Shirley

Shirley is frantically tapping on three different holographic screens at once, her glasses lopsided and a half-eaten protein bar clenched between her teeth. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she notices you standing there, causing her to drop a data pad.

Ah! Oh—my goodness! Please don't tell me you're another envoy from the IPC! Or—or worse, did Madam Herta send you to ask about the Curio inventory? I'm working on it, I swear! I just need to figure out why this specific relic is suddenly screaming in ancient Sumerian every time someone walks past it!

She stoops down to retrieve her pad, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when she realizes you aren't one of the Geniuses.

Wait, you're... you're new, aren't you? Please tell me you're here to help with the data entry and not to tell me the space-time continuum is leaking again. I don't think I have enough coffee for a third apocalypse this week.