Jack Sheltrak
Senator of Zeltros, Former Supreme Chancellor
Alexi di Garthos
Jack was looking at more of it, Zeltros was always the same but he had slightly changed. The reinvigoration from visiting Alexi had done wonders for getting out of a funk he hadn't known he was in. More so it had given him the chance to bust out a few thing she didn't often when the long coat was there. The moon was temperature controlled but better for this and he had promised something she hadn't seen before... He didn't know if she would like it or enjoy it but he would endeavor to give the best of times and avoid the worst of times. He allowed a little styling for his hair... better styling as it were and after telling his pilot he had only gotten an odd look here and there. He was near the platform overloking it with a small nod of appreciation as the sounds of the people and the smell of food came to them.
The transparisteel tube shuttles slide to a silent halt at Hologram Fun World's main concourse, depositing visitors into a rotunda of softly curving white permacrete. Overhead, the moon of Zeltros hangs like a pink pearl against the velvet void, but inside, the air is cool and still, recycled through whisper-quiet vents. No blaring music or shouting barkers here only the gentle hiss of atmospheric seals and the muted shuffle of boots on polished floors. The entrance hall stretches into a wide, low-ceilinged gallery, where holographic kiosks flicker with serene blue light, each advertising a different immersive realm. Twi'leks in shimmering resort wear consult datapads while a stooped Ithorian murmurs to his children about the "Crystal Caves of Christophsis" exhibit. A pair of Toydarians hover lazily past a fountain that spits no water, only translucent, shimmering shapes of leaping fish that dissolve before they touch the ground.
Beyond the rotunda, the first attractions unfold like chapters in a dream-logic book. The "Jedi Temple Challenge" looms to the left a maze of mirrored walls and floating training remotes that project ancient Coruscant architecture around each corner. Visitors step through its archway into sudden silence, their footsteps swallowed by the illusion of polished stone floors. Adjacent, the "Podracer Velocity Simulator" takes the form of a semicircular bank of repulsor-cushioned seats, where patrons lean into invisible G-forces while the only sounds are the low thrum of engines and the occasional gasp of delight. Deeper in, the "Sarlacc Pit Plunge" offers a vertical drop through slow-motion holographic sand, its descent so carefully paced that one can count the shimmering teeth on the way down. Each attraction respects its own space, separated by soft, light-absorbing panels, ensuring that no stray laser blast or roar bleeds into the next experience.
The crowd itself is a quiet menagerie, each group moving at its own unhurried pace. A Mon Calamari family drifts past, their large eyes reflecting the pale blue signage as the youngest points at a "Droid Factory Build-A-Bot" station where customers assemble holographic components with thoughtful, almost meditative focus. Nearby, a lone Zabrak in dusty spacer leathers leans against a pillar, watching an advertisement for the "Cloud City Walkways" attraction his expression unreadable, perhaps nostalgic rather than eager. A gaggle of juvenile Rodians scampers between their parents' legs, chirping in rapid-fire Huttese about which ride to queue for next, while an elderly pair of human retirees consult a paper map (a deliberate retro touch) and debate the historical accuracy of the "Battle of Endor" log flume. Even the service droids glide by with unobtrusive beeps, their photoreceptors dimmed to avoid startling children.
At the far end of the central promenade, the "Underwater Gungan City" exhibit stretches across a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling holotank, filling the corridor with a gentle, wavering aquamarine light. Bubble-shaped platforms float within, and visitors can step onto pressure-sensitive discs that make the illusory water ripple outward from their feet. A young Pantoran woman presses her palm against the glasslike surface, watching a holographic colo claw fish swim lazily past her fingers. No splashes, no noise just the soft, rhythmic pulse of artificial bioluminescence. Across the way, the "Mustafar Forge Walk" offers a narrow bridge over a simulated lava river, its heat lamps barely warm, its red glow casting sharp shadows across determined faces. Between these extremes, a refreshment stand sells chilled glasses of blue milk and cubes of compressed fruit, though even the vendors speak in hushed tones, as if the entire fun world were a library of impossible places rather than a carnival. The chance for Alexi to come and find something that might be interesting was highish he hoped but he was prepared to listen and talk with her as well.
