I was on the platform observing the different types of ships when a Tishian ship attacked. I was thanking the information bot at the time. The space port was battered with a rain of projectiles. The gunships were firing Inox slugs. These finger sized sleek projectiles pierced people, bots and ships alike. I crawled on my hands and knees to see who it was. It was the Mangalers. War hungry brutes. I used a damaged inspection bot's scanner to detect where the fuel cells were and where the controls were. I was about to find refuge when I saw a pool of brown liquid. Immediately I got a flashback of getting angry at the Arcan science department to boil things. So I took a deep breath and tried to avoid the fuel cells as I melted the controls. The beast stopped firing and a spiral crimson Naru gunship started firing a few dozen plasma bolts. The ship exploded with a loud bang. Had I not hid under a fallen zoomer that mercifully buffered the sound I would have gone permanently deaf. The debris from the lone ship came down towards the hanger. Thankfully before it could reach the roof the fire extinguisher activated. It sprayed it so hard that it blew the bits and pieces in a different direction. The crowd cheered as the clean up crew came to clear the mess.
The guardian marshal called out to us asking anyone who is a citizen to climb aboard as the library was about to depart. I walked in and flashed the tattoo on my wrist. He waved at me to enter mindlessly as he ordered the crew to search for stowaways. As I walked towards the group huddled aside one of the bots wished me a happy one hundredth birthday and I thanked him. The guardian marshal asked how I can be a hundred years old when I look like I just hit puberty. The bot said that today marks the one hundred year mark since I became a citizen. I chuckled, "Arcanon lives to be two hundred years old. So this is nothing new." The bot said that they will send me to the notary to redesign my tattoo so I can access other parts of Arman. The senior citizens are recommended to move inwards for security reasons. The guardian marshal walked with me. He watched as my tattoo was removed. I was told to wait ten minutes before they apply a new tattoo. I waited by the desk. The marshal requested my info to which the notary said that I have reached the bench mark so my information is now sealed. It will remain so until I pose a threat to Arman. When the ten minutes was up they did a tattoo of a heart shaped red gemstone with the angel constellation done in gold. A quote going around it reads 'No one is perfect that's why understanding is so important.' The constellation tattoo was a morbid way of saying that I am now closer to death than living. If only they knew. No matter I was told to pack my belongings. The freighter bot came to relocate me.
My home was relocated to the central regions. This was the closest I will be to the actual library. No one is allowed in since the attack that took place three hundred years ago. A holographic imaging of a woman will appear to warn the trespasser if anyone wants to access the only corridor leading to the library. Here's the thing we are told from day one that no one is allowed to enter the nightingale halls. If anyone tries to go in other than the librarian bot gets fried. The weight distribution, perspiration and other unknown factors activate the primary defense system. A sharp pain goes through the body for a brief moment but it feels like a lifetime. The zapping stops for ninety seconds so anyone present will clear the floor. If the person persists then the hallway is sealed from both sides and a laser grid slices the crook like a fruit. A flamethrower burns the remains for good measure before the cleaning cyborg comes with the most foul smelling liquids. I had only seen this happen once. Only because I lost my way. Some stowaway thought it was funny to break into Arman. She thought that the library was worth stealing. She was caught and afterwards full body scans are required for the inner sanctum. She is also the main reason why the guardian marshal closes all entry points before opening the main gate to allow us to disembark Arman. He will open the paths to our respective properties only after he is certain that no uninvited person is hiding on board. I was reminded that under no circumstances am I allowed to roam the forbidden zone. The gates start to open only when we have gone beyond the upper atmosphere. We would walk in a single file like we were babies being led to class. First the souvenirs are scanned and then we are scanned before we go through the door. This process usually takes an hour to five hours.
I was introduced to the high end of Arman. The parties were boring but it did introduce me to some very interesting people. One was an Orzo. A creature that looks like a human brain. These species that were floating up and down in a watery globe supported by metal arachnid legs for mobility. It uses all twelve tentacles attached to its body to pull or push a series of levelers to operate the thing. Every few minutes a series of bubbles would rise furiously in viscous liquid I am guessing it was refreshing the oxygen in tank. They have some difficulty in speaking. But manages to get the point across. There was the Abitz species. They are waist length and look like most human species. They have trouble adapting to the atmosphere so mostly they spend their time coughing violently. Then there was the Vigil. Eight feet tall, pale gray skinned with gaunt eyed humanoid with no mouth with long spindle like fingers. The skin seemed to have grown over where the mouth should exist. They don't seem to be saying anything but for some reason they move in a fluid motion and with perfect synchronicity. They don't eat or sleep. They seem to think that avoiding me would ensure their continued existence. The Feral are a crude species. Pink skinned with a heavy accent. These obese and slow moving beings. With prominent skin lesions. Everyone of them behaves like everyone and everything has something that has the potential to harm them. The next species I was introduced to were called The Marron. With large pincers claws, long spindly legs and a series of ear-splitting high pitched screeches as a method of communication. I was almost cut in half on the day of introduction. So ever since then all I wanted to invite them to come with me to a barbecue. I imagined them being dinner rather than them having dinner. The last species in the inner sanctum was called Primers. These are Beringue species with strong large hands and thick dark hairy bodies. Known all over the galaxy for knuckle walking. With a hairless face with eyes set close together. Large flat flared nostrils and small ears. Their skulls have a robust structure with a saggital crest and large brow ridges. A jaw that jutted forward giving it a distinct profile. They can converse normally but sometimes resort to sign language or grunts. They are part of the science division in charge of implementing all sorts of experiments. If they start beating their chest you had better run for it. Because in a fit of rage they can do some serious damage.
I would stay in my house taking care of my plants or spending my time caring for the garden. The Primers came to see me during my inspection of hanging gardens. All expressed curiosity about how I have sustained a youthful look with no cosmetic assistance whatsoever. They had a few questions which I simply answered I don't know. It is true that I had no clue what was in the formula. So I played ignorant. These curious ones spent the entire day watching me from a distance before inviting me to their habitation. A large dark forest that doubles as a lab and living space. I was requested to join them for a day but I know the rules of engagement. A citizen can't be experimented on unless they give consent. So going with the Primers was a form of consent. I was told to give them a definite no if they asked. In fact I was warned that those who go with the Primers never come back. So I politely refused saying that I would like to spend my days in Arman in relative peace. I have kept to routine so I will not feel lonely. The Primers asked me if I could donate blood so they can find out about my youth. I smiled, "Arcanon lives to be two hundred years old. So perhaps you shouldn't be making assumptions." These beings live for thirty five to forty years. The oldest Primer to live was sixty years old. To hear that people live for two hundred years had peaked their curiosity. This had them ask around about the life expectancy of people living in the galaxy. It turns out that there are people who live for a thousand years. So my youthful looks insignificant in comparison.
So they politely excused themselves as they went back to their section The Terrarium. I sent a report to the governor and he made it clear that the Primers better stop their experiments or they will be evicted. This vessel was a refuge for good people. People trust them but the Primers keep pushing their luck then they have to be ex-communicated. They summoned lawyer bots to find a loophole. But after an hour in front of the Arman legal judiciary committee decided against the Primers. They were officially deemed the Primers not fit to be citizens of Arman. The library stopped at an uninhibited green planet that was unnamed. So they named it as Prima Majora in the Fugral system. The data was added to the library, the small miniature library in my possession and by extension to the intergalactic cartography department. Whenever anyone encounters a new planet they must send the coordinates to them so they can ensure others are made aware. This way the others can decide to visit or avoid it. A few details have to be mentioned for the sake of clarity. This data is then confirmed by a scout bot. After which every single star map is updated immediately. As I was being informed I saw heavy machinery being hauled out. In a single file these Primers walked out with dignity. These scientifically inclined beings weren't pleased with the situation but left regardless. I joked that we had better not come back or they might do bodily harm to us. The guardian marshal promised to keep that in mind as he shut the gates. This one was a different species. A Nobien to be precise. They have the darkest blue skin with a series of dots and dashes that glow in the dark. Some of the notorious shape changers. I had a feeling that this one has a few tricks up his sleeve. I hope that I am not next on the eviction notice.