Here is John Q. Everyguy the Azguard. He lives on Azguard, is three meters tall, enjoys a game of Azguard Chess every now and then, and has a sweet tooth for a particular chocolate. He works for the government as a part of the Produce Industry, giving out government grants to the farmers of Azguard to start local farms. On saturday, he goes to church and writes a letter to his preffered god, who always takes the time to write back.

And of course, on Sundays, he reports to local Militia Block House Discrict 18 and bayonets holographic stormtroopers, lifts heavy weights, and is taught how to hot-wire Imperial technology.

Let us look at a typical day in his typical life, on a less-then-typical world.

John starts every day by having brekfast. The Coalition Health and Well-Being Commission suggest a large brekfast, so you will have the energy needed to face a day of work. Azguardians disdain hunting, and farming animals was something they never thought of, so he enjoys his synthetic bacon and a glass of real Kata-Juice.

Next John gets dressed. What do Azguards wear? Fashion is dictated by local culture on the planets of the Coalition, so for Azguard he puts on a baggy robe and clean sandles. Then he's off to work.

How does your average Azguard get to work? Public transportation, of course! There was a time where everyone was free to fly their speeders right in the middle of the city, but disastrous accidents and a steep level of failure on the driving test resulted in the whole thing being replaced by a high-funded and efficient transport system. On the way, John will pass by Kraz, Vrakken, Kraum, Frozians, and many other races that make up the Azguard Sector. Due to their widely varying racial appearence and abilities, the different groups often have trouble mingling, though not for lack of trying.

Now John is at the office, cleaned and maintained by a friendly A-5 Class repair droid, who is in charge of building clensliness and maintenance. Watch out though, littering is a social issue of Azguard, and leaving excess trash around will get you fined. No problems today though. John can go straight to work.

What's on the agenda today, John? Why it appears you're going to have to head out to the country and take a quick flight over to Krakken IV. What a pity, you'll miss lunch. Oh well. Better hurry, the freighters wait for no one. They can't, they're run by a computer.

The Azguard countryside is just one long mountain range with rivers cutting across it, making it usually difficult to navigate. But speeders are allowed in the vast, open range of the wilderness, so John gets to fly. Civilian Speeders are supplied by the city in return for a monthly fee, and the city reserves the right to make use of the speeder in case of emergancies.

As he flies, John passes over many farms. The farmers of Azguard tend to have huge fields, filled with a type of mossy plant the Azguards enjoy. Recently they have also imported tea from other worlds, and the tea-industry is a booming one in the Azguard sector.

Finally he arrives at the Freighter station. Let's lean in close and see how the entire interaction is played out.

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"Hello" John leans in "Ah, Haens. Hello Haens. I'm on the 437 flight to Krakken IV. Seat 3B."

"Oh yeah, so you're John, eh? All right then, here's your ticket. There's a ten-minute wait, the freighter ran into some trouble."

"Ah, nothing serious I hope."

"Oh good gracious no, the primary route was overrun by Furen patrol-ships so they have to go round the long way."

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See? very pleasent. A friendly interaction. John then gets to take a ride to the barren planet of Krakken IV. The port authority is comparativly lax, because who else but Azguard-Sector races travel these lanes?

To get from the landing-zone to the office he needs to be at, John takes a ride on a large riding lizard, alongside a party of the native Kraz. The lizard slithers through the underground city, dropping people off at their various stops, until arriving at the large, carved-in-stone building that functions as place of buisness for the Krakken IV Agricultural Bureau. Here John will sleep, eat, and work for his stay on Krakken IV, but he is also free to walk around town (to the best of his ability, the city was designed for four-foot tall people).

And as he arrives, we find ourselves half-way through a day in his most average life.

Ah, once again we are following John. Look, on the way to the office, he spots a Kraz taking a collection outside the bank for the families of deceased soldiers. As a citizen should, John makes sure to make a sizeable donation. Whats' one less fancy meal in a life-time or one less new suit when doing so will help support the widows of those who died for your own freedom? Unfortunately, the donations man was busy arguing with a passing man about... Something... Kraz is a long language. He left the money next to his foot and kept going.

Now that John is at the office he works hard, filling out documents and discussing buisness ideas. Coalition Corporate Law is very stringent to prevent abuse of employees and unjust buisness practices, like hostile takeovers or using cheaper foreign labour, but these rarely need to be used to keep buisness clean in the Azguard Sector, which can probably be linked to all the socialist and communist laws by-laws they use.

John, like most people in the coalition, has to stay late to get things done. What with the war on most good communcaition lines are in use, and people sometimes have to wait hours in the middle of a big battle to send the smallest message. Oh well, once he's done he's free for the day.

After reviewing the projected budget for farm-support this year on Krakken IV, John decides to go out for dinner.

But as a government official, poor John has to go through a morass of anti-corruption checks and requirements first. After all, its' the taxpayers' money that'll pay for his food and drink. Usually Azguards are trusted, but in war time every credit counted.

After going through the procedures, he visits a locally-run Kraz restaurant. The Kraz favour the sort of Inn-style restaurants, with a bar and scattered tables carved out of the living stone. John sits down and waits patiently until the waiter is done detangling himself from a rowdy barfight. Kraz are a lot louder and more boistrous then Azguards.

"Wod'ya want, eh?"

"Hm, let's see. Oh, good selection here. I'll take the Fried Go, bacon, tea, and for dessert perhaps a small iced-cream?"

"FG, B, T, IC, got it. You payin' cash, check, or performance?"

"Performance?"

"Yeah, the acts' out today. Picked a fight with another band. Broken instruments all over the place. Azguards can dance, right?"

"Well, I guess so, but not in a room half their height."

"So cash then?"

"Yes please."

John can now enjoy his meal, with a slice of real fried Go, but unfortunately still synthetic bacon. Regrad had once, in an infamous speech, declared "Two pigs, two pigs, my kingdom for two pigs." Still, better then nothing.

Once he finished the meal, paid the bill, and tipped the waiter, the cook, and the barfighters (Who soon provided the performance after breaking the tables.)

Now it is late, but John doesn't want to go to bed yet. He hasn't been to Krakken IV in over a month, and it is regarded as the most exciting place in the Azguard sector. Not hard, considering their only other competition is a frozen ball of ice, a land of revoloutionary bird-men, Azguard itself, and eight other worlds that swarm with hostiles.

What does one do in the coalition for night-life fun? The Coalition has tough prostitusion and pornography laws, so that's out (Not that Azguards are interested in that sort of thing :/ ) anyways, the best way to spend time on Krakken IV is to get stone-drunk and sing a good song.

The Furens' Ankle, a successful chain of bars across the sector, provides just such a service of drunk-karaoke-pain for those eager to slur out the words to "K, Sarit' Sarit'". So we're off.

John has many choices of drink, from the hard liquors like "Frozian's Passtime" to the light, social drinks like "Aquila". Getting wasted is surprisingly easy in the Coalition, and local comedians often crack jokes about how that explains the sort of leaders they have. Oh well.

I think its' time to leave John, but don't worry, after a rousing sing-song in a language he doesn't understand but likes the sound of, he'll surely stumble back home again in the end.

This is the end of his day, but the Galaxy is vast. in other place the days of some people are just beginning! Soon, I may take you on a close look at the lives of humans, Mon Calamarians, and others in the vast Coalition and beyond.

Let us turn our attention to Joe. Joe is human. He lives on Kel'Shabbol, a planet in the Kathol sector of the Outer Rim Soverinty. He works, day-by-day, selling fruit in his shop at the base of a tower block on one of Kel'Shabbol's scattered cities, which consists of vast squares of houses surrounding huge commercial towers.

Joe is just waking up. He looks out of his window at Kel's vast trackless woods, mountains poking out of the distance. He makes himself some coffee, gets dressed in a clean buisness suit, takes a bite out of some new fruits he recently got from some remote planet, Ass-grate or something, that he's never heard of, and is out the door.

Although he is a successful merchant, its' not easy keeping a speeder, especially at war-time. He takes a public-transportation bus to his place of work. Once he gets there, he opens his door with an electric-key-card, and opens up.

There are a fair amount of taxes on buisnesses to pay for the war, but Joe is still getting by rather comfortably, mostly thanks to the abundance of fruits available on his highly-varied homeworld. People came in and out, to load up on fruits and vegetables, ALOT of fruit and vegetables.

Why? Because no one can reach Bakura. All over there are holes in the communications net, and people fear attack.

Soon, we will take a closer look at this mans' life. But not now, I need to have lunch.

Ah, now little Joe takes a lunch-break to watch the wonderful Political Process in action.

The local Precinct is holding a meeting. There, a vote will be taken on issues and the results will be forwarded to a regional delegate. S/he then responds to the vote to the best of his/her's ability.

There are military units patroling the streets - from the local garrison, what with it being war-time - but they would not give Joe trouble, for they are local lads and often get food from his stall. They are not exactly elite, hardened soldiers, but then who cares, eh?

He gets to the Precinct, takes a seat, and listens to the speaker. Wow, looks like the issue today is the power system. Small issues, like slowly increasing power-bills, fill the day. The people don't really feel passionate, because the political system is rather closed to them. Not to say it's corrupt or elitist, but if you're not already a part of it you'll have trouble joining, you need to be approved by another precinct just to get in on the ground floor.

Once he's done here, he goes back to work. His work would be unseemingly hard if not for the help of friendly passer-bys and his dear droids. Droids with intell-chips (which are freely provided to all droids) have full Sentient Rights under the "All minds great and small" act.

Once his day of work is done, he gets to spend the evening with his wife and kids. His wife also works (two people have to work in most families to assure a good income rate) as a local store manager, and his children attend the government-funded School system. Education on ORS worlds is well-payed, and focuses heavily on informing children about social issues.

Now, as it is late, they all get to watch the holo-net. The news is rather in the dark about the war, and families don't want to know about that. Instead, they watch movies where heroes like Jeifer Goldbreig fly flights of ships against bad-guys in daring space-battles that never happened.

Good night Joe, soon we'll look at another family.