/-----------------------/Soundtrack wrote:
Sex, money, murder, these are the breaks//These are the times, level number 9
/-----------------------/First Person, Present Tense wrote: <2001:42/2075-01-14><START FEED> Hi everyone! I'm walking through the Crime Mall today. Took at the chaos and density here. Density is the right word, the floor space is packed. The walls are jammed. There are people shoving things in your face, invading my space, ever step, "Oi chummer" this, and "Oi Chummer" that. I want to yell, you're not my friend! But I don't. The ceiling is the least cluttered, but it has drek falling from it, broken windows and skylights, busted ducts and wiring. All the good stuff stripped away, I'm sure. It's not just the space, either. The air is filled with weird smells, hopefully from the talismongers, but probably from the food stalls. Some areas the smells are so thick, you can chew it. And the cacophony. Not just the hawkers, but everyone is yammering at a friend, or on a commlink or just cause they're crazy. Not like me, I'm life streaming. It's wiz.
The AR space is crowded too. All sorts of ad noise, none of it comprehensible, my filters barely kept enough space clear for my comment section. I hoped my ads didn't show up clustered and crowded. No ROI there, you know, right?
Okay, so now I'm going to go up to this stall and see if the halfer behind...[jostling blurred camera, static audio]...Drek! Frag me frag me! Do you see that? Drek, drek, drek...[jostling blurred camera, static audio]...<2019:55/2075-01-14><END FEED>
TIME STAMP wrote: //Location:Tacoma/Seattle Metroplex/UCAS
//Time: <0933:00/2075-01-18> Combat round OVER
//Weather: <Heavy Overcast, Light Snow, 0C, Wind N 8kph, feels like -8C>
//Air Quality: <Monthly Average: Moderate (Yellow), Precipitation pH 2.6>
The weather in fact was nothing like predicted but it still sucked. It got up to 12C on Tuesday and Wednesday, and combined with non-stop heavy rain, it made for miserable. Not warm enough to be warm, not cold enough for jacket. Sopping wet all the time. Puddles the size of Lake Washington in every neighborhood. And then, Thursday, it dropped to 1C and snowed heavily. Sloshy, sloggy, and then by dawn Friday, all of the mess had frozen. So the forecasts were right about that part. Fat, wet, dirty flakes fell slowly throughout the day.
Around the Sprawl, things ground to a halt. Ground transport needed pontoons, or ice skates, the shitty Seattle drivers crashed on flat areas and skidded out of control on hills. Public transportation got stuck in the gridlock. Though the lightrail kept running, all the escalators broke : all of them. Turned out it was the work of a decker, but given the SDOT and Metro's rep, people would have believed that they all just broke.
This all holds true in Puyallup as well, for the most part. The Sprawl has lots of microclimates, Puyallup has tended in the winter, and wetter. It has horrible air quality perpetually. Few notice who don't live there. Throw in some volcano action and it gets even more unique. "Grey snow" mixed with wet snow, a special kind of choking hazard.
Located near the old Washington State Fairgrounds at the north end of the Puyallup, the Fairground Scone Factory sits within spitting distance of the tail end of the main lava flow. It's a holdout from another time, another century even. It still makes scones.
But to maintain its relative independence, deals needed to be made, protection paid, dubious connections established. Relative is relative.
Over time the factory grew and morphed. It's current state as a sprawling multi building complex occupying about four square city blocks sits atop the original walk up delivery truck that sat in the parking lot during state fairs and such civilized events. The modern version has a main factory where the majority of the baking and packaging is down. There is a large commercial warehouse with loading dock for bulk shipping. The office portion is small by comparison. It's three stories of boring concrete with wall to wall glazing on each floor. The warehouse has large skylights regularly spaced.
Late Thursday night, Mulpa gets a message from Yu:
<<Here are the final details. <File appended>>>
UPDATED Run Details
About 10 minutes later he gets another message from the Mr Johnson, one very odd message.<<I know who she is, and this is not a rescue. She will think it is at first.>>
Scone Factory Aerial View: