Allium Station

The culture of the Allians is defined by their position on the social ladder.

Their core values are hard work, adherence to the Council's rules, and maintaining a respectable public image. Gossip and community reputation are powerful social currencies. Their greatest ambition is for their children to secure a job in a higher-status station; their greatest fear is demotion or an accident that would force them down into Eir.

Weaving here is common but practical and discreet. It's used to patch a worn uniform, create a simple toy, or fix a flickering light panel. Ostentatious use of Weaving is frowned upon, as it attracts the wrong kind of attention from the Watchers.

Allium is managed mostly by the Ministry of Civil Affairs. Governance is felt not as direct command, but as the constant enforcement of regulations, work quotas, and rationing schedules.

Security is handled by the Fortrop's standard Wardens. They are typically Allians themselves, just doing a job, and their patrol patterns are predictable. The Watchers are a natural part of the station, you can't really miss them. The populace has long since adapted to their presence, developing a "public face" for when they are in the machines' line of sight.

The primary economic activities are low-wage jobs in retail, basic services, and informal labour, mostly outside of the station. Many residents also engage in barter or trade services within the community.

There is an underground economy that includes unregulated trade and various illicit activities; smuggling, illegal services etc. It's a high-risk, high-reward type of gamble.

Basic housing, storage facilities, and small businesses.

The housing is quite basic. It's densly packed, low-rise complexes that often have multiple units stacked vertically. Living spaces are small and basic, often adapted by families to maximise utility.

The station has limited public amenities, such as a few community centres, basic medical clinics, and small educational facilities. Most residents rely on these local services, but they often experience overcrowding and understaffing.

Transport is tough; narrow walkways and communal shuttles connect different parts of the station. It's often unreliable, though, leading to long waits or cancellations altogether with no backup.

Most of Allium is residential; there's cramped housing, often in poor condition, and the families often live in close quarters, and communal spaces are used for socialising and gatherings. There are no real vendor spaces so if anyone wanted to make a bar, they had to turn their own home into it.

There is, however, a designated market space. It consists of small shops, stalls, and informal markets where residents sell homemade goods and basic supplies. It's often overcrowded, chaotic and the prices are severely inflated.

While not formally recognised, there exist trade unions that advocate for better working conditions and wages, often meeting in secret to avoid government scrutiny.

The Allium Interchange is the main transit hub connecting the station to the rest of the Fortrop. It is a place of constant motion, crowded with commuters and overseen by a heavy Warden presence at its security checkpoints.

Ration Depot 7 is one of the several large distribution centers where Allians queue for their weekly food and water allotments. These depots are major social hubs with gossip, arguments, and black-market dealings happening often.

The Grey Market exist. It's an informal but tolerated marketplace where residents trade personal effects, crafted goods, and rationed items. It is where one goes to find a skilled Weaver to repair an item or a technician to unofficially look at a broken appliance.

Block 9 Residential Complex is one of typical Allian habitats. A massive, monolithic block of hundreds of small, identical apartments, where life is lived in close quarters under the constant, low hum of the station's ventilation systems.

Geographically located below the main middle-class stations like Basalt, Allium has a dense repetition of residential blocks and tight corridors. Its architecture can be summed up as: budget-conscious brutalism.

The walls are uniform molded concrete, the floors are scuffed metal plating, and essential conduits for power and water are visible but securely encased. What little aesthetic flair exists comes not from design, but from its inhabitants: the neon glow of noodle shop signs, the holographic advertisements for synth-ale, and the colorful graffiti that is scrubbed away by sanitation drones each cycle. It is a functional, aging, and thoroughly lived-in environment.