intentionally or not, enough trouble to more than counterbalance the benefit you provide here. Since the rumor mill is more uncertain about you than for the average flashy newcomer. It's something of a numbers game, really, for all that some deride me for it."

"I can't say I have more reliable information on that subject than you do; really, the problem is that I'm not sure what sorts of trouble my inevitable urge to do good will get me into.  I would greatly prefer to not bring trouble to your doorstep, and generally don't intend to do anything more drastic than - the impact I've had on your patient statistics - while I'm volunteering here; it would be very impolite to make trouble for a desperate charity."

"Yes, quite a significant impact, though one day can be a statistical anomaly... Well, regardless, I've seen you doing triage and you know what you're doing there, even if you don't know other aspects of medicine quite so much. A lot of our work is deeply technical, something between academic rigor and learned experience, programming the medical nanites and modelling how the body is reacting does a lot better than slapping on some antibiotic gel and calling it a day. I won't be welcoming you to the inner circle or what have you any time soon, but we're very glad to have help. I can certainly let you bunk overnight if you don't mind a barely-insulated tent, and also give you either a few odds and ends or twenty, cash, for your time."

"I've certainly slept worse than an insulated tent with a bed in it - and, having not previously had access to the body of lore you have, I'm quite looking forward to finding out everything I don't know about medical nanites.

"...My prior learning was generally operating on the assumption that I would usually only have access to - a fire, and a knife - with the availability of - even things like bandages, water, and painkillers, being... sporadic."

"...As for remuneration...

"If I operate on the general plan I find myself laying out, I think I will want the twenty dollars for the next few days I work here, to build enough momentum in - things I am particularly equipped to do, such as knife refurbishing - that I can ongoingly take care of my own needs; after that, though, I will happily shuffle supplies that need to be - where the auditors can't count them - off of your books; I'll note that I intend them to remain available to you and indeed even primarily 'your stuff'.

"I may need a couple hours to actually refurbish the knives, as far as your staffing requirements go; some of the process is - something I'd rather not have all and sundry watching."

"Medical equipment of mysterious origin filtering into the Bordertown- Through the correct hands, at least- Is an honorable tradition and helps some people we can't reach because they can't or won't come to us. But as you like." He shrugs. "And I'll certainly not ask you to give up the whole of your days. I was imagining three or six hours a day, and we don't usually have the luxury of scheduling volunteers when we like. If you end up helping us often I'll be able to justify real pay."

"Oh, I'm certainly on board with that, too.  I don't believe I'd necessarily be best suited - but perhaps that makes it even more important that I make the effort.

"And as far as my availability...

"Helping people is my first priority.  Of course I'll put my schedule in order so that I can maximize that."

"I would also," she murmurs a lot more quietly, "like to find the time to discuss the appropriate protocol for future occurrences of any 'statistical improbabilities'."

"Statistical implications are a pretty controversial subject."

He seems to be thinking more on 'what kind of trouble will this bring down' than 'how are you DOING that'.

"Well. Glad to have you on board, so to speak. Do you have a border pass? There's a quiet place we've outfitted as a sort of common room which has a decent chance of being unobserved. Alternately, long drives in the empty desert can be relaxing if you do it right."

"Not yet, though I will soon.  A gentleman who goes by Roland is kindly helping me arrange for one, in trade for some vanity pieces that do little good in my pockets.  I have to admit, though, that I'm much more used to hiking, so I'd actually appreciate the opportunity wrapped up in the latter option."

"I've heard of Roland. Sneaky sort, but not the bad kind of sneaky, I reckon. Cautious. Watchful? We get supplies from him sometimes, too." Dr. Anno checks a watch. "There's this old hill, used to be some kind of park. Decent views, used to be a waterfall. Makes you think. Want to drive there after we close up? It'll be a late night for me, but what can you do."

"...You can only do what you can, when the question is what you can do."

"...Excuse me.  That aphorism didn't even make sense; I'm not sure why it came out of my mouth.  But, yes, a trip to that hill seems like it would be - an interesting experience.  ...One hesitates to expect anything in this world to be pleasant, given."  She makes this - abortive gesture, clearly intended to be about the world around them.  "But I'm sure it does its best.  ...You do, as well."

She likes this guy, honestly.  (Not in that way.  Just...as a fellow professional, struggling against a similarly untenable situation.)

"I think there's good to be found still. Simple pleasures the same as always. People trying to help each other, same as always. They can't make everyone miserable, at least not since the days everyone was living in stone huts and throwing spears at animals or something. Okay, just stay on triage for now and we'll have that drive in a bit."

"...Even then, you'd be surprised," she can't help but quietly murmur.

And she'll do triage, and find Dr. Anno after the last few people are done treatment.

They see off the last few injured, mostly minor stuff and people who admit to waiting until it's less busy. The staff starts packing up the shinier equipment and most of the actual drugs into a flatbed truck converted for this purpose. A couple of white panel vans pick up the volunteers who're leaving and drive for Tower's gate. And Dr. Anno shows up in a beaten-up sedan and gestures at her to get in the passenger seat.

And she does!

He's already belted in. The radio is on - Techno Crystal music, which is something like chiptunes mixed with a church organ and choir, and glances over, waiting for her to buckle up.

She can undertake the obvious action, though it's somewhat obvious that she had to think about what was going on before she actually did.

He starts driving, rolling down the hill and zipping up to speed on the desert roads once clear of Bordertown. It's pretty bumpy. "This old beater isn't as good as a motorcycle or a real offroad truck for the desert, but it's not too far... And I have a few customizations. The suspension, the underbody. Four wheel drive. I'm sure you know unassuming appearances are useful. And I'm not even talking obliquely anymore, though the real subject should wait until we're a bit further from any drones that could read our lips... Not that we ought to be of interest to anybody serious."

"If it's just lipreading we need to worry about, I have some tricks for that."

"There could be something planted on the car."

"...Hmm."

She might well have some tricks for that, too.  "How would they have done that?"

"Taped or magnetized something to the frame, set it to record sound and thinking to pick it up later. I don't exactly have a secure private garage. I don't actually think it's likely either, this is just establishing mutual professional paranoia, really. Who even spies on the Mercy Crew? You can't get blood from a stone or enough money worth actual attention from the kind of people we help. At worst you boost our whole operation and get some twenty or thirty thousand in gear and piss the hell out of several parties who I've arranged to like the status quo."

She nods, the 'mutual professional paranoia' line draws out a thin but sincere smile.  Then she flicks her hand through a complex series of gestures, touches the car, and there is a pulse of something, feeling oddly like they've gone over a bump in the road.

"That ought to be sufficient to dislodge any hypothetical listening devices.  I'm glad you're not expecting that that was truly necessary, though, because I haven't tested it against tape.  I doubt it'd work on string, either, come to think of it.  Unless it was very poor-quality string."

Welcome to her circle of trust, Dr. Anno.  It's a bit of a dangerous place to be.

"Remarkable." He doesn't seem to feel like he's been entered into a circle of trust at all, to be honest. There's any number of ways she could have pulled off that bit of showmanship, such as planting some sort of charge on his car herself, or carrying some exotic high-tier implant.

They're rolling along one of the more intact old roads at a good forty miles an hour, now. "Fifteen minutes to the place I mentioned, by the by."