NationStates Jolt Archive

Telen loved his job. It was pretty neat: he dragged - not literally - a bunch of (usually) upper-class capitalist-pigdog (well, not really pigdogs, but probably capitalist) foreigners around Nenya, spouting historical facts regarding this building or that building, this area of the city or that area...

And he earned forty thousand Relhames a year.

Pretty neat was probably too weak a term.

This latest group was the same as all the others; the usual mix of men and women, couples and singles, Humans and...other Sentients. Telen himself was Nenyan, which made his job easier; he wore the big T on his shirt at all times, denoting himself as a telepath. Anyone who came to Royal Tours & Telepaths expected a telepath.

Telen's job description included what some called 'scanning'. He would 'scan' - Nenyar preferred the term 'scent' - the general thought-patterns (not actual thoughts beyond the loudest of surface thoughts, for he was not that strong a telepath - and few indeed were) of his guests...and their emotional state. He thus gauged their reception to his styling of the tour - and adapted accordingly. He could also sometimes provide answers to questions before they were asked; this seemed very popular amongst the aristocrats who often took these very expensive tours.

He cast his eye across this group, in more ways than one...

[OOC: Feel free to hop in. Don't explain how anyone got here as of yet; that'll be covered later in 'looking back' kinda style, when everyone is more aware of certain facts and such. :)]

Lady Zeneviev ni Ailil stood quietly in the crowd. Even in her modern dress, she had that air of beauty and nobility around her. Her raven black hair fell loosely over her shoulders. Long ears poked free from the hair, elegantly tapering to delicate points.

To the tour, she had worn, perhaps foolishly so, a finely cut silken pantsuit. She'd heard it was the latest in Devras, which doesn't mean that it was, or even that the design had ever been manufactured outside TRD. The woman smiles ever so lightly at the other tourist, her attention mostly on the guide.

Chewing furiously at her gum, Alexia Batanov rubber-necked, gazing in curiosity around her, wondering if she could light one up and enjoy being on a planet. Her black long sleeved turtleneck was keeping her warm, and her jeans were clean at least. Her only strange affectation was her boots, leather shod in metal with caps that extend almost all the way up the top of the foot.

As her stomach gurgles quietly to itself, she fondles her sidearm (Stndrd DE .44mag), thinking 'Damn, I should have had that hotdog. Why dog though, I don't know.'

"As you're all aware," the tour guide said with a free smile, hands clasped informally behind his back, "this is the capital of the Iluvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Dawn. As the capital, it is the seat of the Unified Government. The tour begins here, outside the lowest level of the offices of Royal Tours & Telepaths."

The location is underground, for starters. The lift doors that the group entered through a moment ago closes again with a soft swoosh; the sound is affected, and not a genuine sound made by the closing of the doors.

What is visible is undeniably quite stunning, whether with regards to the proliferation of plants and trees and fragrant flowers, or with regards to the feat of engineering to build such a place. A rather large, but perfectly placed street sign marks this as 'Subterranean Level 6', and also, 'Lake Nenya Way' in some twenty-six languages, including Nenyan, Quenya, English, Spanish, and Scolopendran. The street sign is perfectly placed because it appears to be growing out of the tree it is attached to; it isn't, but the position, shape, and mingling colours of the sign certain makes it seem so.

The colours are mostly bronzes, greens, and greys; a walkway apparently free-floating (but probably not really free-floating at all - it's not easy to tell from this angle) is crowded with grey-tunic wearing persons, whereas the people at 'ground' level appear to mostly consist of people of various types of clothing - and amounts of clothing. Some people wear absolutely nothing, and are certainly not in any way self-conscious. Nor does anyone really seem to notice or be particuarly bothered. The dominant colour in clothing, however, is dark blue.

The 'street' - there's not really a road - is utterly clean, completely devoid of litter. This, in fact, is probably what is most striking - second to the existance of natural light, here.

"We're currently five miles beneath the surface. The lighting here is entirely natural, relayed through a network of lenses and mirrors from the surface. At night, lighting is provided by somewhat dim ceiling lights - you can't see those because they're 'screened' with what's called a VisiCeiling. It basically takes composite images from the surface - cameras are pointing at the sky up there - and puts them together to give the impression of open air."

[OOC: I should have remembered to say so in the initial post, but meh, I forgot to mention it; guns, although not just the projectile kind, are outlawed in the Commonality.

Actually, all lethal mechanical weapons are; one can carry a sword (not a dagger or knife, though), provided it meets the minimum and maximum blade-length requirements.

Anyone entering the country is scanned for objects fitting specified parameters, and those carrying lethal arms in contradiction to the law (which everyone is informed of before being scanned in the main lobby of the airport or spaceport, for example) are stunned to unconsciousness by automated ultrasonic weapons which are tied into the sensors.

Some exotic weapons might get past, but generally they would have to be specially made to look unlike a weapon internally: certain components are expected to be found in various types of weapons, and so the computer systems can 'guess' that most weapons are weapons.

The weapons are seized, destroyed, and the carrier questioned; if they can prove ignorance of the law (unlikely), they may resume their business and enter. If they fail to prove their ignorance, they are deported.]

Frederick Bates, an executive from Microcosm, Inc., shrugged. “Still, “ he asks, I don’t see the point of this.’

It seems to the young executive that, for a second, all eyes turn to him. It is not so, of course, but for a young novice, every such event is cause of endless anxiety. Regardless, he finds himself capable to finish the question. “I don’t understand, why go through the trouble of digging? Why not buid more stuff on the surface? This is… inefficient.”

Telen feels the young man's anxiety, and smiles engagingly, seemingly radiating a warm, subtle calm. It's not as if it would wipe away the anxiety, but it's a comfortable sensation - and somehow warm, and cozy.

"The city was actually built many many years ago, and since its completion, has not really changed overmuch. Much of the city has been rebuilt, of course, under more modern design principles - but the original mirror and lense network for daylighting is still in place.

"It was built in the years predating ICEL (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Iluvauromeni_Commonality_of_Everlasting_Light//) , of course, and even predating the very old Empire of the Eternal Flame (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Empire_of_the_Eternal_Flame) - which fell over a hundred years ago, and was born a little over two thousand years prior to that. Construction began on the city about thirty-eight thousand years ago, according to recent archeological finds. We do not know how the digging was carried out.

"At that time, as now, we believed strongly in the preservation of the land. As such, we live and work beneath the surface here - and in a limited fashion in all of the major cities - and 'play' above ground. The exception to the rule are the important government buildings; they are all on the surface.

"It was indeed very inefficient - if we think merely of sentient needs, and not the needs of the whole."

[OOC: The links are there so that stuff that is general knowledge (and the guide would probably expect to be known to some degree) is accessable on-demand. Naturally, it's up to you whether or not your character knows anything contained in the linked-to articles on NSWiki (thanks to Goobergunch for the fantastic idea of setting it up) or not.]

Zeneviev nods a little at the guide's explanation, smiling radiantly. She doesn't say anything allowed, though she silently compares the idea to her own limited experience, ultimately deciding she's never experienced anything truly like it.

Ignoring the stupid free-breather, Alexia waves at some passing children, wishing she could light the joint in her pants pocket, smiling at the nostalgic feeling the tunnel created, memories of warrens of Side 3 ghosting thru her mind.



(OOC: Can I just say that the gun isn't loaded?)

[OOC: Well, okay. We can presume that special permission was obtained - after all, there's no way of getting hold of ammunition anyway.]

IC:

Telen motioned across the street with an elegant movement of his hand, smiling as the children move past; they're oddly silent, but just as active and boisterous as children anywhere else. All of the children have stunning, bright amber eyes, are slender, and have elegant forms. In fact, most of the people around have amber eyes, are slender, and are elegant in build; graceful walking seems to be exceedingly common.

Telen's hand motion is accompanied with a look with his eyes, and he goes on to say, "The building you see directly across the street is a school. In fact, it was the first school of its type built, four hundred years ago: it is military-run, like all the schools in the Commonality. This particular school - the Royal ux-Rihad Academy - is the most prestigious in all of Nenya. They have helped to bring out the talent in many of our history's greatest fencers, artists, and musicians; but the school was closed until two years ago, during a period in our history which was very oppressive and dark.

"That period is known as the Long Night, and it is with that subject in mind that the tour begins."

Almost as if on cue - and indeed, it was, for Telen had issued a Call to a nearby waiting vehicle - a skycar 'falls' from the sky and settles smoothly upon the ground not five metres from the group. It is a vivid light blue, with

RT&T

stencilled on the nearest side, in dark red. A white 'T' is also stencilled onto the nose, on its own, in a grey circle. The driver, therefore, is also a telepath - not surprising, considering the name of the organisation providing the tour.

The sidedoor trundles open on rollers - the skycar is not really a car, but smaller than a 'Fancy', the larger method of private transport in the Commonality - and the careful eye on entrance to the vehicle might notice that the small control panels set into the lower third of the doors are marked with small letters, which are in the Nenyan script. Transliterated, they would read 'Rivette MI Corporation' - who most likely built the vehicle. The seating is comfortable, with the seats arranged along the middle of the vehicle and facing outwards.

From the inside, the doors, when closed, no longer really look as if they're solid in the same way: the outside is visible through two-thirds of the door - or so the eye is lead to believe.

Zeneviev glides gracefully into the skycar. She settles into a seat, crossing her legs elegantly. Zene looks out the window, watching the scene with observant eyes. "It is amazing..." she trails off, making mental notes.

Alexia plops down on the floor of the unfamiliar looking aircar. She can't help but wonder about it's specs. Maybe she could purchase one and somehow ship it home, the folks get a kick out of it.

The only unaristocratic person here is Bostri Velluz, a wealthy farmer from upland Cantano. His hair is combed backwards and essentially glued down with gel, and frames a dark, sun-stained face with rough features. He wears a two-piece suit. He sits rather uncomfortably in the posh skycar.

It would likely surprise most of the group of tourists, but their guide is rather uncomfortable in the skycar; it's too plush for his taste - or for the tastes of most of his culture. The skycar is unusually comfortable: most of the Rivette-built models sold in the Commonality aren't even half as comfy. Some smaller companies sold luxury vehicles - but that was why they were small, and Rivette MI Corp wasn't.

In fact, Telen saw this skycar as a reason why foreigners were generally weaker than the Iluvauromeni. He didn't look down on the foreigners; he merely saw the acquisition of wealth as a weak pursuit. Sure, he enjoyed being paid the wages he did - but only because it allowed him to afford certain pursuits. He spent virtually everything he earned without fail - and a goodly portion each month went to the Seven Star Corps, the Iluvauromeni equivalent of the Red Cross.

Actually, he gave to the Red Cross as well, but that wasn't the issue. His mind drifted, but not for long.

"The subterranean city is not what most of its citizens consider to be the real Nenya, though. And this is most likely not what you came to see, either. But it is important to see the cost of keeping our city so beautiful; and this is the cost. We live beneath the ground, at great expense, and as a result have much more space; yet we are packed in tightly. There are hundreds of millions of people in this city; yet the city itself is only fifteen square miles in size. This is the most densely populated city in the Commonality - and it has only been reinhabited for two years. Of course, secret construction work continued through the period known as the Long Night.

"This particular level was last modified extensively thirty years ago. Several new areas were opened - we will be passing through one very shortly. On the left and the right of us as we near the end of this street will be two buildings which once held great importance, in the old, vanquished Empire of the Eternal Flame."

The car is moving, but the movement itself is noticed really only by the movement outside the windows; it gives one a queer feeling, almost as if the world is turning but the skycar is, in fact, standing still. Albeit about three hundred feet in the air.

The buildings here reach high into the 'sky', and, undoubtedly reach down rather far beneath the 'floor', too.

"The two buildings in particular - at your left and right now - were, for a brief time, the headquarters of an insurrection. They were media organisations, newspapers; and they fermented the revolution against EOTEF. Or, rather, the men who ran them did so. One of the men who ran those organisations was known as Relatta Menjda; he was, for thirty years, the High Lord of Ma-tek. He was a traitor, and ordered the assassination of his Emperor - one of the few Emperors to be assassinated, and equally, one of the few leaders of EOTEF that was, in fact, a good man. Naturally, the Emperor was a Nenya.

"Simit Denjari ux-Rihad was the last Emperor of the First ux-Rihad Dynasty, and ruled for nineteen years after his father's death. His death paved the way for a brutal state which then splintered into two; but we shall go into that in more depth later on.

"For now, we are headed to a nearby residential area. There we will see typical housing in Nenya; I'm sure you shall all be interested to see the differences from your own homelands."

He smiles engagingly; he has a singsong voice, lilting in the most curious way; but it is very subtle, and has taken this much time even to notice, no doubt, for some. His English is, however, utterly flawless - actually, a little too flawless.

Scratching her head, Alexia decides ta get down to business, "Excuse me, Mr. Tourguide? What exactly is keeping this underground facility from crashing down around our heads, how do ya keep the air down here fresh and, why does all ya'all look like a bunch of tubeies (pronounced to-bees) from the clone factory?" smiling as inoffensively as possible, 'not that I got nothin' gainst clones or tubeies."

Looking at her fellow tourists, she pulls out a smoke and waves it towards the guide, "Mind if I light up?'

[[If you don't mind a late arrival...(although as far as N.L. is concerned, this would take place before the Exodus [current RP] ) ]]

Krystos looked with interest at the various scenes displayed for the visitors. Thus far he had not spoken and it would be easy to overlook him. Well, except for the bronze-coloured powered armour he wore. The Spartan Lambda was proudly emblazed upon the breast, shoulder and back of the bronzed metal, and the warrior held himself proudly - almost arrogantly, although his mental pattern would reveal that he was indeed impressed with the extent of the underground works. His features are nothing special to look at, although his hair is dressed carefully, fragrenced with oils and allowed to tumble down to his shoulders - there is an ancient expression in Lakedaimon: "nothing makes a comely man more beautiful, or an ugly man more terrifying than hair. And it's free."

When he does speak, his voice is rich and deep, and sounds like the voice of a singer.

"You mentioned an emperor, what kind of government do you serve under?"

It was curious, the sensation of curiousity. A truism to be sure, but it was really true - which was again...

It was easy to get caught in a cycle of thought when so much interesting and fresh stimuli was floating around. This was the real reason so many telepaths worked in the tourist trade or the retail industry: fresh stimuli. Any place marked with the 'T', or any person wearing the distinctive 'T' badge at a workplace was expected to be known to be working in that capacity; thus, their customers expected and implicitly allowed the intimate contact that telepaths craved even more than the average empathic Nenya.

Telen stifled the urge to sigh contentedly at being employed in such a perfect manner...

Also, the job could suck. Such as inhaling second-hand smoke, which was more irritating than health-threatening to a young-ish Nenya.

"Those truly are excellent questions," the guide agrees, having paused exactly long enough to allow those questions, "and fairly lengthy ones, which is useful, as it is in fact about ten minutes journey to the residential area I mentioned. Of course, we could do it far faster, but that would be illegal; the velocity of skycars is far more limited in the subterranean city, where collisions with buildings are possible.

"The first question I will answer first, as is only fair."

He pauses. "Yes, you may smoke, so long as none of the other guests have any objections. This is an enclosed environment, after all. The excess smoke will be extracted as best possible, but the effect is that the air becomes somewhat drier than is usual comfortable to all but those used to arid environments," a shrug. He waits a moment for the others to agree or disagree, and then resumes his answers.

"At our current depth - four miles - the weight of material above us is fairly irrelevant. There is enough material to offset the weight, although seismic activity would present a threat. However, the subterranean city was in fact built in domes, to make the 'sky' more natural-looking; our ancestors did not wish to lose their ability to live in sunlight, which was, we presume, their fear.

"As a result, there are large empty spaces between dome and 'ceiling' at either side of the centrepoint of the domes. These spaces are filled with pressurized gas, and, in the event of seismic activity, this gas is released into a sheathe over the original dome material. The sheathe inflates, and thus the entirety of the dome structures - or single domes on their own - can be moved by special engines buried under the city to minimize the effect of the quake.

"The city is dug into basement rock, however, so there is little danger related to seismic activity. The sheathe is a precautionary measure. In essence, this is a similar dome to the type one would use on a hostile planet in a hostile atmosphere: it is a self-contained habitat linked to other self-contained habitats - although we grow no food here. But each dome is self-reliant for atmospheric, water, and light processing. Light is brought from the surface via a network of mirrors and lenses; atmosphere is replenished by CO2 scrubbers and other chemical processes, and air is circulated from here to the surface through specially bored tunnels - those tunnels are also used now to transport skycars to the surface and back - while water is gathered from a vast store of water nearer the surface, which is fed by the Aelinenya - or in English, Lake Nenya.

"We also have large radiators to deal with excess thermal energy. As you might imagine, a city this size produces vast amounts of heat. That heat is used for several purposes. In one, it is trapped as electrical energy by a process known as thermotransfusion - a very fancy name we have for a very simple process. Water is boiled, steam is produced, and that steam is passed through ultra-insulated piping. The steam is then piped to various locations. The steam is used in some of the spas in the entertainment areas, in fact, but that's merely one use for the heat.

"In another use, the thermal energy is radiated into water, again, which turns turbines. This is a minor contributor to the national grid; it supplies about one one hundredth of the total energy production Commonality-wide. In a further use, the heat waste is channeled through specially bored tunnels - this is a specialist matter, really, and is rarely done - to be blasted through the Earth. I don't really know how that is done, however, and nor do many: it's been some years since such an endeavour was undertaken. Our ancestors, in some ways, knew far more than we - in the basic application of nature to their whim, that is."

He tried to consider the second question - but decided it still annoyed him too much to answer yet. Instead, he shifted tack, allowing himself to continue to maintain the 'friendly air' he was projecting; even the best psionics - the most proficient, that is - were not capable of masking their own emotions when projecting. Not Nenyar psionics, at any rate.

Telen smiled. It had been rather difficult to explain the workings of the city - it always was, because there was so much that went into such an endeavour, so many links and dependancies that there was always the sense of only telling a small part of the puzzle, no matter how many words were used. But the Commonality government was worse: it was laden with cultural traditions that often bemused even foreign leaders - let alone tourists. He hated this question, and it came up annoyingly frequently.

But he was too professional to let that show. Naturally - otherwise he would have been sacked long ago. It was difficult to lose your job in the Commonality; but not impossible.

"We have an Empress, the Empress Rialla ux-Rihad II. Her husband, the High King of Ma-Nenya, Semir-randil - usually the term 'consort' is used when speaking of Imperials, though - and her father, Si Ling I, were the key leaders of the...overthrowing...of the previous governments of Ma-tek and Ax-turath.

"They set up the old Empire of the Eternal Dawn, although Si Ling became Emperor and Semir-randil the High Lord of Ma-tek. Si Ling was, as I'm sure you're aware, not a popular figure outside what was then the Empire. Inside the Empire, he was, is, and always will be a hero. He was indeed rash to the point of an unusual liking for violence, but he was fair with it.

"Anyway, EOTED was a transitional arrangement based on the old EOTEF; it was supposed to last a hundred years. But the current administration decided that that timescale was too long - and called for a constitutional congress. The old government, the EOTED government, laid aside all priveliges, ranks, and so on, and a great meeting was held on Mount Tumnore, with the blessing of that Kingdom.

"Millions took part in the three-month-long debate that followed. Eventually, the result was the Iluvauromeni Constitution. That document is an interesting one, I feel, because it strives to strike a balance between differing viewpoints, whilst clinging to certain ideals. For example, we have universal suffrage, but the entirety of the government is not elected. The legislative and 'constitutional' branches of government are, when combined, roughly half-selected and half-elected. Those 'selected' are in fact randomly selected from the population beyond a certain age. The age depends on species. Nenyar must be over one hundred fifty years old before they can fulfil their political service; the Quendi must two hundred years old; and the Humans must be forty or older.

"The Executive Council remains. The Empress is the chairwoman of that council, although she holds no greater position than any of the others. The executive branch, however, functions at the permission of the other branches, excluding the judicial. The Empress still retains that title, against her protests at the congress, in fact. She also argued against the retaining of the Power of Imperial Decree - which right she still holds. The People - and I among them - were unwilling to see a total democracy, you see.

"We tend to feel - and the massive majority which enacted the constitution gives my voice authority to say 'we', I hope - that democracy needs balance, as do all things. Too little oxygen - we die. Too much oxygen - we die. But strike a balance - and you live.

"We also what might be considered to be some unusual rights as a result of the constitution. For example, the right to housing; the right to employment; the right to a permanent living wage; and so on. Housing is not owned by the individual, but exchanged by the People and held in trust by the Commonality - which, in turn, is the People."

He pauses a moment, smiling. "But we still consider the Empress to be the living embodiment of the People - which is why the rank remains."

He finds that he is rather calmer now, having focused on his wording, and hoping to get it across. He also equally hoped that the Iluvauromeni form of English speaking was similar to that of the others; every nation seemed to speak the damned language differently, even though it was so widely used. No doubt it would fracture in the future.

But now he moved back to that other, exceptionally offensive - although the tourist couldn't have known why it was so - question. He phrases his answer as carefully as can be.

"This city is the capital of the Commonality, but it is also the primary home to a species. I am a Nenya, and we are the Nenyar, although in English its probably more accurate to say Nenyan and Nenyans. There are Human dominated areas, of course, but despite the fact that more Humans, in fact, live here than we, we still are considered to 'own' the city in some way. It is possible that this is because the city was built by our ancestors.

"But I digress. The question is a sensitive one. Nenyans breed slowly, generation to generation. This was not always the case. We made many attempts at cloning, however, to attempt to match the breeding rate of Humanity. All such attempts failed.

"In consequence, all Nenyans are close, genetically. The difference between one Nenyan and the next is no more than .2%, in any case. But through rather miraculous design, the gene pool continues to widen. We don't thoroughly understand why this should be so, however. Our own genetic structure is considered to be...not exactly 'holy', for that would be dangerous; but certainly it is taboo to be too direct and open on that subject.

"Suffice to say that Nenyans are different. We look similar to Humans and Quendi, breed in the same way, and can even interbreed with both Humans and Quendi (although such interbreeding is illegal by mutual consent); but our DNA is...distinctly unusual...amongst we three generally similar species.

"As a result, we all have amber eyes, and almost all of us have black hair. There are no Nenyans with blonde hair. At all. Although - somewhat red hair is known, as is brown. Brown being the far more common.

"Far more interestingly - no Nenyan possesses the gene to touch the tip of their nose with their tongue. However, we can almost completely invert our tongues - outside our mouths.

"We also love cheese." He grins, rather infectiously, heaving an internal sigh of relief. Humour was always safe to fall back on - at least for himself. Even if the tourists didn't get it, they usually - read: mostly - appreciated the effort.

But there was always one.

Zeneviev listens to all of this quietly. She tilts her ears curiously at the discussion of genetics. She knows, of course, as most sidhe have since the experiments done by the PanNorm, that such talk doesn't apply to her. Still, she's always found the subject rather fascinating.

She listens with especial interest to the discussion of the parliament as well. She lifts a hand slightly. "Does your nation have naturalized citizens from races other than your three primary races of inhabitants and how are they effected by the age limits?"

"Thaks. Anyone mind?" Alexia gestures with the joint towards the rest of the group in the aircar, smiling innocently. "Guaranteed to be 100% carcinogen free, or your money back, according to the label."

Telen nods in response to Zeneviev, tilting his head slightly to one side and turning the full extent of the gaze of his vivid amber eyes to hers. Her 'scent' is somewhat...exotic to him; even more exotic than some of the other species that he had introduced to the city before. He struggled to suppress a surge of curiousity, and wondered if any of those present were also psionics; if they were, they weren't giving off any of the usual conscious signals he would expect.

But who knew?

"Indeed, we do. We have numerous species living inside the Commonality, although by far the species with numerical domination is the Human species. There are also people of much varying original birth; citizenship within the Commonality is fairly easily obtained, as we have a relatively open-border policy. Indeed, one can obtain Citizenship at any of our foreign Consulates - and once Citizenship is obtained, the Commonality will even transport the new citizen into Iluvauromen. But there always needs be a reason for the shift in Citizenship; in that respect it is not so simple. - But the age is generally decided by the general consensus of each species as to what age is considered 'mature', and by various psychological studies, and so on. Multi-species societies are by their very nature complex, but I like to think that ours is kept satisfyingly simple."

Zeneviev nods slightly with a smile. "It sounds like a rather wide system."

The lady sits back, tilting her head a little at the tour guide. If she is aware her scent is particularly exotic, she gives no sign. She merely looks out the window, watching the scenery.

Smoking inside the vehicle becomes a moot point rather rapidly, as the skycar halts in rapid stages, and 'floats' down to the ground on a direct path - the people inside being aware of the motion only by the slowing of the buildings outside, and 'street-level' lifting up to meet them. One usually expects that only gravitic craft can make that kind of direct descent; Telen hoped ardently that nobody thought to ask how the craft achieved the direct approach rather than the circling method intended to counter the coriolis effect, which would usually tug an object moving groundwards at speed off in the direction the Earth was moving. He had absolutely no idea.

Therefore, he decided to speak quickly, hopefully distracting the tourists with information on the surrounding area. He faintly suspected that one or two were just a little bored; that was to be expected, and even hoped for. The initial part of the tour was dull - but they'd only remember the last twenty minutes or so clearly, anyway. Psychology was eminently important. A speech might return to a single point twenty times, but if the last sentence didn't include that point, it would be dramatically weakened. So too with the tour guide; they were supposed to notice the last more than the first, after all was said and done: the last site visited being the most important without doubt.

Leading the tourists from the skycar again, the difference becomes utterly obvious. This is not the uniform and boring street that the FT&T elevator from the airport terminates at; this, rather, is anything but uniform. There are perhaps thirty domiciles in view, and every single one is designed differently. The only instantly noticeable similarity between each domicile is height; they are all two stories tall only.

The street is also wider here than in the business district, which was narrow, perhaps even claustrophobic; also here, however, are the usual imported oaks lining the centre of a close-cut lawn creating the 'road'. With skycars, though, there is little need for a tarmac surface. The ground, however, is exceedingly level. There are no bumps, no divets; it must be expensive to keep it this way. Noticeably, there is no litter; there are bins placed strategically, at fifty metre intervals, however. The nearest one doesn't look very full though.

A deep blue sky above is somewhat dimmer than the real one would be at this bright light level; presumably sensitive Nenya eyes do not enjoy the vivid bright blue which occurs on this type of still summer's day. For the air is quite still, but there is a slightly cool breeze - blowing from the north. This appears to be a different dome, or perhaps a different segment of the same dome, for the weather here is a little different; it was cooler in the business district, for one thing; here it is pleasantly warm, at twenty-four degrees celcius, which is rather cooler than the surface temperature.

The buildings, although each rather different from the last, do share similar traits. There are only a few styles, but each style has individual touches; some of the buildings look faintly Grecian, with pillars; all of these domiciles appear to be owned by very well to do persons. But then Telen explains-

"The state technically owns all of these properties. The houses are only potentially owned by those who live in them; that is to say, if they live there, they own it. If work needs to be done, the government only pays in certain circumstances. They may make additions to the domicile, and so on, so long as local council permission is given if necessary...in essence, ownership is not an issue. If one wishes to live elsewhere, one merely arranges a swap with someone who lives where one wishes to. No currency exchanges hands. Indeed, the selling of a domicile is strictly prohibited; this is the expression of our 'right to shelter'."

He turns to face a particular house; there is a rather spacious garden, and it appears to be larger than any of those on show; peculiarly, all of the gardens are dominantly at the front of the houses, not at the rear. That is, the garden visible at the rear of each domicile appears to be much smaller than that at the front.

This particular garden is very beautiful by most Human standards; small artificial waterfalls adorn pretty little rock gardens, with various blue flowers peeking from behind the rocks. Bushes expertly shaped into various Nenyan letters with their own little plant-pots (quite literally - they appear to be plants which grow to hold another plant), a pristine lawn, a tiny artificial river system winding their way across the garden either side of the lawn - these are even complete with tributaries, and appear to run from the rock gardens themselves. The rivers slip underground near the path. What appear to be roses entwine around themselves at either side of the front porch; this house is wood effect (at least, it's probably not real wood) and is built on two overlapping stories. Telen points specifically to the roses as he notes, "Those are hybrids. As you see, it is a white rose species which has been grafted to a pink rose species. I'm afraid botany is not my style, but this kind of planting is becoming increasingly popular. I have no doubt this particular house is owned by a landscape gardener, though; as you might have noticed, the other gardens share a certain similarity. No doubt this house is 'owned' by the local gardener; he or she provides a neighbourhood service in a similar fashion to a window cleaner. - The rivers, by the way, are child-safe. Tingle fields prevent anyone from getting too close; no organic critter can get close enough without feeling unpleasant. Falling into them would require incompetence, but is possible."

Telen leads the party a little way down the road from the skycar; ahead, coming around a curve in the road, comes a uniformed gentleman carrying a slim stick sheathed in a container on his belt. His uniform is dark blue, with seven stars framing three Nenyan letters resting against his left breast. This man is clearly Human, and has shockingly white blonde hair; his nose is too big, his cheeks too sharp, and he has a wart on his chin. If transliterated, the letters would probably read CPC (Commonality Police Corps), as Telen notes, "That is a policeman."

But what is more likely to be catching to the eye are the two youths, each probably no more than seven years old, fighting with rapiers in the garden now visible, which was before shielded by a hedge. The garden is a simple lawn with no flowers or plants (the youths are explanation enough for that choice, no doubt), but a long strip of some sort of surfacing interrupts the grass. Here the battle continues. Outfitted in expensive-looking fencing gear, the youths cry out their battle cries; they are attended by a stern-looking Human, seated on an old and worn wooden chair. He sits perfectly still, and says not a word.

The two youths are startlingly adept. Their species is indeterminate, as the protective gear hides their features; only their size offers suggestion of age - but their ability level suggests greater age, perplexingly. Telen explains softly, moving close to the entire group, "Fencing is the national sport. This is a common sight. Indeed, in schools, breaktimes and the time given to pupils to themselves before lunch proper is often filled with these sorts of engagements. We Iluvauromeni are very fond," he grins, "of sharp pointed objects."

Interestedly noting the lack of momentum catching up, Alexia assumes that they have some sort of compact compensator for gravitational shift, almost like the ones on just about everything that ain't a pack animal back home. Looking around at the planned out, over-domesticated, and totally ridiculus houses and the pretty but obviously fragile gardens, she snorts in amusement, glad someone has the time to waste on useless flower arrangement.

Ignoring the kids fencing, she gives the cop the assesing eyeball of someone that's used to being on the other side of the law, watching the way he moves, and any suspicious bulges that might denote hidden pockets or gear, wishing she'd brought her knife and sword with her, just in case.

There are no hidden pockets for gear on the dark blue uniform, but there is an unusual, cylindrical device hanging at his hip; even this is ornately etched. Or those might be controls of some sort. It's tough to tell what it is in an 'alien' culture; it could be an electric toothbrush - or it could be a flamethrower. Neither seems particuarly likely, though. A 'copper' wouldn't be carrying an electric toothbrush - not at his hip, anyway.

He bows his head slightly as he passes, murmouring in a friendly tone, "Citizens," with a pause, and to be sure, apparently, he adds, "Lords or Ladies."

He doesn't pause, but keeps on walking; although he does have to resist the urge to turn back and look at that female - foreign sort, if he was any judge of such things - who had looked mighty uncomfortable. But his thoughts return to the roast dinner his wife had promised would be waiting for him, and he could almost smell the aroma; he usually cooked, but he would be home too late this evening. Ahhh - it would be good to relax in front of the synthetic fireplace and eat synthetic meat (he didn't care for the slaughter of animals, being rather more close-minded than most Iluvauromeni) whilst listening to synthetic music in a comfortable synthetic chair. Bliss.

Telen, meanwhile, tilted his head with curiousity towards Alexia. "You don't approve?" He sounds more amused than annoyed; almost as if he sees her thoughts, to some degree, and sympathizes. Indeed he did; he rather found this whole area to be utterly...

Dull. He much preferred the surface at night, than the undercity during the day.

"Hrmmm? Oh no, I just don't like cops, they make me nervous."

Alexia tries to smile disarmingly at the guide, his almost empathic sense of timing starting to get her mental gears turning, an itch starting in the back of her mind, trying to get her attention.

"So, why are your citizens not allowed to own their own property, or even improve it? Wouldn't it be easier to let them do that? And I guess this, stuff, is good for the O2 exchange, but what's the point of it?", motioning towards the rose hybrid, "Wouldn't it be better if the owner put their time into something that the whole area could share, like turning the marker strip of trees into a walkers path that has all the pretty stuff and ,like, benches and other stuff like that?"

Alexia lights her joint, it's slightly minty scent drifting in the air, gently smoking it as she waits for the tours other guests to get into the spirit of things and enjoy themselves.

The smoke acts slightly unusually, apparently drawn more rapidly upwards here than on the surface.

"The land and property was bought by the government over the last few years," Telen explains, "in order to fulfill in advance what was expected to become law when the new constitution was eventually created. The constitution clearly establishes the right to shelter and protection from the elements; the free market, insofar as property goes, eliminates any hope of managing to ensure that freedom without massive cost to the government.

"Of course, the purchase was largely token, and the cost to the government (and therefore the People) was not as high - in the long term - as the alternative would have been; the vast majority of landowners and property owners at the time were very much in favour of the new law.

"We do have property law, however. The law states that anyone may improve their current abode in any way they choose, in fact, so long as local ordinances are observed and proper planning permissions are sought from the local council, if legally required. Further, the property is owned in trust by the government; if one wishes to move to a different area, one merely has to find someone there who wishes to move here - and swap. No funds exchange hands, no messy contracts; everyone lives where they please. Wherever one lives, one owns the property in name until the move. Then the next person or persons obtain ownership, and so on.

"And the gardens are for the delight of all; it is preferred to live in a place where there is greenery all around, for in truth, most of the people would prefer to live on the surface. It is a concession to..."

He breaks off, apparently disliking the word that first came to mind, and selects another carefully: "Nature, if you will."

Telen motions to the rose - but not too sharply. "The rose itself is a work of art. The 'gardener' is not merely a 'gardener', but a mathematician and a geneticist. Indeed, this particular artist, I believe, is a member of the Imperial Horticultural Guild - they are considered to be the 'elite' of gardeners in these lands. See, there - that small circular pattern is a mark, which displays the membership of the guild. That particular pattern also no doubt contains a 'mark' which any other such gardener would instantly recognize, and attribute to the one who grew it - but I am not entirely versed in such matters, and so I would not see it.

"Enterprises such as these are often engaged in by local community co-operatives; gardening co-operatives, waste disposal co-operatives, service co-operatives - all of which, of course, are funded (at least at first) by the government-owned Imperial Trade Conglomerate, which ensures fair marketing practice and maintains competitiveness whilst ensuring the well-being of the economy...inside a free/planned market structure."

Telen grins. "I do hope I've not made a mortal error; economics is far less my field. - Indeed, I myself am a fully trained sociologist. Most everyone in the Commonality has a specific, highly-educated speciality - although we do not always work in the area one might expect by that speciality."

Smiling lightly at the light updraft that takes away the smoke, Alexia looks at the rest of the group..."Anyone want some?" she asks with a slightly stoned look on her face that is a complete contradiction of the alert look that is still in her eyes.