A little bit more on Zoe

[butterflydreaming]

Zoe approached the rail stop outside the park fence just as the street car pulled away. It would only be a short wait until another came along, but she changed her mind and chose to walk instead. Walking would hardly take more time. Taking pedestrian corridors and a few shortcuts through the occasional commercial alley created a more direct route to the donation center. The building's angular profile was as good as a guide post. She arrived at her destination invigorated by the change in routine.

Seeing that a very young person was at the check-in desk gave her a moment's pause. When Zoe approached, she saw the intern badge and exhaled a small sigh of relief. Interns were nearly always youths fulfilling a graduation requirement. It was not even peculiar that the clerk sported AyEm fashion. He or she -- the preferred pronoun was 'e or 'ee, though usage had not caught on even after a decade -- sported shaggy, multi-colored hair and heavy eye paint.

"Hello. You're new," greeted Zoe. She slid her ID across the desk so that 'e could check her in. The intern looked at the thin rectangle and then at Zoe. "It's an identification card," Zoe provided. She pointed. "You will need to wave it on the reader over there."

"You don't have a thumb chip?" The intern's voice was a perfectly androgynous pitch. Zoe guessed 'ees age at about 14, so it was not surprising that an ID card would seem outdated.

"I don't need one, do I? I have a card," she tossed back.

"Odz," the teen commented. 'E held Zoe's ID by the corner and awkwardly wiggled it in front of the reader. It took a few swipes before 'e figured out that a simple wave motion past the reader would do. The panel lit up with Zoe's appointment information. "You'll be in room 211," the intern said, confidently back on script. "Thank you for being on time. Please remember to fill out your survey before you leave."

Zoe picked her card up from the desk when the clerk gave to indication of handing it back.