• Testing the Waters

    A visit to the doctor’s might usually be a cause for concern, but it was a lucky chance for me. I bumped into Director Walker. Thanks to that, I was able to bend his ear about the goings on in the Wasteland! The white marbled walls of the Avalon meeting room give the place an austere feeling, the gentle spinning of an astrolabe the only movement.

    Walker explained Avalon’s interest in the infection. “We heard there was some issues, something to do with an ex-Avalon facility that has been abandoned for some time.” Their investigations have yet to determine conclusively whether the facility itself is involved in the outbreak. However, Walker conceded that “a third party might have moved in, and been messing with the equipment.”

    What exactly was this Avalon facility working on? Why was it abandoned? Walker remained tight-lipped. “That’s classified.” What he would share was Avalon’s findings. Whatever this infection was, it appears to be organic and “aggressively mutagenic”. Enlarged and highly aggressive beasts, dangerous even for the Wasteland, have been sighted in the vicinity of the former Avalon lab. 

    On a more sombre note, Walker confirmed that both of the patients who had been taken into Avalon’s care from the Wasteland had since died. However, they were able to learn a little about the disease from studying the pair. “It seems to increase aggression, as well as mutation.” This increased aggression, it seems, was the cause of the ultimate fate of the deceased patients. “They broke out of containment, and started injuring each other, and themselves…It wasn’t pretty.” The remains were released to the Wasteland for cremation. Walker assures me there is no biohazard risk from this.

    The question becomes, how far is Avalon willing to go to see this issue dealt with? “If it ends up becoming prohibitively expensive for the corporation then we would need to see about some sort of payment but, given that this is related to an ex-Avalon facility, we’re hoping to work with them to get this sorted out.” I leaned in. What if that meant putting a stop to whomever has set up shop in that facility? What if that meant Wastelanders entering those classified labs? Would Avalon support that? “Absolutely. We will work with the people of the Wasteland to make sure that whatever is going on this facility is dealt with.”

    Finally, he explained that Avalon had, in fact, synthesised a prototype cure which was in the hands of the Scraptown authorities. He poured cold water on the idea of a panacea, however. “Creating a cure is going to be difficult because by the time we have made a cure for a sample that we have of an infection, it could be something else. We may have to create cures for each individual.” Designer drugs for individual cases certainly sounds like the type of solution that might quickly become “prohibitively expensive”.

    Avalon has shown a great deal of goodwill thus far in their handling of the mysterious disease. Spending resources on finding a cure and an openness to an expedition to the source of the virus are both to be welcomed. However, without binding commitments, the Wastelanders will have to hope that this goodwill doesn’t dry up before they get their cure. And their answers.

    In other news, today saw the opening statements made in the case of Calcaterra v. Jereslimah. We heard the Calcaterra’s lawyer, Louis Thorne, give an emotive speech about the impact of death in the family. In it, he referred to Antonio Florentine as ‘Antonio Calcaterra’. By elevating their late employee to a member of the family, the Calcaterras were staking their reputation on the outcome of this case. Thorne, when I caught up to him after proceedings, expressed confidence in their victory. He called for Jereslimah to face punishment to “the standard called for by the law.”

    Jereslimah gave little ground as he faced charges for the alleged escalation that led to the death of Florentine and the synthetics accompanying him. He stated under questioning that no escalation had occurred, and that Florentine’s placement of a gun facing the clerk on the counter at the GEB store where the shootout took place constituted a threat. No verdict has yet been reached, and the trial continues tomorrow.

    No clean and easy resolutions for us today. From the sands outside the city to the courts halfway to the top, life doesn’t always tie things up in a nice little bow for us. What does a just outcome look like for the Wastelanders? For the trial? For this city? It’s a little early to call it, but we’ll keep following the stories, here on Down From the Heights.

  • Crash Out

    Hello Salvation City! Did you miss it? Yesterday was the inaugural Union Heights Air Derby, sponsored by Traverse! I arrived early to secure my spot. The same plaza once buzzed by General Ironjaw’s Valkyrie airships buzzed with excitement as the race was slated to begin.

    The atmosphere was electric as the racers shot off and onlookers from all over the city cheered on their racers. Ships of all shapes and sizes representing sponsorships from every corporation as well as independents blazed round a floating ring track. Standing in the crowd, we had no idea what kind of a show we were in for. If you want to see how it all turned out for yourself, check out the full coverage on TridentLive!

    Photo by Kailani Winters

    The oddities started small, with a mysterious unregistered vehicle attempting to join the race, completing several laps before careening off into the lower city. This disruption didn’t put a damper on the fierce competition though, with Haru from Masaru making history as the inaugural victor of the Union Heights Air Derby, screaming into first past GEB sponsored Cerulian and a mysterious independent racer.

    The celebratory mood was marred by a slight confusion. Hadn’t Trident’s Vivienne “Big Money” been in second? Where had she gone? Joy turned to horror as we spotted her ship careening off course. The usually graceful vessel lumbered away from the track and towards Trident Tower. In what must have taken a heroic effort, Vivienne managed to regain control, avoiding a collision with both the GEB and Trident Towers. With the adrenaline higher than at the photo finish, we were all left wondering. What the hell just happened?

    The buffet tables and champagne at the top of Trident Tower felt a little at odds with the mood as we waited uneasily for our racers to safely land. After we checked in on Vivienne, who was, fortunately, along with all the other racers, safe and sound, we asked her for details. “The ship…I was doing well, and then it just started careening, there were electrical issues, the lights were flashing.” FL0UND3R suggested the malfunctions were timed right as she pulled into second place. Big Money seemed too shaken up to be certain, but added. “They should have at least done some final checks on the ships before I flew. I really thought that I would crash into a giant Orb.”

    The surprises didn’t stop there. TraVerse security guards in gleaming armour appeared, carrying high powered weapons. The independent racer, who had won third place was swiftly arrested and escorted from the premises. The explanation given by the suited man leading them? “Crimes against TraVerse.” The racer, apparently, had a history of fixing races, one that had flown under the radar…until he flew too close to the sun. His backer, a man named Stax O’Munni, was openly distraught at the news, with the racer’s third place position having apparently been poised to earn him a large sum of money.

    Between a rogue racer, a near miss tragedy and accusations of race fixing, I was starting to wonder if this was the Air Derby or Air Debacle. Yet to the ever affable silver-haired Ellek Myth of TraVerse, it would seem nothing at all was awry. He spoke breezily to our reporters of the work the Derby had taken to organise and how pleased he was with the inter-corporate co-operation that the event represented.

    When it came to questions of race fixing or sabotage, he firmly denied any culpability for TraVerse. “We inspect every ship the day before. As per the contract signed with TraVerse, you leave the ship in our hangar, with all modifications, so we can check they are legal and safe. We do a background check, security check, and a test flight. Then we deliver the ship to every corporation. If there was an issue with the engine of the ship for Trident, there was maybe some tampering or modification after we delivered it.”

    When I reviewed that answer on the tape, I was shocked by what I was hearing. Whatever happened on that ship, if it had crashed into a corporate building, we could have been talking about serious loss of life. This wasn’t the moment to discuss contracts or culpability. 

    Trident has called for a full and open investigation of what occurred on that ship, as well as confirmation if any other ships were tampered with, as well as a review of security processes and future prevention measures. I, for one, will be waiting eagerly for the results of any such review.

  • Up for a Scrap

    What can I say about Scraptown? The hardscrabble shanty town that lies between this side of Salvation City and the rest of Hellion has always been a bit of a mystery to her upstairs neighbours. In some ways inseparable from the city in economic and practical terms, in others, a complete alternate world, with their own laws, culture and customs, and a fierce independent streak. I have been wanting to visit properly for a while, but it’s the rumours of plague that call me down to the desert.

    Scraptown’s Three Laws are posted up outside town.

    Despite their reservations, the medical staff at the Scraptown clinic were willing to share with me what they know. There is certainly a strange condition suffered by some Wasteland travellers: those afflicted suffer from strange boils and a greenish tint to their veins. There are also incidents of the infected acting strangely, even rumours of communication with a ‘hive mind’. 

    They were quick, however, to emphasise that this is not a plague. Only those who ventured into the Wastes have become ill, with person-to-person transmission appearing extremely rare. “As long as we wear masks and actually take showers, no-one’s getting infected.” 

    With such outlandish symptoms, it’s not surprising that I’m not the first city slicker to take an interest. But do-gooders from the city are met with suspicion. “They came down here, and they told me all about it, and it’s like an evil amoeba that keeps changing”, one clinic employee tells me. We’ll call her Flowers. “I don’t trust them either.” She adds at the prompting of one of her coworkers. 

    Mistrust goes double for those affiliated with a corporation. The staff insinuate that visiting Avalon staff ‘kidnapped’ the infected patients, spiriting them away to the city. When I raised this with a Scraptown Councillor, who we’ll call Duster, he was quick to make clear these allegations were unfounded. “I wouldn’t say kidnapped. They willingly left with them.” 

    Duster admitted to me their concern that loose talk of plague would lead to the city shutting down the elevator that carries people and cargo to and from Scraptown. Despite the independent spirit of the shanty town, their connections to Salvation City are just as vital as those scavenged in the wasteland.

    Yet such links aren’t without tension. As I walked the town, many mentioned their mistrust of city folk, and their bringing of outside problems down to the Wastelands. I asked Duster his own views on the subject.  His response was laconic. “They can come, if they want to pay our people to take them out there.” He followed. “If you come down here and take stuff from the wasteland, you should have to go through us.”  And if they don’t like it? “They can come down a different elevator.” And if they try to force the issue? He gestures towards the Scraptown laws.

    Three laws are painted on a huge metal sheet at the gateway. “Shootin’ in town gets ya shot”. “If you’re gonna fight, do it in the ring. (We like to watch)”. “If you’re gonna steal a car, get ready to die for it.” I don’t need him to spell things out any further.

    Trust, it seems to me, is as hard to come by as clean water here in Scraptown. At the Oasis Grille, water is sold as “Basic” and “Deluxe” (the latter proudly ‘grit free!’). The Grille itself and the bubbly owner Jyggal offers a welcome hospitality and a break from the beating suns. Yet after a few much needed gulps of ‘Deluxe’ water, I can’t help but think it’s the relationship between Wastelanders and City folk that isn’t ‘grit free’.

    That isn’t to say that this mistrust isn’t well founded. Old grievances die hard, and there are clearly too many to count. Caught between the grasping city above, and the harsh wastelands filled with beasts and bandits beyond their walls, it’s not hard to see why the trust of outsiders is a luxury many Wastelanders can’t afford.

    But none of us – no sector of this city can stand alone. Crises like the infection demonstrate that clearly. Without the expertise from the city and without the Scraptowners’ willingness to co-operate, however fragile, our understanding of the infection would be poorer. If this was an airborne infection, a co-ordinated response could mean the difference of thousands of lives. It means spending our effort worrying about how to fight disease, not each other.

    But how do we bridge the divide? As I made my way home, I knew I didn’t have the answer. But in Row 32 I bumped into Jimothy Young! While you may know him from shows like CEO of Sex, you might not know that Jimothy spent time in Scraptown. The Scraptowners even called him one of their own. I asked him how he thinks this tension can be resolved. “Understanding their rules, and respecting their culture.” He said. “I’m still not sure if I consider myself truly a Scraptowner, but they’ve been really wonderful people.”

    “I have had thoughts at times about whether I want to [move out there]. There’s far more of a community there than anywhere else I’ve been to.” He said, though he looked a little conflicted. “It’s a family, really.” 

    There’s a lesson in the tale. Trust isn’t something we can expect or demand. It has to be built, on both sides, on a foundation of respect. Scraptown is our gateway to the Wastes, and therefore, to the rest of Hellion. That means what affects one will always affect the other. So when you’re there, follow the rules, and be honest about your intentions. As for the Scraptowners? I hope they can find the strength to give us a chance.

    One last thing before I call it a night! Today was the first round of the Valkyrie Fighting Tournament. (Footage still available on Trident pay per view!) Tomorrow, brought to you by TraVerse, the Air Derby will bring the roar of the engine right to your door! Trident’s own Vivienne “Big Money” will be racing with our corporate colours, so be sure to cheer her on! Not one to be beaten easily, Jimothy himself will also be racing in the TraVerse colours! It’s sure to be a hell of a showdown that you won’t want to miss! 

  • Manufactured Conflict

    A digital rain is falling in Union Heights. Packets of corrupted data dash themselves against the street, while those without cyber eyes walk by, unseeing. Those brave or foolish enough to open the data receive memory errors, or relive past events. There is, as of yet, no official explanation. 

    Not much is known about these data packets. However, one thing is clear – they are dangerous. Further investigation has shown erratic code executions – a virus with an unknown purpose that self-deletes after execution. Anyone interacting with this malicious and dangerous code should receive a full diagnostic and clear any potential corrupted data.

    If only strange data was the only thing flying through the air of Union Heights. Today, gunfire rang out at the GEB building. One organic accompanied by three synthetics held up the ground floor storefront. All four were killed in the ensuing shoot-out with corporate personnel and CRO operatives, who were present on the scene.

    My colleague, Arthur Leywin, was able to catch up with Kenji Bushida, a Shometsu employee and participant in the shootout. Kenji attributed the attempted robbery to “a Mafiosi type family attempting to move into Union Heights and other parts of the city.” He went on to add that “These were likely gangbangers roaming the streets looking for trouble, trying to make a name for themselves.”

    Antonio Florentine, the organic who was pronounced dead on the scene, is an employee of the Calcaterra group. The Calcaterra group owns buildings and construction projects across the city, and has often been haunted by allegations of links to organised crime. Damon Calcaterra, head of the family run concern, forcefully rejects such labels, calling them “unfounded accusations by malicious business competitors.” These rumours have never been successfully proven in court.


    This wasn’t Mr. Bushida’s first time dealing with Antonio. The synthetics from that very shootout were the same ones he had repaired in his shop that morning. Employees at the Shometsu repair facility allege that they were forced to release them after Antonio and his associates refused to pay their bills. “I was cornered by five of them. They told me, effectively, to ‘Enjoy seeing them around more often’. At that point, they had essentially stolen corporate property.” Kenji told Arthur.

    Kenji gathered Shometsu personnel and hired guns to pursue said stolen property. They found them at the GEB building in a tense standoff with Corporate Response Operations negotiator Jereslimah and others. Negotiations, however, ended swiftly.

    C.R.O operatives Jereslimah, Lobo-621, Kenji Bushida and Jericho Blackmoor conduct weapons training.

    In the aftermath the alleged mafiosi were dead, with no other casualties at the scene. The remains of the synthetics were seized by Shometsu as corporate property in lieu of the unpaid debts. Some witnesses expressed concern that the corporate response had escalated a dangerous situation too quickly. The Calcaterra group has stated their intent to initiate legal proceedings along these lines. In defending the late Florentine, however, they will find themselves needing to explain his actions in both the GEB and Shometsu facilities.

    Our witness, Kenji, did not believe this was the end of the escalation. “Considering some of the fiery words against me, and against Jereslimah and others…I’m certain this won’t be the last of them we see.”

    “I’m sure CRO operatives as well as corporate security will be able to handle it and keep things safe up here. As for the rest of the city…we’ll have to look into how deep the parasites go.”

    It’s good to hear that none of the public were harmed in the crossfire. Kenji attributes his own survival to a GEB built glass door. “Took plenty of shots – stayed standing, and no breakage.” Quite the endorsement! I don’t think I’ll be testing it on my own front door any time soon.

    Between the rain of corrupted data from above, and synthetics being used as cannon fodder in shootouts on our streets; I’m reminded of yesterday’s comment from the Anglers. The world of technology does indeed come with dangers. As the city faces them, will cooler heads prevail, or will we see a shooting war come to our streets? We’ll continue to follow this story right here on Down from the Heights.

  • What’s Your Angle?

    Today, I woke up in the Undercity. No, I haven’t lost my job just yet! Chasing sources for yesterday’s column, I took a little tumble into the depths of the Water District. Fortunately, my dignity took more damage than my body. I’ll start today by offering my sincere appreciation to Doctor Blake, who graciously let me stay overnight to recuperate, as well as the clientele of the Storm Drain pub, who kept their laughter to an appropriate minimum when I burst in, sopping wet.

    This morning, clean and dry, I could now focus on what brought me to the Undercity. You may have heard from my colleagues on Catch of the Day that people wearing blue have been disappearing from the Undercity. (A story that gave me some pause, given the colour of my own jacket!)  These disappearances are of members of the ‘Anglers’ gang, a criminal organisation known to recruit unregistered mages.

    Eyewitness reports alleged the presence of a Masaru “Fury”; a special force unit employed by Masaru to tackle magical threats. Masaru’s spokesperson denied these claims, saying that they had no records of a Fury being deployed to the Undercity. They suggested the individual in question was simply “dressed as one”, and speculated that it may be the same rogue mage responsible for the tragic death of Bradley Miller.

    The Anglers met me in an abandoned metro car. The Undercity is more than a sewer system; what remains of a subway tunnel drills through the caverns, leaving a trail of decaying support beams and rusting train cars in its wake. The Grove’s magical vines, tall as skyscrapers, are always growing. Whatever hold the world of technology had on this place has been reclaimed.

    I introduced myself, and they declined to do the same. “In case Masaru comes breathing down our necks.” The man with red eyes said, their apparent spokesperson. He did most of the talking, with Greenhair and Sunglasses interjecting from time to time.

    Despite their grumbles, they were here to talk. Redeyes described the incident with the alleged Fury. “A freaky Masaru thing that came out of the darkness and started shooting lightning.”

    According to the Anglers, the attacker did not make demands, or provide any identification, attacking out of nowhere. “It zapped one of the crew we were working with. Ironically enough, the Undercity folks decided to try and chase it off.”

    That was all they seemed to know. A figure,  a “boogeyman”, that descended from the dark, attacked, and then was chased off. The group then retreated to the “Siren’s Pearl”, a brothel in the city proper, a central hub of the Angler’s business.

    When it was put to them that Masaru denied any involvement, the Anglers seemed unconvinced. “They had the big fucking Masaru logo right on their facemask.” Redeyes said. “If it is a rogue mage, I’d be really surprised, because he sure has it out for us.” Nonetheless, he admitted that they’d be better off co-operating in that case. “A rogue mage on that level…that’s some unchecked bullshit.”  

    Despite this admission, there was little trust for Masaru. Redeyes accused them of “creeping through the slums in the night” and “disappearing” mages .“I didn’t ask to be a mage.” Sunglasses joined in, his voice thick with emotion. When asked why they don’t register themselves, they all shake their heads. “And be part of that system?”

    “Mages were meant to be free.” Redeyes said. “Magic isn’t part of the guy in the corps’ structure. It wasn’t planned for, and that’s the best part of it.” When it comes to the potential dangers, he is dismissive. “What about cybernetics? Are you worried about a guy being able to unfold his arm and slash you in half? And don’t even get me started on synths, their little fucking cameras everywhere.” I decided not to bring up my own camera eye. When I relayed the reports of synthetics being attacked in the Undercity, the Anglers were unsympathetic. “Serves them right.”

    So, I asked, what is it they want? “Absolute freedom for Mages.” Redeyes stated. Grand ambitions, indeed. The trio mention a boss, and allude to his past. A failed coven, and a new beginning. They won’t go into further details, and this interview, it seemed, was over.

    My phone lights up as I leave. Two more dead in Union Heights. Two more falls, connected to the spirit activity. One of them, musician Johnny Guitar. A greater spirit was confronted and defeated at the scene, believed to be responsible for all three attacks. One event punched a hole in two narratives. First, the Masaru theory that the responsible party was the alleged False Fury. Second, the Angler insistence that magic holds no real danger. In the chaos, confusion and spin from all sides, one thing is clear – this story is far from over.

    A final PSA for the day! Early reports have been coming in of an unknown infection spreading, potentially coming in from the Wastes, though reports are unconfirmed. I urge everyone to take proper precautions when travelling, seek medical attention if you feel unwell, and those who are able to offer medical expertise, to make yourself available to your local leadership to assist. Disease does not care what part of the city you come from, nor how much money you have. The best way to halt the spread is to ensure everyone receives proper treatment as soon as possible.

    This column is dedicated to the memory of Johnny Guitar, tragically taken from us. Truly, there never was a man like the one they call…Johnny Guitar.

  • Spiritual Instability

    Good morning Salvation City! Today was a big business day! Meetings with the big boss, with a lot of exciting things on the docket. We’ve got more CEO of Sex, more Thread of Wonders, and more to come! I certainly got to feel like a big shot fielding a cross-corp collaboration meeting. 

    Three corps in one meeting, and what for? A fighting tournament, as it turns out! All the best fighters, from all over the city, in the Valkyrie arena, duking it out, with the winner taking home a hefty prize for the cause of their choosing. GEB will be doing the catering, and it’ll all be available with live coverage right here on the Trident Network. Stay tuned (tunaed?) for the latest updates!

    In my heart though, I’m no big shot, just a humble columnist, looking to get the city under my heels. As soon as I could break free of the boardroom I took the train down to Row 32, chasing down rumours of spirit activity in the deprived area of the city.

    The first thing you notice when you arrive in Row 32 is the darkness. There might be daylight out in Union Heights, or beating down on the Wasteland, but sunlight does not quite reach this place. Nonetheless, the neon lights blaze their defiance of the dark. The streets are full, with locals perusing the local noodle joint and milling outside the “Dirty Diamond”.

    Unlike the Undercity, the Row has a clear place within the city administration. Residents were cautiously supportive of the work of Mayor “Coach” Eric. However, like much of the city, trust of authority is low, and tensions high. A recent incident where Union employees searched a business without a warrant has left locals wary of escalation with the authorities.

    It isn’t always to the Union, then, that locals look to solve their problems. A key player in Row 32 is the local branch of the galactic mercenary organisation, the Wyverns. Once the cream of the Union’s military forces during the War of Unification, the mercenary group now sells their services back to their former employer – or any other group that pays. They seem to have built some respect in the Row – as I ask around about recent troubles the district has been facing, residents direct me not to the mayor, but to the local Wyvern leader, Titus.

    Titus’s answers are brief and professional. Yes, the Wyverns have been contracted to assist with the matter of the spirit appearances in the Row. No, he cannot provide any details. No, he doesn’t recommend digging any deeper. I thank him for his time…and start digging. What exactly has been happening here, and what do the residents think about it?

    Luckily, I bumped into a somewhat familiar face. We had never met in person, but the rather animated and eccentric goblin in a top hat was Grabble – our announcer for the Union Heights Tournament! He introduced himself by hitting me with his ‘gay beam’, which turned out to be a multicoloured hologram. (I’m not certain on the side effects, but if any interested ladies want to double check, my email is in my author bio.) 

    Always the showman, Grabble demonstrates his ‘gay beam’.

    When we moved on to more serious subjects, he had nothing good to say about the spirits. “They steal things.” He said. He named a list of items that the spirits had stolen. In the Undercity, these antics are often considered harmless pranks, and part of the tradeoff for their haven. But here, spirits are outsiders, and their interference is taken as hostile. Grabble stated his hope that a “spiritual expert” would take care of the problem, and drive the problematic spirits away.

    When I asked ‘Assistance Bot’ about the spirit incursion, they interpreted this as a request for assistance. He ran off and, troublingly, returned later with burn cream. Other residents explained that yesterday, there was an altercation between a ‘Greater’ spirit and two residents, Johnny Kiwi and Munch Killclan. No-one seemed to know precisely who or what had started the altercation, but everyone knew the result: the pair were left with severe burns which required treatment at the nearby Avalon clinic. 

    This news set the tone. In my afternoon spent in the Row, no residents spoke positively of the potential of the spirits and their presence. Instead, the unanimous verdict was that someone needed to handle this ‘problem’. The proposed solutions varied, with some hopeful Masaru might act as a saviour, and others emphatically against outside interference.

    Thus, Row 32 is a district caught between worlds. They look up at the Heights above with suspicion, and now feel under siege from the spirits rising from below. A history far too long to recount here unpins their suspicions, and I won’t call them wrong for having them. Yet by looking above and below, we can see the shape of the paths the Row might take. In Union Heights, Masaru has begun to ward the major buildings against spiritual incursion, prioritising safety and the status quo. In the Undercity, the people live side by side with the spirits, negotiating daily and accepting disruption as the price for harmony with the magical world.

    Row 32 must choose which way to leap. Or perhaps they have some third path that they’re keeping from interfering journalists. That’s up to them. Whichever way they go, I wish them luck. Stick around for more as the situation develops, in Down from the Heights.

  • Hi folks! No feature column today. Things have been a little hectic lately! The editorial board and I want to make sure that every article you read meets our Trident standards of accuracy, relevance, and…conchitude? Sorry. I had a little trouble conchugating that word. (Okay, that one was a reach – Ed)

    That means we’ll take a little longer making sure we dot our i’s and cross our Tridents before your next column. But don’t fret! We’ll be back soon with more pep in our step and more stories from the streets! And hopefully, room for a joke or two. (It’s Down from the Heights, not Downer from the Heights, sheesh!)

    In the meantime, there’s all sorts of other Trident content out there for you to enjoy! If you’re looking for something to watch on Finflix, I recommend Terror and Resentment in New Reno, the film based on the Thomas Huntsman book. 

    Oh, and while I have you, thank you to everyone who let me know they read this column! I appreciate you all so much! If you see me running around, let me know what I should cover next! 

  • A Moment of Closure

    The Avalon building is near the train station, surrounded by grass so vibrant, I idly wondered whether it was real or synthetic. Nonetheless, it’s a pleasant park – the very same place that Valkyrie held their parade. But those aren’t the memories we dug up today.

    The intense, cold green lighting of the Avalon clinic gave the place an almost ethereal glow. There were no shadows to hide in here. The sterile architecture might give the impression of a place above mere humanity – and yet it is that very humanity that Director Walker saw fit to invite me here to see.

    As Avalon breaks ground on their fledgling operations here in Union Heights, it seems they have begun not with a marketing push, but with charitable work. Their major first operation, Walker explained, was the identification of unmarked bodies from the alien attack two years ago.

    The pilot scheme began with the request of a single Undercity resident – one who had lost her brother in the attack. In the aftermath of that terrible event, one where desperate street fighting engulfed our planet, civilians and soldiers alike from every sector of the city lost their lives. Many bodies remain unidentified or unaccounted for. And it was this, at least, in miniature, that Avalon set out to solve. 

    Sitting down with the woman in question, it was clear this was no idle quest for her. “I actually made my way down into the Undercity to find any trace of him. He is my brother.” She tells me a little of his story. That he worked for Masaru – one of the guards that caused such controversy by their presence in the Undercity – only to die defending that same sector of the city from alien attack.

    The emotion behind the story was clear, as was the weight of her need to find her brother. Unlike many stories in this city, this one has a happy ending – Avalon trawled databases and used advanced genetic matching techniques to trace the body through their systems and ultimately, located him. As of time of writing, the body was ready to be returned to the family – one small island of closure amongst a sea of unresolved stories from that conflict.

    This cause is personal to Director Walker, too. When I asked him if this type of effort was typical, and whether you’d go to these lengths for anyone else, he told me: “Quite possibly. It depends on the situation, but I myself am a survivor of the Upper City attacks so [her] situation really spoke to me.” But he also clarified, “This was above and beyond. We like to give back to the city once in a while, where we can.”

    I think, if nothing else, those are the lessons to take from this. We do what we can for others, when we can. Whether that is fighting to defend others from alien invasion, or offering medical expertise to find the bodies – this city cannot stand unless we all do our part, even if it’s just a little bit, for each other. I hope that the success of this small endeavour encourages Avalon to expand these operations to make sure every unidentified body that can gets back to the people waiting for it. Every person you meet, and every body that sits in that morgue has a story, and a family. And if we’d all remember that, this city might appear a little brighter.

    One more thing before you go! A little competition to announce for our readers – a very special game of hide and seek! Trident’s very own Maxamillion Stillwell is somewhere in the city. Anyone who can snap a pic and send it into our inbox will be entered into a prize draw, with a conchtastic prize for the winner! Details below. No prizes if we can find the photo on social media already, so make sure to send your pic straight to us!

  • Time for a Parade

    ‘Twas the Night before GEBfest, and all through the Heights,
    An announcement rang out, promising festive delight.
    Valkyrie was celebrating, they had a party to throw
    All in honour of one man’s ego.

    Apparently, today was a very special individuals’ birthday. No, not that guy. Another, much more controversial guy. General Brian ‘Ironjaw’ Jackson.

    Now, the War of Unification ended eighteen years ago, so I’ll forgive you for not knowing the name. His service record is certainly interesting reading. Did you know he received the Valkyrie Meritorious Achievement award for capturing the Union stronghold planet Teneb in just six days? The award praised his use of ‘unorthodox tactics’.

    More digging revealed a darker picture, such as the ‘deliberate targeting of medical facilities’, ‘use of information obtained by torture’ and something called the ‘Axis City Incident’. ‘Unorthodox tactics’ indeed, but what happened at Axis City?

    During those six days invading Teneb, Ironjaw fired an untested chemical weapon into the planet’s main population centre, Axis City. The compound devastated the region. Those who survived were scarred for life, and a huge zone around the city was rendered too toxic for vegetation to this day. Valkyrie pulled the weapon from deployment and said further tests were necessary. The land has still yet to recover two decades on. Teneb, once a leading exporter of food, is now a leading importer. It requires constant support to survive, as do many of the survivors of the ‘Axis City Incident’.

    Happy birthday, General!

    This is a seriously difficult subject. The War of Unification was a conflict of indescribable brutality. The Galactic Union accepted responsibility for the destruction of Earth, my own family’s homeworld; the starting gun for the decade long conflict. My parents didn’t like to talk about home. I remember a twinkle in my mum’s eyes when she talked about her family garden, or the Eiffel Tower in Paris. But then she’d go quiet.

    A weight settled in my stomach as I considered my next move. The scars left by the War of Unification are deep, and despite the time that has passed, still highly sensitive. There is a case to be made that digging through such a controversial and violent time in our history will only make it harder for those scars to heal.

    Either way, there was no way I was missing the parade. FL0UND3R, our entertainment unit, and I rushed to meet our deadline at work before the event got too crowded. We got lucky – the crowds were just starting to gather as we picked our spots.

    Soldiers in Valkyrie armour pose in front of a tank. Two large, genetically enhanced soldiers stand in back, with large guns, while two humanoid guards stand in front.
    Photo by Kailani Winters

    The military hardware on display was impressive, as always. Genetically enhanced soldiers twice my size stomped next to tanks. They wouldn’t let FL0UND3R climb on top, but they seemed happy enough to let us take pictures. Epsilon, one of the soldiers, seemed a little baffled when I asked him how he felt about being bred for war.

    “Look at me,” he said, gesturing towards himself. “What the hell else would I do?”

    What else indeed? As gunships roared overhead, the question of who would be buying these weapons and who they would target buzzed in the back of my mind. What conflict do the Union and Valkyrie foresee that requires such a military buildup? The groan of the engines provided no answers.

    After much pomp and circumstance, the moment was here. Three dropships hovered in formation.The central ship’s door opened to reveal a dark suited figure. Above us, flanked by soldiers, stood General Ironjaw.

    “It is a pleasure to be here on this joyous day!”. He thanked his “fellow Valkyries” for the parade and for celebrating his service. I couldn’t see or hear the platitudes anymore. All that was running through my mind was images of the victims of Axis City. I stepped forward, craning my neck to look up at the shadow of the General, and asked my question.

    “When are you going to pay compensation to the families?”

    The moment I said it, my mouth ran dry. Suddenly, I realized just how many armed soldiers were staring at me. The self-congratulatory atmosphere left the room. The general’s eyes were fixed on me. We both knew exactly what I was talking about.

    “No comment”, said Ironjaw, locking his famous jaw and cutting off his speech. He turned and gave an order I couldn’t hear. The dropships turned and flew away.

    Whether they continue their planned tour of Hellion remains to be seen. But I hope that Brian Jackson will remember his reception here in the Heights.

    Moving on past the War of Unification can’t mean forgetting what happened. It can’t mean holding a parade on top of the corpses, and over the voices of the victims. If we want to make this peace last, we need to listen and to learn from the mistakes of history. We need to acknowledge and make restitution for our failures.

    This week, the donation link will be to a group organised by those affected by the Axis City Incident.

  • An Unexpected Push

    It was supposed to be a party. Two days ago, when brothers Bradley and Brodie Miller had finally saved up the money to visit Union Heights, they came to celebrate. They’d enjoy the beach, play some volleyball, and get some drinks. They never imagined what was coming.

    Brodie lost track of his brother in the confusion of their big day out. He asked passersby if they had seen him. Meanwhile, Bradley, atop GEB tower, had gathered quite a crowd of onlookers. They witnessed a horrific sight when he plummeted to the city streets below.

    At first, it was assumed to be suicide or tragic accident. Sad, yes. Horrifying, certainly. But sadly nothing out of the ordinary in a big city like Salvation City. However, investigations soon detected the presence of something more at play in this awful incident: magic.

    Even after its classification as the fifth fundamental force of nature and the accompanying rise of Masaru[*] as the seventh mega-corporation, magic remains a mystery. It defies many of the strict rules that bind the other forces; its influence is usually limited to magically resonant areas, and it seems actively hostile to technology. It doesn’t fit into our worldview. So we block it out. Ignore it. But that day, it would not be ignored, even at the top of the Heights.

    Bradley did not jump or fall from GEB Tower. He was pushed. Not by a physical being, but by a magical entity: a spirit.

    Spirits are the most common type of magical being. They are incorporeal, made entirely of magic. They gather around magically strong areas like the Undercity, seemingly harmless and alternately treated with amusement and indifference by the residents. It’s rare to see them travel far from these havens. Reports of sightings elsewhere are hard to confirm, since they do not appear on video recordings.

    Travelling to the upper districts and pushing people off buildings is unusual behaviour. Masaru investigators theorised this spirit may have been bound in some kind of object and brought from elsewhere. The potential involvement of a malevolent entity or even a ‘rogue mage’ – that is, a mage not registered with the Masaru corporation is a possibility being considered.

    The Masaru representatives stated their intention to track down the perpetrator[†], and withheld further details, citing the ongoing investigation. Wards to block spiritual incursion have been established across the various corporate buildings in Union Heights. After I prompted them, I was assured that wards for other buildings in the neighbourhood are to follow.

    At time of writing, the investigation into Bradley Miller’s death is still ongoing, and I urge anyone with knowledge of this incident or relevant expertise to co-operate fully with the investigation.

    I headed back to the scene of the crime. I suppressed a shiver down my spine as I walked past where he landed, the pavement long scrubbed clean by the nightly SWEEPOs. As I looked up at GEB tower[‡], I was left with more questions than answers.

    What possible motivation did anyone have to kill Bradley? I could find no ties to any known mages, nor anyone with a grudge against him.

    Why weren’t we prepared for malevolent magical entities like this? Will it happen again? Why do I – do most of us – barely have the language to describe what happened here?

    As things stand, our relationship to magic is governed by the Masaru corporation. They warn us of the dangers of unchecked magical potential, while offering products, services and consultations to bring that magic into our lives. Meanwhile, other groups emphatically reject Masaru’s influence, claiming they seek to monopolise and control the potential of magic.

    As I stood in the hole left behind by Bradley Miller, it was clear to me that the dangers that Masaru warn of, at least, are not fictional. And yet, we can’t subcontract away our understanding of such an inseparable part of our world either. If Bradley’s tragic fate has taught us anything, it is that danger can strike when you least expect it.

    For my part, I’ll be borrowing some books from Masaru’s Library in Union Heights, now open to the public.[§] And I’ll be learning from every source I can, even down in the Undercity, where the relationship between people and magic seems very different from the city proper. And I’ll be sharing what I learn with you – we’ll figure this out together.

    For now, though, the Undercity has more pressing concerns. Water and power shortages are still affecting the underground, and for those who are able to donate, the link will continue to be provided below.

    [*] Want to know if there’s a little magic in YOUR life? Buy a Masaru™ Magic Tester today! Take your receipt with you to receive 20% off your Mage registration fee.
    [†] See beyond the veil with the Masaru™ Spirit Detection kit! Results not guaranteed. For recreation only.
    [‡] GEB Tower. Still open. Still reliable. Feel your stress levels plummet with the GEB Cube Green Tea range!
    [§] Want to learn more? The Masaru Library is open daily. Ask about our Runic: The Reckoning booster packs!