Anna's answers were much clearer and more logical.
She accurately described her work as a hydrological monitor, including her understanding of data recording, instrument operation, and basic hydrological principles.
"What exactly did you do?"
"I recorded water levels, flow rates, water temperature, and sediment content, maintained the monitoring equipment, and wrote daily reports. I had to be highly sensitive to any abnormalities in the data."
Rickson wrote "Hydrological monitoring, instrument maintenance, data analysis" in the "Professional Skills" section.
"What were you responsible for in your former community?"
"At first, I helped manage the limited drinking water distribution. Later... it was mostly finding food with everyone else." Anna's voice dropped a little.
Rickson nodded and made marks under "Organizational Skills" and "Compliance."
"Any special skills or hobbies? Anything that might be useful to the community."
Anna's heart gave a jolt, and she immediately started digging through her other strengths, clearly eager to find a foothold here as soon as possible.
"I... I know a little basic mapmaking. Does being sensitive to data count? Also, I learn pretty quickly."
"It counts." Rickson wrote it down. "Basic laborer. Can be assigned to Elena's team for training."
The other staff from the dam were also questioned one by one, and their skill sets were recorded in turn: electrical maintenance, welding, civil structure inspection, and so on.
Aside from the dam personnel, Rickson also found other valuable people.
There was a construction worker familiar with masonry, carpentry, and various hand tools and power tools; several farmers who had tried growing crops in their former communities; and an elderly carpenter.
The children were also brought in one by one to go over their names, ages, and remaining family members.
The youngest was only six years old. He had just lost his mother during the walker attack on the camp, and now had no relatives left. The others in the camp were taking turns looking after him.
Rickson had not even had time to ask anything before the child took one look at his two meter height and fierce, intimidating appearance and started crying so hard he hiccupped.
Rickson sighed and rubbed his temples.
Gwendolyn, who was waiting in line outside, heard the child crying. After hesitating for a moment, she finally could not help lifting the tent flap and stepping in.
Rickson did not get angry. He just waved for her to take the child out. "You're next."
After handing the child over to another child's mother outside the tent, Gwendolyn smoothed her faded clothes and walked in calmly to sit down.
Facing this gentle woman, whose upbringing still showed despite her hardship, Rickson's question was just as direct.
"Gwendolyn. You used to be a counselor."
"A counselor?" Rickson raised an eyebrow slightly.
Before the apocalypse, it had undoubtedly been a respectable profession. But after the apocalypse, it sounded somewhat luxurious and... useless.
"What exactly can you do that would be useful to us right now?"
Gwendolyn gave a faint, wry smile. "Listen. Help people manage stress. In my old safe zone, I helped handle several conflicts caused by resource distribution.
Maybe... I can help everyone adapt to this place better and reduce internal friction."
"What was your role in your old community?"
"I suppose... I was a listener and a caregiver. A lot of the time, people just need somewhere to let things out."
Rickson thought for a moment, then wrote "emotional management, conflict mediation" in the "Professional Skills" section. He added a question mark after it and noted, "actual effectiveness needs observation."
The last one to come in was Leo.
The young man, who had clashed with Rock Fortress at the very beginning, sat across from Rickson looking extremely uneasy, his hands resting tensely on his knees.
"Leo. You were a student before, with a specialty in sports."
"Sports? Which area specifically?"
"Track and field. Mainly sprints and hurdles. I'm also... pretty good at swimming," Leo added, as if trying to prove he was more useful.
Rickson looked over his solid build.
"Running speed and swimming. Good. Physical labor and reconnaissance missions need those." Rickson nodded.
Leo hesitated before speaking. "What I did before was stupid and impulsive. I'm sorry. I just... I wanted to be useful. I wanted to protect my sister and everyone else."
Rickson saw his regret and his desire to make amends. "What's your family situation?"
Leo's eyes instantly dimmed, and his voice turned dry and strained. "I'm from Chattanooga.
When the virus broke out, I was at university. I rushed home as fast as I could. Dad had already turned... He... bit Mom to death. I only managed to save my sister, Ella..."
He took a deep breath, forcing his emotions down.
Rickson nodded in silence. In the "Family Background" section, he wrote, "Both parents deceased, has one younger sister." In the "Mental State" section, he noted, "traumatized, motivated by protecting younger sister."
The first round of questioning lasted all day. The second round was held the next day.
Calista's tent was just as simple, with only one table and two chairs. In front of her lay the records from Rickson's first round of questioning.
Light filtered down through the transparent canvas at the top of the tent, falling across her delicate but expressionless face. Added to her status as the leader of Rock Fortress, the sharpness of her questions created an invisible pressure that felt even more oppressive.
Marcus was the first to come in that day.
He sat across from Calista with his hands on his knees, unconsciously wiping the sweat from his palms on his pants.
Calista opened his preliminary file. Without any small talk, she went straight to the point. "Marcus, what do you think your greatest value is?"
Marcus took a deep breath. "I worked at the dam for many years, and I'm good at coordinating and organizing people. After the apocalypse, I was also the one who brought everyone together. I know the structure of the dam. Maybe... that could be useful to you."
He chose his words carefully.
Calista looked up at him. Her gray blue eyes seemed able to see right through people. "Coordinating? Does that include restraining people like David?"
Marcus's throat moved, and he felt a trace of pressure.
"I... I'll do my best. In the old community, most people listened to me."
"What if," Calista leaned forward slightly, "David, or any of your other former subordinates, violated Rock Fortress's rules and faced severe punishment, such as expulsion or even execution.
What would you do? Plead for them, question our rules, or support the judgment unconditionally?"
Marcus's expression changed slightly. The question was like a knife, stabbing straight into the most conflicted part of him.
He was silent for several seconds, fine sweat beading on his forehead. In the end, he answered with difficulty, "I... I would abide by Rock Fortress's decision.
Since we chose to join, we have to accept the rules here. Pleading for leniency... would only make things worse. It wouldn't be good for anyone."
The answer seemed to drain some of the strength from him. Marcus knew what it meant.
Calista carefully observed his expression, then nodded and wrote a few notes in the file. "Good. Remember what you said today. Next."
Next was David.
When he walked in, his steps were a little stiff. His gaze swept over Calista, then quickly dropped. Even the way he sat in the chair was tense.
Calista looked at his hand, which was wrapped in cloth, and asked, "How's your hand?"
David froze for a moment, not expecting that question. He answered in a muffled voice, "...It's fine."
"Do you know why that shot hit your gun instead of your head?" Calista asked calmly.
...
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