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"Yes, I noticed that. Are there procedures to make unclean things clean, or prospects for developing one? If someone is killed and we resurrect them, say, is the new body clean -"

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"There are for some things! If someone dies during surgery, say, the surgeon isn't permanently contaminated and they have ways to clean the more expensive equipment. There's a procedure for if someone touches a dead loved one because they aren't sure if they're dead, or if they're overcome with emotion about it. I think a new body would be fine too. And we wouldn't need new robots over and over, robots can be disassembled and washed and and boiled and whatever else, or have disposable airtight covers over them. Reds have a sort of generational uncleanliness because they've been doing the unclean jobs forever."

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"So even if they stopped doing the unclean jobs, you wouldn't expect it would fade away over a few generations? Would there be a way to check?"

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"There's really not, it's kind of a problem - sort of like how you have to accept that in a sufficiently large handling facility there will be some insects and there will occasionally be a fly egg in a frozen dinner, we have to accept that sometimes something probably happens that isn't noticed by anyone responsible enough to get it walled off and fixed - but we keep it low."

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"Thank you. That makes sense. I'm going to go visit the poisoned-food neighbors - it's a rule, to talk to both sides of a war, even in a case like this where there's not any real reason to fear they'll escalate desperately just because there are big shiny ships in the sky - but I'll leave the delegation here, and Uryamirë can get anything you might need from the technology and cultural summaries off the ship."

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"Thank you!"

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And he teleports a couple hundred miles over, asks the first people he sees in which direction he'll find Voa's capital. 

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These confused purple-haired sun-browned people point vaguely thataway.

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Eventually he can find the capital.

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He really misses being in summoning range. Now he starts asking after administrative buildings.

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You take the 6* train and get off after four stops.

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Flat Elves could just ask what it looked like, read their mind a tiny bit, and go there. - he could ask them to pull up a picture for him? He does that.

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Sure, a friendly yellow lady will show him a pretty picture of the capital building.

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It's not pretty. He teleports on over.

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It's a little pretty, although the surroundings aren't helpful.

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Blue and yellow people bustle to and fro. The receptionist says hello.

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"Hello. We sent out messages introducing ourselves but you seemed to be having some technical difficulties. Is there a better format for an introduction?"

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"Oh, we're under radio jamming - we heard about you secondhand - I don't think anyone's been assigned to greet you if you just, ah, show up, but I can send a priority alert."

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And a minute later an old blue-haired woman comes down the elevator. "Good afternoon. I'm Governor Avalor."

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"Macalaurë. I apologize for just dropping in."

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"You could hardly have announced yourself. Welcome to Voa. How can I help you?"

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"I'd be delighted to have a channel of communications, to start with, and past that it's really up to you. I represent one of half a dozen interstellar consortiums that might be of interest, though the Tapai thought our membership conditions were onerous, and we're excited about the potential for colony planets to relieve some of your population pressure."

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