Stenton Prison for Inexcusable Women: Chapter 4: Pipi of the Paperwork

[afictionalphile]

Disclaimer: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65185502

Content Warnings 

• Extensive Forced Diaper Wearing (Wetting/Messing)
• Extensive Public and Private Humiliation
• Extensive Corporal Punishment and Bondage
• Extensive use of the themes of fear, shame, guilt, and dread
• Some consensual sexual slavery/servitude themes
• Occasional Sexual Themes
• Occasional Sexual Intercourse
  
  ***I do not condone any of the events or themes in this story, and do
  not intend to glorify or advocate that anyone conduct their life in
  this way. Nobody should model any sort of erotic behavior on the
  events of this story.***
  
  Previous chapter: 

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American penal philosophy veers far too hard in a flawed, but understandable direction. It’s essentially Christian, although only in the worst ways. It believes that people at their core are bad, and that they will do bad unless convinced otherwise. It’s a theory that takes its cues from the sordid history of Western nations. Imperialism? Do it double. War? Make it a genocide. Westerners have only their own history to see that the default state of humanity is what Thomas Hobbes called the State of Nature. He also called it the state of war. It is society, and all of its complicated, pernicious laws, that cows people into correct behavior. And thus the American system is given its intellectual seed. Adam couldn’t listen to the Lord, he had to pluck the apple off the tree. Ergo, every American criminal also must be cast out of Eden. Every potential criminal must be reminded, every day, that should they sin, Eden will be replaced with bars and chains.

Shamuria understood that this didn’t work for the choiceless. Yes, crime was bad, but it wasn’t the cause of anything. And yes, some people were just unfixable and dangerous for reasons nobody could fathom and in ways that nobody had the time or expertise to address. But if being cast out of Eden wasn’t a punishment; if Eden was actually hell, there needed to be an adjustment.

Pipi didn’t care about all that. It all made sense, and though people still argued endlessly in Shamurian criminal theory about ‘where the line was,’ Pipi found the discussion stale. So obvious where most of the answers that Pipi didn’t feel the age-old questions needed to be asked anymore. Sure, people could tinker at the best ways to rehabilitate people. That was all valid and honorable work. It just wasn’t for Pipi. Pipi liked the Americans. Or, at least, she liked the vision of Americans as they pretended to be. Americans were, of course, grotesque. But there were those wild-west days. Sheriffs hunting down cattle rustlers and highwaymen. Brave detectives who faced down the bloody machines of the mob. Diligent and bespectabed heroes who probed into the devilish dealing of cigar-smoking American politicians. They got Al Capone, they got Bonnie and Clyde, they got Jimmy Hoffa. Nothing was ever clean, of course. Al Capone went to prison on tax evasion, not the innumerable murders he was responsible for. Bonnie and Clyde got gunned down in an ambush. And Hoffa, well, he spent some time in prison, before getting out to be killed and disappeared by his own people. It certainly wasn’t all good, in fact, much of it was depressing, incompetent, or outright corrupt itself. Batman’s Gotham features a nefarious police force for a reason. It was just the dream of being a just warrior for the law that Pipi idolized. That there were bad people and that good ones could resist them. Strong good ones could protect the weak good ones.

And in the Upper Crime division of the Stenton Justice Department, that’s just what they did.

It was the Upper Crime division because they focused on crimes committed by people from the upper class. They investigated financial crimes, and became involved when any Stenton police investigation turned up hints that the wealthy were involved. They took over when a wealthy individual wound up in lockup, no matter the charges. In foreign departments, often divisions are divided up into ‘classes’ of crime. There were white collar crime, sex crime, and violent crime units. Shamurian’s had those too, but Shamurian departments had found that navigating the complicated legal capabilities of the rich and powerful warranted its own form of expertise. A unit trained to deal with simply the wealthy has a higher conviction rate in any kind of case than a unit trained for that particular kind of crime, provided that the suspect is rich.

They, for example, launched the armada of cars that were just this moment headed to the Shamprom building.

“I should be heading this,” she said over the phone to one of the other attorneys down the hall. “It’s my time. I haven’t got a big one in a while!”

“You had Lindsey Flemming just a few months ago.”

“That was a few months ago. And it didn’t turn out that big.”

Her associate and fellow prosecutor said nothing after that. She didn’t dare. Nobody spoke against Angelina Bisgrave in the office. No, nobody believed that things were bugged. Bisgrave was just…ever present. Revered. She was the maverick that had brought down the previous criminality at the top of ShamProm. She was the one who had the Uppers crime rate so low. The mayor, and the mayor before this mayor, adored her.

And it was me who caught Lily Tobias. It was me who made the judiciary open enough for Bisgrave to actually get any of those convictions.

That was the problem. Bisgrave knew that. She knew that Pipi knew that. Vittoria Vincenza would still be the queen of ShamProm if the cabal of backroom dealers in the courthouse wasn’t thrown in diapers first. It was pettiness, and that was how it was done in the pseudo-political space of being Attorney General. In America, it was about dope on the table. In Shamuria, it was how many spankings they could get the judge to hand out. Spanked rich brats placated the Shamurian masses. Everyone knew that in each glittering apex of the Shamurian skyline, there hid a well-heeled crook who stole and frauded and pushed the underclasses to the brink. Despite this, Shamurians also believed that power was most efficiently exercised when it was attenuated into the hands of the few, and they worshiped those who were worthy. It was a complicated balancing act for the entire society, and it only worked because every hero needed a villain. Mindy Topper had a fan club. Had. The higher the rise, the harder the fall. They’d be calling for the Upper Division to throw the key away.

It was weird, too. Pipi found the whole thing weird. She’d met Mindy personally, on multiple occasions. The rich didn’t avoid political events, there were more of them there than there were pigeons. She didn’t seem like that cold, lifeless type like many of the others. Vittoria Vincenza? Her corruption stank from a mile away. Pipi had not been on that case personally, but once again, she had known Vittoria from the news and from their brief overlap in public life. Vittoria had personally thanked Pipi at a charity ball for her ‘fine work’ on Lily Tobias. “The case is going well, I’ve been following along. People like that need to be put away for a long time.”

“I won’t comment on an ongoing case, but…”

“Of course you won’t.”

“But I appreciate the kind words of encouragement.”

“You’ll do excellently. Bring her to justice for all of us. And when you’re done with the Upper Division, always feel free to contact me.”

Vittoria didn’t wait for Pipi’s response. Yeah. And if I work for you, I’ll be in diapers too. Pipi really wondered if Vittoria was aware that the Upper division had been preparing a case against her for years, and in just a month from that conversation, in just six days after Pipi did finally get her conviction on Miss Tobias, the handcuffs would come out for Vittoria and almost half of the executive board of ShamProm.

It stirred her to even remember that. She wondered if Vittoria remembered it. God, how she wished it’d been her and not Bisgrave handling that case!

Instead, she was fed more cases like Lindsey Flemming’s. Why did someone with her skillset need to be in charge of a case that adjudicated itself? The school came forward and proffered extensive documentation of Lindsey’s thuggish attempts at bribery and blackmail. Her trip to prison was prescribed on paper, and there was nothing to it. Yet now Bisgrave was claiming Pipi flubbed the freebie. That’s what her associate didn’t mention when Pipi’s call ended. She didn’t want to refute, or support, Bisgrave’s rebuke of Pipi’s performance. But the Flemming case, one that featured a wealthy actress pushing her fame and wallet around, was nothing more than that. Were there whispers of her being involved in a stock scheme? Yes, absolutely. But there was no proof. She’d sold stocks on lucky days, that was apparent and impossible to deny. Bisgrave was absolutely right, of course. She was probably doing something illegal beyond sweet-talking admissions officials at every Shamurian school. Actors can’t be that good at daytrading. Someone who dabbled in both Shamurian and American high society probably had sufficient insider knowledge to pull a dastardly lever. Not as likely to have the ‘preternatural financial foresight’ that someone like Mindy might possess, yet still enough ‘hints’ for Fleming to make her lucrative and timely trades. Yet there had been no proof. Okay, Fleming is connected (in general), and sold stocks consistently at fortuitous times. Who told her? You can’t just convict someone for being lucky. Bisgrave thought differently, and had demanded that the Flemming case be reopened and given to ‘more driven’ prosecutors.

Pipi thought that was great. If someone wanted to waste some time pinning more years, spankings, and less diaper changes on an entitled celebrity, the world would be a better place. Pipi might even attend the proceedings. Hearing, and smelling, the famous actress soil herself in a planned, hysterical fit to try to earn sympathy with the judge had been something precious. It was fun to imagine what the tabloids would have said if Rita Sweeper hadn’t been behind bars already.

She sighed, and fiddled with the pen on her desk. Waiting downstairs was a woman who was tantamount to the village idiot. The wealthy, spoiled, and absolutely bone-headed failed daughter of an old, foreign, oil executive. A woman with a deathwish. Others in the division called it something else. They claimed she had a fetish for prison. She liked it. It was a better explanation than most things. The file was out in front of her. A rap sheet almost seven pages long lay bloated in the manilla folder, though every crime described inside of it amounted to only a shadow of the crimes of other criminals who’d come across Pipi’s desk. She stood and looked at herself in the mirror. She fixed her suit, but kept the top button undone. It was just a quick walk to the elevator, to the processing station and the holding cells down below. Besides, there was no reason to dress up for a woman like Valerie Henderson.

Did they even bring her in wearing clothes this time?

She sighed, grabbed the folder, and headed on her way. Cops and detectives bustled about the office. She knew them all and had for years. Except for Bisgrave, who gave her underlings but crumbs to survive on, the entire department was good. Federal oversight committees had consistently found no corruption at any level of the department, and they had one of the lowest complaint-rates of any large Shamurian city. Not since Lily the lawyer, Ingrid the judge, Marjorie the MP, and their ilk had all been locked away had the Shamurian criminal justice system suffered any serious blemish. Yes, now and then a cop got out of hand, but even that had stopped as they started cutting back their hours, hiring more, and seriously punishing officers who could be proven to have committed on-the-job offenses. The Upper division handled that too, and had won awards for its independence from the police force it depended on. It wasn’t rocket science, and the police ultimately loved them for it. The Upper division was fair and just, and the average police officer appreciated the legitimacy that strong oversight gave them.

“By keeping us honest and rule-abiding, you create trust in us. By prosecuting those of us who cross the line, you protect the rest of us. You watch the watchmen, and give us the peace of mind that we hope to give to the Stentonville people.”

-Massive applause-

Of course, that statement was paraphrased from a cop as part of a laudatory speech from the mayor, who was addressing Bisgrave herself. Bisgrave always got all the credit.

An orderly told Pipi that Valerie was being held in interrogation room #3. The detectives had already gotten most of it out of her. Valerie’s lawyer was already there, and coaching her idiotic client to start shutting up. Pipi was always in opposition to defense attorneys, yet she revered them. It was Saint’s work, it was. If Pipi was Valerie’s defense lawyer, Pipi would be doing everything she could to make sure she stayed locked up as long as possible. Say whatever you want. They won’t argue with your honesty.

Specifically, Valerie was being charged with the following counts:

• Escape from lawful enslavement per parole
• Shoplifting of an item exceeding $2000
• Public Nudity and Lewd acts
• Assault
• Resisting arrest
• Public Urination
• Public Intoxication

“How did this happen in one afternoon?” Valerie asked the orderly.

“You tell me.”

“What did she steal?”

“A video game controller.”

“A video game controller?”

“She used that in the lewd acts portion.”

As a matter of fact, Pipi had somehow predicted that. “I meant, where did she find a video game controller worth more than two thousand dollars?”

The orderly shrugged. “Those things cost a lot these days. Specifically, she got it at a gaming boutique on 47th. Digital Craving, I think.”

“Where was she enslaved prior to her escape?” she asked. It was typical of her to brush up with an orderly or an officer. It got her going, and sometimes there were nuggets of information that hadn’t made the leap to the report on her desk. Pipi looked through the window to the interrogation room. Valerie sat beside her lawyer. At least they’d already found her an orange jumpsuit.

The orderly looked in his notes. “She was enslaved by someone named Regina…Naples.”

“I’ve heard that name before.”

“There have been escapes from there before. Regina keeps a lot.”

“And I assume paperwork is being done to fine her for this?”

“Yes…I mean…no…but we’ll get on it,” the orderly said. He was one of those cops who never left the station. He escorted prisoners around the snaking hallways and vaults like they were packages in one of Klepin’s huge facilities. He was good at that, and Pipi was happy for him. He also didn’t ever resent Pipi for reminding him how to do his job. He was simply happy to not miss a component of it.

“One last thing…” Pipi said. “There’s no psych eval here. Did we do one?”

The orderly nodded, and then asked for the file that Pipi had brought down from her office. He thumbed through it, furrowed his brow, and then asked to be excused. Pipi waited for a minute until he returned with another three pages. “You know what they said?” Pipi asked, hoping that she wouldn’t have to read the entire document before going inside.

“She’s clear, clear as she ever was.”

“Still craving daddy’s attention?”

“Or just trying to get put back inside,” the orderly said. So he too bought into the theories that the esteemed Valerie Henderson simply loved her diapers and spankings? That rumor was getting popular. Prison records suggested she’d romped with the other ladies quite often too. But a rich girl could get all of that easily, yet they could do it on a private beach.

“She could be less dramatic about it. Steal something from their owner, piss on their bed. Break a window. There are easier ways to violate parole.”

Pipi didn’t need to know the rest, not yet. One of the detectives would lay all of the day’s insanity out for her at a later date. The only thing to do today was to pick that date. She pressed her hand on the handle and opened the door.

“Hello there,” she said.

Valerie, who had flowing, gorgeous brown hair, impeccably feminine lips, and a perfect-soft round face, looked up at her. You again, her eyes seemed to say, and she fidgeted in her chair. Yes, me again. And same to you, you moron. Valerie was such a shame. A face that money couldn’t buy, but like everything in her life, she’d gotten that for free anyway. Yet here she was, clanking and crinkling, and based on what Pipi saw before her, she would be for some time.

Pipi also knew her lawyer, and they shook hands before Pipi sat down across from them. Pipi already knew that Valerie would not speak, though she wasn’t sure if that was because of her lawyer’s advice, shame, or resentment.

“So, just get to business here so we can move on,” she said. There was a dull implication in that for Valerie. Moving on meant the orderly would take her to a big room of bunk beds, where she was likely to be the only one wearing a diaper. From there, the morning bus would take her to Killwaide jail. She wouldn’t be alone when it came to diapers at Killwaide, but she was in for a long stay as one of the few diapered prisoners there before Stenton swallowed her once again. “I’ve looked at the schedule, and we’ll be at Killwaide county court. Not sure who they’ll assign as a judge but I’m imagining either Judge Martin or Judge Loopin. That’s just based on the schedules. I’m thinking probably…July 12th as what we’re looking at for an arraignment. That’s in…sixteen days. I’d prefer not to rush.”

“Valerie wants to avoid jail if she can.”

“I just don’t see why I should be putting her ahead of other cases when she’s going to Stenton anyway for a parole violation. If you want to put it way out in the future we can do that too. At minimum she’s finishing out her sentence for…” Pipi had to consult the rap sheet. There was too much there to say at once. “For..two years.”

Valerie fidgeted again. She was shackled, and her chains rattled against the steel chair.

“So I guess I don’t care when it is, as long as everything is wrapped up before two years. But I don’t want to jump her ahead of people who can, potentially, beat the charge and get out of the system. Or who we can punish earlier.”

“Valerie is experienced, and the trauma she experiences in jail with the lower population is palpable. The teasing is horrendous, it’s been well documented.” In this case, lower meant lower class, as in non-upper class. Pipi did like this attorney, but it was hard not to be annoyed by that phrasing. The ‘lowest’ human in a thousand miles was probably nobody else than this very Valerie Henderson.

Pipi rubbed her temples. Her saintly consideration of the defense attorney profession was fast dissipating. It’s not all about your client. You don’t think I hear about how bad jail is from every single one of you? I’d rather get the innocent cleared then delay them for your obviously guilty asshole of a client.

Hah. Perhaps her defense lawyer wanted to be rid of Valerie as soon as possible too.

“If you let me keep the arraignment at sixteen days, I’ll drop the intoxication charge,” Pipi said. It was true, though she was planning to drop it anyway. Nobody wanted to bother with it. It was a whole new expert to call in to assert that breathalyzers were used correctly. Boring. Juries didn’t care about it either. Everyone got a little drunk in the park. Hell, it probably made Pipi’s case better just to drop it.

For this, the defense lawyer leaned in to whisper to Valerie. Valerie said something back, and glared at Pipi.

“We’d like to proceed as soon as possible,” the lawyer said.

“Really? I could get you for six months on that intoxication charge. That’s unusual, but with this,” she held up the fat folder of Valerie’s greatest hits, none of which included the many Rita Sweeper hit pieces on her, “I can roast you for it.”

“We’d like it to be as early as possible,” the lawyer said.

Pipi shrugged. Maybe she would call that breathalyzer expert. Just to prove a point. Enjoy six extra months of pooping in your pants, Valerie.

Meanwhile, Angelina Bisgrave was somewhere in the vaunted boardrooms of ShamProm, slapping iron on none other than Mindy-fucking-Topper. Pipi, however, had the privilege of sticking the ceremonial carrot in the asshole of Stenton’s court jester.

“Alright. So we’ll see about next week. Once again, no guarantees,” she said. Pipi wrote a note to herself about calling the courthouse, and to call Valerie’s defense attorney after. “Alright, so you mentioned Valerie prefers to avoid being held in jail as long as possible. So…does that mean trying to bully every other trial so that Valerie’s can be done first, which is sure to fail even if I was on your team, or does that mean transferring Valerie to prison until we are fully prepared for the proceedings?”

“My client would prefer to be transferred to Stenton as soon as possible.”

“Okay then,” Pipi said. There was a first for everything. She wrote some more notes. “That should be easy. And it works for us. We always prefer that.” And, unsurprisingly, never get it.

“Does your client know,” Pipi said. “Erm, does she understand that she will be remanded to three changes, starting today? I mean, tomorrow. Today just, it doesn’t count. Well it does for nights of custody of course. But it doesn’t count for changes.”

“Why is she losing a change? She’s not convicted of any of the new charges.”

“Violated paroles knock a change off of their original sentence, excepting when the starting sentence is at one, should the convicted be remanded to custody,” she said. She’d answered this so many times she knew the statute by heart. Also, you know this. Don’t play dumb with me.

Valerie fidgeted again. Forgot about that little detail, didn’t we? Pipi could tell that she was holding both hands on her crotch. No pottying for her. That public urination was the last non-diapered piss she was going to take in a long time. Well…inmates could piss in the shower. There was always that.

“Oh, okay,” the lawyer said, proving that she was playing dumb. “I thought that didn’t kick in until she was back in prison.”

“Nope. In jail, post sentencing but prior to transport, prisoners change-schedules are adjusted. Valerie should remember that. Following her arrest this afternoon, Valerie’s sentence has been legally changed, automatically, to be a three changer,” she said.

“What about her weekly dock?” the guard asked.

“That…I can’t quite answer. That depends on the judge’s sentence and whether they put an automatic escalation trigger in her sentence for her dock too. Since the initial conviction she still needs to serve was her…third…I’m willing to bet the judge gave her an automatic dock increase. I can get the answer to that for you by the arraignment. Obviously, that element of Valerie’s sentence won’t kick in until she’s back in prison.”

“I understand,” the defense lawyer said.

“Alright, are we done here?” Pipi asked. Valerie fidgeted again. She knew where she was headed as soon as this conversation ended. It was only mid-afternoon, and that meant she had a long time to loiter about one of the holding cells until tomorrow morning. The only reward waiting for her was a crowded early-morning bus ride to jail, and a very displeased cellmate who would find out they were sharing sleeping quarters with a diaper-bound and spoiled idiot.

The defense lawyer agreed, and Pipi shook hands once more and left. Outside the door, an officer and the orderly were waiting to take her down the hall. Pipi didn’t stay to watch her go.

Same old thing. Same old boring bureaucratic steeplechase. She’d barely need to do anything to make her case for that one, which was extra frustrating because Valerie’s defense lawyer would probably make it take years. It sounded like there were a lot of witnesses. There were almost certainly cameras, especially if she was in a store that sold such expensive video game consoles. Assault and resisting arrest would pack a punch, and they’d be easy to prove against the backdrop of video. The arrest itself would be captured on body cams, which could coincidentally capture the nudity. As for public intoxication, well, her defense lawyer would have to get drunk themselves to find the inspiration to disprove that. All that chaos Valerie just pulled, and you’re going to say she wasn’t drunk? Which is why they’d make it take forever. Make people forget or simply stop caring. Making it so obvious that it was as boring to everyone involved as it would be to Pipi.

Opting to burn that time in prison rather than jail was an odd choice though. Really made the orderly’s theory that Valerie liked Stenton Prison seem more palatable.

Pipi estimated a six year sentence tacked on to the end of whatever Valerie would need to serve. Almost all of the time would come from the public masturbation charge, though. There was a chance that charge was pumped up, which could hurt Pipi’s case. She didn’t yet know the details. Valerie could be looking at as little as two extra years. It didn’t matter…oh boy, was she looking forward to the detective’s briefing on that. Masturbating, in public, with a two-thousand dollar Wii-remote. She would need to practice saying that in the courtroom without laughing.

Pipi had a feeling she’d be putting Valerie in prison over and over until she retired.

Back up in the offices of the Upper division, eight floors above where Valerie was being unshackled and introduced to her new, undiapered bunkmates, news of Mindy’s arrest was buzzing. Somehow, despite all of the text messages flying around, Mindy had been caught unawares. Mid-meeting, they rushed into the office and grabbed her. Handcuffed her with a baffled look on her face. To make sure the world saw the ignominious end of Mindy Topper, Bisgrave remembered to bring a television crew with her.

The caption said: “LIVE: Award-Winning CEO arrested for Insider Trading. What’s next for beleaguered ShamProm?”

Pipi knew enough about the upper circles to have her answer. No, Vittoria Vincenza was going to be behind bars for far too long to reclaim her throne, not that she ever could. There was a better answer. In order to really bag any of these frisky elites, a prosecutor or detective had to have their ear to the gold-encrusted dirt. It didn’t take an expert tracker to guess that it was the heels of Monica Klepin on the march.

She did her best to ignore the hoopla. She wouldn’t join the gaggle hoping to glimpse the famous Mindy Topper wearing her black and whites. Maybe Valerie’s pissy diaper wouldn’t be the topic of the holding cells below, after all.

Yet I’ll be kicking that trashcan down the road for years.

Back on her desk, there was another case file in the box she’d labeled ‘inbox.’ There would be a digital version in her email too, but the old habit of having a physical dossier on a criminal or suspect hadn’t died. Pipi would never abandon it, and neither would detectives. Simply plopping the thick manilla folder on the table in the interrogation room had made Valerie squirm in her chair.

She opened it, and for a moment, she felt a twinge of eagerness. Maybe it was something good. Maybe it was the beginning of a long, winding investigation that upturned more nefarious elites than a stone in the dirt could upturn worms and bugs. Maybe it was what the Lindsey Flemming case turned out not to be. Maybe it was, finally, some detective’s smart work on Monica Klepin. Mindy Topper might be the bigger fish, but Monica Klepin was the invasive species. Pipi always preferred that. She was here to hunt those cowboys and rustlers. Lindsey Flemming may have been worldwide famous, but it was the fact that Lily Tobias was still in prison that made her most proud.

Pipi read for a moment, and groaned.

Brittney Kissins. Upper-Class. Female. 26YO. Caucasian.

• Previous Convictions:
  • Retail Fraud
  • Real Estate Fraud
  • Tax Evasion
  • DUI
• Previous Sentences
  • 1 year sentence for DUI: 5Changes/40Docks
  • 2 year sentence for RF, REF, TE : 4Changes/60Docks
• Status - Full Freedoms (Parole ended ~6mo)
• Ongoing investigation
  • Suspected Shoplifting
  • Suspected Retail Fraud
  • Suspected Real Estate Fraud
  • Suspected Participant in Instagram Ponzi Scheme
  • Suspected Retail of Health-Related Product not approved by FDA
  • Suspected Drug Trafficking: Unregulated Pills
• Warrant Status: Issued for Immediate Arrest.

She laid her head on her desk. She sighed. A person walked by her room, looked in, furrowed their brow, and then continued. The distant phones and hubbub of a division in charge of investigating and prosecuting all of the high-class crime in a city of eight million people was a twenty-four-seven buzz of printers, shouting, wheels, and keyboard mashing.

These cases could still put her to sleep. Maybe the ponzi scheme was interesting. She could be entertained by that. But then again, not from this lady, whomever she was. This one was cut from the same cloth as Valerie.

Can we stop fishing for their incompetent spoiled children and actually bag one of the big ones!

Instead of reading up on the case log further, instead of discovering all of the justifications that the detectives had made in their pursuit of a warrant for Brittney Kissins, Pipi turned on her computer. She looked for other departments in other Shamurian cities, and if they were hiring.