## meet the mentor aka mayor They have some sort of leading member, would there be a council? A mayor? Something like the feudal influential citizen that Brett devereaux has been talking about in the article I'm reading of his? This is a mining Town, but ownership is a bit fuzzy in this model, as are jobs. The computer functions as a sort of bureaucracy that dictates ownership and is very inflexible about things, that is why they have to get married, but who would come out and talk to them and explain things and be in charge of meet and greet and diplomacy? It would be the same person that meets the traders at the rift, so would it be the person who is in charge of making the final decisions about purchasing? Having Tuft in charge of everything would not be a good choice, we need to limit his decision making to being an advisor. So the person who makes purchasing decisions is the final arbiter. Maybe I should call him the arbiter.... And then have it be a woman, and have it riff off of Judges as rulers Deborah and Canary Island Lady style. "Sometimes people fall out of the world," the arbiter said. "Sometimes they're taken. Sometimes it's a rescue, sometimes it's a monster looking for prey. Corman's dad was pulled through a mirror by a demon, And then a delver rescued him from One of the hill hells that fell, and he wound up here, carving out a crack in the world, because this town needed a mine and he knew how to build one. My family traveled with the rift caravans for three generations before I decided to settle here; My brother still runs one on the A to B loop, I see him and his kids every couple years. He takes our salt and a couple of the fancy fruits that don't keep well what fruit enough to fill the bellies of a town six times our size. Trade runs on redistribution, It's not local, state, Federal. The way you think of it: it's family, clan, Town, node. All interwoven like a web. But we're out here to survive, and thrive, and flourish. You can't be selfish when you're living in the void. The chaos will eat you alive." So like, Tuft FEELS like land — like a walled town with outlying farmlands — but is in some ways more like a ship drifting in the void. And the ship needs fuel. ## mayor is wrong mayor: “You gotta contribute something, tho. We give good value for good work. There’s no charity here, we can’t afford to give charity.” Tuft cuts in: “that’s not precisely true... Miria is Sevarik’s wife. She’s on his account.” ## urge to escape Rules go on and on and she is tired. How does she get to Sevarik’s house? She’s supposed to wait for him but has no idea how long he will be, and after the third time somebody tries to talk to her she is overwhelmed and just wants a quiet place to think. She asks for directions to Sevarik’s house, and gets them.