Get her stuff

The idea of running out into the streets leaving the last of her ties to Earth behind is unbearable, and Samantha/Rhiain is aware of the risks of approaching any security officers at all not to mention the security headquarters. The further she was from Mr. Abrams' hands - she trembles at the memory of those thick fingered hands - the better she'd feel.

When the doors open at the random floor, Samantha quickly types in '000' and the elevator promptly begins its descent. She's not sure if the basement floor is number '000' but it seems like a reasonable guess. This time when the elevator doors open she steps into the hallway and sees a directory on the facing wall. The doors close behind her as she reads the information on the sign. If this is not the right floor she may have to jimmy the call panel again, but she felt confident in Rhiain's ability to bypass whatever system the elevator doors were equipped with that kept them from working earlier.

'The doors only respond to authorized IP chips.' The thought flashes into her head unbidden. "Thanks Rhiain? she replies aloud before looking at the directory. It seems odd in a world where people had 'Links' to get information that there would still be old-fashioned signs that told people where to find what they were looking for, but she was grateful all the same. Most of the suites were devoted to mundane operations like diagnostic labs, loading docks, janitorial services and information services. She scans the remaining options looking for anything that could indicate storage or lockers and finds a section of the floor marked as 'Patient Services and Holdings'

Nothing else looks even remotely close so she follows the arrow to her left until she arrives at a set of double doors painted grey and scuffed with multiple marks where carts and bins had bumped and scraped against the doors. The contrast between the drab appearance of the basement floor with the immaculate opulence of the patient floor she had been staying on was jarring. Samantha doubts that many patients are ever sent down to this level, if that was the case then someone must be sent down to retrieve the belongings whenever a patient was checking out.

If she was lucky, that person was sometimes security personnel. She peeks through the gap in the door and sees a bored looking elderly woman staring at a computer monitor. Unlike the young male orderly, this gray-haired woman seems unlikely to respond to her youth and beauty positively, especially if she relies on smiling and looking incompetent.

But what approach will work?