09-04-2010, 11:55 PM
Another "Mal's Bored At Work" production!
Following up on the one I did for Genaros, I'm writing a short few paragraphs on all the listed stations at L5. So far I've gotten the three Bernal habitats finished, and more will come as I need to avoid productivity or just get bored. Comments, ideas and brickbats welcome. --Mal
Island One
Island One is a dream only a little older than I am - it was come up with in the early ‘70s. And the place feels like it’s trapped in the 1970s. The habitat is almost like somebody scooped up a chunk of Irvine and rolled into a suburban burrito. Bland, lifeless house after bland, lifeless house cover the interior surface area. The one public building in the place is a looming plasticrete monster that’s part Buckminster Fuller, part Bauhaus and all ugly.
The people are grey, older than the usual residents of Fenspace by at least ten years, and they’re surly. “Don’t you have somewhere to drive to?” was a question I’d get every now and then on my tour of the main settlement, usually with a sneer.
It’s sad, really; the people asking me this were at one point the revolutionary vanguard of the space colonization movement. Unfortunately, like many a vanguard before them they figured that when the Revolution came they’d be the ones in the driver’s seat. When it didn’t happen, they retreated into a shell of nostalgia and bitterness. Most of the locals don’t leave Island One often, and even then it’s only to hit up the Convention and exposit on how the rest of the Fen are doing it wrong.
This is where dreams deferred go to die.
In all this gloom and ‘70s hell, there is one spot of light: the Robert A. Wilson Memorial Chicken Ranch. Set up by a few of the last of the red-hot hippies, the Ranch sits 180 degrees off the main settlement, “so somebody’s always looking down on somebody,” our guide (and an old friend of the family, from back in the lean & hungry years) cheerfully explained. It operates as a good old-fashioned commune, everybody pitching in and helping with the work.
Mostly the Ranch raises chickens for trade with the habitat’s other residents, but they have other income streams. One of these is quite possibly the finest breed of cannabis that I have ever tried in my life. Barnard Black is all home-grown in specially-prepared soil, none of that hydroponics stuff the hemp growers on Mars use, and is doped up with a secret blend of neurotransmitters. It’s all quite potent, more than a little psychedelic and this is true: the first time (as far as I can determine) an AI ever got totally stoned on quality hash was when I saw Sora take a couple of tokes on some Barnard Black for politeness’ sake. She spent the rest of the evening giggling quietly on the couch[1].
[size=smaller][1] Of course, science demands that we test this property, to see if the effect is limited to Captain Hasegawa or if it will affect a wider variety of artificial intelligences. To this end, we’ve arranged for five kilos of Barnard Black to be sent to a trusted test subject. Have fun, Greenie. --GLaDOS.[/size]
Central Station
Genaros is a cyberpunk theme park; Island One is ‘70s kitsch. Central is aggressively European. The interior is laid out like a small town from central casting’s idea of Europe, Rural Generic. The streets are moonrock cobblestone, and laid down to suggest that some wandering band of post-Roman barbarians decided to settle there and the town just grew naturally out from around their camp. Getting lost in Central’s winding streets and alleys is a refreshing change from the heavily planned American-style road grid in Kandor and Port Luna; almost like a two-dimensional Port Phobos.
Politics is the lifeblood of Central. The locals make no attempt to disguise their ambition to become the capital city (station, habitat, whatever) of the L5 cluster. They’ve got an uphill battle ahead of them: Stellvia is the closest thing to a de facto capital in the cluster, and that’s not likely to change any time in the future. Still, the mood in Central’s many cafes and salons remains optimistic. “Scott will get bored eventually,” they say. “He’ll turn away from politics back to making money, and then we’ll have our chance to federate.”
The politically-charged atmosphere and the laid-back European landscape make for an interestingly collegiate air, and indeed several ‘Daneside institutions have established branch offices here. I spent a lazy Thursday afternoon in a pub off the market square arguing post-capitalist structures in Fenspace with an earnest young Maoist just up from the University of Otago[2]. There are a lot of people like my debate partner, fendanes and mundanes both, living and working in Central these days. The station has an energy about it that reminds me of the heady three weeks on the Island back in 2009, when pretty much everybody aloft at the time got together and hammered out the Articles of Convention. They’re trying to build something new out here, and the place is filled with bright-eyed optimism.
I wish them the best of luck.
[size=smaller][2] I’m pleased to report that syndicalism beat state capitalism, three rounds out of three. --MF[/size]
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery
FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information
"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"
Following up on the one I did for Genaros, I'm writing a short few paragraphs on all the listed stations at L5. So far I've gotten the three Bernal habitats finished, and more will come as I need to avoid productivity or just get bored. Comments, ideas and brickbats welcome. --Mal
Island One
Island One is a dream only a little older than I am - it was come up with in the early ‘70s. And the place feels like it’s trapped in the 1970s. The habitat is almost like somebody scooped up a chunk of Irvine and rolled into a suburban burrito. Bland, lifeless house after bland, lifeless house cover the interior surface area. The one public building in the place is a looming plasticrete monster that’s part Buckminster Fuller, part Bauhaus and all ugly.
The people are grey, older than the usual residents of Fenspace by at least ten years, and they’re surly. “Don’t you have somewhere to drive to?” was a question I’d get every now and then on my tour of the main settlement, usually with a sneer.
It’s sad, really; the people asking me this were at one point the revolutionary vanguard of the space colonization movement. Unfortunately, like many a vanguard before them they figured that when the Revolution came they’d be the ones in the driver’s seat. When it didn’t happen, they retreated into a shell of nostalgia and bitterness. Most of the locals don’t leave Island One often, and even then it’s only to hit up the Convention and exposit on how the rest of the Fen are doing it wrong.
This is where dreams deferred go to die.
In all this gloom and ‘70s hell, there is one spot of light: the Robert A. Wilson Memorial Chicken Ranch. Set up by a few of the last of the red-hot hippies, the Ranch sits 180 degrees off the main settlement, “so somebody’s always looking down on somebody,” our guide (and an old friend of the family, from back in the lean & hungry years) cheerfully explained. It operates as a good old-fashioned commune, everybody pitching in and helping with the work.
Mostly the Ranch raises chickens for trade with the habitat’s other residents, but they have other income streams. One of these is quite possibly the finest breed of cannabis that I have ever tried in my life. Barnard Black is all home-grown in specially-prepared soil, none of that hydroponics stuff the hemp growers on Mars use, and is doped up with a secret blend of neurotransmitters. It’s all quite potent, more than a little psychedelic and this is true: the first time (as far as I can determine) an AI ever got totally stoned on quality hash was when I saw Sora take a couple of tokes on some Barnard Black for politeness’ sake. She spent the rest of the evening giggling quietly on the couch[1].
[size=smaller][1] Of course, science demands that we test this property, to see if the effect is limited to Captain Hasegawa or if it will affect a wider variety of artificial intelligences. To this end, we’ve arranged for five kilos of Barnard Black to be sent to a trusted test subject. Have fun, Greenie. --GLaDOS.[/size]
Central Station
Genaros is a cyberpunk theme park; Island One is ‘70s kitsch. Central is aggressively European. The interior is laid out like a small town from central casting’s idea of Europe, Rural Generic. The streets are moonrock cobblestone, and laid down to suggest that some wandering band of post-Roman barbarians decided to settle there and the town just grew naturally out from around their camp. Getting lost in Central’s winding streets and alleys is a refreshing change from the heavily planned American-style road grid in Kandor and Port Luna; almost like a two-dimensional Port Phobos.
Politics is the lifeblood of Central. The locals make no attempt to disguise their ambition to become the capital city (station, habitat, whatever) of the L5 cluster. They’ve got an uphill battle ahead of them: Stellvia is the closest thing to a de facto capital in the cluster, and that’s not likely to change any time in the future. Still, the mood in Central’s many cafes and salons remains optimistic. “Scott will get bored eventually,” they say. “He’ll turn away from politics back to making money, and then we’ll have our chance to federate.”
The politically-charged atmosphere and the laid-back European landscape make for an interestingly collegiate air, and indeed several ‘Daneside institutions have established branch offices here. I spent a lazy Thursday afternoon in a pub off the market square arguing post-capitalist structures in Fenspace with an earnest young Maoist just up from the University of Otago[2]. There are a lot of people like my debate partner, fendanes and mundanes both, living and working in Central these days. The station has an energy about it that reminds me of the heady three weeks on the Island back in 2009, when pretty much everybody aloft at the time got together and hammered out the Articles of Convention. They’re trying to build something new out here, and the place is filled with bright-eyed optimism.
I wish them the best of luck.
[size=smaller][2] I’m pleased to report that syndicalism beat state capitalism, three rounds out of three. --MF[/size]
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery
FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information
"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"
![[Image: kabe_01_v102.jpg]](http://leijistudio.free.fr/museum/albums/userpics/10004/kabe_01_v102.jpg)