- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Plan Sightseeing Journalist
"I'm From the Government and I'm Here to Help!" - A Perfectly Normal Bureaucrat Quest
- Thread starter LuciDreamer
- Start date
- Original
LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Vote looooooooocked!
And we are *still* tied! I'm at a convention right now, and I will not get back until this time:
I think I borked that timestamp, but regardless, someone please break the tie in between now and then, or else the vote will be decided by dice roll.
And we are *still* tied! I'm at a convention right now, and I will not get back until this time:
I think I borked that timestamp, but regardless, someone please break the tie in between now and then, or else the vote will be decided by dice roll.
Alobomb
Time Traveler
- Location
- Canada
Hey, Intern!
Pure curiousity, but what's the political situation of our country of origin (Pravic, uh, Pravia?) like? What kinda place did we leave for this worker's paradise?
That aside, I would vote logistics but with 15 minutes left I don't wanna re-deadlock the vote. Just chiming in to say I'm excited for this, big fan of the concept!
Pure curiousity, but what's the political situation of our country of origin (Pravic, uh, Pravia?) like? What kinda place did we leave for this worker's paradise?
That aside, I would vote logistics but with 15 minutes left I don't wanna re-deadlock the vote. Just chiming in to say I'm excited for this, big fan of the concept!
LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Vote loooocked!
[X] Plan Sightseeing Journalist
I have got to run, got a dinner to catch, But first,
* Intern clears her throat.
Well, first off, it ain't exactly right to call it a country, per se. The Pravic steppes and tundras, they're settled, for sure, but they don't have a coherent state, far as I'm aware. Not a single 'un, anyway. They have a lot of warlords, I think? Or... roaming tribes?
It's all kind of a blur. Closer to the ocean, you have this massive grey area where Mick colonies and Prav settlements sort of blend together? I think technically all of that's part of the Empire, but I've never met a Prav who ever bowed down to the Empress. Good on 'em.
Also, I'd caution against callin' what we have a paradise. If it were paradisaical, why, we wouldn't need the unions! Or a government, for that matter. Or myself.
[X] Plan Sightseeing Journalist
I have got to run, got a dinner to catch, But first,
Ah, darn, I thought I was done with Western History after I left university...
* Intern clears her throat.
Well, first off, it ain't exactly right to call it a country, per se. The Pravic steppes and tundras, they're settled, for sure, but they don't have a coherent state, far as I'm aware. Not a single 'un, anyway. They have a lot of warlords, I think? Or... roaming tribes?
It's all kind of a blur. Closer to the ocean, you have this massive grey area where Mick colonies and Prav settlements sort of blend together? I think technically all of that's part of the Empire, but I've never met a Prav who ever bowed down to the Empress. Good on 'em.
Also, I'd caution against callin' what we have a paradise. If it were paradisaical, why, we wouldn't need the unions! Or a government, for that matter. Or myself.
- Location
- The state of Paranoia
Hmmm. Sounds a lot like Mongolia before Genghis Khan.
BEGINNING OF ARC ONE: "GOOD INTENTIONS"
LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
...hey! I'm back. 
Sorry about the long wait. Trust me - I am not dead, neither is BoroQuest, and neither is PNHS. In fact, an update for PNHS is, at most, 24 hours away from this post. Don't tell anyone, though. Or do.
Late 2019 for me has been, well, been a series of jarring transitions that I've had to deal with, and I hadn't been handling them well.
Then 2020 happened! And it… kept happening!
Well… no use to drudge up complicated feelings about the present. This is fiction! And what greater purpose does fiction have, then to allow its readers to put aside the outside world for a little bit?
...I suppose the fiction has to be good to serve that purpose, of course.
Well! On that end, I hope I can deliver. ^^
Big thanks to @Nevill for proofreading this, several times, over the course of approximately fifty-billion years and seven reincarnations into this mortal coil. The man's a beast. Please spam him with virtual hugs and virtual cookies.
Sorry about the long wait. Trust me - I am not dead, neither is BoroQuest, and neither is PNHS. In fact, an update for PNHS is, at most, 24 hours away from this post. Don't tell anyone, though. Or do.
Late 2019 for me has been, well, been a series of jarring transitions that I've had to deal with, and I hadn't been handling them well.
Then 2020 happened! And it… kept happening!
Well… no use to drudge up complicated feelings about the present. This is fiction! And what greater purpose does fiction have, then to allow its readers to put aside the outside world for a little bit?
...I suppose the fiction has to be good to serve that purpose, of course.
Well! On that end, I hope I can deliver. ^^
Big thanks to @Nevill for proofreading this, several times, over the course of approximately fifty-billion years and seven reincarnations into this mortal coil. The man's a beast. Please spam him with virtual hugs and virtual cookies.
"Find one, Comrade-Intern, that's not my job!" The man yelled back, exasperated.
The Intern groaned, and trotted her way across the bureaucracy floor. She came to a long line of machines and claimed one of the few unoccupied ones. Feeding the sheet of paper into the machine, she quickly twisted a little nozzle at the side, and watched through the glass as the file was stretched out and then curled around the pneumatic tube inside. A few twists was sufficient to complete a rotation; she punched a button, and the completed pneumo-tube popped out.
Annoyingly, the pneumatic delivery system was on the opposite side of the room from the pneumo-tube rollers, so she had to run - awkwardly - to finally deliver the thing. The senior bureaucrat eyed her as she ran past, looking up from his work. "Keep up the pace, Comrade-Intern! Lunch break's in five minutes, and I swear to Hamelton if we're behind again - "
Biting back the urge to tell him to go stuff the pneumo up his ass if he was going to be so anal about getting his impossible quotas done on time, the Intern made it to the deliveries wall, and one of the operators rushed over to service her.
"Filename?"
"Request-of-Work form alpha-dash-ten-fifty-three serial number bee-nine, applicant name Clarissa Fisher socsecno - "
He snatched it from her. "Good enough!" he declared, before shoving it unceremoniously into one of the tubes she swore was supposed to be used for visa applicants. He seemed to realize his mistake a second too late, but at this point in the day he was numb to the discrepancy. "...eh. Someone'll sort that out. Get back to your station or Comrade party-line over there will yell at me - shoo! Shoo!"
The Intern backed away. The senior bureaucrat was already calling out for her. She watched as the little tube zipped around in the upper delivery layer before disappearing into the bowels of the Central Labor bureaucracy. She briefly wondered whether this Clarissa fellow would get what she was looking for - but, she remembered, now was not time to philosophize over the fate of strangers.
For she had work to do.
Buffering...
...
...
filename "KARINA_MARKOVIC" has successfully been added to the character dossier. Related files have been automatically appended to the active user's permissions list.
ARC ONE
"GOOD INTENTIONS"
The steam locomotive is eerily quiet. Not at all like in the city.
That was good; it gave you time to think. To reflect. To listen to the rhythmic hum of the engine, or the chucka-chucka of the railroad track. It was blessedly peaceful within the confines of the train car - and you hadn't had any peace in ages, really. Not since the debacle with Admiralty Staff, anyway. Damn syndicalists...
Your eyes wander to the window. Endless fields of amber grain press against the rail, whipping the side of the cabin. Occasionally, when the train enters a high place, you can almost peek over the tips of the wheaten jungle, and make out the little enclaves where people have carved out hamlets or factory towns. Civilization, rising from the dirt itself.
...it's kind of beautiful. You could write a poem about it.
You lose yourself in the wheatstalks for a while, and the chucka-chucka of the train keeps you in time.
You feel yourself dozing off...
...
"'Scuse me? Miss?"
You jerk awake. You see a scrawny conductor, a boy no older than seventeen, standing before you. A conductor's whistle hangs around his neck, and he's dressed in a dirty blue uniform with glittering buttons. He's staring at you, as if expecting a response.
"Comrade Conductor," you say evenly. "What is the matter?"
"Oh wow." He blinks. "S-Sorry, missus! I wan't expectin' you's Amberrish to be so fine."
"I studied abroad before I came here." You look throughout the car, wondering if any other passengers are taking notice. They aren't. "What is it to you?"
"Oh!" He scratched the back of his head. "I was just lookin' through you's travellin' papers and I thought, 'wow, a Prav? This far east? What brings her to the middle of nowhere?' You's like, the most interestin' person on this rattler, lady." He gives you a bright, innocent smile. He's missing one of his incisors. "And I like... interestin' people. So, what brings you out here, anyway?"
"I, ah... needed to get away from the Metropole, and an opportunity presented itself." You shrug.
"Hey, that's cool, that's cool." He pauses, looking out the cabin. Rows upon rows of wheaten jungle push against the railroad track. "...so you's off to Hooversdam? T-That's… err, what I read in you's documents, anyway. You plannin' on stayin'?"
"Yes, actually."
"Cool! I know an ole friend workin' there."
"Oh?"
"Yeah!" He nods his head wildly. "He a scav. He works the Hooversdam site and finds treasure diggin' through the ruin."
"Sounds adventurous."
"You bet it is. But… that ain't why you's headed there, is it?"
"No." You shift in your seat, somewhat uncomfortably. "I have a government job. Regional Economic… something-something. Nice, pays well."
"Ahah. Knew it had to be somefin'." He grins again. "You look like a refined kinda lady. I don't think you'd fancy workin' a dig site anyways."
"...I could work in a dig site if I wanted to," you say, mildly insulted. "I'm from a family of dockworkers, you know. Real, honest laborers."
"Hey, hey, I didn't mean nothin' by it! You know how many people go missin' down there? It's a creepy fuckin' place, lady. Worse than the Heidi mine." He shivers. "At least down in Heidistown you got electric lights and signage and all the tunnels can be put onto a map. I been to the Hooversdam Underground Dig Site, lady. It is wacky down there, once you get to the lower levels. I turn one corner and I'm already lost. I turn another one and I'm back where I started. But hey, least it's better than Pasloe! Boring as hell there, 'n the air tastes like stale bread all time. Though the Tuesday services are pretty nice. Free whiskey, hey!"
"You talk a lot," you suppress a giggle with your hand.
"Why, thank you! It's boring as shit on this rattler most days. I got a lotta stuff to say, but not enough people to say 'em to." The young conductor chuckles. "You, on the other hand, ain't much of a talker, are ya?"
You pause. "...ah, forgive me. I'm a bit… self-conscious about... my accent," you admit.
He snorts. "I ain't. You shouldn't be either, miss! What should it matter, whether you sound a hillbilly like me or a Prav like yo'self?"
"Not much, really." Even as you say it, you feel yourself relaxing a little in front of this... curious teenaged conductor. "But if I'm going to be living here for a while, it would be better if I could emulate the local flavor on the Amberrish tongue. Make it easier to talk to people. I was only just getting used to Metrospeak, you see - I really should have attended Ayushiyev's vocal lessons…"
"Eyy, eyy, bellyaching over tiny shit like that ain't gonna get you nowhere in Hooversdam. You'll see! They ain't about that. 'f you was headed off to Heidistown I'd be more worried - but Hooversdam? Naw."
"If you say so... I wish I could have your youthful optimism."
"It ain't optimism, I'm just speakin' truth to power!" He nods to himself, grinning at you. "You know, you picked the perfect time to come out here. Jungle's dormant; ain't no vines creeping into the track or wheat sprouts gunkin' up the wheels or dust fairies muckin' up the clockwork."
"Dust fairies…?" You giggle. "I've read a few pieces about how… weird the Great Amberrish Desert gets this far east. I have some friends who come out here often, you see. Always good to have some primary sources. But I always assumed some of the more fantastical claims were just hinterland superstitions."
"Oh, the summer fairies are very real. Shit, I wish they was fake. Hard as rocks and sticky like gum once they get into the machinery, too. Ain't nothin' magical about them, though. They just really, really weird bugs." He sighs, and opens his mouth as if to say something else, but stops.
A comfortable silence befalls you. You take a moment to glance outside. The gargantuan, yellow stalks of the wheaten jungle whir by the window. You can sort of make out what looks like a mass of industrial chimney smoke slowly rising into the sky, where you assume Hooversdam must be.
"Say. Lady." He touches the bottom of his chin thoughtfully. "What's your opinion on, like… just… "
He pauses.
"...what I mean is, I don't oft spend time outside this rattler, so I ain't exactly gotta worldly perspective on things, but from what I understand it, y'all Westerners're more… supernaturally-minded or somethin', right?"
"That's an odd question to throw out onto a stranger you met on the train."
He grins. "Might as well ask now that I got a 'primary source' for myself, as ya call it. You can pardon me for wantin' to know a little more about the West, can't ya? Us Ambernians, we tend to worship… well, men. People. The Christists got their Jesus, the Founderists got their Hameltons and Rosefelds and all the rest. The stories are all well and good, but, for someone like me, they ain't… satisfyin'. I wanna believe there's more to the world than the mundane."
You feel a little uncomfortable talking about this, but something about the boy's innocently curious demeanor makes you really want to humor him. You pause and think. "...well… it's complicated. I mean, Westerners, in general, believe in a decentralized pantheon of gods - Kami. Where I'm from, we have this festival where the elders got all the littluns into a circle to perform this dance to ward off the dragon Kami of water - Yuushi? Yutsuchi? Yu-something, was her name - "
"Awaitawaitawait a moment - when you talk of gods, you… you're saying... there's more than one?"
You nod your head. "Oh, of course. There's gods and spirits for everything. If you're Mihk, your spirits probably have something to do with harmony or music or eternal bliss. Us in the Pravlands tend to worship more earthly forces - the forests, the seas, the skies, the sun. Some men and women claim to be direct descendants of, or be able to speak for, the spirits. Like Mihks' Empress."
"Wow." There are stars in his eyes. "Just imagine - for there to be so many different kinds of things to worship. Must feel like divinity's always a-knocking on your doorstep. Man, I gotta get myself a ticket to the West sometime!"
"Life was certainly blissful back home. Though, the West isn't exactly a place you can just hop on a train ride to. It'd be so much easier that way." You smile forlornly, resting your head on the glass.
"You arright?" The boy looks concerned.
"It's nothing. I just… it's been a long time since I've been home." You sigh. "I was born in the Pravlands, but I can't exactly… return. You know. Velvet Curtain and all that."
"Issat a fact? I can't imagine being separated from these wheat fields." He gestures outside. The sun is a creamy, orange blot trying to peek through the jungle's tall golden stalks.
"It's not all bad," you say. "You take what you can get."
"...aaand you make the most of it!" He chuckles to himself, but you aren't sure why. "Well, ah, thanks for indulging little ole me. Hope I wasn't no bother! Was just makin' my rounds, thought I oughta expand my horizons a bit by talking to some new folk."
"Please, you're too kind, really." You smile.
"Aww shucks, don't gimme that! I'm weak to flattery, I really am!" He chuckles, blushing. "Oh! And, a little word of advice regarding Hooversdam, seeing as that's where you's headed - "
To your surprise, he leans in close, and whispers in your ear: "'tween you and me, it always feels like there's somethin' bad bubblin' just beneath the surface when it comes to those Hooversdamians. Don't get me wrong - they's the loveliest folk you'll ever meet. But they'll string you along with enough half-truths and white lies to cover the 'ole earth in gossamer twice over if it means protectin' something from the pryin' eyes of an outsider. Circlin' the wagons and all that. Don't take it personal-like - we ain't bad people, honest. And if you wanna find out what's underneath, well. All you's gotta do is start diggin', ya know what I'm sayin'?"
You look at the boy quizzically. His words come off as awfully eloquent, for someone so young. He grins back at you. "Just impartin' some words'o wisdom! Figure it's my responsibility, speakin' as a boy of the East to a newcomer from the West. Wouldn't want our eccentricities to drive y'all away. Heh."
"You're funny," you smile. "I'll take your words into consideration."
"See to it that you do, lady." He feels into his pocket, pulling out a little pocketwatch by the chain. Spinning it around his wrist, he flips it open, and whistles. "It's almost time. Nice meetin' ya!."
"Likewise."
"Don't forget what I said, ya hear? And one last thing - take after the words of the Founder Teddy, and you'll do fine!"
"The words of the - what? Who?"
The curious young man turns tail and disappears behind a door at the end of the cabin. Your question dies on your lips. You wonder if that was some sort of academic reference. The Founders had a lot of aphorisms, after all. Founder Teddy, Founder Teddy... he wasn't talking about the "Big Stick" fellow, was he?
A voice sounds over the cabin PA system announcing that the Hermes is nearing the Hoover's Dam Terminus. You press your feet against the seat in front of you and tighten your grip on your belongings. The train starts to pull at you as its momentum slows. Steam whistles; gears turn. You're nearly there.
You wonder what the conductor could have possibly meant. You doubt he could have a particularly deep insight into the politics of Hooversdam, but you are intimately familiar with the systems by which the political intrigues of a state tend to filter down through to the people. It was your job to pick up on that kind of thing, after all.
...
You hope you haven't made a mistake, accepting this sudden offer of employment. Maybe you could have continued your journalistic career up north - at least the west Qanadic tundras were kinda sorta like home. But no - you had too many friends down here. It'd be like leaving home. Again.
At least, in Hooversdam, the Metropole was but a short train ride away. You can find some comfort in that. You can. And besides, you won't be alone; in spite of everything, someone from your old life is waiting for you there, in Hooversdam. Someone you can't imagine being without.
Clarissa's contact in Hooversdam is...
[] A former colleague from the Red Social Newspaper. Well, more accurately to say, a subordinate from said Newspaper. The boy's an up-and-coming journalist whose primary niche is optimistic human interest stories, but he's been trying to branch out into topics of a more political nature to follow in your footsteps, preferably without hitting the "angers very important people in the military side of the government" roadblock that destroyed your career. He's more than excited to explore the untouched wheaten wilderness of the Wild East, but you're a tad worried his penchant for adventurism is gonna get him in trouble. Or, at the very least, prevent him from getting some actual journalistic work done. (Gain Close Friend: Ferdnan Kloski. ++PHY, -CHA)
[] A special investigator you met on accident one fine, stuffy summer day, in the bowels of a restricted government bureaucracy office. He was sent to prevent some snivelling, no-good Westerner from leaking government secrets, and you were sent to discover evidence of a pretty nasty corruption scandal in the Military Readiness Committee. The exact details of what happened after that escape you; or maybe you're just that good of a secret-keeper. Regardless, since then your mutual respect has blossomed into a bit of a genuine friendship, and you were more than happy to learn that he'd be re-assigned to the Eastfed Specinyu, placing him... under your jurisdiction. How serendipitous! (Gain Close Friend: Special Investigator Col'eson. +INT)
[] A prim, proper Western woman who hides her steel behind silk. She was your first contact into the Four Moons Yakuza, though to this day you still don't know how deep her connection is. Through her, you had a deep insight into juiciest happenings in the Metropole's criminal underworld, and eventually you bonded over your mutual love of Western alcohol and sadomasochism. When you told her you'd be travelling east, she suddenly decided to take a long vacation from her family and follow you into the unknown. (Gain Close Friend: "Sadako Iwanaga" +CRE.)
[] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
Welcome back @LuciDreamer
It's been a while so I'll need to reread
EDIT:
[X] A former colleague from the Red Social Newspaper. Well, more accurately to say, a subordinate from said Newspaper. The boy's an up-and-coming journalist whose primary niche is optimistic human interest stories, but he's been trying to branch out into topics of a more political nature to follow in your footsteps, preferably without hitting the "angers very important people in the military side of the government" roadblock that destroyed your career. He's more than excited to explore the untouched wheaten wilderness of the Wild East, but you're a tad worried his penchant for adventurism is gonna get him in trouble. Or, at the very least, prevent him from getting some actual journalistic work done. (Gain Close Friend: Ferdnan Kloski. ++PHY, -CHA)
It's been a while so I'll need to reread
EDIT:
[X] A former colleague from the Red Social Newspaper. Well, more accurately to say, a subordinate from said Newspaper. The boy's an up-and-coming journalist whose primary niche is optimistic human interest stories, but he's been trying to branch out into topics of a more political nature to follow in your footsteps, preferably without hitting the "angers very important people in the military side of the government" roadblock that destroyed your career. He's more than excited to explore the untouched wheaten wilderness of the Wild East, but you're a tad worried his penchant for adventurism is gonna get him in trouble. Or, at the very least, prevent him from getting some actual journalistic work done. (Gain Close Friend: Ferdnan Kloski. ++PHY, -CHA)
Last edited:
- Location
- Farther than you think, closer than you expect.
Once more into this wild, wacky, and wonderful world.
[X] A special investigator you met on accident one fine, stuffy summer day, in the bowels of a restricted government bureaucracy office. He was sent to prevent some snivelling, no-good Westerner from leaking government secrets, and you were sent to discover evidence of a pretty nasty corruption scandal in the Military Readiness Committee. The exact details of what happened after that escape you; or maybe you're just that good of a secret-keeper. Regardless, since then your mutual respect has blossomed into a bit of a genuine friendship, and you were more than happy to learn that he'd be re-assigned to the Eastfed Specinyu, placing him... under your jurisdiction. How serendipitous! (Gain Close Friend: Special Investigator Col'eson. +INT)
[X] A special investigator you met on accident one fine, stuffy summer day, in the bowels of a restricted government bureaucracy office. He was sent to prevent some snivelling, no-good Westerner from leaking government secrets, and you were sent to discover evidence of a pretty nasty corruption scandal in the Military Readiness Committee. The exact details of what happened after that escape you; or maybe you're just that good of a secret-keeper. Regardless, since then your mutual respect has blossomed into a bit of a genuine friendship, and you were more than happy to learn that he'd be re-assigned to the Eastfed Specinyu, placing him... under your jurisdiction. How serendipitous! (Gain Close Friend: Special Investigator Col'eson. +INT)
- Location
- Moscow, Russia
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
Mariyah connects Clarissa to the city. A trusted comrade will guide through a twisted maze of local customs.
Something lurks beneath the city. Don't ignore the ominous foreshadowing from a kind and suspicious stranger. Clarissa will need Mariyah.
Mariyah connects Clarissa to the city. A trusted comrade will guide through a twisted maze of local customs.
Something lurks beneath the city. Don't ignore the ominous foreshadowing from a kind and suspicious stranger. Clarissa will need Mariyah.
Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] A prim, proper Western woman who hides her steel behind silk. She was your first contact into the Four Moons Yakuza, though to this day you still don't know how deep her connection is. Through her, you had a deep insight into juiciest happenings in the Metropole's criminal underworld, and eventually you bonded over your mutual love of Western alcohol and sadomasochism. When you told her you'd be travelling east, she suddenly decided to take a long vacation from her family and follow you into the unknown. (Gain Close Friend: "Sadako Iwanaga" +CRE.)
- Location
- The state of Paranoia
Welcome back, @LuciDreamer !
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
I want that + to Charisma. Making friends was important in PNHS, and I bet it will be here too.
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
I want that + to Charisma. Making friends was important in PNHS, and I bet it will be here too.
CedeTheBees
Probably high right now
- Location
- Somewhere
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Explains how people get their jobs around here. Wait, it this how a journalist ended up an Economic Director in the boonies? I can think of little that qualifies us for the bigwig job that is apparently important, and yet we also can't remember the name of, only taking it to get away from the big city.
I think "good enough for government work" is going to be the motto of the quest.
Is that where we are heading?
We seem to have a little infestation on our hands. Wheaten fields stretching for miles is good for harvest; but it's a bit less good when they start overtaking railroads and blotting out the sun.
Either we have a dig site with non-Euclidean physics, or the hitherto unnamed Comrade Conductor managed to go in circles around a wall.
Um. So they are all the loveliest folk who would lie our head off when it comes to anything touchy, and the best advice he can come up with is to speak softly and carry a big stick. Why, what would these wonderful people do if we don't have one? Do we get signed up for a visit to the dig?
Hmm, the choices. So, a journalist subordinate and a close friend, with potential ties to the press if we need to put a spin on something, or attract attention of the top brass in Metropole. An inspector and a close friend, with ties to secret services, whom we may want to lean on in case of things getting rough or should we need to apply subtle pressure. A yakuza and a close friend, with connections to the underworld and a sudden interest in the newly appointed official, whom we may want to consult should we want to take advantage of our position, or employ less-than-legal methods. And... the best friend with no known ties, just for stress relief. Hope that one doesn't disappear. >_>
I think there may be a lot of trouble brewing where we are heading; such important postings don't get created or vacated all of a sudden. Problem is, someone who thought the region might need some oversight also thouht it was a good idea to send a half-Mihk journalist to a region full of insular locals who very vocally don't like outsiders poking around.
This calls for...
[x] A special investigator you met on accident one fine, stuffy summer day, in the bowels of a restricted government bureaucracy office. He was sent to prevent some snivelling, no-good Westerner from leaking government secrets, and you were sent to discover evidence of a pretty nasty corruption scandal in the Military Readiness Committee. The exact details of what happened after that escape you; or maybe you're just that good of a secret-keeper. Regardless, since then your mutual respect has blossomed into a bit of a genuine friendship, and you were more than happy to learn that he'd be re-assigned to the Eastfed Specinyu, placing him... under your jurisdiction. How serendipitous! (Gain Close Friend: Special Investigator Col'eson. +INT)
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LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Oh! I just threadmarked the character database, in case anybody missed that.
Also, the vote will be closing tomorrow., approximately 12 hours from now.
Also, the vote will be closing tomorrow., approximately 12 hours from now.
- Location
- United States
[X] A prim, proper Western woman who hides her steel behind silk. She was your first contact into the Four Moons Yakuza, though to this day you still don't know how deep her connection is. Through her, you had a deep insight into juiciest happenings in the Metropole's criminal underworld, and eventually you bonded over your mutual love of Western alcohol and sadomasochism. When you told her you'd be travelling east, she suddenly decided to take a long vacation from her family and follow you into the unknown. (Gain Close Friend: "Sadako Iwanaga" +CRE.)
LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Well, I'm a couple hours late, but what else is new?
Vote locked!
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
Huh. I suppose the nature of this totally normal communist slice of life quest heavily biases towards CHA-based characters and sentimental relationships. Maybe I should start giving stat bonuses to the non-cha options or something.
...naaaaaaaaa.
Vote locked!
[X] A local union girl. You were dormmates at Silkfal Polytechnic; she taught you your social graces, and in return you helped her out with calligraphy and other Western studies. The two of you did a lot for each other throughout your university years, and somewhere along the way you became inseparable. She couldn't stay long in the Metropole after her graduation, but her letters alone were a welcome relief from the stresses of your job. You're glad to have a confidant in the town - and you have no doubt she'll be glad to have you back. (Gain Best Friend: Mariyah Wrys. +CHA)
Huh. I suppose the nature of this totally normal communist slice of life quest heavily biases towards CHA-based characters and sentimental relationships. Maybe I should start giving stat bonuses to the non-cha options or something.
...naaaaaaaaa.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Hey, Intern. You still around?
1) What's the current status of the Celestial Empire of Mihoku, and its relationship with Ambernia?
2) What is known about Yakuza groups in Ambernia, and their potential ties to the Empire? How are they still allowed to operate?
3) What is the Great Amberrish Desert? A wheaten jungle or a desert, which one is it? And why do people call it weird?
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LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Hey, you can't do that, that's cheating!
...I mean, doesn't it take away from some of the magic if someone obviously invested in the quest and who works with the author participates in the roleplaying game he set up for - I mean, wouldn't people see that as you and I obviously colluding to unnaturally naturally cheat at worldbuilding...?
* The inane ramblings of a semi-conscious morning LuciDreamer fade away. Intern, eyes red and jittery from her third cup of coffee of the day, looks up at the collective, Lovecraftian mass that is all of you and groans.
That authoritarian cabal of counterrevolutionaries and post-colonialist sycophants? Pfftah. Last I heard of 'em they were doin' alright for themselves, owing to their rampant and total exploitation of the peasants and workers of the Ajia Minors. Not like any concrete information comes out of that Clock-forsaken country, anyhow.
I'm not too worried, though. They'll get their due, like all the tyrants of the world. Ain't no force on the world that can stop the Amberrish spirit and Amberrish ingenuity. And even if that fails, and if we fall, Ambernia'll be unto a phoenix. You watch. Whatever horrific force that tried to kill off the Americans buried their cities'n wheat and rendered their homes unto dust, and yet still we stand here, on the bones and detritus of their wonder, a shining testament to their legacy! Clock bless Ambernia!
* Intern looks around and suddenly realizes how braggart-like she sounds.
Ahem. Well. Um. Yeah. Forgive me for that; Mama always said pride was my greatest weakness. Well, that and all the Western Ganja.
Well. Ahem. Officially speaking, I have no idea what you're talkin' about. Yakuza? Who's that? I've never even heard of a Four-Moons! No, I definitely don't get my supply of Western Ganja from a Mick who calls himself 'Taro Yamada,' what are you talking about?
Unofficially, though? The Yaks are our one gateway into the Empire. And we bureaucrats often find ourselves workin' with 'em on a pretty regular basis.
I'd love to say more, but I ain't about to let anybody call me a loose-lipped Lisa. I can't go blabbin' important state secrets to just any tentacled mass of horrors and temporal nonexistence that happens to come by my apartment.
*She looks at you strangely.
The hell is the difference? Deserts, jungles. They're the same stuff.
* It occurs to you that Intern has absolutely no knowledge of geographical features that exist outside of Ambernia, and therefore has absolutely no context for why the Great Amberrish Desert wouldn't be considered both a jungle and a desert, in spite of the fact that those two things are rather antithetical to each other.
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LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
* A dark shadow crosses over Intern's face. She is silent for a few moments. It disappears quickly.
...ah. I'm a bit more knowledgeable about my motherland than I am about the West, so I think I can be more properly succinct this time.
By "east of Ambernia" I assume you mean "east of the USAR," yeah? East Ambernians call 'emselves "Azurians," and are very...
Well. I don't wanna call their whole society a society of counterrevolutionary class-traitors. But they are. Their government, their institutions, their civilization - all of it's rotten to the core. Everything their leaders do is a debauched perversion of the life, works, and values of our American forefathers. And they call us the despoilers of America's legacy.
* Intern seems like she is about to say more, but stops herself.
Beyond that?
Sometimes a couple brave souls manage to survive the trip West into the unmarked and overgrown areas of the jungle. They get picked up by our airborne Border Authority or independent dirigible crews wherever possible, Clock-bless those magnificent flying bastards. The Free Saffrasko Radio ran a segment the other day where they interviewed one of those refugees, I remember that. Was about what you'd expect from that godless country.
* Intern stirs her coffee with her spoon, intermittently tapping her left cheek with her finger. She seems unfocused.
Propcom distributes redacted intel reports on them from time to time, alongside their annual State of the Union newsies. It's mostly boring statistical stuff - tracking the uptick in their poverty rate, documenting their expanding programme of exploitation in the Eastern Qanad Tundras for furs, oil, gold and fish, unconfirmed rumors that they're establishing "penal colonies" across the Landt Ocean. That last one seems kinda ridiculous to me. If ya kept going east across their ocean you'd just end up in Mickland, wouldn't you? Round earth and all that.
...forgive me. I know I'm being unhelpfully vague, but the East is a sore topic for me. I don't wanna dwell in the past. Future's where I'll be, after all.
* Not looking at any of your millions upon millions of six-dimensional eyes directly, she takes a sip from her coffee once more. She seems totally disinterested in continuing this conversation. Under her breath, she's humming the lyrics to an old folk song.
Intro Part 1: There was a Lady Steppin' Off a Train
LuciDreamer
Maliciously Incompetent
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Rissah -
2C Ryu to 3B. I seize your Golden General.
No, I'm afraid I'm not making any plans to return to the city any time soon. It seems Uncle Wickter is needing me more and more ever since we started our little project in the basement of the Union Headquarters. It's nice to be needed, of course - but I can't help but feel like I'm growing up too soon. I've so many responsibilities now, which feels very weird.
Why do you ask?
As for you, I hope you are doing well. It's been a month since you were sacked from Red Social, and you've yet to mention where you're working now. I know you've never had an interest in engineering, but again, I'd love to have you with me at the Black River Craft Union. I'm not a particularly good teacher, but Uncle Wickter is. We could run you through the basics. Engineering is a wonderful craft, once you get down to it; Miss Sadako calls what we do in art in and of itself. And, out here, you'll never have to deal with those military meddlers you hate so much ever again.
Plus, I want to see you more often. A weekend at the end of every season just isn't enough. You'll love the people here, I promise. I hope we can meet again some time soon.
Take care,
Mariyah Wrys
P.S. Are you still single? A young man was recently inducted into the workshop floor - he served aboard the IAS Spirit of Freedom as the Captain's mate, and he's quite animated, lively, and cultured. He reminds me of you. I know you hate navy men - really, I do - but this one's different, I promise you. There's nothing military about him. I'm sure you two would make a great pair. I'd love to introduce you two. He's a good catch, if I dare say so.
You smile to yourself. Mariyah, sweet Mariyah - she's going to be in for quite the surprise when you drop by her home tomorrow. You find it amusing and exasperating in equal measures that she's still trying to play matchmaker for you - but you suppose that's par for the course. Wouldn't be the same if she weren't trying to get you to hook up with someone. You're half-convinced that she's doing it ironically, at this point - to get you back for all the times you tried to do the same back in Silkfal.
Steam hisses beneath your feet as you stroll out onto the platform. A stream of laborers flanks you on both sides, making you feel slightly out-of-place (and very bourgeoisie) in your blouse and slacks. You're left kind of adrift, flowing with the general stream of the train traffic, before eventually being pushed out onto the somewhat cool afternoon sun.
"Excuse me! 'Scuse meee! You! With the uniform? You wouldn't happen to be from the city, would you? I'm looking for someone - a Clarissa Fisher?"
That voice isn't directed at you, but your head snaps in its direction nonetheless. Whoever's speaking, they're being drowned out by the general hubbub of the station. You can't find them.
"No? You aren't? Are you - you carry yourself like an official, is all, forgive me for - "
"I work for the Railway MP, mister. May I please get to my desk?"
"R-Right! Apologies. Miss Fisher? Where are you? Economic Development Director-General Clarissa Fisher?"
The crowd loosens up a little bit, and eventually you are directed - by the sound of the man's increasingly desperate cries for your attention - to an area just off the main concourse. There, you find the speaker - he's a young-looking, bespectacled man, a bit shorter than you, dressed immaculately in a gray, buttoned official's uniform and auburn tie. He's scanning the crowd nervously, standing on the tips of his toes as if to peer behind the mass of people.
You walk up to him and clear your throat authoritatively.
He tips his head slightly. "Excuse me, I don't have the time. I'm looking for a lady - a worker from Central Labor. You'd best be on your way."
You frown slightly. "I'd say you've found her, then."
"Hmm?" He turns to get a good look at you. He stares you up and down. "That - you're… you're not in uniform. You're not pulling my leg, are you? I'm… not in the mood for joking. Miss Clarissa Fisher could be coming at any moment."
You sigh, and fish into your breast pocket. You take out a little badge - something Central Labor gave you on your way out. "Is this enough proof?"
He snatches it, and studies it closely. He traces his index finger across the contours of the eagled insignia. "...yep, I'd recognize that emblem anywhere. Director-General Clarissa V. Fisher, right there in the polished brass. I'm… surprised!" He hands it back to you. "You central labor folk aren't usually so laidback about… well, anything."
"They did give me a uniform. I, erm, just didn't think it would be necessary on the first day."
"Well, pardon me for gussying up this morning! I look a fool, don't I?" The young man laughs. He extends his hand. "Isaac Shih, Miss Clarissa. Your new administrative aide, starting today. Pleased to meet ya!"
"...I'm getting an assistant?"
"Yep!" He beams. "You'll find no better secretary nor bureaucrat this side of the East Continental, miss! I've worked for Central Labor for so long that the uniform's kinda become part of me. Anyway, the Mayor wanted me to direct you to your lodgings - get you situated on your first day and all. Shall we go now? Oh! And I can take your stuff for you, if you'd rather - "
"No, please, I'm more than capable," you say quickly. "You don't have to act like my manservant, Isaac."
"Oh! Well." He studies you for a moment. "...are you sure?"
To be honest, this is quite a lot of luggage you're carrying…
"Ain't no shame in accepting help, Director." Isaac insists. "Consider it a teaser of Eastern hospitality."
You hesitate. After a moment's silence, you awkwardly beckon for him to take one of the smaller bags you're carrying. He does so dutifully, and starts walking slightly ahead of you.
"The Bureaucrat's Domicile is about a five-minute walk from the station," Isaac says. "The Mayor's there, and he's prepared a room for you in one of the historic suites! Wait'll you see it, Director, you'll be sleeping like a Founder!"
"Um, ahh - that's… far too kind. Really. I just - I don't need anything besides a basic residence and an office to work in - "
"Oh oh, but Mayor Juhel's going to be insistent." He shrugs. "He, ahh… really wanted to smooch up to you. Spent the past week agonizing over ways he could… you know. Influence you to, erm, well… keep your hands off of - wait! No. That's too uncharitable. To be nice and diplomatic with you, he was scared sick that you were going to come here and start demanding unreasonable things of us, like Central Labor is wont to do, and he's been spending the last week or so thinking up ways to… well… soothe you into submission. With gifts, and concessions, luxuries..."
Isaac's ears turn red, and he turns away from you. It's very strange, and not at all comfortable, being at the other end of the power dynamic.
"Well. I hope you'll be happy to know that there's no love lost between myself and Central Labor. I'm… not even a bureaucrat, to be truthful. Not in the slightest. I spent most of my career writing for a living."
"...really?" Isaac perks up. "That's… wonderful! I mean - " He blushes. "As your administrative aide, all the strictly bureaucratic stuff will be left up to me. I was actually briefed about this - I was told, explicitly, not to expect you to have any bureaucratic experience. Stupid ole me, though, I thought that meant I'd be dealing with some sort of high-falootin', wine-drinkin', bougie Metropole politician-type. Kinda lady who's never talked to a laborer in her life, and whose entire experience with farming is numbers on a spreadsheet - "
He coughs. "...gosh darn, that… came off a bit harsh, didn't it? Pardon me. I'm not usually this rude, honest."
"Oh no no, please, I wanted you to keep going. Believe me; I know exactly how arrogant and uptight the assholes running the show can be. I've had too many run-ins with that special kind of bureaucrat, the kind who thinks their position puts them above such ephemeral forces that us proles have to bow down to - like the common law. Or the Amberrish Constitution. Or public corruption hearings."
"...how the fu- " - he coughs. "'Scuse me. How in tarnation did Central Labor let somebody like you come over here to represent them?" Isaac asks, bluntly.
"Truthfully? I do not know." You answer. You shift your feet slightly. "...though I do have a few friends in elected offices. That might have helped."
"Well!" Isaac declares, with a little bit of a spring to his step, "I think, whatever arcane bureaucratic forces brought you to Hooversdam, we're better off for it! Heh! To think, I was so worried about my new boss that I could hardly even get any sl - "
Isaac seized up, stumbling, and the weight of your luggage nearly causes him to lose balance.
"Isaac?" You clutch his shoulder. "...what just happened?"
"Oh! Nothing, nothing, I just - it's suddenly occurred to me how exhausted I am, ha-ha." He grins sheepishly, and straightens up. It's only now that you notice the bags under his eyes. "No matter! I… let's… would… would you look at that! We're already here."
You arrive at a long, columned, brick building surrounded by other brick buildings - this must be some sort of government district, you realize. Isaac ushers you inside, his heaving and straining becoming more and more apparent. The building itself is eerily quiet - for a place that housed the entire bureaucratic staff of Hooversdam, you expected for there to be more hubbub.
"Marble and brick. What is this, some sort of bourgeois town?" You jest.
"You know, it's kinda funny. Neo-American is supposed to embody the egalitarian, socialist virtues of our forefathers, yet you aren't the first person who's thought that!" Isaac laughs.
The two of you enter a little clockwork-operated elevator and Isaac pushes the button for the fourth floor. "You ever been inside a Neo-American house?" he asks.
You shake your head no.
"Ahah, I thought so. I'm not sure if you'll like it or hate it, to be honest." He snickers. "It's a bit decadent, innit? Americans, I tell you. So full of contradictions."
A little bell inside the elevator dings, and Isaac leads you out onto a long corridor. To your surprise, he directs you to a door at the very end. Your private room is over-furnished - a wide canopy bed; a swivel chair and a desk stocked with parchment, books, and pens; a little kitchen, a long dining table, and a few chairs; a fireplace and a sofa; several rows of bookshelves; and a telly for good measure. In a corner, you notice a lot of boxes - presumably, your belongings that were shipped in advance.
"Mister Mayor?" Isaac calls out from behind you. There's no response; the room is empty. "Juhel? Mayor Juuuheeeeel… Huh. Guess something important came up. He was really insistent about being here to meet you."
"A shame," you say. You turn to him. "Is... that all, Isaac?"
"Well, erm, not quite. You see, uh…" Isaac yawns, loudly. "...I… was supposed to guide you around town, make rounds with you, introduce you with local pillars of the community, all so I could… sugarcoat it, so you'd stay out of our way, and all that, but… and I hate to shirk my duties, but the only thing that's kept me going these past weeks has been prepping myself mentally for dealing with another Central Labor asshole, which you, quite plainly, aren't."
"I'm… happy you think so?"
"Well, you seem a good enough sort. Anyway, by your - " he yawns again " - leave, I'll gladly retire early, and get back to you in the morning."
"Isaac, if you need sleep, by God, go get some," you say indignantly. "You don't need to phrase it like you're asking for permission."
"Thank the Founders, I thought I was pushing my luck!" He chuckles, putting down your things. He seems very dizzy all of a sudden. "That's… the last time I… take any of those darn… caffeine patches. Heh."
"...should I help you get to your bed?"
"Me? Naw. I live, like, right here." He leans over and pushes open one of the doors. Peeking inside, you notice that there are still moving boxes in his flat. "Me and Juhel and the groundskeeper Philippe all live on this floor. We're close. Thanks for offering, though! I can take care of myself from here. Since the Mayor's not around, I guess you have free reign of the city - you read the thing that said that you're only meant to operate at the discretion of the local authority, right?"
"I did."
"Wonderful! So, erm. Till the Mayor gets to you, you don't actually have any obligations or duties, if you're worried about that. Is that everything? It's all I care to remember okay bye - "
Abruptly, he shuts the door, and you hear a loud creaking sound come from Isaac's room. It sounds like he's completely collapsed on his bed. Poor thing.
You're about to return to your room to think up your next course of action when Isaac's bed suddenly creaks loudly again, you hear footsteps, and then the door's swinging open. "OH!" he shouts. "One last thing. A boy was coming 'round here yesterday, introduced himself as a Ferdy-something, said he worked for the press? Seemed to know you, but I turned him away."
"Comrade Ferdy's here?" You grimace slightly.
"Ah, so you do know him!" He cringes. "I, ah… was a bit harsh with him last I met. I don't really like journalists. They're a bit skeevy for my tastes - always digging around in the mud, trying to find things to make us in the bureaucracy look bad. Almost worse than politicians in some respects. But if he's your friend, then obviously I was mistaken to judge him so quickly, ha-ha…"
"You're mistaken, actually. We're far from friends. He works for the Committee of Propaganda - quite the temperamental sort, too. Very enthusiastic, very patriotic. It's a shame the Propcom sunk their fangs into him; I'm sure he would have made a fine columnist. With a bit of refinement, he might have been as good as me." You smirk a little.
"Oh?" It takes him a moment to realize his mistake. He blinks, slowly. "...oh."
He sputters and blusters on the spot, like the dying breaths of a coal-fired steam engine. You can't help but giggle. Yeah - not everyone appreciates the press. But whatcha gonna do? It's not like he seemed especially malicious about his dislike. You've certainly faced worse. Sometimes, you've got to learn to take it in stride.
"Go to sleep, Isaac. You've had a long day. Do you want tomorrow off, too?"
"P-Please don't fire me!" He panics. "I'm a good secretary, really! I don't wanna go back to the Metropole, I promise I'll fix myself, you'll see - "
"Postoite - " you quickly correct yourself. "Ey, ey, hang on, hang on! I never said I meant to fire you! I just - would you prefer not to work tomorrow? So you can sleep in?"
Isaac shakes his head. He stares at you. "...you really aren't a bureaucrat, are you?" He sighs, shivering slightly. "Where I used to work, 'would you like to day the day off' is Borospeak for 'don't bother showing up for work tomorrow.'"
"Well… I do want you not to show up for work tomorrow. But only for tomorrow, if you can bear it. After that, I might need your help, seeing as I'm completely in the dark when it comes to bureaucratic matters."
"...right!" Isaac looks sleepy again, and leagues more embarrassed. "Hoo, whee, that was too much excitement for one afternoon. Erm. Thanks, for, letting me keep my job. And for excusing my faux pas. G'night?"
"Goodnight," you say, glancing at the mid-afternoon glare of the sun.
Isaac closes his door, and that's the last of you see of him for the rest of the afternoon. Again: Poor thing.
You take a moment to look over your flat. It's nice and functional, you think, but a bit excessively opulent. You wonder what exactly you're expected to do with so much furniture. You wander over to the kitchen, where you find a bowl full of cookies and a wine bottle labelled in a language you cannot read laying out in the open. You take a cookie and pop it into your mouth. To your surprise, it's still warm, and filled with chewy, decadent dark chocolate. You decide to leave the wine for later.
At a nearby window, you hang up the draperies, letting a little bit of sun seep in. The grounds below you are devoid of passersby, but you can make out some commotion in the direction of the train station. Opposite from you stands another marble-columned "Neo-American" building, which looks to be some sort of congress or assembly.
You notice a map tacked to the wall that seems to highlight various places of interest within Hooversdam. The map divides Hooversdam proper into three distinct regions - The Government District, Freeman's Square, and The Hoover Villas, with everything outside city limits labelled as "Outer Wards". You trace your index finger across the various labelled buildings. Curiously, there's a whole section of the Outer Wards that's been scratched out - a location far from the city itself, where the contour lines indicate there must be some sort of big canyon, or maybe a river. You can sort of make out the word "CAV" and maybe "RDAM", but the rest is illegible. Peculiar. Even more peculiar is that your friend Mariyah's Craft Union HQ is quite clearly demarcated right next to the scratched out bit of the map.
How interesting.
It occurs to you that the sun will be coming down soon, and you might best use this time to try and poke around Hooversdam. See how it ticks. The conductor was right, in a way - if you wanted to have any hope of helping things around here, you'd best learn what exactly the town is like. On the other hand, this Mayor Juhel fellow sounds moderately important, and you're sure he'll be back from whatever business whisked him away soon.
But still. You're not exactly itching to meet him.
What do?
[] You wait in your room, dutifully. Perhaps you can distract yourself with a nice game of shogi and a few glasses of that wine.
[] Maybe it would be better to look for the esteemed Mayor Juhel. Explore around the Government District; see if you can find him in one of the big buildings. It'll be a good chance to get acquainted with the levers of governance here, at any rate.
[] Look around the Freeman's Square. Maybe you can find a good place to get a drink, or some sort of high-end kitchen. You're starving, after all.
[] The Hoover Villas sound interesting. According to the map, there's even a church there, the "Fifth Christist Church of Our Lord." Might be worth a look. Hopefully they aren't as bad as the Western Pravoslavniks.
[] Find out what that section of the map next to your friend's place of residence leads to. You have already made plans to visit Mariyah tomorrow. No need to spoil the surprise.
2C Ryu to 3B. I seize your Golden General.
No, I'm afraid I'm not making any plans to return to the city any time soon. It seems Uncle Wickter is needing me more and more ever since we started our little project in the basement of the Union Headquarters. It's nice to be needed, of course - but I can't help but feel like I'm growing up too soon. I've so many responsibilities now, which feels very weird.
Why do you ask?
As for you, I hope you are doing well. It's been a month since you were sacked from Red Social, and you've yet to mention where you're working now. I know you've never had an interest in engineering, but again, I'd love to have you with me at the Black River Craft Union. I'm not a particularly good teacher, but Uncle Wickter is. We could run you through the basics. Engineering is a wonderful craft, once you get down to it; Miss Sadako calls what we do in art in and of itself. And, out here, you'll never have to deal with those military meddlers you hate so much ever again.
Plus, I want to see you more often. A weekend at the end of every season just isn't enough. You'll love the people here, I promise. I hope we can meet again some time soon.
Take care,
Mariyah Wrys
P.S. Are you still single? A young man was recently inducted into the workshop floor - he served aboard the IAS Spirit of Freedom as the Captain's mate, and he's quite animated, lively, and cultured. He reminds me of you. I know you hate navy men - really, I do - but this one's different, I promise you. There's nothing military about him. I'm sure you two would make a great pair. I'd love to introduce you two. He's a good catch, if I dare say so.
You smile to yourself. Mariyah, sweet Mariyah - she's going to be in for quite the surprise when you drop by her home tomorrow. You find it amusing and exasperating in equal measures that she's still trying to play matchmaker for you - but you suppose that's par for the course. Wouldn't be the same if she weren't trying to get you to hook up with someone. You're half-convinced that she's doing it ironically, at this point - to get you back for all the times you tried to do the same back in Silkfal.
Steam hisses beneath your feet as you stroll out onto the platform. A stream of laborers flanks you on both sides, making you feel slightly out-of-place (and very bourgeoisie) in your blouse and slacks. You're left kind of adrift, flowing with the general stream of the train traffic, before eventually being pushed out onto the somewhat cool afternoon sun.
"Excuse me! 'Scuse meee! You! With the uniform? You wouldn't happen to be from the city, would you? I'm looking for someone - a Clarissa Fisher?"
That voice isn't directed at you, but your head snaps in its direction nonetheless. Whoever's speaking, they're being drowned out by the general hubbub of the station. You can't find them.
"No? You aren't? Are you - you carry yourself like an official, is all, forgive me for - "
"I work for the Railway MP, mister. May I please get to my desk?"
"R-Right! Apologies. Miss Fisher? Where are you? Economic Development Director-General Clarissa Fisher?"
The crowd loosens up a little bit, and eventually you are directed - by the sound of the man's increasingly desperate cries for your attention - to an area just off the main concourse. There, you find the speaker - he's a young-looking, bespectacled man, a bit shorter than you, dressed immaculately in a gray, buttoned official's uniform and auburn tie. He's scanning the crowd nervously, standing on the tips of his toes as if to peer behind the mass of people.
You walk up to him and clear your throat authoritatively.
He tips his head slightly. "Excuse me, I don't have the time. I'm looking for a lady - a worker from Central Labor. You'd best be on your way."
You frown slightly. "I'd say you've found her, then."
"Hmm?" He turns to get a good look at you. He stares you up and down. "That - you're… you're not in uniform. You're not pulling my leg, are you? I'm… not in the mood for joking. Miss Clarissa Fisher could be coming at any moment."
You sigh, and fish into your breast pocket. You take out a little badge - something Central Labor gave you on your way out. "Is this enough proof?"
He snatches it, and studies it closely. He traces his index finger across the contours of the eagled insignia. "...yep, I'd recognize that emblem anywhere. Director-General Clarissa V. Fisher, right there in the polished brass. I'm… surprised!" He hands it back to you. "You central labor folk aren't usually so laidback about… well, anything."
"They did give me a uniform. I, erm, just didn't think it would be necessary on the first day."
"Well, pardon me for gussying up this morning! I look a fool, don't I?" The young man laughs. He extends his hand. "Isaac Shih, Miss Clarissa. Your new administrative aide, starting today. Pleased to meet ya!"
"...I'm getting an assistant?"
"Yep!" He beams. "You'll find no better secretary nor bureaucrat this side of the East Continental, miss! I've worked for Central Labor for so long that the uniform's kinda become part of me. Anyway, the Mayor wanted me to direct you to your lodgings - get you situated on your first day and all. Shall we go now? Oh! And I can take your stuff for you, if you'd rather - "
"No, please, I'm more than capable," you say quickly. "You don't have to act like my manservant, Isaac."
"Oh! Well." He studies you for a moment. "...are you sure?"
To be honest, this is quite a lot of luggage you're carrying…
"Ain't no shame in accepting help, Director." Isaac insists. "Consider it a teaser of Eastern hospitality."
You hesitate. After a moment's silence, you awkwardly beckon for him to take one of the smaller bags you're carrying. He does so dutifully, and starts walking slightly ahead of you.
"The Bureaucrat's Domicile is about a five-minute walk from the station," Isaac says. "The Mayor's there, and he's prepared a room for you in one of the historic suites! Wait'll you see it, Director, you'll be sleeping like a Founder!"
"Um, ahh - that's… far too kind. Really. I just - I don't need anything besides a basic residence and an office to work in - "
"Oh oh, but Mayor Juhel's going to be insistent." He shrugs. "He, ahh… really wanted to smooch up to you. Spent the past week agonizing over ways he could… you know. Influence you to, erm, well… keep your hands off of - wait! No. That's too uncharitable. To be nice and diplomatic with you, he was scared sick that you were going to come here and start demanding unreasonable things of us, like Central Labor is wont to do, and he's been spending the last week or so thinking up ways to… well… soothe you into submission. With gifts, and concessions, luxuries..."
Isaac's ears turn red, and he turns away from you. It's very strange, and not at all comfortable, being at the other end of the power dynamic.
"Well. I hope you'll be happy to know that there's no love lost between myself and Central Labor. I'm… not even a bureaucrat, to be truthful. Not in the slightest. I spent most of my career writing for a living."
"...really?" Isaac perks up. "That's… wonderful! I mean - " He blushes. "As your administrative aide, all the strictly bureaucratic stuff will be left up to me. I was actually briefed about this - I was told, explicitly, not to expect you to have any bureaucratic experience. Stupid ole me, though, I thought that meant I'd be dealing with some sort of high-falootin', wine-drinkin', bougie Metropole politician-type. Kinda lady who's never talked to a laborer in her life, and whose entire experience with farming is numbers on a spreadsheet - "
He coughs. "...gosh darn, that… came off a bit harsh, didn't it? Pardon me. I'm not usually this rude, honest."
"Oh no no, please, I wanted you to keep going. Believe me; I know exactly how arrogant and uptight the assholes running the show can be. I've had too many run-ins with that special kind of bureaucrat, the kind who thinks their position puts them above such ephemeral forces that us proles have to bow down to - like the common law. Or the Amberrish Constitution. Or public corruption hearings."
"...how the fu- " - he coughs. "'Scuse me. How in tarnation did Central Labor let somebody like you come over here to represent them?" Isaac asks, bluntly.
"Truthfully? I do not know." You answer. You shift your feet slightly. "...though I do have a few friends in elected offices. That might have helped."
"Well!" Isaac declares, with a little bit of a spring to his step, "I think, whatever arcane bureaucratic forces brought you to Hooversdam, we're better off for it! Heh! To think, I was so worried about my new boss that I could hardly even get any sl - "
Isaac seized up, stumbling, and the weight of your luggage nearly causes him to lose balance.
"Isaac?" You clutch his shoulder. "...what just happened?"
"Oh! Nothing, nothing, I just - it's suddenly occurred to me how exhausted I am, ha-ha." He grins sheepishly, and straightens up. It's only now that you notice the bags under his eyes. "No matter! I… let's… would… would you look at that! We're already here."
You arrive at a long, columned, brick building surrounded by other brick buildings - this must be some sort of government district, you realize. Isaac ushers you inside, his heaving and straining becoming more and more apparent. The building itself is eerily quiet - for a place that housed the entire bureaucratic staff of Hooversdam, you expected for there to be more hubbub.
"Marble and brick. What is this, some sort of bourgeois town?" You jest.
"You know, it's kinda funny. Neo-American is supposed to embody the egalitarian, socialist virtues of our forefathers, yet you aren't the first person who's thought that!" Isaac laughs.
The two of you enter a little clockwork-operated elevator and Isaac pushes the button for the fourth floor. "You ever been inside a Neo-American house?" he asks.
You shake your head no.
"Ahah, I thought so. I'm not sure if you'll like it or hate it, to be honest." He snickers. "It's a bit decadent, innit? Americans, I tell you. So full of contradictions."
A little bell inside the elevator dings, and Isaac leads you out onto a long corridor. To your surprise, he directs you to a door at the very end. Your private room is over-furnished - a wide canopy bed; a swivel chair and a desk stocked with parchment, books, and pens; a little kitchen, a long dining table, and a few chairs; a fireplace and a sofa; several rows of bookshelves; and a telly for good measure. In a corner, you notice a lot of boxes - presumably, your belongings that were shipped in advance.
"Mister Mayor?" Isaac calls out from behind you. There's no response; the room is empty. "Juhel? Mayor Juuuheeeeel… Huh. Guess something important came up. He was really insistent about being here to meet you."
"A shame," you say. You turn to him. "Is... that all, Isaac?"
"Well, erm, not quite. You see, uh…" Isaac yawns, loudly. "...I… was supposed to guide you around town, make rounds with you, introduce you with local pillars of the community, all so I could… sugarcoat it, so you'd stay out of our way, and all that, but… and I hate to shirk my duties, but the only thing that's kept me going these past weeks has been prepping myself mentally for dealing with another Central Labor asshole, which you, quite plainly, aren't."
"I'm… happy you think so?"
"Well, you seem a good enough sort. Anyway, by your - " he yawns again " - leave, I'll gladly retire early, and get back to you in the morning."
"Isaac, if you need sleep, by God, go get some," you say indignantly. "You don't need to phrase it like you're asking for permission."
"Thank the Founders, I thought I was pushing my luck!" He chuckles, putting down your things. He seems very dizzy all of a sudden. "That's… the last time I… take any of those darn… caffeine patches. Heh."
"...should I help you get to your bed?"
"Me? Naw. I live, like, right here." He leans over and pushes open one of the doors. Peeking inside, you notice that there are still moving boxes in his flat. "Me and Juhel and the groundskeeper Philippe all live on this floor. We're close. Thanks for offering, though! I can take care of myself from here. Since the Mayor's not around, I guess you have free reign of the city - you read the thing that said that you're only meant to operate at the discretion of the local authority, right?"
"I did."
"Wonderful! So, erm. Till the Mayor gets to you, you don't actually have any obligations or duties, if you're worried about that. Is that everything? It's all I care to remember okay bye - "
Abruptly, he shuts the door, and you hear a loud creaking sound come from Isaac's room. It sounds like he's completely collapsed on his bed. Poor thing.
You're about to return to your room to think up your next course of action when Isaac's bed suddenly creaks loudly again, you hear footsteps, and then the door's swinging open. "OH!" he shouts. "One last thing. A boy was coming 'round here yesterday, introduced himself as a Ferdy-something, said he worked for the press? Seemed to know you, but I turned him away."
"Comrade Ferdy's here?" You grimace slightly.
"Ah, so you do know him!" He cringes. "I, ah… was a bit harsh with him last I met. I don't really like journalists. They're a bit skeevy for my tastes - always digging around in the mud, trying to find things to make us in the bureaucracy look bad. Almost worse than politicians in some respects. But if he's your friend, then obviously I was mistaken to judge him so quickly, ha-ha…"
"You're mistaken, actually. We're far from friends. He works for the Committee of Propaganda - quite the temperamental sort, too. Very enthusiastic, very patriotic. It's a shame the Propcom sunk their fangs into him; I'm sure he would have made a fine columnist. With a bit of refinement, he might have been as good as me." You smirk a little.
"Oh?" It takes him a moment to realize his mistake. He blinks, slowly. "...oh."
He sputters and blusters on the spot, like the dying breaths of a coal-fired steam engine. You can't help but giggle. Yeah - not everyone appreciates the press. But whatcha gonna do? It's not like he seemed especially malicious about his dislike. You've certainly faced worse. Sometimes, you've got to learn to take it in stride.
"Go to sleep, Isaac. You've had a long day. Do you want tomorrow off, too?"
"P-Please don't fire me!" He panics. "I'm a good secretary, really! I don't wanna go back to the Metropole, I promise I'll fix myself, you'll see - "
"Postoite - " you quickly correct yourself. "Ey, ey, hang on, hang on! I never said I meant to fire you! I just - would you prefer not to work tomorrow? So you can sleep in?"
Isaac shakes his head. He stares at you. "...you really aren't a bureaucrat, are you?" He sighs, shivering slightly. "Where I used to work, 'would you like to day the day off' is Borospeak for 'don't bother showing up for work tomorrow.'"
"Well… I do want you not to show up for work tomorrow. But only for tomorrow, if you can bear it. After that, I might need your help, seeing as I'm completely in the dark when it comes to bureaucratic matters."
"...right!" Isaac looks sleepy again, and leagues more embarrassed. "Hoo, whee, that was too much excitement for one afternoon. Erm. Thanks, for, letting me keep my job. And for excusing my faux pas. G'night?"
"Goodnight," you say, glancing at the mid-afternoon glare of the sun.
Isaac closes his door, and that's the last of you see of him for the rest of the afternoon. Again: Poor thing.
You take a moment to look over your flat. It's nice and functional, you think, but a bit excessively opulent. You wonder what exactly you're expected to do with so much furniture. You wander over to the kitchen, where you find a bowl full of cookies and a wine bottle labelled in a language you cannot read laying out in the open. You take a cookie and pop it into your mouth. To your surprise, it's still warm, and filled with chewy, decadent dark chocolate. You decide to leave the wine for later.
At a nearby window, you hang up the draperies, letting a little bit of sun seep in. The grounds below you are devoid of passersby, but you can make out some commotion in the direction of the train station. Opposite from you stands another marble-columned "Neo-American" building, which looks to be some sort of congress or assembly.
You notice a map tacked to the wall that seems to highlight various places of interest within Hooversdam. The map divides Hooversdam proper into three distinct regions - The Government District, Freeman's Square, and The Hoover Villas, with everything outside city limits labelled as "Outer Wards". You trace your index finger across the various labelled buildings. Curiously, there's a whole section of the Outer Wards that's been scratched out - a location far from the city itself, where the contour lines indicate there must be some sort of big canyon, or maybe a river. You can sort of make out the word "CAV" and maybe "RDAM", but the rest is illegible. Peculiar. Even more peculiar is that your friend Mariyah's Craft Union HQ is quite clearly demarcated right next to the scratched out bit of the map.
How interesting.
It occurs to you that the sun will be coming down soon, and you might best use this time to try and poke around Hooversdam. See how it ticks. The conductor was right, in a way - if you wanted to have any hope of helping things around here, you'd best learn what exactly the town is like. On the other hand, this Mayor Juhel fellow sounds moderately important, and you're sure he'll be back from whatever business whisked him away soon.
But still. You're not exactly itching to meet him.
What do?
[] You wait in your room, dutifully. Perhaps you can distract yourself with a nice game of shogi and a few glasses of that wine.
[] Maybe it would be better to look for the esteemed Mayor Juhel. Explore around the Government District; see if you can find him in one of the big buildings. It'll be a good chance to get acquainted with the levers of governance here, at any rate.
[] Look around the Freeman's Square. Maybe you can find a good place to get a drink, or some sort of high-end kitchen. You're starving, after all.
[] The Hoover Villas sound interesting. According to the map, there's even a church there, the "Fifth Christist Church of Our Lord." Might be worth a look. Hopefully they aren't as bad as the Western Pravoslavniks.
- Location
- Academy City
- Pronouns
- They
[X] Look around the Freeman's Square. Maybe you can find a good place to get a drink, or some sort of high-end kitchen. You're starving, after all.