NationStates Jolt Archive

Allanean Arms Experimental Ground No. 34, Daikatana, United States of Allanea

Kirill Nivensky was proud. He looked outside the window, where three large steel domes stood, towering monstrously over the company grounds. This was Experimental Ground No. 34. They contained the greatest asset Allanean Arms, Incorporated ever possessed. Co-developed with Andropov Oil Co. of Derscon – they would give them a cut of the profits – this was it. The Holy Grail. The Philosopher’s Stone.
He watched as the trucks approached one of the domes. They were carrying not gold, silver, or good, but human feces. Literally. The wastes of Port-Allanea were pumped here by the ton. The purpose was unknown, and so Allanean Arms, Inc. could simply take it for free. Nivensky laughed. Soon, Allanean Arms would be rich. And Andropov Oil would be rich too – slightly less, of course. Allanean Oil, with their feeble drilling methods, would be toast. So would be Allanean Pharmaceuticals’ ventures into hemp-based fuel. The new oil would be cheaper than anything that the Communists of Haven could wish for, and it would be useable for plastics – unlike hemp oil, which you could only burn – not to efficiently, he heard., which you could only burn – not too efficiently, he heard.
Nivensky turned to his assistant: “How are we progressing, Jerome?”
“Pas mal, Monsieur,” replied the immigrant engineer, “We are almost finished filling up that input tank. We will be able to commence any minute now…”
“No.” – Nivensky cut him off, harshly. – “Wait for the Dersconi representatives.”

OOC:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thermal_depolymerization

The CEO of Andropov Oil Co. walked in the door.

"Sorry for my lateness." The CEO was Prince Alexei Aleksandrovich Andropov, youngest son of Czar Rekjyavich Ivan Andropov III, and he was accompanied with four Praetorian Guards, mostly for show. He trusted the Allaneans. Tagging along was Alyanov Grennavich, the Minister of Commerce. A Praesillei Dei guardsmen and two Honour Guards escorted him, as he was unfortunately confined to a wheelchair, due to his age.

The Prince negotiated the whole deal beforehand. Granted, he got less of the profits, but he was richer, so it didn't matter. The Prince smiled and embraced Kirill, as was his custom.

"so nice to see you again, Kirill." The Prince often addressed people by their surname. Not out of disrespect, but out of a friendliness of sorts. He scanned the room.

"So, this is the final test, eh?" He looked over it again with approval.

"I cannot wait to see this."

((OOC: Tag'd. We produce synthetic vegitable oil, so we'll have some interest in this.))

Kirill smiled at his guest. In the monstrous container tank, the input material was being compressed, heated to immense temperatures. Molecules fell apart into shorters and shorter strings. Soon, it would be ready. He needed some more time. He nodded at the Dersconian and the journalists crowding behind him. By the time they finished the long (comparatively) fifteen-minute walk towards the the container domes, it would be over.

And indeed, as Kirill reached the receptor tank, a green bulb was shining on it, under the word “READY”. It meant that it was now filling fast with oil – the black gold of mankind, the lifeblood of industry. He turned a switch, and oil erupted from the machine, sprinkling black droplets on his hands and face.

Within seconds, the reporters had their cameras going, spreading the image of Kirill Nivensky and his artifical oil all over Allanea.

The Prince had a triumphant look on his face. Finally, total independence from foreign oil, and those damned enviromentalists won't be protesting for drilling in wildlife reserves.

Dersconi reporters were also present, displaying this on national news. Alexei turned to Kirill.

"Finally, we are truely in control of our own economies." Alexei and Kirill did the typical handshake and embracing for the cameras and he looked over the room once more.

"So, what now?"