Eventually, after a while, a middle aged man in a lab coat, hardly looking like a farmer at all, came out, shaking Amy's hand. "Ah hello, miss. I'm Dr McDonald, I'm the proprietor here. So what we'll do is, we're gonna quickly take you for a scan, and it'll see what job you're suited for out of the options you checked off as being open to, alright?"
"A scan, how does that work?" Amy followed after him into a side room, in which sat what looked like an MRI machine.
The scientist dismissed it, helping her to lie on the scanner and running her into it as it made some bleeping and blooping noises. "It's part of our high-tech approach, it tells you exactly what you'd be good at, and cross-references it with what you're willing to do. Amy felt a rush of air as she slid into the hollow machine, seeing lights and scanners whirring, before in no time she was sitting up outside of the machine, as the professor pulled out printouts and sheets.
He scanned over them, occasionally glancing at Amy. "Well, I think we can offer you one of a few jobs, you seem to have a solid genetic aptitude for them. Would any of these appeal to you?"