Having a chat: Orchestrated chaos.
05 Jan 2023Alysianne
I check my holo-pad again as I arrive at an intersection. The footpath I’m following crosses another here, and a half-dozen elevator doors line one wall. I squint at the holographic display, turning the map a few times to get a sense of where I’m supposed to go.So… It should just be one floor down, across a couple streets… Alright, pretty straightforward.
Within a few minutes, I stand before the grandiose entrance of what looks like a decommissioned luxury hotel, rising the whole height of the floor and certainly going far deeper. I’m on the outermost layers of the Coriolis starport already, those with higher gravity and a view out into Thompson Dock’s trenches.
Faded gold, blocky letters above the entrance read “The Andromeda” and, written across it in slightly newer yet still chipped paint, “Canonn Research Interstellar facility”.
Well at least there’s that. This should be the right place then, although the premises are… unexpected. I shrug to myself, and make my way across the plaza to the entrance.
The place is positively bustling with activity as I step through the revolving glass doors. A unique blend of faded grandness and total chaos dominates the scene. While this hall boasts an impressive architecture, with imposing columns and carpeted stairs, it also looks like it was recently the victim of a hurricane. Which I guess, metaphorically, it was: if this is really the place I’m looking for, it’s only been properly moved into a couple days ago at most.
People are milling about, up and down stairs, a large crowd of workers and Commanders alike grunting, muttering, calling out to each other in a chaotic din of overlapping voices. I try to attract the attention of a passing worker with his arms full of boxes, but he doesn’t notice me.
As I follow him with my gaze however, a small cluster of people gathered around a man catches my eye. The man is holding a notepad and points at different ends of the hall with his pen as he talks energetically with the people surrounding him. He looks generally overworked.
I glance over the general hubbub of the place once more, taking in the chaotic waltz of moving furniture and ambling Commanders like myself trying to find their bearings. The overworked air of the fellow definitely means he’s one of those in charge, if he has to deal with this mess. My decision made, I make my way across to him.
“No, no, no, I’m afraid that’s just not the purpose of this place, Commander,” the man is saying as I approach. “Now if you’ll excuse me -” he turns to another one of the figures gathered around him. “Flat Galaxy Society, you said?” The figure nods, and he scribbles something on his notepad before gesturing upstairs with his pen. “Honoured to have you here. You’ll find the Representatives’ Bureau, uh… Last I checked it was right there? They might have moved it though. Ask around, you’ll figure it out. Now, who’s next?”
His gaze crosses mine, so I take the opportunity to push through the throng and, with a smile, ask him, “Is this place the, uh, the Defense Council of Humanity?”
Stars, what a corny name. Scientists can be so endearing sometimes.
The man beams. “Indeed it is! Although I understand your confusion, you might have noticed we’re just moving in. I am Canonn Councillor Starbeaver, proud founder of this here institution - and you are?”
“Alysianne Solé, pleased to meet you. I’m here on behalf of the Federal Liberal Command? We represent Felicia Winters’s interests.”
The researcher’s expression lights up with recognition. “Ohhh, one of you folks, I see. Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard an impromptu Powers summit has begun in our facilities?” I nod. “Perfect. You’ll find the Representatives’ Office where I directed that Flat Galaxy fellow, and I’m pretty sure you can also officialise your ambassadorship for… Winters, was it? Yes, you should be able to do that there.” Before I can thank the man, he turns to another one of the onlookers while scribbling on his notepad again. “Now, what do you want?” I dimly hear him ask before being pushed out of the way by an impatient-looking hulk of a man boasting Anti-Xeno Initiative medals.
A bit taken aback, I stand there for a moment before eventually turning my back to the scene and studying the upstairs mezzanine he pointed towards. I can vaguely discern the Flat Galaxy Commander up there, looking around with a confused air. Ah. So they did move the Representatives’… Agency.
A sheer wall of plastic boxes suddenly blocks out my vision as a worker shuffles past me, cargo balancing precariously in her arms. Very precariously.
“You need help with that?” I call out, hoping to find something to do to get my bearings. But the milling crowd is too loud, and the stocky woman has already passed me. Within a second all I can see of her is the topmost box of her pile sticking out from the crowd. I follow it with my eyes for a moment: weaving, bobbing… and suddenly toppling over, with a clamour of shouts quickly rising in its wake.
Oh.
I look back to the mezzanine again, then to the packed stairs, and sigh.
This was going to be a long, long day.
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This is completely unintentional, but it's now been exactly one year since I've posted my first logbook!
Now you might notice that all of this time does not translate to a lot of story. My earlier logs might have been quite long, but I only posted a handful before burning out from the game for half a year... I'm back now though, somewhat, I hope!
Anyhow, I now have some inspiration and a general plan for my character's story (kudos to J-Dog 162 for the invaluable advice, definitely check her story out if you haven't yet). So expect to see me post a bit more in the coming months! Fingers crossed. Real Life has a way of getting, well, in the way, heh.
Enjoy this mini-series I've concocted in the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy it!