On Hominid Infrastructure and Urban Governance
Doubloon
Quelle horreur!
On Hominid Infrastructure and Urban Governance
Close to eight years after Navy Day, Home's population still steadily climbs up the middle tens-of-millions. Despite long centuries of adaptation to Home's thin atmosphere, the vast majority still live within a pressurized arcology dome. The only true megacity is the planetary capital–also named Home–which houses all organs of government and the headquarters of every major corporation, in addition to its population of nine million. A few regional capitals also crack the million mark, but most settlements are significantly smaller.
Hominid infrastructure has eschewed intercity road networks for the bulk transit capability and cold-weather hardening of railroads. People may travel between cities on elevated-track maglev trains, and where cargo can't be shipped by containerized nuclear icebreaker, it's run on slower conventional lines. Because of the concentration of buildings into arcology structures, the outside of cities resemble industrial rail yards more than suburbs.
The size of the planet and the recency of its settlement mean most of Home is wilderness. Long hours may pass on a train journey, looking out over permafrost steppe or coniferous forests without end. Rumor has it that people who reject the oligarchic dominance of Home's institutions live out there, as small communes or hunter-gatherer bands enabled by smuggling industrial goods from the domes.
One notices a city on the horizon by the sudden presence of resource extraction operations; clear-cutting, open-pit mines, industrial farms. These take place an acceptable distance from population centers, but not so far as to inhibit supply. The corporate cliques have cartelized to avoid unnecessary competition in key sectors, so every uranium mine will have the same branding, every algae processing compound, and so on.
The largest dome in any given city is inevitably given over to housing and service needs, but is surrounded by ancillary domes under corporate governance. One compound might be operated by a chemical refining subsidiary, another filled by everything needed to manufacture electronics. The largest (but least militarized) corporate entity on Home is the concern dedicated to electricity and water infrastructure, whose vested interest is necessary for any settlement–and though they are a symptom of a planet governed in the interests of corrupt oligarchs, their energy is at least green.
The government operates on a lean budget, and so does not provide public services as such. People typically acquire housing, utilities, education and so on through a corporation. The specifics vary. Most often they're offered as benefits of employment, some people subscribe to tiered subscription plans bought with hard currency… unemployment is guardedly kept low for the purpose of avoiding public unrest, but those unlucky few live abysmally.
The main exceptions to this rule are soldiers, those in possession of hereditary bureaucratic office, and the extremely wealthy for whom the system is written. The former two classes of people enjoy a more conventional relationship with the state, and the privileged position of the latter does not merit explaining.
Close to eight years after Navy Day, Home's population still steadily climbs up the middle tens-of-millions. Despite long centuries of adaptation to Home's thin atmosphere, the vast majority still live within a pressurized arcology dome. The only true megacity is the planetary capital–also named Home–which houses all organs of government and the headquarters of every major corporation, in addition to its population of nine million. A few regional capitals also crack the million mark, but most settlements are significantly smaller.
Hominid infrastructure has eschewed intercity road networks for the bulk transit capability and cold-weather hardening of railroads. People may travel between cities on elevated-track maglev trains, and where cargo can't be shipped by containerized nuclear icebreaker, it's run on slower conventional lines. Because of the concentration of buildings into arcology structures, the outside of cities resemble industrial rail yards more than suburbs.
The size of the planet and the recency of its settlement mean most of Home is wilderness. Long hours may pass on a train journey, looking out over permafrost steppe or coniferous forests without end. Rumor has it that people who reject the oligarchic dominance of Home's institutions live out there, as small communes or hunter-gatherer bands enabled by smuggling industrial goods from the domes.
One notices a city on the horizon by the sudden presence of resource extraction operations; clear-cutting, open-pit mines, industrial farms. These take place an acceptable distance from population centers, but not so far as to inhibit supply. The corporate cliques have cartelized to avoid unnecessary competition in key sectors, so every uranium mine will have the same branding, every algae processing compound, and so on.
The largest dome in any given city is inevitably given over to housing and service needs, but is surrounded by ancillary domes under corporate governance. One compound might be operated by a chemical refining subsidiary, another filled by everything needed to manufacture electronics. The largest (but least militarized) corporate entity on Home is the concern dedicated to electricity and water infrastructure, whose vested interest is necessary for any settlement–and though they are a symptom of a planet governed in the interests of corrupt oligarchs, their energy is at least green.
The government operates on a lean budget, and so does not provide public services as such. People typically acquire housing, utilities, education and so on through a corporation. The specifics vary. Most often they're offered as benefits of employment, some people subscribe to tiered subscription plans bought with hard currency… unemployment is guardedly kept low for the purpose of avoiding public unrest, but those unlucky few live abysmally.
The main exceptions to this rule are soldiers, those in possession of hereditary bureaucratic office, and the extremely wealthy for whom the system is written. The former two classes of people enjoy a more conventional relationship with the state, and the privileged position of the latter does not merit explaining.
