Today had been good. There had been no escapes. It was always a risk, with Anomalies. Sometimes they needed to be recontained. Sometimes they tried to take people with them, when they went. Laine Cantrille did not like losing people. She did not like losing anomalies, either. She was very diligent about it, wandering quietly through the containment areas, carefully checking on each and every one of them, filling out the paperwork precisely and neatly. She liked paperwork. It was very organized. Very diligent. Of course, these days, most of the "paperwork" was electronic. Laine liked that less. Paperwork - real paperwork - was important. It was tangible. It stayed where you put it - it didn't wander off into a database somewhere. Of course, electronic paperwork always came back when it was wanted, but there was always the question of what it had been doing while it was gone. Who it had been with. What they might have done.Location: L-14
Asset: ACF-833 "Anchor"
Purpose: Mandated Security Checks
No, she liked hard copies better. The Foundation didn't always want hard copies, but Laine always made them. If the Foundation didn't want them, she took them home. Since "home" was a tiny apartment within the Foundation not so different from some of the other rooms where anomalies were kept, the Foundation permitted it. Indeed, she was in the same place as most of them. It made getting to work easy, and she liked to be there, so that she knew where everything was. Organization was important.
ACF-1022 on one of the shelves ticked from All Quiet On The Western Front to Fly Away Home when she glanced at it. Laine thought that the odd clock seemed fond of her, for an anomaly. It was harmless but strange, not so much telling the time as the situation - which, for some reason, it only displayed as film titles. It usually made sure to give her some sort of indication while she was looking at it. Right now it was time to go home. She recorded the change of "time" on her paperwork and closed the file folder, then walked the three corridors back to her own quarters. A time sheet was posted beside the door, and she recorded her name and entry time before going inside.
The "living room" was more an office than anything else, with filing cabinets along one wall, each drawer neatly displaying the label My Papers, with a series of dates. She carried today's papers over to the most recent, tucking them tidily in among the other papers she had claimed as her own. The opposite wall was lined with two slender tables. The first of them held an aquarium, within which cantered a pink-and-purple My Little Pony toy, neatly labeled ACF-011-LP. It trotted up to the glass to view her entry, which was made more difficult by the fact that the glass had been additionally labeled ABANDONED ABANDONED ABANDONED ABANDONED, repeating quite precisely across the entire glass surface in black permanent marker.
Beside the aquarium rested a basketball, neatly labeled Keeping Score and covered in numbers: 255 666 255 255 666 666 666 666. The other table held similar oddities, but in general the things on the tables were of less note than the walls. A glass case held a beautiful specimen of a black swallowtail butterfly, which was labeled with C'est à moi Papillon. Mostly, though, the walls were covered with feathers, each one displayed vertically and pinned carefully to the wall with a thumbtack. They were of all different varieties, and each one was carefully labeled in marker written on the wall beside it along the vertical axis, but the labels were not the type - rather, they were odd statements like why? / no / she's gone / why? / where are you? / come back / no no no / why?
This was, of course, precisely as it needed to be. Proper labeling was important.