The Great Hair Massacre.

STARTLOG: 021611


Part of the retrofitting is the removal of the facial hair to better fit the profile of a Jill class ship.

What command decided on was a process called “Electrolysis” which sounds very close to Electrocuted. Which would be far more accurate to the resulting actions. This took place on January 27th 2011.

The prospect of facial electrocution didn’t sit too well with the guys over in the Amygdala dept. Larry was having none of this. All he did all day was scream about the electrical processes somehow grounding out into the spinal cord and setting the ship on fire.. internally. He then started running down all the ways the ship could have an allergic reaction to anesthesia and die. Larry is not fun at parties. He was eventually restrained but got away, that’s something Larry and Harry have in common, always managing to escape.

The process itself is pretty straight forward. But let an expert tell you about it, this is L-Dermont, Outer Hull and Temp Regulating.

L-Dermont ForeLizard of Outer Hull and Temp.

Hoi, L-Dermont here. I’m da guy that works on the skin, don’t ever get much credit, but we run the biggest organ on the vessel and don’t forget it.

This whole Jill class thing has us jumping all over. First we get a re-spec on skin softness and now Command tell us ‘Hey, we are going to arc weld out all that upper facial hair, doan worry, it’ll be fine.’ I don’t know what these geckos are thinkin’ in Command, but you can’t arc weld anything outta anything without pissing off the body. Anyhow, let me tell ya how it went.

Motor control docked the ship on a big comfy couch and the face and neck were covered in numbing cream while an additional IV fuel line was run into the right arm and started pumping in fun juice. This stuff got most of the motor response guys toasted and drunk so they didn’t care about much. A lot of the Pain response crew were sent home with pay. Heck we were feeling pretty good in our department.

The commo guys relayed the instructions through drugged static. These instructions mostly consisted of the helpful words. “Don’t move.”

Those words aint never been, and will never be, comforting to hear when at a medical shipyard. Ok, so let me walk ya through this.

First off you got this probe see, it’s thinner than one of the main hairs up top on the head, a real precision instrument. This probe,  it slides down the follicle tubes alongside the hair until it gets to the base. Now this part, this part don’t do nothing. You don’t get a ping on the neural net, no pain no nothing. Probes too small. But then. THEN they go an run a freakin’ electrical bolt into the hair, right there at the base, inside the damn follicle tube and pow, it fries the entire shabang, follicle is toasted, hair is fried, and unless the nerves got really nice and shut off by the numbing, I got folks running around screaming and pointing and the pain Identifier is spitting out crazy crap like “Damage Identified: Hornet Sting, On Fire.” Which is not all that possible really. I hope not anyway.

So anyway… you got the probe down, the blast, probe out, the hair is yanked out, and so on, now do THAT 5261 times, and that was just the first day. They had counters on those machines and I had the commo guys ask for a count at the end of the day. Probe, zap, pull, probe, zap, pull.. those two medic ships have the most boring job in history. Point is, we got zapped for 7.5 hours by two folks, had a day off and then zapped again.

The second zapping was less smooth. We finished the face and then the chest, we ain’t never really had a lot of hair there anyway. Then Command issues the message ‘Hey we’re gonna use the rest of the time for the underarms’.

So, we lay back, they smear goo and then, nothing else. The usual boosters from the Doc ship aren’t there, he’s apparently busy in surgery. The two techs tell us that the pits is one of the least sensitive spots and topical is good to go.

I try to warn ’em but Command just has the arms fold up and grab the gurney and relax. Out come the probes, in go the probes and POW goes the shock.

Let me tell you, things went haywire! I got pain warning lights blowin’ up all over, we get pressure reports that Jack and Allen are overstressin’ the arms and hands gripping the gurney and all the while the probe is just pulsing like a red hot needle under there. I am throwing every abort message I can up to the brainpan but apparently someone up there decides we can just ride it out.

The two medic ships are surprised. They say it shouldn’t be doin’ that. Well no crap it shouldn’t. But does anyone listen to Skin Control, hell no. They say that the pits should be less sensitive, not more.

About this time the medic ships say they aren’t going to keep going because of the pain reaction. Whew, I get ready for Lymph and damage control but then, lemme tell you THEN, we  hails the ships and say…

“No, keep going, it’s alright, I can deal with it. when the doc comes in I can get the numbing better but I don’t want to waste the time.”

That hit me like a ton of bricks. I mean holy white cell count, what the hell is Command thinking?! The next 45 minutes were hell. We had adrenal crews running through amping everyone up and yelling, then the druggies from the endorphin collective came in and things got a bit stupid. THEN that freak show Larry comes running through screaming, wearing a sign proclaiming THE END IS NEAR!

Which shows what he knows, the armpits are geographically a ways from the end, dumbass.

Anyway, the doc eventually comes in and well, he is the doc for a reason. He takes one look at the ship, laying there in cold sweat gripping the gurney and tilts his head, then hails us.

“Hey Shelby, do you sweat more than most folks?”

“Yeah, like crazy compared to most sometimes.” Yeah, like they knew that. I thank glucose that this Doctor ship is here, because yeah, the pits do, hell the whole skin runs about 2 to 3 times higher than the manuals normal perspiration and cooling cycle. It’s just a thing, all ships have peculiarities.

And hey guess what, doc says it’s from a massive over abundance of sensory cells in the pits and other areas. Well La-de-da.. I was trying to tell Command this but like I said, no one listens to us out here. The Doc nods, jabs a needle into the IV fuel line and I watch pain indicators drop off sharply into the low levels and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. He then jabs the areas with a huge needle. He does this like 8 or so times per pit. By this point, we were getting high pain signals but hell we were all pretty drunk and didn’t give a damn.

So, after another hour or so we’re done and the next couple’a days we are working overtime cleaning up the damage. But they did pipe in the images from the mirror after a few days and you know what, it looks pretty damn good, big improvement on the Jack-class scruff. I wouldn’t say pretty but not completely terrible. We might just be able to pull this off.


[I haven’t the heart to tell Dermont that we have another Electrolysis appointment in about 3 weeks, I just don’t.]


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