Factions/Strange Medical Corps

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"There is a queen/Of six sevens and nines
Dust in your garden/Poison in your mind
There is a king/That will steal your soul
Don't let him catch you/Don't let him get control."

--Talking Heads, "Papa Legba"

The Strange Medical Corps is a faction devoted to the treatment, prevention, and eventual eradication of the Strangevirus, through biological, computational, and psychosexual means. In many ways, the Strange Medical Corps resembles a paramilitary or a cult deprogramming group more than it does a medical service.

The Corps actually keeps its headquarters in Downwarp. Can you blame them? A few of their better protected members do maintain a small clinic in Strangewarp, but it has no fixed address and is often closed. Again, can you blame them?

The center of SMC operations is an outlandish-looking complex of integrated, automated autodoc facilites just off of the Ballard Memorial Freeway. The complex is fully sentient, though its operators have been far too busy fighting the Strangevirus to build it much of a communications interface. The building is known as, or perhaps it has chosen to call itself, ["Papa Legba."]? Papa Legba's core is some sort of multi-roomed conveyor-based device whose original apparent purpose was to wash and polish personal transit vehicles. Its biomedical, infolytic, mediatric, and orgonotropic facilities were gradually jury-rigged onto the conveyor belt, allowing medics to minimize contact with infectious material and metamaterial during treatments. One can thus imagine just how comfortable Papa Legba is for its patients. If it can be said to have a personality, its bedside manner needs considerable work.

The SMC also maintain a satellite laboratory in Upwarp, within the Center for the Study of Infectious Agents.

Members invariably adopt the standard Corps uniform: extremely durable black hazmat gear with a red cross, mirrored facemask with respirator, and visible biometrics displays. Corps medics are very rarely seen without their gear; doing so in a public or unsecured private zone is punishable by ostracism. Veterans of the SMC tend to become very attached to their bodygloves. To put it delicately, the skintight black imilexene can be flattering on the right figure and serves a number of interesting purposes besides protection. Given the seriousness with which they approach personal fitness, plus their exquisite knowledge of chordate physiology, the SMC is even better liked in Bottom than they are in Down. (No prudes, they treat their "missions" to Bottom as just another health lesson. Good healthy sex keeps people out of trouble.)

Unfortunately, the Strange Medical Corps tends to foster an insular, paranoid streak in its members. They have lost more than a few of their friends and allies to Viral cunning and are always wary of infiltration. Thus, though they generally have no qualms about socializing, they tend to form close bonds only with other Corps members. Fraternizing with patients or vulnerable populations, especially, is not accepted, although the occasional former Strangehost has been allowed to join the Corps upon decontamination. SMC veterans also tend to be somewhat leery around people who have undergone massive physical, mental, or temporal transformations. Again, can you blame them?

Details on the success/failure rate of the SMC's "cures" of Strangehosts are unavailable. Accusations that most "patients" end up choosing re-infection, or are blank shells of people, are met with stony silence, or distracting sex.

The Otter Statue in Strangewarp wears the regalia of the Strange Medical Corps. Given the exceptionally unpleasant nature of the statue, the SMC deigns not to comment upon the possible significance of this.

Known Members


There's a shocked yell from the agent, who drops his isolation gun and grabs frantically at his suit. His opposite number strides over quickly, plants the funnel-like muzzle of her gun against her partner's side, and pulls the trigger. His entire body vanishes into the device with a horrible noise. "Well, shit," she mutters, hefting it.

The remaining agent rounds on Coalesce, gun poised. "All right, sir; please hold still. Y'backed up?"

Note that the Charlie Stross short story "Antibodies" describes a dimension-travelling secret organization reminiscent of the SMC. Might be good inspiration.


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Last edited September 13, 2004 6:03 pm by Corliayne (diff)
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