[Shin Akiba, Zakera Ward] Everything Must Go (Open)

The parts seller nodded. “Sure we got both of those, new and used, just give me a sec and I’ll look up the prices.” The Turian said, temporarily turning his attention to the holographic monitor before him. Dasir took the opportunity to chance a glance at the literature kiosk behind him. It seemed the shopkeeper had, thankfully, been distracted by another customer, a male Earth-clan who appeared to be trying his level best to come on to her. The poor woman would probably be distracted for some time now; a lucky break for Dasir Bon, but no doubt a slightly more unfortunate turn of events for her. Dasir was beginning to feel a bit sorry for the salewoman.

“Prick,” the Turian shopkeeper muttered under his breath, his voice just barely audible to the Volus in front of him. Dasir turned back to look at him, wondering what he’d done to merit the slur, only to realize that the parts seller wasn’t looking at him at all, but over his head at the literature kiosk he himself had been staring at not a second before.

“I’m … sorry?” Dasir Bon said, confused. The Turian flicked his eyes back down at the Volus, looking a little bit startled. To his credit though he bounced back to his “charming salesmen” mode fairly quickly.

“It’s nothing sir, my sincerest apologies. Here’s a list of items in our inventory that match your request, which one would you like to take a closer look at?”

“Ummmm … which one is the least … expensive?” Dasir asked, once more recalling the disheartening lack of digits on his last bank statement.

How discouraging; the salarian appeared to have misunderstood his advances. Not wishing to lose an opportunity to pursue the implications of the ritualistic invocation of Shrell, Laykalar attempted to reassure the pink amphibian.

"The other may rest assured that this one is not intending to preach. On the contrary, this one invites the other to express its own belief systems to this one, so that this one may better its understanding of the Many Voices! This one humbly inquires after a moment of the other's time".

"What? I, er..what? No sorry, I'm very busy at the moment".

How did you move round one of these things? It bobbed and danced in front of you like a blancmange.

"This one was wondering if it may be as bold as to ask the other for clarification regarding its recent choice of exclamation? The other's use of the invocation "shrell" suggests an appeal to mythological binaries that may assist in this one's greater illumination. This one most eagerly proposes an exchange of conversation!"

Something worrying was dawning in the distracted depths of Joset Phraag's mind. Something that demanded attention. The hanar's enthusiasm, its interest in - uh oh.

"Oh no. It's you. From the forum".

Shrell.

“Hmmm…let me seeeee.” The Turian mumbled, scanning through his the list. “Ah, that would be this one, brand new SPD-class power cell.” He tapped on the item’s icon with his claw, enhancing it so that Dasir Bon could get a closer look.

“A brand new … SPD-class? I would expect such an item to be … far from the least … expensive power cell you have. Is it somehow … defective?” Dasir asked, more than a little bit suspicious. Short on funds he may have been, but the hospital trusted him to bring SPD-14 back in good condition, and he did not plan on disappointing them.

“Well…no, not exactly,” the Turian shopkeeper said, frowning a little bit as he tried to think of the correct way to phrase things. “You see, this power cell comes with a special security chip, made specifically to prevent theft. Useful for combat and information drones, but I really don’t know what they were thinking releasing a version for maintenance drones, who’s going to try stealing those? It’s not like there’s a huge demand for them in the black market or anything, and for most people the security protocols are way more trouble than they’re worth so these haven’t exactly been flying off the shelves. Quite frankly, my manager’s just trying to get rid of them at this point they’re so unpopular.”

Dasir Bon wasn’t sure whether the clerk was being completely honest, or if he was using some clever sales tactic, but either way he would need more information before he decided whether or not to purchase anything. “What … exactly makes the security protocols such a significant … hassle?” he asked while scanning the power cell’s specifications in search of any prominent flaws the shopkeeper might not have mentioned.

“Well, basically, the security chip attached to the power cell can override any shut down commands from the main processor, so if anyone tries to turn the drone off and haul it away, the thing can just turn itself back on again and either escape back to its owner, or makes a whole lot of noise until it’s released. If someone tries to do a forced shutdown by removing the power cell, it fries the whole system, and whoever stole the drone is left with a worthless pile of junk. So as you can see, pretty useful for combat and info drones. The reason it’s such a bad idea for maintenance drones is because the chip has a peculiar way of detecting if it’s been stolen. Someone had the great idea of linking the drone to a specific omnitool or location on its first boot up after the security chip’s been installed. If the drone gets too far away from the designated omnitool or location, the security protocol kicks in, which as you might be able to guess, is a huge inconvenience for maintenance drones. Messes happen in unexpected places, buildings get bigger, janitors quit and move on; those things need the flexibility that these security chips just don’t let them have.”

Dasir contemplated the shopkeeper’s explanation. He did make quite a decent point. Statistically speaking most maintenance drones were moved around quite a bit simply due to the requirements of their job. Very few people would have need for a maintenance drone that could not be moved away from a specific person or place. However, Huerta drones were different. Due to the potentially hazardous nature of the substances they were expected to be cleaning off of the floors and equipment, each drone was installed with a fairly expensive piece of software detailing the protocols for various chemical spills and biohazards specific to their area of the hospital; it was therefore rare indeed for Huerta drones to leave their specific section. As far as Dasir could tell from his scans only SPD-14’s sensory input/output devices and power cells had been damaged, its decontamination protocols were still intact and the drone would likely be returning to the sector of the hospital to which it had been assigned, most probably for the remainder of its life. The security chip would therefore not be a hindrance, and might even be beneficial. The hospital software was indeed quite expensive, and attempts to make pirated copies from the maintenance drones had happened before, particularly in the hospital’s free clinic, where the more unsavory and dangerous patients tended to be located, and where SPD-14 happened to be assigned. Overall, the power cell seemed to be a suitable choice.

“Very … well,” Dasir said. “I believe the security chip is not too much of an … inconvenience for my particular … needs. Would you be so kind as to … bring it out and … allow me to … inspect it?” The shopkeeper nodded and turned to shuffle through some crates and boxes behind him, while Dasir took the opportunity to do a brief extranet search on his omnitool to make sure that the clerk’s information was correct. The search produces nothing to contradict the clerk’s statement, nor did the quick scan Dasir did of the cell once it had been set before him. So, with a little bit of negotiation between the two of them, the power cell - along with as a few sensory devices - was purchased and Dasir Bon’s bank account was further depleted.

“Thank you very much for your purchase sir. Is there anything else I can get you?” the Turian asked, in his most professional sounding voice.

“Ah … yes now that you mention it … I don’t suppose you’re store sells the proper omnitool … drone syncing software? Dasir asked. “Mine is slightly … out of date.”

The shopkeeper shook his head. “Sorry sir, only parts, but there’s a great software shop here in Shin Akiba that probably sells exactly what you need. It’s called DroneWare, and it’s not too hard to find, just turn right at the Salarian pastry stand, then right at …”

Dasir Bon truly tried his best to pay attention to shopkeeper’s instructions, but he had not gotten very far past the “Salarian pastry stand” before he had found himself significantly lost. Dasir had long ago accepted that he lacked any sort of sense when it came to navigation; surprising considering the nomadic tendencies of so many of his ancestors. This was not the first time he had gotten himself so abruptly lost, nor would it likely be the last time. The best thing to do was to find the friendliest face in the crowd and ask for directions. Of course, usually the crowd contained mostly members of his own species, and while quite a few Volus, being a species so inclined to commerce and trade, could be found within the market, all of the ones that Dasir could see were otherwise occupied either with a customer or as a customer. Dasir, unfortunately, was still not quite used to interacting face to face with members of other species who he did not have any specific business with, and the thought of asking an alien for directions made him somewhat nervous. He could not just allow himself to remain lost, so he did his best to swallow his fear, and scanned the crowd for the least intimidating figure he could find. His eyes settled on a Hanar, or Kahje-clan, talking to a bright pink Salarian. A Hanar would do, even Dasir Bon was aware that they were notoriously polite, and it was hard to be intimidated by something that looked as though it would deflate if one were to poke enough holes in it.

Dasir approached as cautiously as he could and tapped politely on one of the Hanar’s tentacles. “Umm … excuse me … sir.”

The salarian apparently recognized him, and he was disconcerted to note that - unless he was misinterpreting the tone of the other's sound-based language, which was the equivalent of the subtle degrees of intensity to the pulse of a bioluminescent pattern - the other wasn't pleased. How distressing that the other didn't share his enthusiasm for their encounter! Perhaps he had inadvertently offended the salarian with his speech patterns, either here or on "the board" (which with a happy thrill he realized must be Cerberus Daily News). One of the issues he was meditating on at present was the very real potential for alien conversation to challenge the doctrines of etiquette upon which his culture was maintained. He knew he was striking out into tempestuous waters by following this ideological current, but he wondered if, in following the cause of Enkindlement into deeper pools of understanding, his people might not have to loosen their standards. Perhaps - and how this idea shocked and intrigued him! - to a fast-speaking salarian the careful decorous structure of correct hanar discourse was as potentially offensive as the fractured dialogue of salarians could be to his own kind.

Before he could attempt to phrase this in a manner that might sooth the salarian (and perhaps provoke further opportunity for cross-cultural comparison!), there was an odd physical sensation as someone tapped on his tentacles. He tipped his bell so that one of his ocular organs was receiving input from the appropriate area. It was a volus. How intriguing! Having members of three species join a conversation would no doubt be most rewarding! Laykalar pleasantly noted that, perhaps to relieve him of his slightly heretical thoughts regarding language and etiquette, the volus addressed him in most decorous and humble manner.

He pulsed with pleasure. "Greetings! May this one be of assistance?"

Dasir Bon backed away slightly when the Hanar dipped what he was going to assume was its head, towards his general direction. The Hanar’s liquid and seemingly unstable movements made Dasir feel as though it could topple over him at any moment. It addressed him politely enough however, just as Dasir had witnessed on the vids. Apparently the Blasto movies had at least been accurate in regard to Kahje-clan speech.

“Ahh … yes thank you…” Dasir Bon’s eyes darted back and forth wondering which part of the Hanar he should be speaking to, it hadn't turned away from its conversation with the Salarian, but he had the distinctive feeling that it was looking at him nonetheless. Had the Blasto movies also been accurate about the species’ 360 degree vision? “Would you … happen to know which route I should take to reach the DroneWare kiosk from this … location? I seem to have found myself rather … lost.”

Somewhat disappointed that the volus sought practical information rather than spiritual insight, Laykalar determined to make the best of it regardless.

"This one regrets that it does not. It is not yet entirely familiar with the layout of Shin Akiba. Further, it must admit to being more interested in the denizens of the marketspace than the kiosks. It is, however, always pleased to make the acquaintance of others! It wonders if this one's companion can be of help in answering the other's query?"

It was good etiquette to introduce all the participants before the first issue was put forth for discussion. This way he could assist the pleasant volus while also providing the salarian an opportunity to enter the conversation on equal terms. He shimmered happily.

Oh thank the eggbringer. The hanar - WavesHaveBroken, who Bitterskin knew would drag him into an eager conversation about religion and no doubt misinterpret anything he spluttered in reply anyway - was distracted. Maybe now he could move away. No, wait, they had eyes or something all over them, didn't they? Shrell, it was probably still watching him. Er, how to do this?

"What?" Oh, did the hanar mean him? Which of them was "the other" now? What had the volus wanted? Directions?

The pink Sur’kesh-clan the Kahje-clan had just indicated looked thoroughly confused, a state he and Dasir now shared. As the Salarian took a moment to apparently get his bearings, Dasir turned to the Hanar with a new query.

“Are you stating that you come to these … markets not to purchase … goods but to merely converse with their various … clientele? This seems like a rather … odd choice for an … activity. What is it that you wish to … gain from such an … endeavour?”

Pleased that the volus seemed interested in his motives, Laykalar happily launched into one of his explanatory speeches.

"This one thanks the other for its interest. It is engaged in an ongoing study of the means by which Enkindled beings, and those coming by such gifts in alternate ways, use the sacred phenomenon of language to shed illumination on one anothers' perspectives. Such an effort has the potential to encourage ever more sophisticated discourse on these one' place in a changing cosmos. This one is most fortunate to have been given the opportunity to immerse here in the diverse waters of the Citadel!"

He couldn't read the emotions of volus, due to their full-body pressure suits, and he had long wondered how the volus worldview was defined by the time they spent sealed off from the universe, at least when outside their own natural environment. Yet how courageous of them, to concern themselves intimately with the tides and currents of the galaxy as a whole, no matter the discomfort they endured in doing so! The hanar, he thought, might learn much from the volus, for surely the treacherous waters of impolitic language could be no more threatening than a pressure and atmosphere fatal to an unshielded vol-clan. As the volus had tied together the economies of disparate worlds to better serve the needs of all, so perhaps could the hanar find the means to thread myriad religious perspectives together, bringing the Many Voices ever closer to truth!

"These ones are immersed in a universe that is often confusing. The harsh discourse of the Reapers has shattered established standards and overwritten the light of many voices. Once the storm has passed, the environment is altered, and these ones must adapt to it. As such, this one seeks to expand its understanding of the Many Voices and in doing so comprehend the greater truths made accessible to these ones by the grace of the Enkindlers"

He paused, before adding, almost shyly, "This one has always found the hanar isolationist norms to be in error. It hopes it may contribute in some way to constructing an argument for these ones' place in the cosmos better suited to the current climate".

Dasir was beginning to understand the Salarian’s current state of confusion. The Hanar was rather poetic and abstract with his speech, and although it was quite lovely to listen to, understanding it was quite another matter. After a couple moments of mulling it over in his head, however, Dasir believed he’d gotten the overall gist what the Hanar had said.

“So you’re currently conducting a … study on the ummm … cultures of other species, because you believe your fellow … Kahje-clan are too … isolationist? I suppose that’s quite an … honorable pursuit if I interpreted things … correctly. The Book of Plenix … after all encourages similar investigations for the sake of appropriately … adapting business practices to suit the needs of other … cultures. But wouldn't your study be more efficiently … completed if you moved your research to a library or … university? I’m certain there are multiple … books written about the topics you are … interested in.”

His voice was shrill even by salarian standards. "Yes! Listen to the volus! The volus is, er, wise indeed. It's quite a scholar, actually, as far as I know. It, er, it has a great knowledge of the important spiritual...thingies...to be found in literary study! In fact, it might, er, point you to books where you can learn about the, er, the sacred rite of the Swift and Holy retreat, which I have to engage in right now or risk offending..."

What was a good name? He didn't really know any gods. Oh shrell. Er, deities, worship, er...oh dear...

"...the Dwick. Yes. The Swift and Holy retreat must be, er, undertaken. Now. Or the Dwick is offended. I'm sure you understand!"

He began to move off rapidly. "Good to meet you!"

He felt a little bad about the volus, but then he had shopping to do. He was stressed enough as it was! Better the volus than he, anyway.