"Lucas, dinner's served."

She called again. He stared at his Bernoulli-holo, not registering anything. He was miles away. Later he would tell his friends that that was the exact moment he realized he needed to get away. He should go on his Khar, his personal quest.

As he entered the kitchen, he announced, "I think it's time I did ..., something. I think I want to go on my Khar."

"And so you should," mumbled his father, spooning vegetables on his plate with one hand and holding some report in his other hand, reading it. His mother knew him better. She looked straight into his eyes, seeing more than felt comfortable. "You're going off-world." More a statement than a question. His father looked up from his reading, feeling that he was missing something. But then, it had to wait. They'd tell him if it was vital, and he had to digest this report before the council meeting at six-thirty.

Luke looked at his parents before taking his first byte and felt his love for them flow through him, warming him. But, God, he needed to get away for a while.

Just before six, his father's car stopped in front of the house, and Brian, his father's assistant, entered the kitchen. "It's time we left, sir. Traffic is unpredictable." Being Mayor of Great Bethnell, the capital of their nation and for all practical purposes of their world Bethnell, had its drawbacks, as it had its perks.

The mayor looked briefly at his wife, who scrutinized him and then nodded: his hair was ok, as were his shirt and tie. The daily council meetings at dinnertime were a burden, but this situation was only temporary until after the Jamboree.

Lucas smiled inwardly. Perhaps seeing all the off-worlders and aliens had triggered his desire to go get out. Who knew ...? Probably his mother knew.

When his father had left, his mother looked at him for a brief moment, and then she astounded him, as she was prone to do. "Well, maybe your father is right. Maybe you should."

...

"Your Khar, is it an inward journey, or is it outward?"

"Sorry? Oh, I see what you mean. Well... It's outward, but the purpose is also to advance inward, though maybe not to travel."

"Agrrr," gurgled Xolorrr, his best friend, really. Luke had come to understand the sound as something between a sigh and "hm."

"So, what is the purpose of your outward and inward advancement journey?"

Xolorrr Dhagtharrr was an alien. To be precise, an Urrr. He was about seven inches tall and fit comfortably in Lucas's pocket, where he would sometimes stay when they were about.

Urrr, like Humans, were widespread in their part of the galaxy, both being compared to the respective variant of fleas in the pelts of the respective variant of dogs by other species.

"Traditionally, it has two purposes. They are called 'Itrabrahar' and 'Kudri Hadratar' in the old language.

'Itrabrahar' literally means balance between within and without. It is to see yourself in the context of your world..."

Natasha snorted. "Jesus, you have been paying attention in school. It's just vacation. Cost a fortune, but the best vacation I had."

They were having a beer in The Crypt, waiting for Ben and Alice. And then they would go downtown, truth be told, just to gawk at off-worlders. Bethnell might be great, but a jamboree was something else altogether.

"Well, anyway. And 'Kudri Hadratar' literally translates to 'tokens of going-there-manship'. You bring stuff that shows something of what you have done and what you have accomplished in your quest."

"Yeah. I got this great set of Kuri-Kuri swords. Man, I tell you, those guys are really awesome."

"You mean the guy you took those swords off? Oh no, wait. That would just have been the stall keeper at the bazaar." He was just in time to duck the dishcloth heading his way.

"Well, it is true. Most people just go on a trip and buy some stuff to show to their friends. It's ok, I guess. But it used to be different, I mean, way back. You had to show that you could take care of yourself, well, in challenging situations. And you would bring back tokens of the things that you had achieved, or maybe that made a true impression on you. The National Museum has a section on famous Kudri Hadratar, dating back even before we came to Bethnell.

"And now, if you are really adventurous, you go to the lesser states, or if you are very rich, you go off-world to the resorts or further away. Where was it again, 'Tasha, that you went?"

"Oh, I just went to Second Moon. Low grav racquetball is adventure enough for me. That and the sex, of course. ..., I'm told."

"Right. Anyway. I want to really do something. I mean, there are people who go with just the clothes on their back, and they have to survive and make do."

"Or they get eaten or something. Wasn't there some guy who went and fell into a fjord the other day just because he didn't bring rope? What an idiot. Were you planning to go to the fjords?"

Xolorrr hiccupped. It was difficult to see if he followed the conversation at all. Maybe his filter just clogged up.

"No, I don't want to go into the sticks. I've been camping a couple of times, but I don't like it. I'll stay in the city. A city. I want to go off-world, you know. To a civilized world, but somewhere I've never even heard of. And I want to get to know the people. I mean, I don't want to go on vacation. I guess I want to work there, not being a tourist, not being the son of a Mayor, and not being a junior partner in a small accountancy firm."

Xolorrr made an odd grating noise they knew to be laughter. "So when do we go?"

"Sorry? No, no, no. It's not something you do with your friends. It's something you do alone. That's the point."

"Yesyes. I understand. You go alone on your Khar, and I will go on mine."

"But you're Urrr. You don't go on a Khar. It's something only humans of Uriditar origin do."

Gurgle. "But now you're being bigoted. Show me the Uriditar text that says Urrr can't go. Or any text for that matter."

"Well. You can go. You're just not supposed to go with me."

"Agrrr. One can take rope, and I presume the clothes on one's back, but one can't take members of other species. Interesting. Is it ok to take the icons of one's Deity?"

"Of course."

"So God is not one's friend? Or do the icons cease to function? Agrrr."

This was so typical. The Urrr being wrong and entirely out there, and Luke being nonplussed. And then, before he could think of something useful to say, Ben and Alice arrived.

...

The Jamboree is one of the many mechanisms introduced to avoid what species and cultures fear most: an inter-species war. By and large, the species occupy different parts of our segment of the galaxy. All in all, there is an abundance of resources if one is willing to spend the time, energy, and other resources to get them, and the species and cultures coexist harmoniously. But in some places, resources are so scarce or hard to get at that friction or exploitation might result, and very possibly between different cultures or different species. So, as a policy, the Federation provides any resources structurally scarce at greatly reduced shipping costs: all in order to avoid dissatisfaction which might turn into species-oriented tensions. Exploration of the galaxy, and acquisition of resources which are scarce throughout the Federation, are always organized with the participation of multiple species and cultures, again to avoid any single species or culture having sole access to rare materials, archeological or xenological finds, or indeed other species and the knowledge that invariably brings.

The Jamboree is a combined fair and Federation summit. Delegations of the seven species and the forty-two major autonomous cultures meet and talk, negotiate and ratify. Most federation laws are made in this manner, and most universal trade agreements are negotiated at Jamborees. At all times, various Jamborees travel the Federation and frequent all major cities. By law, a major city has the right to host a Jamboree at least once every five years.

In the slipstream of the summit, a multitude of trade delegations travel: merchants setting up trade on the slim margins that can be obtained in interstellar shipment; local representatives that offer their cultural, industrial, or agricultural goods in direct trade; and thousands of traders living on a grand scale or eking out a meager existence, all looking for 'the deal of the galaxy'.

The summit lasts about ten standard days. By convention, the host nation's president, or the planetary president, chairs the summit and directs all formal sessions, whereas the mayor of the host city hosts the trade delegations, the cultural delegations, and all festivities.

After the summit, the captains of industry and the heady echelons of business and trade depart together with the federation politicians and bureaucrats, leaving it to their underlings to finalize details and set up activities. Others stay as well, for similar reasons: finding transport routes, finding local agents, etcetera.

Those that are done or those without suitable results may leave, with the Jamboree, they may go home, or they may go elsewhere; those without success and without sufficient funds to pay for their ticket are bound to stay and hunt for an opportunity after all, or indeed, for a job.

One of the fixed projects in the wake of a Jamboree is to absorb all those that have been left behind: find them housing and find them jobs. Time and again, cutting corners here has proved to sow next year's trouble. 'The dispersion project', as it is called, is only one of many headaches of the host city's mayor.

For many, the Jamboree is the highlight of the year. Anything and everything can be found. From the height of fashion to the ultimate of eccentricity for any species or any culture, from xeno artifacts to the most prized pieces of art; musical instruments, ancient books, and relics. Anything. At a price, of course. Many traders that travel with the Federation offer the latest, scarcest, or most sought-after items at exorbitant prices. Others charge steep but reasonable prices: everything is imported by definition.

...

Tonight, Luke and his friends would stroll down the Esplanade. Traditionally a mixture of food stalls, arts and crafts, beer tents, high-tech demonstrations, and performances could be enjoyed. Within a mile, you could get rich or poor, married or divorced, as the saying went.

Xolorrr had his scooter to keep up with the humans. Normally he didn't mind staying with Luke, but tonight both he and Luke wanted to be able to gape at whatever took their fancy without having to think of the others too much. As prescribed by law during the Jamboree, each had his sphere generator in place, set to Geramaas dimensions.

A sphere generator projects a hologrammatic image of its wearer around that wearer at larger dimensions in order to avoid species accidentally treading on each other. In the earliest gatherings, this had happened more than occasionally: Humans trodding on Urrr and running over Fluali's, and Geramaas stamping on all other species, including Humans. One incident where an elderly and shortsighted Geramaas accidentally stepped on an Urrr bus, killing the twenty-nine Urrr inside, led to the current legislation: at any public gathering open to multiple species, participants were required to wear a sphere projector set to sufficiently large dimensions.

The sphere was slightly annoying but better than the alternatives that had been tried -- any audible or indeed sensible proximity detection went haywire in crowded surroundings such as the Esplanade. The sphere gave a ghost-like appearance: you could see it, but you could see the person inside much better. Only when the sphere intersected a physical object, did the light-intensity increase into an annoying sparkle. Just enough to avoid people walking too close to one another. Couples tended to set their spheres at slightly larger dimensions still, to be able to walk inside each-others sphere without the fireworks, so to speak.

"That's interesting," Xolorrr piped, pointing at a stall displaying various artifacts from the distant world First Mirror. The voice enhancer he used in places like this, where the general hubbub made him hard to hear, gave his voice a thin, reedy quality. "Look at the craftsmanship on those utensils. And yet, they seem quite modern. Not at all backward. I bet you could learn a lot in a place like that."

He could be like that, more than a bit annoying.

"Maybe I'll go to Pleni'at'urrr," Lucas said. It was the second moon of the Urrr homeworld Manaat, and it was holy to the Urrr in such a degree that they didn't come there. Most nations had an embassy there, which apparently was ok, to avoid Manaat with its utterly complex religious and secular rules and regulations. The small island of Innarrr, which apparently was auspicious for all species and most purposes, had been converted to a single, gargantuan conference center, and there was a continuous stream of cable-cars between Pleni'at'urrr and Innarrr.

But Luke wouldn't go there. He didn't know yet what he would do, but that definitely wasn't it.

Ben and Alice strolled over to them. God knew how they did it, but their sphere generators were set such that Alice's just barely touched Ben's crew-cut, giving him a fantastically sparkling, lopsided halo. It looked ridiculous and impressive at the same time and fit the occasion splendidly.

"So you and Veronique didn't work out?"

"Well, no. I mean. Not really."

He and Veronique had been dating for a couple of weeks, but it didn't really work. He liked her all right. Just not the sparks Ben and Alice were showing, so to speak. And only to himself, Luke admitted it wasn't anything as good as with Natasha. They had been an item ever since high school. In college, they had lived together, somehow assuming they would marry when the time was right. Then, later, when they had jobs, they sort of diverged. Still living together, still assuming they would get married sometime soon. Until one day, Natasha got a message that her aunt had died. The aunt had been very close, perhaps even closer than her parents. As Natasha read the telegram, she cried, and Luke helped her, and after sobbing for an hour, she looked up at him and said: "God, I do love you." Precisely at that instant, they had both realized they were never going to marry. They were friends for life, and they did love each other, but they weren't in love anymore. Later, they had separated, but they had remained the best of friends.

Xolorrr piped, "How about a beer?" There was a Xeno-place just ahead, and Luke saw that Natasha had gyrated in that direction, drawn by her very own gravity for high-quality alcohol. Most places were able to mix a decent beer-equivalent for all species, but a Xeno place would stock the real thing for all species. He preferred strong, dark beer himself, and at the Jamboree, he would have a wide choice.

"So what do we take with us? Lots of money and no stuff, or lots of stuff and no money. It seems to me that any Kudri Hadratar loses some of its splendor if you start out with lots of credit and just buy it. But then again, if you have to find a proper job, the first loaf of bread you buy with your first paycheck might make a decent Kudri Hadratar."

'A proper job' was one of Xolorrr's favorite expressions. Luke didn't fully comprehend what Xolorrr's job entailed, but he'd observed that it didn't actually involve work. Xolorrr was a semi-religious scholar and what he did was write. Luke had read some of it (after Xolorrr having translated it), but he couldn't understand a single thing. Xolorrr had tried to explain, at considerable length and in quite some detail, but to no avail.

Luke always felt, not so much ashamed, but not particularly proud either, about his job. It was rather mundane in his eyes. Counting other people's money, as Natasha would put it. Xolorrr understood the concept of money, of course, but wasn't interested in any degree, so to him, Lucas's job was equally hard to grasp. Counting grains of sand.

"You can take what you like, really. If you like reading, bring books. If you like writing, bring pen and paper. But if all you do is read or write, you are not going to find balance, and your tokens will be second-hand books."

"God, here we go again. Nobody thinks about it like this, Luke. Did your father put you up to this? Good PR, proper family values, and solid Uriditar traditions. No, he wouldn't. He hasn't seen the potential yet of a well-advertised Khar along traditional lines. I'll tell him. Maybe he'll give me a job or something."

"Well, he might give you something. He seems to like you a lot," Ben suggested, "and, Ow." Ben's jokes could be just over the edge, but Alice would always gladly remind him.

"I don't really mind you coming with me, my friend, but you have to allow for this to be my Khar. Yours as well, I imagine, but certainly mine. It's not a vacation, a business trip, or whatever. It is my Khar."

"Sure. So. When and where?" And just like that, they entered the realm of practicalities. He'd have to tell his boss, who wasn't Uriditar, although his boss most certainly would see the PR value. He'd have to make sure Veronique was ok on this. Fortunately, he had left the flat to Natasha when they split up and had been living with his parents these last couple of months -- a year, really. He had no flat or cat or anything to look after.

And then he had to choose where. He wanted to go to another world. Not too cosmopolitan, because then he might just as well stay where he was. Not anything too rural or techi, so none of the fresh colonies or asteroid settlements. And he preferred to go to a human world. Any multi-culture would be cosmopolitan by default, and being in an alien world seemed too tiresome altogether, having to think about everything you did all day long. Everybody knew the stories about someone sneezing among Fluali's that weren't used to that. He didn't want that. And then he saw the Esplanade again and thought, "why not?"

...

"This is the beautiful world of Anlet. The single human-inhabited continent requires little or no terraforming with its green pastures, lush forests, and majestic rivers. Enjoy this spectacular view from the patio of the magnificent Radgar hotel, situated on the top of what is officially the only mountain on Anlet. Imagine taking a stroll around the beautiful and picturesque gardens of the hotel and seeing everything on Anlet within a 300-mile radius.

"And now, sit back and enjoy this ultra-speed monorail trip across the savannah. Notice how the livestock and agricultural farms and factories have been blended into the savannah so that you can enjoy this spectacular view while the good people of Anlet go happily about their daily lives. Or, ..., maybe you hadn't noticed the farms at all.

"On Anlet, we pride ourselves on the perfect balance we have achieved between our magnificent nature and wildlife, and the motor of our Financial success: agriculture..."

"Bleh. This really gives me the shivers, you know."

After the beer, Luke and Xolorrr had seriously gotten down to finding a suitable goal for their quest. They stopped at every presentation of another world, colony, or settlement, trying not to be prejudiced. As soon as either saw or heard something, anything, they didn't like, they left. So far, they had rejected more than twenty places for many different reasons. Too pastoral, too techy, too cosmopolitan, too fanatic, too religious, or just too weird.

"You have made a very wise decision, my lady. Your prenuptial honor is not something to squander idly, and Gruahar is precisely the land to savor ..."

"Excuse me. This seems to be wrong. You've given me the wrong presentation."

"Not at all, my lady. Our program is prepared with the utmost care, and I must say that the unsavory frivolity with which you ladies dissipate that which is most precious..., well, ..., leaves me in despair."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not at all. Don't mention it."

"Right!" Twenty-three.

So far, his favorite had been Adam's Rest. Sort of like Bethnell in summer, maybe like living in one of the villages just outside Greater Bethnell. All facilities, but life at a slower pace. His mild reason not to go there was the absence of a decent college or a school of arts. But in fact, it was Xolorrr who had vetoed Adam's Rest. Apparently, at least one moon was required.

"This is LaMere: the sea. Not a single square foot of land is to be found, and yet, LaMere can boast the best universities, hospitals, or museums in the Federation.

"LaMere isn't all work. You won't be mountain climbing, but it has the best skiing, diving, and fishing sites to be found.

"Interested?

"Imagine the biggest ship you've ever seen, ... Peanuts. Imagine an entire town floating on the seas, .... Peanuts. Now imagine a city with two million inhabitants. A floating island with factories, cinemas, hospitals, super and sub-aqua apartments, restaurants, schools, museums, and even a high-speed railroad system. And speaking of restaurants, you've just gotta love this. This great capital of LaMere is actually called Île Flottante!"

That was interesting. Maybe too cosmopolitan, but definitely different. "Xolorrr. You've got to check this one out."

"Mine just bit me."

"Sorry?"

"This one has a tactile enhancer, and it just bit me."

"Was it LaMere?"

"Oh no. I was just looking at a Pli infomercial, but they always lose me some way or another."

"Ok. Anyway. This one, LaMere, is an option. It has... something."

"I know about LaMere ..., it's wet. How about a beer?

...

In the end, they didn't go to LaMere. After quite some time, they opted for a world called Daimando. Xolorrr was less than helpful in the process, griping about the most peculiar details.

Luke thought Daimando was interesting because it was similar to, and yet, different from Bethnell. It was similar in that it was modern and fairly advanced in its colonization program, yet different in that it had significant heavy industry and manufacturing and therefore was much less dependent on trade. Similar in that it had museums and art schools aplenty, yet different in that their art-focused predominantly on industrial design. Similar, in that most of planet Daimando consisted of the nation Daimando, but different in that the rest, rather than being divided in a large number of minor nations, appeared to be entirely unused.

Daimando had a multitude of moonlets, probably the consequence of a mishap involving one large moon in Daimando's astronomic adolescence. The largest five moonlets exceeded, in weight, a sphere with a diameter of 232 miles but were smaller than a 160-mile cube. According to Xolorrr, this posed an interesting enigma as to the auspiciousness of Daimando, and he felt a sacred duty to establish truth on the matter.

Preparations for their journey were straightforward. The biggest obstacle turned out to be Luke's boss, who disapproved after all even though he saw the PR angle. His reasons remained unclear, but Luke got the impression that it concerned the Khar stipend. Although his employer was under no obligation to give it, it which was generally considered good manners to do so. Luke resolved the matter by resigning, reasoning that if he took any stipend, he would feel obligated to return to this firm anyway, and he felt that he might prefer to think about what he truly wanted. Now he could most likely return but could just as easily do something else altogether.

The Jamboree coincidentally coming to an end turned out to be an advantage on balance. It was more difficult to find a berth, as they were still quaintly called, but there was more choice in destinations, resulting in fewer hops and, therefore, cheaper tickets.

Saying goodbye was awkward and emotional. His father offered sensible but otherwise useless advice, and his mother was in tears, reminiscing about his early youth and adolescence. 'Tasha, too, was uncharacteristically emotional, but then again, Luke had been a more or less constant factor in her entire life.

Xolorrr's departure was a very solemn affair at which many of his clan were present. The clan had been unable to find a single Urrr eye-witness account of Daimando, so for all they knew, Xolorrr might be the first Urrr to set foot on Daimando, improbable though that sounded. Luke would have liked to be present but hadn't expected to: Urrr clan gatherings were strictly for the clan. Not even other Urrr would ever be present.