Sights of Odra Capital

Odra Capital is a city that grew slowly and sequentially and with very little planning. And so, it is a bit of a maze. I like to wander about in such cities, to get a sense of the place, and I don't mind getting pleasantly lost. 

I did get lost. 

I was searching for the implants market, instead I ended up at a trade fair for agricultural machinery and ditto vehicles. The connectors on my neck revealed to any onlooker that I was a capsuleer, and since we are known as rich folk, I attracted a crowd of salespeople. I should not have mentioned our yaks in Mehatoor station. They did not let me go after that. I've been shown the newest models of agribots for milking and dung cleanup. I witnessed a demonstration of how cheap cattle TCMCs can help with herding and also read out the status of the cattle. I was explained that herding drones can also do that, and are equipped with scanners to detect sick cattle. I've received more brochures than I could carry, as well as a coffee mug that says "Udder Chaos Milking Corp", two pens (one has a small flashlight) and a miniature 3D puzzle of a argibot.

I'll give this to Aria on my return.

After a morning spent learning about the latest in cattle tech, I was finally able to find the cyber implants market in the afternoon. I put the hood of my robe over my head so that I would not be immediately spotted as a capsuleer this time around. 

The implants market is situated in and around a large square hall with a high glass-paneled ceiling decorated with wrought iron flowers and foliage. There's a central plaza bordered by colonnades, like a cloister, but three levels tall. The walkways under the colonnades give access to the shops, while the central plaza is for the market, with stalls and merchants arguing loudly about the offer of the day. I was surprised to see that most traders and visitors were armed.

It did not take much time to locate the source of Takmahl biodrone salvage. There's an outlet store for them! It's called "Tacky Parts" and private clients can't buy there, it is where manufacturers of implants would get rare parts. After I made a generous donation to the store manager's pension fund, he took me aside and promised me he'd reveal the source of his valuable stock. He couldn't do it in the store, but he agreed to meet me tonight, alone, in a pub called "The Four Stomachs".

I dread there will be more cattle stories.