Interstellar Politics


The Lunar Disc was abuzz with an excitement that could be felt in most everyone, a solid thrum of energy that reverberated throughout the grand cruiser. Morning was barely upon the Eastern Prospects but Orleans was awake. Despite a restless night she was wide eyed and alert, squirming with anticipation. The annual rig dock had finally arrived, their huge station filling any eastern window one cared to look out of. Touchdown had been scheduled for that evening. For the next five days the Proxies would walk amongst the inhabitants of the Disc – though they never allowed any human aboard their vessel. The tradition of the Proxies would tonight become everyone’s, the bright, sometimes gaudy festival of masks descending with a tangible imminency.

Even the morning’s news – of which there was a lot of – couldn’t bring Orleans down, though she studied the broadcast thoughtfully on her PDA. Through the drone of violent headlines she found herself amazed that despite the prevelance of interplanetary and even intergalictic war, civil fighting still ravaged Earth. You’d think, she thought to herself, that there woudl be some sort of comradery between those left on the surface. Some peaceful psuedo-soverign uniting under one banner. The startling stupidity of sentient life never failed to shock Orleans, though she took it in her stride today.

The future humankind had been promised was still just that, some far off maybe. Hell, we don’t even have hoverboards, you’d think that would be a priority. Anti-grav fields were still classed highly dangerous to anything caught beneath them by the governing bodies that be, a blatant display of science refusing, once again, to be tamed.

Ignorning the dissapointing present she found herself in Orleans instead focused on the immediate future. She was to meet the girls in the canteena and spend the day preparing for the masquerade, a masked ball to welcome the Proxies to the Disc, and to begin the festivities. Today was exciting.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:
And you too, dear reader, welcome, to Min-Series March. Let’s get pumped.

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~ by Joseph Blame on March 1, 2011.

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