En el Barrio

[Oneida]

Solis

“You can’t seriously tell me that Mikros Hīrōs is better than Havok!” Carlos threw down his CarrickAether Dullahan controller.

“I don’t know,” Francisco shrugged “Giannis’ stories just seem more real. It’s more interesting than the ‘grand adventures’ of La Foca and whatever bullshit they come up with every week.”

“Man I don’t even fucking know you anymore,” Carlos said, grabbing a handful of cheddar potato chips before picking up his controller again.

“Tio!” Francisco shouted “Don’t get that shit on my controller its brand new!

The door wacked into the bell hanging in front of it, catching the attention of Francisco and Carlos. The two turned and saw Xavier come in, in full McBonifacius uniform, and throw down his bag on a stool before heading behind the counter.

“Oye!” Carlos shouted “You can’t just come in here like you own the place now, you left the Infinito Comics family, Señor McBonifacius.”

“Fuck off,” Xavier replied, pulling a Sgt Piobar from the fridge “I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, he’s upset,” Carlos turned to Francisco, “very” Francisco shouted back. The two boys got up and walked over to the stools, sitting down across from Xavier.

“Everything alright amigo?” Francisco asked.

“So this asshole, clearly not from here, comes into the store and orders a McBonifacius Burger and goes ‘I don’t want any pickles, extra McSpecial Sauce’” Xavier paused to chug his soda “So I put the order in, make the tio the sandwich and I give it to him. He comes back yelling like five minutes later saying there are pickles on this. So I make it again – this time I make it personally and I make sure there’s no fucking pickles. Sure enough, the fucker comes back and goes full on Cussian at me, screaming that there’s pickles on his fucking sandwich. So, I grab the fucking thing, open it up and sure enough there’s no fucking pickles.”

“Sure enough then,” Francisco nodded in agreement with Carlos.

“So he yells at me: Why do I taste pickles? And I lose my god damn mind and scream ‘because the fucking McSpecial Sauce has pickles in it. Now I don’t know if I have a fucking job,” Xavier sighs and leans onto the counter. After a while of silence, he opens his eyes and his tone changes completely.

“Oh! Is this the latest issue of Mikros Hīrōs?” He said pointing “I’ve been trying to get my hands on this for days!”

“Oh you’re fucking joking,” Carlos yelled, to Francisco’s laughter.

 

[Oneida]

Navales

Maribel’s hand grabbed the knob of the door, but she paused before turning it. She looked back down at the hallway. It had the words “Office for the Rehabilitation of Deviant Behavior: Navales Division” sprawled on it. She sighed, and turned the knob entering the room. The room was tiny, only a conference table and two chairs were arranged. In the one chair sat a man, who wouldn’t make eye contact with Maribel.

“Why are we here again?” Maribel asked, the man didn’t answer “Andrés!”

“Just give me the sentence,” Andrés mumbled, still refusing to make eye contact.

Maribel turned his gaze down to the folder in front of her, flipping it open and laying out the documents. She looked back at Andrés and moved her hair behind her ear.

“The Rehabilitation Examination Board concluded its review your case,” she began “This is a second offense, which normally doesn’t carry a significant weight…but Andrés this was a large escalation. The sheer amount of money and physical blud they found…it concerned them.”

Andrés didn’t answer.

“They feel the original prescription was not sufficient to meet your needs,” she continued “so they’re adjusting it. A work assignment and new living space was deemed necessary. To get you out of this neighborhood, teach you new skills.”

“Where are they sending me?”

“A restorative housing facility in Mara,” she continued “they have assigned you to the mining operations up there.”

“Fucking mining!?” Andrés yelled.

“Do you have any idea what it took to keep you out of prison? The strings I had to pull, the case I had to make. Do you have any idea what kind of position you put me in? I thought we were doing well Andrés, I thought we were making progress. I was getting ready to recommend commutation – and then they find this,” Maribel cut him off, with the same anger he had.

The two stared at each other, both upset but for different reasons. Eventually Andrés looked down and covered his face in his hands.

“The Board received approval from the judge for the plan. Five years, half way through they’ll revaluate for commutation. I imagine they can get you out of the Restorative Facility, but the job assignments tend to see themselves to completion,” Maribel continued “I really need you to not fuck this up, Andrés, you know what happens if there’s a third infraction. I can’t help after that.”

“When do I leave?” he asked, mumbling.

“Sign these papers and you’ll be on your way. Do you understand the assignment as I’ve read it?” she asked, Andrés nodded “Do you have questions?” Andrés shook his head.

“Please make this work, Andrés, I know that so few have been there for you, but I am."

 

[Oneida]

Solis

It was only 52 degrees (11 celcius) but Calle de Cortéz was buzzing with life as waitresses were seating patrons at the outside area of Paso del Tiempo. The street was only lit by the string of lights crisscrossing overheard, a few lamps on the wall, and the stars themselves. It was situated in such a way that the bustling Friday night life of Solis seemed distant and that the only noise was the combined chatter of the other patrons, their voices all molding together into an unintelligible noise.

Lautaro thanked his waitress as she sat him at his table and picked up the “Reservado” sign. She struck a match and lit the candle in the middle of the table.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked.

“Yes, please, uh thank you,” Lautaro replied in such broken Aurarian you’d imagine he wasn’t a native speaker. The waitress just smiled, however. “I’ll come back in a few, then.”

Lautaro looked around the sea of people passing by, looking for any of them that would match the picture – none. He quickly pulled out his iBone to check for notifications, of which he had none. Still, surely, it was possible his phone malfunctioned and simply didn’t send him the notification. So, he opened Findr, saw he had nothing but even more so, Elías hadn’t been on for 37min.

“Mierda,” he thought to himself. He put his phone back into his pocket and realized he never removed the sticker from the side of his new pair of pants that showed the size. Embarrassed, he grabbed the sticker, crumbled it up and stuck it into his pocket. When he looked up, there he was.

“Lautaro?” Elías asked.

“Yes!” he shouted, too anxiously. He didn’t know whether to stand or to keep sitting, so he ended up in some weird, awkward, middle way as Elías sat down.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” he said “I’m sorry I’m late…I honestly didn’t think you’d show up on time.”

“I like to be different, I guess,” Lautaro laughed “I’m glad you came.”

The waitress returned, handed down menus, and asked if she could start them off with a drink.

 

[Oneida]

Hadigualis

Two pieces of fabric overheard blocked the otherwise daunting Himyari Sun from beaming down on the gentlemen. The sun did have the effect of glistening across the surface of the Sangreverde, which made the lake seem to sparkle. The lake was unusually calm today, the water being disturbed only by the many sailors leisurely gliding by.

“Governor Al-Kairouani,” Carlos Mendoza, Exec VP of Standard Energy, leaned back in his chair “It’s always a pleasure to have your company.”

Amastan ibn Izemrasen Al-Kairouani was staring at the skyline of Hadigualis in the distance when Mendoza spoke. The sight of the lake, leading up to the city which stood in front of the Yugerten Mountains always captivated the Governor, even if he had seen it a least a thousand times. He turned his attention to the corporate executive in front of him.

“Likewise, Carlos,” he said “It has certainly been a while since we last met.”

A waitress came by and refilled their cups with green tea and the steam rose. Even on a hot day, the tea was relaxing.

“If I may,” Carlos began “I would like to switch our conversation to politics.”

“Of course,” the Governor nodded “Solis is a long way to travel for tea and biscuits.”

“I will be frank with you,” Carlos continued “Standard Energy lost quite a bit of money in the East. We had a large investment that seemingly disappeared. An internal investigation is being launched to find out just who fucked up but the fact is we’re in a bit of bind.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Carlos,” the Governor sipped his tea – knowing what ask was to come next.

“As you know, our interest has always been to increase Auraria’s energy independence from the Two Kingdoms and Pelasgia. We’re struggling, but there is some progress. This isn’t news to you, but we have strong evidence that there are oil supplies off the Sharjah Cove – we could develop that at a reduced cost and it would have the added benefit of growing the region’s economy and increasing our own independence. It’s a win-win,” Carlos explained.

“The waters over the protected reefs?” The Governor asked rhetorically.

“I promise nothing but the highest standards of safety and environmental quality will be employed – that is always our priority.”


“I’m sorry, Carlos,” the Governor’s tone was sincere “Those waters are protected. The biodiversity there is one of a kind and I cannot permit their exploitation to save your company’s bank account.”

“It’s not my company’s bank account, it’s the Republic’s financial well-being,” Carlos protested.

“No,” the Governor calming replied shaking his head “I’m not sure if you’ve ever surveyed those waters but they are remarkable. All it takes is one small mistake and suddenly billions are lost, oil destroys the shores, and the biodiversity that has made the region so famous is lost.”

“Governor...I must protest,” Carlos was cut off.

“I know you must and I appreciate your enthusiasm,” the Governor interjected “But the answer is no. You are not the first person to bring me on a boat, take me out here, serve tea and cakes and then ask me for something they know damn well I will not support. My responsibility is to protect the best interests of the Elamrans. What is best for Elamrans is best for the Republic. Now, you are a good friend and I would hate for your time remaining here to be spent in such disagreement. You’ve come all this way, let us enjoy the lake.”

Carlos leaned back in his chair and sipped on his tea.

 

[Oneida]

The Floor of the National Court
Solis

The Chamber Floor was buzzing with activity as the Speaker gaveled the room to silence. Still, the loud roar of the 410 Delegates to the National Court only turned soft as the Speaker called “The Members will take their seats” four times before the majority of them actually followed.

“The gentlewoman from Baeza has the floor,” the Speaker called.

“Thank you, Mr. Speaker,” Delegate Elvyra Magdalena Caminante rose. She straightened her jacket and moved her hair to behind her ear, clearing her throat, she leaned into the microphone.

“Mr. Speaker, Esteemed Delegates of the Court,” she began “I represent the village of Baeza, outside of the Great City of Vesilla in Andaluz. As a member of the National Federation of Labor, the interest of the Aurarian Working Class is my paramount concern and in my district it is all the more critical as a result of SkyTrain’s primary assembly plant.”

“The biggest of the three manufacturing plants in Auraria, the factory is a critical component of my district’s sense of livelihood…and pride. When I was campaigning in CXCVII (2016), I can’t tell you all the houses I walked into that had children playing with models of SkyTrain’s latest planes. We’re a proud town of hard workers contributing to one of the country’s most lucrative industries.”

She stopped, only briefly, as a clamber of cheers erupted at the mention of “hard workers.”

“As much as SkyTrain has transformed my district, we should remember how much we have contributed to SkyTrain. This company has been awarded billions in government contracts, incentives, subsidies – you name it, over the years to grow and compete with the RRF Flugiewerke Empire. It’s for this reason I was so shocked and dismayed to learn that the company is building a factory not in Auraria, but in Serenierre. That’s millions of pasetas, thousands of jobs, going to benefit Serenierre – not the Aurarian Worker. I demand that an investigation be opened up into the process behind this decision. SkyTrain was built on public support and it damn well ought to support the public!”

Delegate Caminante seated as the Court erupted into cheers and boos simultaneously, prompting the Speaker to grab his gavel once again.

 

[Oneida]

Villa Azul

The sound of the white satin curtains gliding across the stone floor from the morning winds brought Fadrique to consciousness. The Elamran sun beamed through the open door and windows of the apartment he was in. As he came to, the sound of birds chirping and pedestrians getting about their day filled the room. The morning’s bliss was abruptly ended by the harsh aftereffects of last night’s bliss.

“Fuck,” he squeezed his temples as his head pulsated in pain, he wasn’t getting any younger after all. He climbed out of bed, completely bare, and stumbled a bit before finally catching his footing. “By Sugaar, the thunderstorms in my head,” he muttered to himself.

As he took a step, he kicked a pewter wine glass, which spritzed Elamran sweet wine across the floor as it cracked against the stone wall. The noise caused a woman to appear at the door.

“Oh,” she said “ihla, tifawin. Amek tellid?”

“Uhh,” Fadrique knew he’d mispronounce it “Andar webdus?”

The woman laughed and leaned against the door, pointing to a closed, semi-broken door to her left.

“I speak the northern language,” she said in perfect Aurarian, albeit for a heavy Elamran accent “When you are done, join me down in the courtyard…the sun is passed its highest point...you must be hungry. Do not forget your pants.”

Fadrique smiled and walked toward the bathroom. When he came out, he gathered his things and looked down the riad to the courtyard. A small fountain was going with fish in it, palm trees and flowers dotted the walls. He saw the woman, whose name he hoped would never come up, standing next to his rental moped. The three floors to the courtyard seemed like a monumental task, but he was very hungry.

When he arrived in the courtyard, three small children ran past him, playing calling in the Elamran language. When he looked to the corner, however – both the woman and his moped were gone.

“Fuck,” he called out.