Allanea
22-11-2004, 19:49
Trek-Town, Port-Allanea
Necarin Fernim smiled. Today was a very special day. Exactly one year ago, he passed the Citizenship tests to become a citizen of the United States of Allanea. He closed his eyes as he thought of the Citizenship Ceremony: the uttering of the Pledge of Allegiance, the flag, and the handing out of the Citizen’s Pistol. It was customary in Allanea that a new citizen be given a weapon – or bring one with him. Many companies donated arms for the purpose if that was not the case.
Necarin was still smiling as he surveyed his “garden” - two large rooms on the 120th story of an appartment complex, filled with hydroponically grown marijuana plants. This plant, and it’s manufacture, were a private passion of Fernim’s – and one of the reasons he left Thelas for Allanea. In Allanea, growing the plant was not simply legal, it was socially tolerable. And with Necarin’s talent, he was capable to move to a position where, given the availability of quality equipment, he was not just growing his own, but making a living of manufacturing “designer-quality” dope. He ended up renting three stories in this building and using them for indoor growth – luckily Allanea had virtually no zoning ordnances, either. Among the connoisseurs, the name of the Necarin Weed Company was slowly becoming known. Still, there were many such enterprises in Allanea, and if you were not an expert on high-quality dope, you wouldn’t hear about Necarin.
Or if you were a Trekkie. Star Trek was Necarin’s second passion. Even in Thelas, he was quite capable of acquiring such artifacts as original Kirk dolls from the 1970’s and even an Original Series uniform. However, back home, he mused, it was regarded as weird, if not outright sick. Here, a whole city quarter known as “Trek-Town” - and housing about fifty thousand of Necarin’s fellow enthusiasts – existed, and went along just fine, even though it seemd to a passer-by like a never-ending convention. Here, you could walk into a court room or bank wearing that Original Series uniform, and nobody would bat an eyelid. Thelas was different.
Sometimes the young man wondered whether his familiy would ever come looking for him – or perhaps they decided to make it seem like the “little scandal” never happened.
Soon, he would find out.
Necarin Fernim smiled. Today was a very special day. Exactly one year ago, he passed the Citizenship tests to become a citizen of the United States of Allanea. He closed his eyes as he thought of the Citizenship Ceremony: the uttering of the Pledge of Allegiance, the flag, and the handing out of the Citizen’s Pistol. It was customary in Allanea that a new citizen be given a weapon – or bring one with him. Many companies donated arms for the purpose if that was not the case.
Necarin was still smiling as he surveyed his “garden” - two large rooms on the 120th story of an appartment complex, filled with hydroponically grown marijuana plants. This plant, and it’s manufacture, were a private passion of Fernim’s – and one of the reasons he left Thelas for Allanea. In Allanea, growing the plant was not simply legal, it was socially tolerable. And with Necarin’s talent, he was capable to move to a position where, given the availability of quality equipment, he was not just growing his own, but making a living of manufacturing “designer-quality” dope. He ended up renting three stories in this building and using them for indoor growth – luckily Allanea had virtually no zoning ordnances, either. Among the connoisseurs, the name of the Necarin Weed Company was slowly becoming known. Still, there were many such enterprises in Allanea, and if you were not an expert on high-quality dope, you wouldn’t hear about Necarin.
Or if you were a Trekkie. Star Trek was Necarin’s second passion. Even in Thelas, he was quite capable of acquiring such artifacts as original Kirk dolls from the 1970’s and even an Original Series uniform. However, back home, he mused, it was regarded as weird, if not outright sick. Here, a whole city quarter known as “Trek-Town” - and housing about fifty thousand of Necarin’s fellow enthusiasts – existed, and went along just fine, even though it seemd to a passer-by like a never-ending convention. Here, you could walk into a court room or bank wearing that Original Series uniform, and nobody would bat an eyelid. Thelas was different.
Sometimes the young man wondered whether his familiy would ever come looking for him – or perhaps they decided to make it seem like the “little scandal” never happened.
Soon, he would find out.