Entry Four – Days after Geonosis, Nine
This far down, all lighting is artificial. This should not matter, but it does. Properly designed and deployed, artificial lighting systems are fully capable of delivering illumination indistinguishable from the natural sunlight patterns of essentially any habitable star. On this level, and I suspect most of those within easy reach, this has not occurred. The lighting is strong enough to mimic proper daylight, where no large buildings or obstacles cast nearly permanent shadows, but the metallic walls and duracrete floor sections reflect it poorly. The chosen wavelength is also not a match for the primary of Coruscant or any other hospitable Core World, but instead matches the spectrum of Eriadu's primary, meaning it was probably manufactured there. I suspect whatever Senate subcommittee or municipal agency was responsible simply picked the lowest bid.
As a consequence the lighting is shifted away from a standard state comfortable to the majority of the residents. Limited maintenance, illegal coverings, and power diversions further weaken the luminosity. The result is a world that appears strongly yellow-shifted, likely more to my blue-blocking eyes than a human's, but the effect is surely still present. Everything takes on a vaguely rotten cast, a layer of decay appended to all surfaces embedded within our retinas themselves, inescapable.
In the face of this environmental malaise I begin to understand why goggles, helmets, masks, and other means to implement a privatized visual and olfactory environment are so prevalent here. Even I have already begun to adopt a version of my own through Jedi breathing and vision techniques. Obscuring barriers to interaction of this nature extend even to law enforcement. The glossy blue police droids with their chipper personalities are not to be seen here, nor are the noble sons who patrol about Galactic City in their dress uniforms. Underworld Police monitor the streets from beneath armored coats and helmets, and even their eyes are obscured by mechanical interfaces. Until you see them move and their musculature reveals their organic origin they appear more like droids than people.
One of these gray-cloaked representatives has been assigned by the CSF as my contact: Ven Morne, which might be the blandest Coruscanti name I've encountered in some time. He kept his helmet on throughout his visit. Truthfully, I found this rather rude. Perhaps he hopes to protect his anonymity. I wanted to tell him that hiding your face does nothing to prevent a Jedi from recognizing you. I might lack the skills of a knight, but a physician learns to differentiate individual presences in the Force all the same. It is essential to our work.
Morne did not greet my arrival with much enthusiasm. I suspect he was unhappy at the reassignment of my predecessor, who I gather was a fairly talented investigator at home in the rough environment of the underworld. It is rather obvious that this does not represent my strengths and I believe the officer perceptive enough to recognize this rapidly. He also reacted rather distinctly upon first hearing my accent, something only a long-time Coruscanti would notice. It would seem that this far down it telegraphs me as an outsider. I almost wonder if speaking Huttese would be considered more socially acceptable. Not that I would speak such a throat-clenching language willingly, I've treated too many cases of vocal cord damage inflicted by that miserable tongue.
I suspect Morne believes I will prove useless here, and in truth I cannot easily invalidate his assessment. The Underworld might occupy the same planet as Galactic City as a matter of astronomy, but even after a mere two days I can tell that this is a different world. Two linked worlds, certainly, but it is rather like the connection between the deep ocean and the bright surface. Creatures from the depths may swim upwards at night to feed and those from the surface dive deep for the same purpose, but they can only remain for so long. If I am to be of use in this place, both to the Order and the residents, I must find a means to navigate this realm, even if I will never be able to call it home.
I discussed several matters with Officer Morne, and for I suspect longer than he initially intended. I do not think it my words that held his interest, however, but rather my appearance more likely. I am well aware that my figure and features qualify a quite attractive by most mammalian humanoid standards, and though it may be vanity, I cannot say I do not enjoy a measure of appreciation on that axis. It is really rather flattering, so long as it does not become excessive, though I admit my experience with negotiating such attention is rather limited due to the nature of Jedi life.
Morne has an oddly optimistic view regarding the war. He cannot conceive of the Republic losing and seems far more interested in the potential benefits this conflict might bring to the lower levels. He seems to think that large scale urban restructuring contracts and major military spending will offer both significant infrastructure upgrades and abundant work to the local residents. I lack his certainty. Perhaps this will happen, but I do not think either the Senate or the Supreme Chancellor view this region as essential to the war effort. Too many Jedi have told me tales of the Senate's corruption to let me believe that the bulk of the funds will go anywhere other than to their chosen corporate supporters. It seems more likely that whatever privations the war brings to Coruscant, the depths will feel them keenly.
Regarding the possibility of Separatist sympathizers he was considerably less sanguine. The CSF is quite certain that not only is there widespread sympathy, but that there is an organized network with off-world support dedicated to mobilizing it. It seems there were actually public demonstrations when news broke of the Battle of Geonosis, and not just among those species associated with the major CIS factions. If I judge Morne correctly, these assemblies were quite raucous. By the standards of Galactic City they might well qualify as riots. He fully expects sabotage, and apparently all officers are to be trained in 'terrorism prevention and mass incident response.' It would seem the Chancellor's office shares their opinions.
Morne seems earnest enough, and dedicated to his duties. Despite this, he gave remarkably perfunctory answers when I tried to ask questions regarding the motives of this pro-Separatist faction and what they could possibly hope to achieve. I don't think there was any malice behind such limited answers, certainly I sensed nothing of that nature. Instead, I suspect a distinct lack of intellectual curiosity. For someone dedicated to upholding the law in this harsh artificial landscape I suppose withdrawal makes sense as means of insulation, but I know I must fight against such mental accommodation when it comes to my own perspective. If I am to be the Order's eyes, I must search for truth.
Having patients will help, I hope. I've formulated a schedule of operations to utilize my limited space as a free clinic, subject to any CSF demands upon my hours. With time I should be able to build up a connection to the communities here, and ideally a measure of trust. If I do encounter those who support the Separatists I can only try to convince them to exercise restraint. After all, this Clone War will be decided by great battles in the far reaches of space and on distant industrial planets, not demonstrations in the Underworld.
Notes
There's a bit here about 'blue-blocking eyes.' Rig Nema has golden eyes. To me this is suggestive of specialized sunglasses of similar color that block blue wavelengths, so I have incorporated this into her physiology.
With regard to Ven Morne's name, I wanted a common name for the character, something that would be suitably generic to provide a sort of 'Officer Smith' vibe. Ven is a name that's been used by at least four characters (five if you count Nawara Ven), two of whom were Clones, while Morne has been used by two characters, one of whom, Eos Morne – a patron in the Outlander Club scene – was Coruscanti.
Rig Nema's accent is referenced here. In TCW she was voiced by Catherine Taber, best known for voicing Padme Amidala. Nema has similar cadence and diction to Padme, which makes sense given that they're both educated women of apparently similar age and build, but Taber distinctly accented Nema's words to provide her a unique voice. I can't place the accent myself (I want to say Balkans, but I don't think it was intended to be representative of any specific culture), but it's clearly different from other Coruscanti characters. An explanation for how a Jedi, raised in the temple since early childhood, would have acquired an off-world accent, will eventually emerge.
And, since I made a reference to Nema's overall appearance here, I should probably add some context for that. Truthfully the nature of the digital animation used to produce TCW doesn't really allow for the existence of unattractive characters, everyone is fit and in shape just by default. However, the show had a distinct tendency to portray female Jedi characters in distinctive outfits very clearly not traditional Jedi robes. Rig Nema is shown wearing a tight-fitting dress-and-leggings combination that reveals a considerable amount of skin (there's an image on her Wookieepedia page of her standing with four Jedi Masters that clearly displays the contrast). She would absolutely attract amorous attention. Why she has chosen this specific personal costume is something that I hope to eventually address.