NationStates Jolt Archive

Diktat

"What do you mean, I'm being 'replaced'?!" said John Gaines, trying his hardest not to scream at the Diktat sitting in a grey suit behind the desk.

"Well it's simple. Your performance and productivity have decreased in the last six months since you've been with us. You're fired."

Gaines stared openmouthed at the silver, cylindrical, domed face, into the unemotional photocell 'eyes'. The Diktat's tubelike body wore a sleeveless grey and white-striped suit with a red necktie. This is f u c k i ng impossible!

"B-b-but, Number Thirteen! T-t-they can't do this to me!"

"Nevertheless," said the Diktat in a deliberately annoying, neutral tone, "The Deluge doesn't tolerate such low performance indexes amongst its employees."

"But I've got a wife, and two children to feed! Where'll I go? I've got a f-"

The Diktat's photocell eyes snapped onto his, watching intently, like some steel and chrome predator, stalking a nervous, frightened herbivore. Damnit, control yourself, John!. The Diktats were designed to be revoltingly pleasant, conversational, and emotionless - for the purpose of testing the employees' tempers - and you weren't supposed to go into outbursts in front of them. There were frightening stories floating about, told since childhood, of what happened to people who disrespected the Diktats. As a result, everyone tried their hardest to be obsequious to those infuriating cylindrical robot managers.

John took a deep breath.

"I've got an education! I got all good marks on my Assessments all through grade school, junior high, and high school! I went to Deluge College Number Thirty-Five-Seven, for God's sake! Why the heck am I being fired, if Suzie Bouvier-" he spat the name- "who doesn't even have a High School education, is being promoted to Chief Secretary?"

John ran a hand through his matted, sandy hair and failed at smoothing his rumpled suit and tie.

"That's precisely why you're being fired, John," said the Diktat, reaching a cold metal tentacle over the desk, patting his shoulder, "All of these studies show you've got above-average intelligence, excellent marks- but you're just not performing as well as you're expected to be. We're sorry, John, but we're going to have to let you go."

"But where else can I get a job?" he pleaded. "I've been fired from every job my dossier says I can have! This one's my last - the bottom of the list! If I lose my job now..."

The Diktat shrugged and pointed at the door. John sighed and slouched, padding on the softly-carpeted floor out of the office.

"One more word - if I may," said the robot, "I'd suggest looking for a job elsewhere. We can offer numerous positions in our onshore prospecting franchises, and if you sign up within the next five minutes, we'll book you a transport out of Benthic City with no down payment for the next two weeks, and after that, an easy plan of 50% interest per year for the next twenty five years."

"No, thanks, Number Thirteen."

John fished into his pocket and pressed his credit chip into the toll-lock on the door. There goes the rest of my money. Oh, God, what'll I tell to Mary? The Diktat's door slid shut behind him.

Face of the TeleScreen

When he got to his home cubicle, throwing his paper overcoat and fedora into the recyclotron where, in an old fashioned land-based home, the coathanger should have been, John found his wife sitting on the couch, soaking in the glow and babble of the telescreen. His flask of good old 2345 Scotch was on the coffee table, and the shot glass was swirling back and forth in Mary's long, slender fingers.

"Honey! I'm home!" he called.

When she looked up at him, or rather, when he sat down and looked at her, he noticed that her paintstick-smudged eyes were leaking trails of black, color drying on her cheeks.

"Hi Mary. What's wrong?" he asked, trying his best to smile.

"I heard about what happened, at work today," she said in a cracked and hoarse voice.

"What? But the mailer-"

"Word travels fast."

Mary tapped at her temple, brushing the three light silver-white filaments that protruded from a metallic patch. Her good right eye winked at him, while the filament-matrixed left one stared at the shifting patches of colour on the telescreen, probably laser-interfacing by the way it vibrated, as if REM sleep.

"I heard it from Emma - you know her - from the netgroup."

"Look, Mary, I'm sorry-"

"That's okay, John." She still stared unemotionally at the telescreen, drowning in its light, the shot glass in her fingers, a little bit of amber-brown Scotch swirling in it. "I understand your... situation. And it's really alright."

She poured a shot of Scotch and downed it, wincing. It clattered to the coffee table, the cheap glass shattering to pieces. And she broke into tears. John reached over to comfort her, but she batted his hand away, covering her face.

"I must look awful - I'll go get a tissue."

"No, Mary, it's okay, it's okay. Stay here-"

She managed to wheeze out several words, barely coherent enough that John could understand them, through heaving sobs and gasps.

"No John! It's over, alright? It's over. I've paid for the procedure - it should be waiting in your message box. Tomorrow I'm... I'm leaving. With the children. I've got my permit right here!"

She took out a little rectangular slip of transparent plastic, laced with lines of red and green.

"No, Mary, please!" he pleaded, hands placating. Mary ripped away from him, standing up, her breast heaving. The mechanical fish-eye glared at him, aligned with her right.

"I'm sorry John. We're going to stay at my mother's. I'll try to pay for the rent, support the kids..."

"Mary, why don't we think this through? Try to talk-"

"I'm through with talking, DAMNIT! I'm through with it, understand?"

"Mary-"

She stormed into their room, and he heard a click. He slumped resignedly into the couch, interfaced his left eye with the telescreen, and drank the Scotch from the bottle. It was awful.

OOC: I love it..technical progress does not mean human progress. I would participate if I knew how exactly TO do so, being a highly industrial nation myself. As for John, we can happily find a position for him in our hierarchy of things, or else provide him with a little "something" to get back at his enemies. For a price of course...))

Benthic Blues

John wandered alone through the corridors of Benthic City, glumly watching the false-window telescreens on the walls, displaying looped camera footage of the swirling dark waters outside, where a myriad of aquatic life swam and played outside. Again, and again, and again, the same patchwork quilt of fish swirled on the telescreens, passing from one to the other, with uncanny realism. He had seen that image since childbirth, grew up with it, memorised the precise ways the fish swam.

Over and over again.

He scratched the dandruff at the top of his sweat-matted hair, and then fiddled with his untidy stubble. The dandruff managed to fall on the lapels and shoulders of his tan suit, sprinkling it with white flakes.

In one hand he clutched a battered brown briefcase, in the other, an empty bottle of Scotch, licked dry. On his face he wore a dejected frown, his eyes leaking misery, his body reeking of worthlessness and uselessness.

In the months after Mary and his kids left him (she had the venom and presence of mind to leave at night, without word, and so he woke up and discovered, painfully, that their cubicle was abandoned - Mary had stripped it of all things of value, even to the point of ripping out the telescreen). He sold his suits back to the Company, leaving himself with less than one set of clothes. Then, he sold, as an empty shell, the cubicle.

He had spent the money for permits to walk the corridors at all hours, on interviews for janitorial, sanitary, cheap labour, even secretarial positions with the Deluge. At last it dwindled to not more than a pile of e-credits that the Deluge would take back at any time, when the Diktats finally got tired of him and put him down, or more likely, put him into making shoes on one of the company's sweatshop-bubbles out in the Wastes.

John tried to buy his way out of the Deluge, but his credit was so bad that not even the Division for the Transport of Nonrecyclable Garbage would take him aboard. Time after time again, the Diktats or human Managers shook their heads as he pushed his sweat-crinkled papers forward, pointing desperately to his education, to the test results that marked him as "Above Average Intelligence", to his college education.

None of that mattered now.

John wondered when they'd kick him out of Benthic City. Maybe he'd meet his maker in one of the cleaning Diktats that wandered the corridors, disinfecting and wiping the halls clean of filth. Yes, he'd be swept away, like a bit of garbage, maybe turned into prison food for the sweatshops.

Hope I give them food poisoning., he thought grimly, and realised it wouldn't be far from the truth, from the amount of alcohol he'd consumed at the Deluge Bars he'd wandered past.

He found the little corner he'd found, in one of the spotless restroom stalls, where he had been staying for the past couple of days, in hopes of getting a little rest before he was kicked out by a janitor. John curled up next to the toilet and used his briefcase for a pillow, and soon fell into drunken, hysterical, red-eyed dreams of Diktats with Mary's face on them.

"Hey!"

"Huh?" he blinked bleary eyes, a sickening, falling feeling crawling down his throat into his stomach.

"Hey! Hey! Are you John Gaines?"

"Yeah? Whaddayou want?" the voice began to resolve before his eyes, shadowy in the glare of a bathroom light.

"My name is Edric Orwell, VP Sales," the face said, cracking a lopsided, toothy grin.

"Wh-what?" said John, fully awake, backing up, suddenly aware of his foul body odor, "Really? Are you really him? I-"

"Pleased to meet you too!"

Edric extended a smooth, friendly hand. Omigawd! thought John, Edric Orwell wants to shake my HAND! He felt faint, but shook anyway.

"W-w-why d'you wanna s-s-s-ee m-me?" he stammered.

"Well, John, I've got a job for you!"

He fainted for real.

<tag for future reading> Nice story, I look foward to reading it all the way through.

#tag#

You Can Remember It For Us Wholesale

"You want me to do what?" John said, his jaw dropping for at least the third time this day.

"It's simple," said Edric, walking in a circle around the desk, as the two severe-looking women and three Diktats stared at John, "All you have to do is get this surgical operation, we'll pay you six thousand e-credits per year, and you get to travel around the world for free!"

"Excuse me," interjected a Diktat, "I believe you mean almost free. If you agree to this right now, we'll charge the low-low interest rate of 11% per year! But that's not all-"

"-We'll throw in medical benefits, marriage benefits, and funeral compensation absolutely free, a package worth a total of one million e-credits!" said another Diktat.

"Yeah, yeah, put a cork in it," said Edric, shooeing off the Diktats. John gasped. He insulted the Diktats to their face! Nobody is allowed to do THAT! But, then again, he was the Vice President of Sales. "Anyways, all you have to do is sign this contract which says we can dump you full of information and alter your neuroware to turn you into a walking-talking advertisement, that we can take away your health insurance or any other insurance, and that we can move you wherever we want without any warning or reason whatsoever."

John whispered in a level, careful voice, afraid of bursting into laughs or tears - whichever one came first.

"And if I refuse."

"You get sent to the Deluge's Septic Tank Cleaning Company with a lifetime contract. That - or the ciggarette shoppes onshore."

Edric leaned forward, seemingly unaffected by John's smell, as the two women were, who seemed to be constantly turning their noses up at the smell of dog droppings, his face predatory as he pronounced the word 'onshore'.

"So ... I have no choice, huh?"

"Not really, no," said all of them at once.

"Okay."

John shrugged.

"Just one question, though. Why isn't the board of directors getting into this? I mean, this is an extremely risky international and intracompany procedure - why are you risking a lawsuit?"

The people gawked at him for a moment and burst into laughter - except, of course, the Diktats. Edric wiped his tears, still giggling.

"The Board of Directors!" he giggled uncontrollably, great barrel-chest seeming to be on the verge of exploding from his deep-blue three-piece suit. Edric placed his hand on John's shoulder, and handed him a pen and the contract, whose fine print extended to the floor in a roll. John signed it.

"Okay, John, follow Diktat Twenty Five to the isopropyl alcohol showers and follow their instructions from there. My friend, you've just got yourself a job."

John gulped as the grey-suited cylinder led him out the office, paying the fee, and into the corridor. He wasn't sure if he was jumping from the frying pan into the fire.

tag

Nice writing...

<<This looks like it could be very interresting. TAG for future perusal>>

[code:1:e298d9d577]~:>_
~:> message -o
~:> propert: +all
~:>_
~:: BEGIN HERE ::~

"Hello there! I am John Gaines, the official company representative of the Deluge Syndicated Industries and Associates, Inc. I'll be visiting our potential customers all around the world or, as we like to say at Deluge, coming to a nation near YOU. I'll be taking questions and inquiries, as well as business proposals and contracts.

I look forward to seeing you!

And remember: At the Deluge Corporation, our only concern is YOU!"

~:> out
[/code:1:e298d9d577]

The Death of A Salesman, Part One

John felt the cyberware hardwired to his brain, feeling the weight of the Deluge's reconstructive programming weighing upon his soul. At least it's a living, he thought, not much reassured at being turned into an involuntary robot.

"Two minutes to surface."

The transport grumbled around him, and he pressed himself into the soft chair. The inside resembled that of a small airliner, though the walls were far thicker, and there were no windows. A curious, butterfly feeling welled up in his stomach. It was his first time topside - he'd lived his entire life in Benthic City, the Deluge's largest undersea dome, where the majority of its employees lived. He was comfortable, even dependent, on the reassuring closeness of the walls, the corridors around him. He didn't know what being topside would be like, and it frightened him (among other things).

The popping and groaning sounds of the hull was like a death knell, constantly grinding into him the fact of just where he was.

A voice came on the loudspeaker.

"This is your captain speaking. We have reached sea level and have set course for our next destination - the pressure tanks on the Deluge's Hawaii parcel. It'll take a few weeks to get the helium out of your bloodstreams, so enjoy the sights."

God. John thought, What have I gotten myself into?

OOC: Intro post finished... start saying hi to the Deluge or something!! Reply in-characterly already! Pleeease?

Bump?...

The nation of Taka is interested in what services and products you can provide, and should they fall into the catagory of what we need, would be interested in persuing contracts with your company.

The Deluge Syndicated Industries and Associates, Inc. specialises in suboceanic materials and heavy industries, but has a broad variety of products and services. We sell everything from vacuum cleaners to used cars, from land to paper, from heavy metals to lingerie, from antimatter to zeppelins - in short - nearly every product available to man. The Deluge can also be contracted for nearly any construction or production job, with our greatest expertise in the construction of undersea facilities and colonies - being an ocean-based company.

The Deluge's main sea colonies (and, not coincidentally, corporate headquarters) is located at the sea floor, near the Aleutian island chain.

Feel free to contact us at any time should you desire any exquisitely manoefactured good or service, and remember, "at the Deluge, our only concern is YOU".

---------
Deluge Syndicated Industries and Associates, Inc. Commercial

We are most interested in your construction facilities, and would like to speak with a representative in person if we may concerning construction of a few. .. pet projects of the prince. As we are located outside of the Sol system we of course will provide transit for your representative to a meeting location, should this be acceptable. A Takian Shuttle will arrive to pick him up for a meeting reguarding the current Takian contracts we have possitions open for.

Oh my God. thought John Gaines for perhaps the fifth time that day. He had been imprisoned in the barometric chambre on Hawaii for weeks, and now he was finally getting a real job. He had taken to pacing the inside of the machine, idle, slowly going insane, and if he had to stay cooped up in this goddamn place any longer without any word from the corporation, he'd start doing rash things, such as toss the furniture against the walls, or jump out and take a breath of fresh air before the helium in his blood boiled.

And now he was going into space.

From the bottom of the sea to the few remaining dots of scraggly land that was left of Hawaii after the poles melted, and now into space. At least one thing that the corporation said was true - he did in fact, get to go places and see things.

Except it was far less of seeing things and more of going places, and seeing the insides of pressurised bubbles.

John summoned up the timer and it crawled across his vision from somewhere behind his head, glowing in neon green as it moved across his cybernetic left eye, temporarily overlapping the blinking letterbox icons of his emails. The 'Takians' were due to land on the respad just outside the pressure chambre within a day - he had very little time to prepare.

John interfaced with the telescreen on the wall and began reading up as much as he could, pulling every little reference and scrap of information from the Deluge's database.

He'd need it.

An OOC dossier on the Deluge Corporation

Government

The Deluge Corporation is a vertically-integrated capitalist totalitarian state, dominated by several types of differing social ethos at each different level of the social pyramid. These are: 1) The Social Darwinist Ethos, 2) The Objectivist, 3) The Fascist, and finally 4) The Neitzschean.

At the bottom echelons of Deluge society, a hodge-podge of mass-integrationist policies and competing individual desires fosters strife and tension amongst singular workers. It is, quite simply, the survival of the fittest. Coworkers, neighbours, even relatives within and without the family are encouraged to betray and backstab one another in the effort to climb the social pyramid to the upper levels. While the government (or the Board of Directors) does not outwardly support the active competition for survival, secretly the top levels of Delugian society approve of the active dog-pile of the lowest class, pulling forth not neccessarily the best workers per se, but the most ruthless and treacherous, the most willing to betray friends and lovers for the desire of sheer wealth and power. It is by this method that the Deluge's upper castes manage to keep a stranglehold on a corporation consisting of millions.

Past the white and blue-collar life and death struggle is that of the middle manager, the minor overseers and task masters. These are often 'Union captains', 'division managers', and various small bosses. While the blatant Social Darwinist struggle is mostly suppressed in this higher caste in Delugian society, another form of ruthless, bare-faced capitalist-imperialist dogmatism is employed - that of the neo-libertarian capitalist teachings of Ayn Rand. At this level individual workers strive to better themselves and only themselves, taught to not only despise other individuals such as would be proposed by the Social Darwinist, but to actively hold a hatred for the general good of the group itself, but at the same time, hold a love of their own caste's superiourity to the rest. This intricate process of doublethink leads to an often-brutal management, and helps to foster the general hatred felt by those governed by the Objectivist managers.

At the third tier of the pyramid lie the Fascists - the upper managers and controllers. If it were not for their prominent wealth and general idleness (for the upper echelons of Delugian society do not, in fact, engage in any productive labour, their time spent in utilising 'human resources' to benefit themselves), the Fascist caste would be simple men-at-arms, enforcers, and police officers. The task of secretly policing Delugian society is relegated to the robotic Diktats, who are at the general beck and call of the upper management. They serve an invaluable position, as they keep the society glued together - otherwise it would blow apart from the innumerable power blocs and factionalism and rivalry simmering at the bottom levels. The coincidentally (though not unexpectedly), the Fascists are hand-picked by the very topmost members of Delugian society, being the most loyal to the Company itself.

At the very top are the shadowy Owners and Presidents and Vice Presidents of the Deluge Corporation. An even smaller fraction of these make up the Board of Directors, a collective body that exacts absolute control over the Deluge's general policies.

The Takian Frigate took up orbit over the Deluge landing pad, the ship, small by Takian standards, would be massive to the a people used to minimizing ships to travel under the sea. . . They didn't want to intimidate them with the first impression.

The sleek shuttle, dressed in teh Prince's royal colors of blue and white sat in the docking bay, the ambassador looking over the contracts. Kiro shuffled them into order, with the most benificial on bottom. . . weapons manufacturing, a free trade contract, metalurgical contracts, hostile environment construction contracts. . . it was going to be a long, long time to get everything inked out and dried. . . but not matter. She entered the shuttle, gently folding her white silk kimono to alow her to sit on the pelican seats. She set her boken, the diplomat's way to both follow that Takain honorcode, and not appear hostile, as she looked over her watch.

45 minutes. . . the ride down would take 35, and she would be meeting this representative 10 minutes ahead of schedual.

John Gaines checked the timer again, freaked out, and uploaded one last bit of information into his cyberware before logging off and frantically searching for his best tie - the red and black striped one - and his one good suit (the grey one with a small coffee stain on the left arm).

Five minutes! Five darn minutes!

He stared out of the pressure chambre's single bubble window, saw the glowing smoke trail of the Takian shuttle as it descended through the atmosphere, swore, stubbed his toe on a piece of plastic-ceramic furniture and swore again. He checked the pressure reading via his interface and it read nearly surface pressure - just a hair or two over one atmosphere. He'd be able to walk out of this damned contraption without exploding into convulsions and cramps from 'the bends', but his ears would probably pop.

John Gaines winced, watched the shuttle descend and land in flames and glory on the pad, and signaled his request for the Corporation to open the door. The inner airlock ground open and he stepped in, and then after a moment, went into the open air.

And smelled the salt, smoke, and sea breeze.

Mary, kids, wherever you are, I'm doing this for you he silently thought as he waited for the shuttle's hatch to open.

An OOC dossier on the Deluge Corporation, Cont.

Our protagonist here, John Gaines, once was one of the Social Darwinist masses. His fall-out and tumble into despair and listlessness was caused by the highly competitive environment of the lowest caste of Delugian society - in short he was not quite ruthless and treacherous enough to advance. However, for reasons that we have yet to see, the upper administration promoted him several levels.

Economics

The Deluge Corporation is a gigacorporation, meaning it has long ago bought out all of its competitors, every market, and every avenue of political governance. Essentially, the Deluge Corporation is the end product of capitalism unfettered by rules and regulations to protect 'free trade' (which, coincidentally, was precisely what brought about the Deluge Corporation itself - free trade without restrictions). Corporations like the Deluge are vertically integrated fascistic bodies, with government regulation on all industries, but fierce competition on the individual and group level. Hence, when the Deluge gained complete control of every market, every commodity, every service, every product, and every section of government, it spelled the end of most freedoms in the nation, with the rise of the shadowy 'Board of Directors' to power.

The Deluge Corporation, having nothing to compete against within its own body politic, now treats other nations and especially other corporate-totalitarian states (see Resi Corp, Capsule Corp, GMC Military Arms, etc.), as other corporate competitors. It sets its sights on buying out, taking over, or merging with other such nations, considering the entire world to be a single market which can be exploited and manipulated by principles which it is familiar with.

The Deluge Corporation serves as a fine example of the true inequalities of free-market capitalism - of the end product of such rampant wholesale savagery. It entirely disregards the environment as an issue (being located deep underwater, the effects of global warming, pollution, smog, climate collapse, etc. are not noticeable), it fosters treachery and ruthlessness amongst its employees, there is widespread suspicion and hatred, and all political and economic freedom is entirely dissolved in the name of money.

Non-analysis OOC

Boy, you can really tell my socioeconomic leanings, eh? Unlike the other '-Corporations' I am no capitalist...

the shuttle touched down gracefully, and Kiro looked at her watch. . . three minutes early. The shuttle opened and she stepped into the warm afternoon light, her kimono sparkling in it. She was young though only by the standards of a member of the Mizunian bloodline, appearing in her early twenties. She strode towards the man, smiling sweetly, red and black tie, grey suit, had obviously never left the planet, and she seriously doubted that he had ever left the confines of his underwater city. . . no matter, she had cut deals with kings, dictators, maniacs, and presidents, one buisness representative would not give her problems.

"good afternoon Mr. Gaines, I am Kiro Mizuna, neice of the High Prince and the ambassador assigned to working out a contract deal. I hope you do not mind, but we will be taking you on a tour of the Proxima system, as well as visiting a few possible construction sites on Proxima Centari itself. . . we are very interested in the possibility of a deep water research station off the coast of the single ocean on Proxima. The entire trip is a little over 8 light years, but we should have you back home within a few weeks."

She paused letting the information sink in, before continuing.

"Unfortunatly our fold drivers are still charging for the jump back home, however I belive they will be finished in time for you to see the sunset from the Takain palace at the capital. . . please, come with we, we have many things to discuss."

The man standing before her had a sandy mop of hair, pale, unhealthy skin from a life under the ocean, and wore a wrinkled grey suit which had obviously seen better times. In one hand he clutched limply to a battered brown briefcase, in the other, a small notepad. Otherwise not an outstanding person, the single thing that made him seem unnatural, even unearthly, was his strange left eye, which was glazed over, staring in another direction, whose pupil was a cataractic grey colour - obviously defective. Over the glassy surface of the eye ran a thin, multicoloured matrix of lines and lights. Inserted right under the lid was a small filamentous antenna complex that extended, like silver eyelashes. The flesh around the eye was a limp, cathartic grey, puckered and lifeless.

He extended his hand.

"Hi, I'm John Gaines, official business representative for the Deluge Syndicated Industries and Associates."

John had that sinking feeling in his stomach again, as if a hole had been carved at the bottom and all of his entrails were falling into it. Proxima Centauri? Eight light-years??!

He was in over his head again.

John followed the woman in the kimono.

The man standing before her had a sandy mop of hair, pale, unhealthy skin from a life under the ocean, and wore a wrinkled grey suit which had obviously seen better times. In one hand he clutched limply to a battered brown briefcase, in the other, a small notepad. Otherwise not an outstanding person, the single thing that made him seem unnatural, even unearthly, was his strange left eye, which was glazed over, staring in another direction, whose pupil was a cataractic grey colour - obviously defective. Over the glassy surface of the eye ran a thin, multicoloured matrix of lines and lights. Inserted right under the lid was a small filamentous antenna complex that extended, like silver eyelashes. The flesh around the eye was a limp, cathartic grey, puckered and lifeless.

He extended his hand.

"Hi, I'm John Gaines, official business representative for the Deluge Syndicated Industries and Associates."

John had that sinking feeling in his stomach again, as if a hole had been carved at the bottom and all of his entrails were falling into it. Proxima Centauri? Eight light-years??!

He was in over his head again.

John followed the woman in the kimono.

Kiro smiled gently, Mr. Gaines was in for quite a few shocks. She looked thoughtfully at him for a moment before remarking.

"I pray you are not xenophobic Mr. Gains, some of the sentients on Taka do not exist outside of the Mizunian dynasty, and may seem a bit strange to your. . . sheltered, life."

As if on cue a large creature strode down from the ship's loading ramp, its yellow brown skin brightening with the sunlight to match the sand under its feet.

"Milady Misssuna" it hissed, "transssport isss ready, when ever you and our guessst, Missster Gainessss are prepared we will take off." Its voice was gravely and nasual, and the lizard like creature effected a salute as best as his clawed arms would allow.

*tag*

John paled visibly and swallowed, his Adam's apple jumping.

"I s-s-see. Umm."

He ran a hand through his sandy hair and grinned nervously.

"Well, the umm... the Deluge Corporation's files on other nations are, um, unfortunately quite brief. I'm all set - uh - didja say weeks? I've only got my briefcase and um, this suit, so I guess... uh.."

He glanced at the white, curved walls of the pressure chambre where he'd spent weeks slowly adjusting to sea-level air pressure, scrubbing the helium out of his system.

The squill reguarded John coldly. "you wouldn't happen to be mocking me, would you good sssir?" he asked, clenching a clawed hand. Kiro placed her hand over his arm and wipsered somthing to him, causing the large lizard to turn and walk silently away.

"It would probobly be best to not rile him. . . you have diplomatic protection, however that will not stop a Squill who belives his honor has been stained. . . no need to worry about anythink, we will provide clothing and anything else you need. Please, follow me"

she took him by the arm, and lead him to the shuttle, the Squill already firing up the engines.

"prepared for lift off, all sssyssstems go." the Squill said, obviously trying to cut the hiss out of his voice. As the engines fired up, and the shuttle door closed, Kiro leaned over to him. "as thsi is your first time in space, I'll go ahead and give you a bit of warning. . . zero gravity can take some time to get used to. . . our frigates have artificial gravity in most of the ship, but some rooms are outside of the field. Mostly maintanance hatches, as well as the combat coradors, those closest to the hull of the ship. Just a friendly warning."

The shuttle lifted off, the engines roaring like a hungry beast, as it gracefully rose into the heavens. The cabin shook a bit as it tore through the atmosphere, the shaking stopping as the engine cut off. For a moment it felt as if the shuttle were falling, as it exited the gravity well and took up orbit. The frigate, a little under a quarter of a mile long, slid through space towards them, a warm and welcoming light on the underbelly indicating the docking bay.

"I appologise we had to get you in something so small, but the larger ships tend to create a stir in the earthen populous, and some of the conspiricy theorists have taken up locking onto our ships with makeshift radar. . . we annihilated three homes before we figured out that it wasn't anti starship artilary. . . "

((OOC: You think that they'd make a business rep more normal-looking than that, but whatever, maybe he's the best they've got.))
IC:
A recent influx of products from a new party had appeared on the market. It was such a large influx and so quickly did it appear that people began to wonder where these products came from. Where and what was this mysterious entity known as the Deluge Corporation? Economists wondered how it coordinated the distribution of its products so fast, and how it survived under the public radar for so long. Nevertheless, this was treated by the Resi Corporation as an assult on all economic fronts, necessitating the location of this mystery corporation. The planet's surface had been scanned, all space traffic had been monitored, and all seemed hopeless, until A.U.R.A., the Resi Corporation's sentient GlobeSat A.I., began to scan the entire floor of the ocean. As a satellite A.I. with nothing better to do, A.U.R.A. was doing this out of sheer boredom. However, her findings suddenly reached a drastic new importance when a series of domes were located on the sea floor. Wondering if these were the reminants of the famed GDODAD Underwater Bubble, A.U.R.A. zoomed in for a closer inspection. No, these bubbles were of an inorganic design, and of frightening technological complexity. Sending the results back to her superiors, A.U.R.A. settled down to watch.

{I'm watching you, little nation...} she thought as she in her 200-odd bodies floated through space.
http://invisionfree.com/forums/Corporate_Islands/index.php?act=Attach&type=post&id=412
~A.U.R.A., GlobeSat satellite A.I.~

John tried to listen to the kimono lady's advice, but that still didn't frighten him out of his wits when the shuttle roared off on a pillar of flame and smoke. His brain was shaking, every atom in his body seemed to vibrate, and a horrible feeling came over him as gravity began to pull away. His teeth rang with the shaking and growling of the shuttle's tormentuous ascent into the stratosphere - John was afraid that the fillings would shake loose. He felt around his mouth with his tongue and poked a small thing around. Yep. They definitely had come loose.

And then all was silent and he felt the fluids come loose within his body, floating and ambient. His face felt flushed and his extremities seemed twice as large. And as the liquid in his stomach wobbled, forming spheres in the zero-g, he felt oncoming space sickness.

"Uhh... excuse me, but are there any airsick bags?" John asked, his face visibly green with nausea.

Kiro smiled blythly as she handed him a small brown bag and a gel capsule. "take this, it will help. We will dock shortly, though I am sorry that space flight does not agree with you. . . it is a unique sensation to say the least" She looked down at the blue planet spining below, drawing John's attention to it. "Its a beautiful world. . . I pray you will return with an appreciation of how large the universe is, and yet how close all of humanity must become for it to survive."

John swallowed the pill and stared out the window, first at earth, and then at the immense frigate looming up before the tiny shuttle, as if to crush it like a tiny little air-filled bug. He put the bag before his mouth and breathed in and out, trying to contain his hyperventilation.

"Oh G-god!" he said as they entered the docking bay, slightly jostling, shaking about as they were brought into the belly of the leviathan ship, being eaten by a mouth filled with light...

And then he used the bag for its intended purpose.

Kiro smiled gently, "this is an Akoya class frigate, second smallest ship in the Takian navy, the smallest being the Ceylon class destroyer. When we get to Proxima, you will be able to see the capital ships. Come now, I'll take you to your room, it will take a few hours before we can fold, I can give you a tour of the ship, or loan you the nessessary data files on our history, though first, I belive we will need to get you in proper attire to mark you as a diplomat. Had I known your culture put you in those aboninable buisness suits I would have brought you something to change into there, as it is, I belive we have a few spare kimonos or at the very least some extra uniforms, we'll simply give you the diplomats arm band. . . oh. . ." She said, heading towards the lowering ramp, "you should be forwarned, don't think anything about the captian. . . " She stepped into the docking way, anouther shuttle beside thiers in the cramped docking way, a trio of sleek, winglike fighters sitting against the wall. The entrance area was opened, a thin field of energy crackling as a pair of mechanics played a game by bouncing a ball against it, sending it flying back towards them. She stood at the bottom of the bay, and looked up at him, waiting for him to join her.

John stumbled groggily out of the shuttle, relieved, though horribly disoriented, that the gravity had returned to some sense of normalcy. His brown space-sickness bag had disappeared - either he had somehow found the waste receptacle, or (more likely) he had stuffed it into his briefcase along with everything else.

After resting for a moment, John scanned the area, taking in the strange, wide atmosphere of the place. He was used to narrow corridors, cramped aisles, and little grey cubicles. This was no short of earthshattering for a former office-drone cum hallway bum cum business representative.

He dully followed Kiro in a dazed stumble, drunk with experience.

Kiro lead him trhough the central passagway to a metal tube, placing her hadn over it, the door slid open and a woman's voice greeted her.

good afternoon Kiro, I see you have our guest in tow.

"Good afternoon Miho" Kiro said to the empty elevator "can you get a data dump ready in Mr. Gaines's room in five minutes? Everything you have on Takian protocal, the history. . . everyhting."

Really Kiro, thats three thousand years worht of legends and folk lore, are you sure you don't want me to simply turn the auto defence against him? It would be a much less painful way to kill him. . . and more fun too. To accent her thought a sentry gun popped down from the ceiling and the door panel flashed, showing a digital rendering of a teenage girl dressed in black, her face hidden under bangs of dyed black hair, showing only a smirk.

"Miho!" Kiro said loudly "He's an honored guest, you don't treat a vice president like that! Mr. Gaines, I for one appologise for our AS systems' behavior, Miho hasn't had contact with many off worlders, she doesn't exactly know how to act around them."

Oh, a vice president now is he? And when exactly were you promoted John?

The holographical representation smirked cruely as Kiro thumbed the privacy switch, blocking her from the viewscreen

"once more, I do appologize for Miho's behavior, she's not been the same since she lost her sister ship the LML-1337. . . she and its Artificial Sentience program "Largo" were very close friends, if very fierce rivals in the now disbanded MT2k3 frigate floatilla. . . I think she resents being converted for diplomatic use."

"B-but wait! I'm no vice president," blurted John, slowly regaining his senses, "I'm just a business rep. I was your average Delugian office worker, then they fired me from every job I could take, and then they scraped me out of the gutter to here."

John noticed the strange AI and the kimono-lady's conversation with it. Oh, finally something familiar! But this thing isn't like a Diktat - it seems to have... emotions. Wierd.

OOC:

#Tag.

TDC, very original, original is always good. :)

Kindof reminds me of Jennifer Government, but more organised. I suspect you'd like the book quite a lot.

Kiro stared blankly at him for a moment, trying to process the information. "you mean. . . you aren't an executive?" she asked dumbly, refusing to belive they would send any but the best to negotiate such an imporant trade deal.

OOC: Actually, Ctan, I did read Jennifer Government.

"No," John sighed, running his fingers through lank, sandy hair in embarrasment, "I'm just a regular guy. I don't know why the Deluge picked me. I've got nothing. It's just... oh God, Mary."

He suppressed a sob, and said, "I've been bumped around all my life - from here to there - and now out on this spaceship. I don't know anything - I'm just another office drone. I don't even know why I'm out here, except because I have to - they gave me no other choice!"

And, as years of pent-up frustration boiled up in him, he slammed a wildly gesticulating hand into the face of a passing crewman.

The door slid open as John's fist slammed into the face of a young gunnery officer, who fell back cursing profusly, holding his broken and bleeding nose.

"Son of an avian, who the fack hit me!?!" He yelled, grabbing the katana at his side and glaring at John.

Kiro glared at John icily before reaching across and slapping him. "you are a diplomat, John, like it or not, you are what you are for a reason, complaining will do you no good, you must control yourself and act like a diplomat, when the time comes, you will be able to move to where you want to, but untill then, you will have to wait."

she bowed to the prostate gunnery officer "I'm very sorry sir, you might want to get to a medbay to get that looked at. . ."

"He just hit me!" the gunnery officer bellowed, scrambling to his feet. Kiro waved a hand over the panel to the elevator, the door closing at the young man drew his katana. He thrust towards John, Kiro pulling him out of the way just in time for the blade tip to hit the backwall, embedding itself about a centimeter in before the elevator doors closed. The young officer jerked it out before the elevator could continue upwards, leaving them with a final taunt.

"your blood is mine off worlder, just you wait. . ." The rest of his insult was lost as the elevator continued up to the diplomatic wing along the spine of the ship. It opened to a long hallway, with a converted glass observation deck. "You really should be more careful John, the next one may not be quite as forgiving."

John was slapped.

On the face.

And someone tried to kill him.

With a sword.

It was a bad day. A really really really bad day. Why God? Why? What'd I ever do to you? Why won't you leave me alone? I'm a good person, aren't I? Aren't I?!. Maybe it was karma. Maybe he'd done something bad, like kill someone, in his previous life and he was doomed to suffer for the rest of his life.

"I'm - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-," he said in a subdued voice. He trudged after her, a slump of defeat in his weary, thin shoulders.

Kiro softened a bit. . . smiling gently at him,

"think of it as an adventure, it shouldn't be too bad, you'll be treated like royalty, even get to meet my uncle, the High Prince himself."

She reached the end of the hallway and pushed open a massive oak door, revealing a large sleeping quarters, complete with a private lev-tube that hit every floor on the way down.

"Its a converted storage bay, but its large and comfortable, make yourself at home, the lev-tube will take you whereever you want to go quickly, and if Miho annoys you too baddly, simply press this button." She handed him a small cylinder with a red button at the top marked "Privacy".

"you have run of the ship, however, you will have to wear this wiht you wherever you go." She hands him a black armband, before pointing to a large dresser "and you can get a kimono from there. I will be on the bridge, if you need me just ask for me and Miho will patch you through to me. I will come and get you shortly before we depart so you can watch the fold from the bridge. . . its an experience you will nto soon forget."

With that she turned and walked into the lev-tube, quickly dropping into the floor.

John entered his quarters, the little red thingy in hand.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaow he thought as he entered. Not even the guys in freaking Management get quarters this big!

He approached the bed, carefully pressing at the mattress.

"I wonder what this thing is..." he said out loud.

Waiiit a second...

"This is a BED!" he exclaimed. "Oh my God! What a bed! Geez!"

John was used to sleeping in bathroom stalls or messhall floors, under tables and chairs, or, when he wasn't a destitute hobo wandering aimlessly through Benthic City, an extendable, padded plank that came from the closet. Needless to say, having a bed the size of the living room of his former quarters was quite a shocking experience.

He dropped all of his meagre belongings at the foot of the massive bed and began eagerly looking around.

Having fun Mr. Gaines? Miho asked, appearing as a hologram, and laying on his bed. per Ms. Mizuna's request, I have compiled our history, as well as what you will nee to know about Takian protocal, table manners, court manners, why you will not be allowed to wear pants in Taka, as well as several other. . . nessisary details that life in a bubble would have kept you from knowing. I can leave them here, or do you have any questions for me? She raised an eyebrow, watching him from the bed. Her hair was now purple, and her face distinctly anime.

John fairly jumped what he later recalled to being around a foot or two, off of the floor when the computer-lady's holo popped out of the bed.

"D'uh-uh-uh-uh..."

It was definitely not a Diktat. For one, it seemed to have a sort of sarcastic bent, whereas a Deluge Diktat was always obnoxiously polite. This one, it seemed, was obnoxious just for the heck of it.

"Well umm... I don't think we've been introduced. I'm John Gaines, O-o-official business representative of the Deluge."

Oh I know all about you, John, I've read your official reports, and even hacked a few of the ones that don't exist. I am Miho, an artificial sentient program, as well as the ship you are riding in. Might I ask. . . do you know why you, of all people, of everyone in your company were chosen for this role? She smirked darkly, continuing before he could speak. Or why you have failed so much, only to have success handed to you, or why everything that happened to you was so perfectly timed? Did you ever question how your wife knew EXACTLY as you got home, or why you were turned down for even the lowliest of jobs that had openings, only to have this chance given to you out of the blue? she paused, standing and walking around the room, coming to rest infront of a mirror before turning again. Do you see those projectors up there John? she said, pointing to clusters of what looked ilke cammeras in the ceiling. those are what control this form, they allow me to move, but also dictate where I can and can not go she placed her hand under a table, it flatening against the table as the light could not form a full three dimentional object. She looked at him, reguarding his puzzled stare The point I'm trying to make John, is that I can see My strings, while you don't even realize they exist. Now, any further questions?

OOC: Deluge Corporation, would I be correct in assuming that you are the same nation as the Deluge? If so, why use this nation when you have a much larger one?

OOC: BEcause the Deluge ceased to exist. Besides - size matters not - to me. Only the RP matters.

John was flabbergasted. Yes, that was the word for it - flabbergasted. Stunned, as if he was hit in the face by a cinderblock made of lead. Here it was, this artificial intelligence, recounting to him everything that had happened in his life.

How does she know? How did she know that?

"Y-yes I have. I have wondered - all my life I've known that there were things moving around, upstairs, forces beyond my comprehension. It's - it's..

How do you know so much? How did you know that my wife left me at that time - there aren't any official reports of that! No paper trail...

But really..."

A strange look overcame him, a frightening, gaunt, nasty sort of look that comes spiraling from out of his back and into his hands and face. A murderous look.

"Why?" he asked. "What's your reason for invading my life, opening MY files, hacking MY records?"

because it ammuses me John, and you would be surprised, there is nothing that happens in Deluge that is ignored, nothing that is secret. My reason, is that you ammuse me, and when I read your official record, my curriosity was piqued, I simply had to know more.

"So... my life is just a cluster of pixels and bits and bytes on a homeotape? Traceries of wiring on a plastic-optic crystal? Up on display in some datacube like some insect, impaled for the amusement of a disembodied extraterrestrial robot?!"

There is nothing that I own that isn't the corporations'. The Deluge owns everything- my life..

"I control my life, damnit! It's MY LIFE! GET OUT OF MY LIFE!"

He flung a sock at the hologramme. It passed through, and he remembered the instrument that the kimono-lady gave him. He pressed the button.

"F u c k e r" he hissed.

Do you now? Smirking as he pressed the button, but true to her programing, vanished, leaving John alone in his room. A computer screen flashed in the courner, the words 'Data Files availible' blinking.

OOC: BEcause the Deluge ceased to exist. Besides - size matters not - to me. Only the RP matters.


OOC: True enough, although you might fall prey to much larger rival corporations or the assorted n00bs who will want to n00kzor you. :P
BTW, Syllethin is another nation of mine, and I posted under it by mistake.

IC:
To: The Deluge Corporation
From: Warlord Baldur Grimwald, Wretchengard Department of Defense

To whom it may concern,

Greetings. I, Warlord Baldur Grimwald, have been given the task of commissioning the construction of a cannon for a new tank that is under development. The Wretchengardan companies that we normally do business with are currently busy on a project of top priority, and so I have been instructed to contact outsiders. And so (despite differences in the past) The Deluge Corporation is one such entity that we are considering doing business with.

So tell me, do you deal in arms, and if so, what are you capable of constructing? We currently have a gauss cannon in mind, but are open to other options...

To: The Deluge Corporation
From: Warlord Baldur Grimwald, Wretchengard Department of Defense

To whom it may concern,

Greetings. I, Warlord Baldur Grimwald, have been given the task of commissioning the construction of a cannon for a new tank that is under development. The Wretchengardan companies that we normally do business with are currently busy on a project of top priority, and so I have been instructed to contact outsiders. And so (despite differences in the past) The Deluge Corporation is one such entity that we are considering doing business with.

So tell me, do you deal in arms, and if so, what are you capable of constructing? We currently have a gauss cannon in mind, but are open to other options...

[code:1:f9f4d5df39]RE: Your Message to the Deluge Corporation
FROM: Deluge Customer Services
---------------------------------------------

Dear Sir or Madam:

We welcome and appreciate any and all comments and questions you may have for us, and gladly accept feedback regarding our services and products. However, your message appears to be addressed to the wrong division - hence we are returning it for readdressal. Please, send your feedback in an 9" x 15" envelope enclosed with E$ 39.95 to one of the following services:

Deluge Technical Support
Deluge Customer Support
Deluge Public Relations
Deluge Troubleshooting
Deluge Help-Lines

Again, we apologise for this inconvenience, and look forward to your further contributions in the future.
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Deluge Customer Services[/code:1:f9f4d5df39]

Do you now? Smirking as he pressed the button, but true to her programing, vanished, leaving John alone in his room. A computer screen flashed in the courner, the words 'Data Files availible' blinking.

John stood there, panting for a moment, clutching a bundle of clothing, his face red. A little time passed and he gained a little control over himself. He saw the computer screen blinking insistently and his first reaction was to interface with it using his implant, but realised that the system was different. John sat down at the computer screen and opened the files.

The list of files is immence, the history files detailing over six thousand years of history, John read through the more important ones quickly, his head beging to throb from the massive influx of information. there were so many dos and don'ts, so many nuances, and so many of the things that he had taken for granted that were taboo in Taka. . . the most shocking was a law against wearing pants without a military uniform or fatigues, thus nessessitating the kimono. Anouther was the size of the Takian civilian population. . . or lack there of. A nation of over a billion citizens, and every last one served in the reserves. A final check revealed anouther shocking fact. . . there were no private buisnesses, every man, woman and sentient of viable working age, served a government possition, manning government owned buisnesses, or kept the massive buracratic infastructure afloat.

A beep disrupted his thinking, as Kiro's voice called out.

John, If you can get the the bridge as soon as possible, we are ready to fold and are waiting for you. Once you've changed, take the grav lift and tell Miho you want to get to the bridge.

John dressed, the kimono feeling funny for a man used to wearing a suit and tie, and stepped into the grav lift. He called out:

"Hey, umm... computer lady? I'm sorry for, like, yelling at you and all. Could you take me to the bridge?"

oh, and now that you are at my mercy you decide to be polite Miho appeared on the wall infront of him Appology accepted, but next time, do try and think before you yell at someone who holds you completly at thier mercy.

The grav lift dropped three floors, the door sliding open as Miho appeared in a holographic form, pointing to the door before him That is the bridge, life pods are the doors dirrectly to your left and right, and behind you She pointed behind him, around the grav lift to a large wood door. are the officer quarters

"Well, you are just a computer system. But thanks anyway, Miho."

John stepped out of the elevator, through the door, and into the bridge.

I am an Artificial Sentience Program John, I have feelings too you know. she followed him the the bridge where Kiro nodded to him, waving him over.

"you are just in time John, your first fold can be a bit. . . different, as you essentialy ceace to exist and reappear somewhere else." She turned to the Captian

"fold when ready"

The captian pressed a button as Miho stood at the helm, eyes closed. The ship started to shake, and space started to distort around it. The entire ship felt as if it were about to collapse in on itself, and indeed, the room accualy started to pulse inward. Gashes of space around the ship ripped apart, revealing a swirling maelstrom of redish clouds, lightning strikes and dark forms of what appear to be winged creatures, though it could simply be his immagination.

John braced himself against a bulkhead, eyes wide with fear and awe at the spectacle before him.

"J-jesus Christ!"

The world around him seemed to implode, lose physical sense, reality seemed to unloosen itself and spin around in a wild storm of confusion and dissonance.

John closed his eyes, hoping with all of his heart that the ordeal would be over soon. In his mind was reflected the tormentuous events that had happened in the past...

John collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"KLUNK" came the sound of his head.

John braced himself against a bulkhead, eyes wide with fear and awe at the spectacle before him.

"J-jesus Christ!"

The world around him seemed to implode, lose physical sense, reality seemed to unloosen itself and spin around in a wild storm of confusion and dissonance.

John closed his eyes, hoping with all of his heart that the ordeal would be over soon. In his mind was reflected the tormentuous events that had happened in the past...

John collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"KLUNK" came the sound of his head.

Miho chuckled as Kiro turned, facing the uncontious John. She shook her head, and pointed to a few sailors on the bridge. Tehy grabbed him and took him up to his room, laying him on the large bed as Miho stood watch over him. The frigate finished folding, tearing through space and time towards its homeworld.

John tumbled through blackness and slowly blinked awake, pleasantly surprised to find that the inside-out feeling had passed, and that reality had returned to normal. He found himself lying on the soft, comfortable bed, the face of the computer-robot-lady hovering over him. He made a move and collapsed, groaning, touching gently at the bump on his forehead where it contacted the floor.

"Ugh..."

Medical scans indicate you have suffered a minor concussion, we've done all we can, you simply have to rest for a bit. She smiled softly, all trace of her earlier mischieviousness gone we will be docking shortly, welcome to the Proxima Centari system Mr. Gaines, I hope you enjoy yourself here as our guest of honor.

"Oh. Already? That was fast. Really fast in fact! How far are we from Earth? How does the space folding wor-"

He sat up suddenly and swooned, dizzy again, and fell down onto the soft, comfortable mattress.

"I guess I'm in your debt... Miho. Thanks."

There was a pause and he thought a little.

"How is it like, being the brain of a space-ship like this?"

We are four lightyears from earth, meaning that if you were to look trhough a powerful enough telescope, you could see what was happeneing on the earth's surface four years ago, the fold drivers are not space folders like most other folding drivers, as we've discovered that folding the ship is simpler than folding space. Our fold drivers, once fully charged hold a singularity inside a containment field, which then expands to encoumpus the ship and anything around it, sucking it into a blackhole. as it gets sucked in, the ship beginst ot strech in three dimentions, causeing it to grow smaler, untill the moment it nearly hits the singularity. That brief instant the singularity shuts down, but the ship has ceased to exist. This creates a paradox that naturaly rights itself by causing the ship in its composite form to reappear where it left. The only thing is, we rotate the singularty before we shut it down, so it appears that it has vanished somewhere else compeltly. This essentialy ejects the ship anywhere in teh universe, however, we require gravitational indentations in the space time curvature to navigate. I am specialy desgined to be able to set a course, and provided that the generators are at operating teperaturs and charged, fold in a matter of fifteen seconds. As for being the brain of the ship, its boring. Thats why I have to ammuse myself with the comings and going of humans such as yourself.

"Ah."

There was another one of those uncomfortable pauses in which both people are waiting for the other to speak.

"Are we there yet?"

Miho smiles bemusedly, yes, we are docked at a shipyard orbiting Taka, and your shuttles will arrive momentarily, please, get some rest, I'll fetch something for that headache so you can get up

((OOC: Miho, The LML-1337, Largo. I see someone's a MegaTokyo fan. :P))

((OOC: I've seen a few others around, but yes, I am a devoit follower of the Cult of Fred, or MegaTokyo if you prefer what we call it for the benifits of Mundains))

"Ahh. Thanks Miho. And again - I'm really sorry that I lost my patience with you. It's not your fault. It was really wrong of me to do that. Can you forgive me?"

"No offence taken, your reaction was just as I had predicted, why would I be upset for somthing I had planned on doing? No worries, I belive your shuttle is ready to depart as soon as you are well enough to get up. simply follow the light path, and I will dirrect you to it." She smiled at him, a bit of sadness showing.

John takes the pill and gets up, grabbing a few of his things and straightening his tie. And then he went...

The lighted path leads to the hanger, and a tall man wearing a worn admiral's uniform stands patiently by the shuttle, laughing with Kiro. Miho appears beside him as they turn to greet him.

"good day John, this is Star Commander Azrael, he will be joining us in the meeting. If you would like, we are willing to listen to your presentation on the shuttle ride down, and present you with our own ideas and needs."

((OOC: going to be gone for the weekend, will have a big post detainling answer and landing of the shuttle for ya when I get back.))

"Alright."

Unsure of what to do, John gave him a curt bow and smiled shakily.

"Please, this way" Kiro took him by the arm, leading him to the shuttle. the massive doors closed behind them, and shuttle slowly moved out of the hanger door, and into space.

It sank through the AEthreal darkness, towards the spinning blue and green orb beneath them. The shuttle hit the atmosphere, sending streamers of super heated air from the bottom, as light from the slowly lowering suns, one burning omonously red, the other a younger, gentler yellow, sank towards the sea in the distance. A massive city sprawled below them, the center a massive stone edifice that even at such great heights seemed impressive, the city forming around it, and as they fell further towards it, old walls, marked its expansion, blossoming outward and forming rings around the city, nine in all.

The shuttle touched down on the roof of the capital building, the massive palace at the center of the city, as Kiro steped out, offering her hand to John.

"Welcome to Neo-Kyoto, the capital of Taka, and seat of the Legitimate Mizunian heir, Prince Taka."

She watched as the suns set into the ocean, keeping her attention on John's reaction though her eyes were else where.

"It's ... amazing! Beautiful. I-I-I don't know what to say! Miss Kiro, I-I've lived my entire life under the domes of the Deluge. It's - it's too much to take at once. I mean, just a few days ago I was sleeping in a bathroom stall and wondering if I could dig crumbs out of my pockets. And now... on another planet. It's too much!"

He looks at the sunset, and his eyes twinkle with silent tears.

"Isn't it though?" she said, all thoughts of buisness gone in the beuty of the moment. The sun sank lower, blotted out by the sea and bathing the city in hues of red, violet and deep blues. Darkness decends over the city, the forms of large winged creatures spiral overhead, indicating that the night does not belong to the humans alone on this planet.

"Come with me, I have somoene I wish you to meet."

She leads him down a flight of stairs, and into a large room, a single table seeming almost lost in the wide expance. A man stands at one end, talking with the admiral that John recognizes as Azrael. His long face seems old and tired, as if it has seen more years than his young and atheltic body would permit. slightly pointed ears, and pale skin hint at racial connections to a race other than human in his blood, and his large eyes seem to flicker as he takes in the man who has just entered. He is dressed in an ornate kimono, at his side, a single, spartanly decorated katana hangs solomly. He nods to John, indicating the chair opposite him, and sits beside Azrael.

"Good day John, we have much to talk about, shall we begin?"

Looking somewhat disheveled even in this loose kimono, John puts his battered brown briefcase down to the floor and lowers himself uncomfortably into the chair.

"Yes, uhm... sir."

"please, call me Taka"

The Prince smiled pleasantly, pushing an envlope full of data towards him. It detailed three vehicles of varying sizes, tanks by the look of it, as well as various other plans, including an underwater bubble offshore of Taka in the one large ocean.

"as you can see, we have very ambitious plans, however, we have more resources than we have manpower, and require, outside assistance, in manufacturing this part of our logistical engine. do you think that you can help us out?"

This was his specialty! Being born and raised in the Deluge, he had been taught basic salesmanship in school. Suddenly John's sullen complexion was filled with a false friendliness, and his voice took on the 'salesman' tone.

"So you want to hire the Deluge for contracting work? Well, you've come to the right company! In addition to offering every service and selling every commodity imaginable, our history as a construction firm gives us a very stable platform for your requirements.

"The Deluge originally was known as Grange, Stevens & Sorensson, Co., a reputable architecture and construction firm. As it acquired greater power in numerous buyouts and mergers, it became known as Deluge Heavy Industries -- for at that time, given the worldwide ecological problem, underwater real estate was booming and great profits were being made in underwater manoefacturing and construction.

"We are still specialising in this area of work, and it's guaranteed we'll be able to fulfill your requirements with flying colours - or your money back!"

Taka nodded slowly, half listening to the man's prepackaged sales pitch,

"very nice John, but I'm more interested in your take on our project, now what your company can do. . . if we wanted to, we could hollow out the planet, put massive weapons on it, and call it a death star. . . simply because something is possible does not mean its feasible. I'm asking you if its feasible to have your company produce these cheaper than we can." The Prince's face never changed, but as a devout socialist for more than three centuries, he had grown to greatly dislike and distrust capitalist products, prefering to talk to the workers behind the mask, not the company they portrayed.

"Well..." John's eyes scanned the documents he'd been given. "Why this is quite an easy job. Perfectly feasible within the Deluge's basic capabilities. In fact we've got several fine shelter packages which come with numerous buyer-choosable accessories - including a choice of sensor modules, comm antennae, pressure-gradient adjusters, vapor misters, and many more! They're designed to provide maximum comfort and efficiency for their inhabitants. Plus, choosing from one of our extensive underwater habitat packages is a cost-free method of ensuring your safety and security, as well as being one of the cheapest deals on pressure domes after rebates.

But I'm sure that we can fulfill your designs cheaply and easily."

"John, you are listening to me, but you aren't hearing me, I'm not asking you if its good for your company to produce these, much as I loath your capitalistic systems I'm forced to deal with them on whatever terms I can, I need prices, and I need you, not as a sales man, but you as a person, to tell me, is this something you would personaly do in my shoes? How much do you trust these pre-fab buildings, how stable and sturdy are they, as well as how economicaly friendly are they, and what standard of life did you have inside of them. . . I recall reading something about sleeping in a toliet stall, do they lack adequate sleeping accomdations for everyone?"

John is stunned. He never expected this. None of the training seminars he had to loathingly sit through had ever prepared him for dealing with people on these terms.

"Well - uh..."

He scratches his head.

"I've lived in Benthic City all my life - the Deluge's world headquarters. I was born in Hospital Cubicle Ten. It was pretty nice, I guess. Nice facilities. The corridors are kind of narrow, especially when you're trying to get to your cubicle at eight o'clock in the morning and there's a hundred other people all pushing and shoving with their briefcases and bags with you. The ceiling has to be kind of low - for space reasons - and the lights sometimes gave me headaches; they're fluorescents you know.

"The School Cubicles were okay, I suppose. The teachers would get paid by how well we did - especially in math, english, and science because those are important to business - and they'd grade us on our interpersonal skills during recess. I always got great grades in math and english, but they flunked me ..."

He counts on his fingers.

"About five or six times. Guess I've never been very good at swapping things or backstabbing my friends for homework credits."

He shrugs.

"They were small like everything else, too, because at a certain size the prefabs get unstable or something like that - I don't really know. Water pressure and all that. We have to save space - like in the big space stations out there. I wouldn't know. I never was put to work as an engineer, though I tried. They were always filled up."

"That's why I started sleeping in the bathrooms. I was fired from every job I signed up for. EVERY ONE. Nobody would take me. Finally I was stuck with janitor and paper-shredder, and even those were filled and I was kicked out. So I was wandering the halls, eating scraps left to me by people who felt sorry for me (God I hate that reconstituted plankton crap!) and sleeping wherever I could."

His voice begins to rise.

"I mean, sure they give you a Residence Cubicle all to yourself; all ten by ten metres of it - twenty if you've got a family bigger than two children. But they make it so that if you can't afford to live you have no choice but to sell the goddamn thing! My wife left me, she took my kids, and I was dumped out in the halls wandering and waiting to be picked up by the Diktats to die or work in the manufactories out landside!"

"But even when I was sleeping in bathrooms, drinking from toilet water and eating garbage from the recycling tanks, they wouldn't let me go! They never let me go! Even now, they scraped me up, forced me into this goddamn job, being a freaking salesman to space aliens! They stuffed my soft-"

He poked at his left cybernetic eye with a force that would have crushed an organic eye.

"-They stuffed it with their memories and their programs! But nooo that wasn't all! I had to sign their contract, which says I can be their slave, to be killed if they want me to, basically for them to do anything the hell they want me to do. They say I've got a job, I've got pay, I might even be able to apply for a retirement fund and a senior citizen's anti-euthanasia card if I get enough credits together. But I can't! They're always sucking my money away!"

He stands up and walks around..

"That's the thing, about living in Benthic City, you know! The company wants everything you've got! You gotta pay for everything! You gotta pay rent for the Residence Cubicle you already own, you gotta pay for School Cubicles, hell you gotta pay for your own damn Work Cubicle too! I applied for loans - it was the biggest mistake I ever made - Deluge Banking sucked all my money away like, like, like some sort of parasite!"

"And I still have to work for them! It's because of THIS THING! I've had it since I was ten. Every day they bombard me with ads and emails and office memos! I have to clear them out every time. Because of this thing, I can't go anywhere - if I do they'll fire me or worse!"

He casts the sheets to the floor, huffing, his face red with anxiety and anger, seeming ready to spit.

Taka regarded him with a slowly growing smile.

"I see Capitalism has claimed anouther victim in your people. . . the Mizunian Dynasty threw off its yoke nearly three hundred years ago, and I finished the reforms thirty years ago, shortly after the split. . . I want you to come and take a look at this."

He stands and motions John to the window, pointing out over the city, and the rows of large houses, each with magnificent gardens and ornately carved balconies.

"our nation runs much like yours does. . . we control the education, and all the jobs, but rather than being most concerned about a profit, we are concerned about our people, and if we turn a profit, so much the better, it generally means that we hire more people, or that we pay our people more. . . but the division of welfare handles it."

"Wh-what?"

John is astounded by what Taka says. It baffles him that such a thing could possibly even exist. His world until now was that of the Deluge Corporation, and he knew none other. What he saw now was clearly, and simply...

"Beyond belief!"

"simply put, its both possible, and practical, look before you. Our products cost more, but they are better quality, and thus we make even. . . though it comes at the cost of rich. . . there really isn't anyone who makes more than anyone else, and because of that, the average person has more things than normaly. . . even I don't own much more than the average citizen, it belongs to the state, and I'm simply using it while I'm in power."

"But how do you work together? What makes people want to do things? I work because if I don't I'll die, but if your living is guaranteed, what difference does it make?"

"oh, our people must work in order to live, but those who work are garenteed survival, no matter what they choise to do with thier lives. . . A doctor, and a street sweeper get paid the same, and thus, our citizens do what they want to do wiht thier lives, without reguards to how much money they will make in it, we simply assure that there is a job for everyone in the field that they wish to enter, and as each person does what they want with thier lives, we have much more productive workers, as well as much happier citizens. The fact that there is no proffit incentive for people to backstab each other, and betray each other helps as well, and without nessessitating efficentcy, everyone is happier. There are, of course, some problem areas, mostly with corruption, but that is why we keep the political offices very tightly sealed to assure that it is kept well in check."

John simply takes it with a slightly reverential "Oh", and continues to look out of the window. He starts again, his voice filled with sadness.

"Your nation... is so beautiful. Your lives seem so happy and free. Nobody has to worry about the next report, or office memos, or bosses breathing down your neck, or board meetings, or shareholders or public relations. That's all I've lived with. That's all I've known... Sometimes...

"Sometimes I wondered if there was something better to do. Something to feel really really good about in life, you know? I thought that came hand in hand with marriage, until I applied and they matched me with my wife. At first it was really dandy, but then..."

He sighs.

"What I'm trying to say is... how did you do it?"

"It wasn't easy, infact it took about 300 years of policy and changes, as well as a full scale revolution, much bloodshed, and a lot of luck. . . thankfully, we've had very devout leaders these past 300 years, and with thier selflessness, and not wanting to take more than thier fair share, we've been able to maintain it."

"Oh... well there's no way in heaven or hell that the Deluge will ever be this way."

He has a remorseful look on his pale, lined face.

"I suppose we ought to get back to business..."

"there is an old Takian Proverb, 'the man who knows where gold lies is ritcher than the man who does not know it exists'. Take that as you will. Now, shall we continue the buisness at hand?"

he reaches down and collects the scattered blueprints, resuming a very buisness like tone.

"as for the rest of our production needs, what kind of labor will you be using to construct these, and what kind of craftsmanship will I be looking at on the finished product?"

"If it was a land operation we'd be using unskilled sweatshop workers and prisoners from Latin America, but seeing as how it's an underwater job, I'd say we'd be using deep-sea engineers in Vector II Construction Submersibles. It's more expensive, but generally more efficient than rigging up our sweatshop employees and prisoners with pressure suits."

"As for craftsmanship, we'll be giving you the standard work - sturdy, reliable, with a guaranteed warranty of 50 years. Unless you want the deluxe model, which is about three times as expensive."

Taka nods

"and after the 50 year warentee, what happens to the pressure dome? also, how well can it be repaired and maintained. . . I don't want something that will collapse on itself slowly and have no way of maintaining repairs that can keep it in operation indefinalty."

"Well after the warranty your money-back guarantee expires and we're no longer accountable for any damage and misuse that it suffers. It'll still be there - the Deluge takes great pride in building structures and machinery that will last under the pressures of the ocean. Repair is easy and simple, because of modular construction, and for the low-low price of E$1 million we'll include a package of automatic repair kits, nanopolymers, and biomimetic foams which shall be more than enough to keep your dome well into the hundreds of years."

Taka nods, thinking.

"What about a network of tunnels connecting each building. . . they would have to be comparmentalized of course, we would most liekly run it like we run our space craft, however, would that be an effective way to get from dome to dome? I am a bit worried as to moral of our sailors if they are in tight corradors, and I'd rather have a much larger complex, sacrificing efficentcy for them."

"Yes, we can fit you with larger Jumbo-size domes, and we can connect the buildings quite easily -- using maglev tubes."

"very good, put us down for five of those, each connected together with the tubes, we will also need docking bays for submarines. Next up, production of armored vehicles. . . how many of these could you produce a year?"

He slides the blueprints for the Raider, Squallem, and Appocolypse class tanks to John, including the material ammounts each requires.

"Uhhh... well my rough estimate would be about five hundred or less."

Taka nods,

"make it so, we'll want one hundred and fifty of each varient per year, built to specs and not a nanometer under them, any other points of buisness we should keep our eyes on, or shall we move on to more enjoyable buisness?"

"Alrighty then. Well... let's go on."