Planet Telex

Feathers of Scarlet stepped off the tram, and into the sea of people on the platform. They flowed out behind her as she walked down the neatly cordoned path and into the terminal, an equally large number of people flooding back into the tram before its silent, magnetically-powered departure. The terminal itself was much less ordered, crowds of people going from point to point, from their various platforms to various others, or stopping at the myriad of stalls providing various tea drinks, breakfast snacks, and magazines of various types. Despite the business, everything was kept clean, marble floors and curved metal walls shining in the morning sun.
"Morning, Scarlet." The baker said, in a voice oddly cheerful for such a gruff looking avian, as Scarlet stepped up to one of the many breakfast-oriented shops along the wall. "Your usual?"
Scarlet nodded tiredly, fumbling for her identity card and holding it up to the scanner at the counter. "Stronger. The stuff that you have to put a warning label on."
"Oh, you know we're not allowed to serve those anymore, Scarlet. How abo-" The baker then saw the piercing glare he was being given, and reconsidered. "Well... you're from the Ministry anyway. Egret, a double-strength root tea, could you?"
"Yes, sir." Said the girl cleaning the bench behind the large food warmers, dressed in a one-piece dress that was significantly darker coloured than many wore around the terminal. She prepared the requested drink in a paper cup, put a lid on it with a little biscuit on top, and handed it to Scarlet. "Have a good day, ma'am!" She chirped.
"Mmh, you too." Scarlet mumbled, reorienting herself towards the street exit. Today was going to be a long one.

The Ministry of Order office for this sector was constructed in the pre-space-age, the facade made of white stone and glass, preserved during renovations as a reminder of the past. As soon as one stepped inside though, that illusion was lost, the wide open spaces of the lobby very much constructed with modern materials. The walls arched outwards like the lobby was a flower, a large rendition of the Accord insignia in marble square in the middle. On the opposite side of the room was a line of elevators, each able to go to the two hundred-odd floors of the building.
"Morning!" Said the avian at the reception desk, smiling at Scarlet, who just walked past. "Oh, um... okay." She said, dejectedly, as Scarlet stepped into a lift. "Nobody talks to the Assistants, do they?"
Scarlet's office was on the hundred-and-seventh floor. The lifts were not slow, by any means, but it did give her time to sip at the still-hot beverage in her cup. Something to wake her up, she hoped, as she did not sleep well at all the previous night. This promotion meeting had been on her mind for weeks, and she had done all she could to prepare. Hopefully it was enough.
"Feathers of Scarlet, hi!" Someone said as she stepped out of the lift.
Scarlet looked up from her tea to see one of the Ministry assistants, holding a clipboard and a whole bundle of papers.
"The Captain wanted to reschedule the meeting with you, for uhm... as soon as you came in." The assistant shifted around a bit as Scarlet's gaze narrowed a little bit, the Assistant tugging on her dress nervously. "Sorry, ma'am."
"Fine. Tell him I will be there as soon as I put my bag down."
"Yes, ma'am!" The assistant responded, quickly walking off, hopeful to avoid any of Scarlet's wrath.

Scarlet brushed off her uniform in her office, pulling the hem of her skirt down straight and adjusting her blazer. Most of what she wore was jet black, save for the bright red stripe down from her shoulder, and the gold Accord insignia pin and name tag. Her skirt came down to just above her knees, making it difficult to do anything else more than walk in, but her days in the field were over. Taking a deep breath, she looked over herself in the mirror on her desk. She made sure her name tag was straight -- "F. SCARLET" it read, with the Staff Officer, First Class chevron beside it.
"Okay, you've got this." She muttered to herself, stepping out of her small office and striding as confidently as she could down the hall, to the office with the big wooden door and the sign that said "CPT. B. GREY" beside it.
She knocked twice, as was custom, and waited for the reply -- two knocks on the desk from inside. Scarlet took another deep breath, and opened the door.
"Glad to see you were able to make do with the rescheduling, Feathers of Scarlet." The Captain said, reading over papers at his desk. "Sit down."
"Yes, sir." Scarlet replied, doing as he requested.
"I've been told that you've been recommended for a promotion, from higher up. I don't know why, they claim it is need-to-know." Beak of Grey shuffled the papers he was reading together, before looking up. "Whatever you did, they're taking notice. But, I have noticed things too."
Scarlet's heart skipped a beat as she tried to figure out what he meant. She didn't get on too well with Grey in the past, clashing crests on various assignments she was given.
"Your behaviour -- acting outside your remit and your frequent disregard of orders and protocol -- would usually preclude any promotion."
Scarlet's heart sank like a rock. "Sir, I-"
"But, it appears to be effective in some areas, and this promotion is not something I can veto." He said, cutting Scarlet off. "I raised my concerns with the higher ups and they recommended that, as long as you can keep your individualist streak contained at work, we can allow you some concessions elsewhere."
Scarlet stayed silent, just looking forward, unsure what this meant, and a little embarrassed that her individual nature had been singled out. In the Accord, it was hardly ever meant as a compliment, as everyone knew, as it was taught from hatchday, that everything the empire did was from collective effort.
"As such, you're being assigned a personal assistant. Don't kill them, and we won't ask questions what you do to them. Not that we don't know already."
Scarlet's face went as red as her plumage, but she nodded. "Yes, Sir. I will rein it in, in future."
"Good. You have two new cases on your desk that have been personally assigned from other departments, that you're authorised to work on now. Don't make me regret giving you this." Grey pushed a small box across the table, which Scarlet opened.
"F. SCARLET", the replacement nametag read, with two stacked chevrons engraved on it. Staff Officer, Second Class.

Scarlet spent the rest of the day working on her new cases, and filing her promotion paperwork. Security clearances had to be upgraded, several new systems needed her details, and phonebooks had to be updated. The final piece, which she was leaving for last, was the Assistant requisitioning form. The Captain's authorising signature was already at the bottom of the otherwise blank form, Grey seemingly not having any interest in seeing what, exactly, she requested. She filled out her personal details as the requester, and her apartment as the delivery address. She marked her preferences -- something smaller, something not too strong. Memories suppressed, automatically analysed, and delivered to her separately. As for the identifier...
"Hrm..." Scarlet thought, leaning back in her chair. It was mandatory for an Assistant to have their previous identity overwritten -- although, Scarlet had taken the uncommon choice of total memory suppression too. A short identifier, usually befitting of their new role, would then be chosen, either by the system automatically, or in the case of personal requests, whoever was filling out the form. "...Starling."

Yes, she thought. Starling. That seems fitting.