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Trip 30: From PetroAlarconia Complex to Alarconian Supreme Court

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Comment Replies

haitoc: Thanks for your comment! In fact, Alarconia is inside the SimSports Football League right now, but I'm thinking entering in more leagues next seasons.

gotsomemilk: Thank you for your comment! The regular readers should know I like politics, so It was an easy job!

k50dude: Thanks for your regular comments! Glad you liked the pic, I spent a lot of time thinking what school to show!

OrdinarySim: Thank you too for commenting! I also like history, I tried to make it as accurate as possible to RL history adding only Alarconian own issues.

sportspeep99: Thank you for your comment, but I don't understand your question...


PetroAlarconia Complex, Carrer Beta (Beta Street), 10:02 a.m.

I was in a different place today. No Commerce Plaza, no McCormick Square, no AWFC, no airport. I was called from the Central to go to PetroAlarconia Complex, a place I rarely have to go. It is a petrochemical wasteland, dedicated to the processing and refining the cruce oil coming from Ernest Benach Oceanic Oil Rig, the only one in Alarconian waters.


My customer was waiting in front of the HQ building, the place where the offices are. There were some workers smoking in front of the building and I knew exactly who was going to hop into the taxi.

"Good morning, miss."

"Good morning..."

"Where do we go?"

"To the Supreme Court, please."

"Hold on a sec, I have to type the address in the GPS..."

It show me a route like this. Seemed that the satellites had its information upgraded, Avinguda de l'Indústria (Industry Avenue) was in works and it was impossible going through it.


I started the engine, while turning the radio low.

She was a woman in her 50s, white hair, glasses. She reminded me Kate twenty years older, dressed with an executive and discreet combination of blazer and skirt. She carried a small portfolio.

"No, don't turn it down, please."



"I think I know why are you going to the Supreme Court." I said.


"The oil spilling affaire."

"You're right..." she admitted. She seemed a little tired.

"I guess it have been tough days..."

"Well, I'm PetroAlarconia's Chief Attorney and I'm in charge of this affaire... That's because I'm going to the Court."

"Something to say in your defense?"

"Of course. That's my job."

I turned right, taking Avinguda de l'Atlàntic (Atlantic Avenue), the road that circles the whole islands. PetroAlarconia Complex landscape is aesthetically the worst place this avenue goes through. Some meters later, we entered in Port Alarcònia (Port Alarconia).


We had left behind the LNG tanks where the natural gas from the oil rig is stored, and we were approaching to the coal dock, where the coal for a couple of power arrives from China.

"If I have to say the truth, I don't like lawyers, attorneys, you know..."

"Why do you think this?"

"Well, I don't like all legal stuff... Luckily, I've never been in a trial I guess this means I'm fine with the system."

"You're talking about the criminal justice. What we're going to discuss in the Supreme Court today has nothing to do with this."

"What I want to say is I don't think a person trained to lie deserves my confidence, I guess you know what I mean." now I was the one who was feeling a little unconfortable.


We were passing now besides the container terminal, quite busy this days. The seaport had been locked for three days until the oil spilling was cleaned and now all ships were trying to get into the port.

"So, in your opinion, what happened in the oil rig?"

"It was an accidental spilling, nobody would do that for pleasure. And speaking corporatively, it isn't PetroAlarconia's fault."


"PetroAlarconia doesn't do the oil rig managing."

"I thought it was."

"No, it is managed by a British company, PetroAlarconia's responsability begins when the crude oil crosses the municipality line between Port Alarconia and PetroAlarconia Complex."

"I guess all this you've said is legal."

"Of course."

We entered in Ciutat d'Alarcònia (Alarconia City) municipality, the Old Lighthouse is the one that announces this.


"What do the British side say?" I asked.

"They say it's the oil tanker crew fault..."

"They pass the ball..."

"Well, yes." she said, quickly.

"What did really happen?"

"It's all about connections and technical things. I'm in the trial only as a chief attorney, my specialized attorneys are the ones who have to talk about this."

"I see..."


We kept along Atlantic Avenue, going besides the cliffs that characterise this part of the island. At our right hand, we had the first residential buildings of Little Hong Kong, the place where the most part of Asian inmigrants established during the 90s. The radio was speaking about the oil spilling two months ago.

"You have to admit it was a dramatical issue."

"Yes, I guess it was. In fact, La Florida's hotel owners are in this trial wanting to take all our money."

"They say they had severe losses..." I said, remembering the images of outraged owners in TV interviews, watching how all tourists packed their bags and went back home or were rellocated in other hotels in the nation..

"They had losses, but they want 20 million AL$ in compensation! Two for each hotel! Have they gone crazy?"

"I'm sure PetroAlarconia can afford this compensation."

"Yes, we can afford it, but we say this is unfair..."


We were leaving behind Little Hong Kong and entering in Miramar (Seaview District), the place where cheap tourist hotels are being updated to expensive office buildings. We were listening to the radio now, my customer wanted to hear all what "regular people" had to say about the oil spilling. There was a hotel owners representative and he seemed ready to do anything in order to win the trial.

I kept driving until Carrer dels Sabaters (Shoemakers Street) and turned right, up to go to the Casc Antic (Old Quarter).


I kept driving until Carrer dels Sabaters (Shoemakers Street) and turned right, up to go to the Casc Antic (Old Quarter). Now, the beaches facing the western part of Illa de Nova Catalunya (New Catalonia Island) had their usual gorgeous aspect, but a couple months ago there had arrived pieces of crude oil that had taken off all people.

The Alarconian Supreme Court is the most important justice organism in the nation, and the one that takes care of the really important affaires such us terrorism, corruption, enviromental crimes and this kind of things. It between B, 4th, C and 5th Streets, inside the characteristical Old Quarter's grid pattern the Founders had left us.


I turned right to Carrer C (C Street) following the GPS device instructions. We were very near the Supreme Court, but I would have to go round the block to leave my customer at the very front of the building. There were some journalists in the main entrance, so I thought that she would try to get into the building as fast as possible.


She began looking in her purse before I stopped the car, so she had ready the amount of money.

"There will be 31.15 AL$, please."

"Here you are, 32 dollars. Keep the change..."

"Thank you, miss. Goodbye and good luck!"

"Luck is for the weak..." she said, closing the door and entering the building almost running.

I started the engine and looked for another customer, another more story.

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