Why Don't You Lend Us Some Chips?

"We're here! Hahaha! We finally made it!" As the towering Great Wall at last rose before their eyes, the man wrapped in a white robe cheered with unrestrained joy. Walking along the elevated highway of the Third Ring, Old Luka's face also relaxed into a relieved expression, as though dark clouds had finally parted. This journey had taken them two full days. Aside from that fellow Black they had run into at the very beginning, they had encountered at least three more waves of attackers along the way. Of course, the latter two waves had merely been small-time hoodlums. Not only were their weapons shoddy, but their morale was abysmal; after having a couple of bursts fired into their ranks, they had quickly scattered like frightened birds. As for the man in the white robe accompanying them now, he was someone they had rescued from the clutches of that final band of marauders. His name was Hal, and he hailed from Luoxia Province. According to his own account, he was a prince of the Lion Tribe, an heir to an oasis, and a devotee of the Spirit of the Sand Sea. Yet when asked why a prince and heir had traveled thousands of li to the southern reaches of Qingquan City only to end up captured by a bunch of ruffians wielding little more than fire pokers, he had sheepishly explained: "...Our kingdom has many princes. We have to do something to prove we possess the courage and character worthy of ruling." A young diplomat had asked curiously, "Such as?" Hal had launched into a grand discourse. "Such as bringing back something that doesn't exist in the desert. It is our tradition—whoever brings back the most valuable treasure earns the right to become a candidate for the throne." An older diplomat had asked, "And have you found it?" Hal's expression had turned subtly awkward, and he gave a soft cough. "...Didn't I just arrive at Boulder City? Trust me, I'll definitely find it." Far from finding anything valuable, both of his bodyguards were gone, and all the dinars he carried had been looted. If he hadn't crossed paths with this group of kind-hearted travelers, he might very well have ended up boiled alive in a cauldron of oil—just like the poor devil locked in the same cage with him. He had already begun to regret his choice. Why hadn't he headed south to Jinchuan Province with his elder brother instead of insisting on coming to Boulder City? The locals here were far more ferocious than he had ever imagined. Unlike the endless sea of sand, high-rises dominated every corner of this place, and every single window seemed to conceal a gun. The two diplomats accompanying Luka exchanged a glance. As survivors who lived in the Qingquan City area, concepts like "thrones" and "princes" were completely foreign to them. If their Administrator was likened to a king, then this fellow... was probably the son of the Lion Kingdom's Administrator? At the thought, the delegation couldn't help feeling a tinge of envy. They really wished their own Administrator would father a few children too... "Respected sir, do you happen to need a guard?" Hal asked respectfully, looking at Luka, who had remained quiet all this time. His instincts from reading people told him that this elderly man held the highest status among the entire group. Luka glanced at him curiously, wondering where the young man drew such confidence from. Still, Luka spared the youth's dignity and replied succinctly, "No. Why do you ask?" Hal looked embarrassed. He hesitated for a moment before finally blurting out, "All my money was stolen, and I have nowhere to go... Could you give me a job?" Luka asked, "What can you do?" "I can brew tea, play musical instruments, compose poetry, and paint. And of course... that includes shooting. I can prove it! If you give me a revolver or a rifle, I can hit a plastic bottle from a hundred meters away!" Hal spoke with absolute confidence, but Brother Dog and Killing Dagger, walking nearby, couldn't hold back their snickers. A plastic bottle from a hundred meters away? With the atrocious accuracy of a revolver, hitting an actual person at that distance would already be a miracle. "If we don't help him, he might not even be able to pay the city entry tax," an older diplomat whispered, leaning in close to Luka's ear. "If he truly knows how to play music and paint, his background can't be low... Lending him a hand wouldn't do any harm." That was true. Although the New Alliance had yet to establish diplomatic relations with survivor factions in other provinces, it was only a matter of time. When traveling out in the world, having a couple more friends was never a bad thing. Luka gave a nod, turned to the unfortunate youth, and said, "I happen to be short of someone to do clerical work. You can follow me for now." Overjoyed, Hal beamed. "Thank you so much! By the way, I also know twelve styles of artistic calligraphy—" Luka cleared his throat lightly. "That won't be necessary. As long as you write neatly and legibly, that will do." The party pressed on, and before long, they arrived at the foot of the towering Great Wall. The sign for Hotel Distant Winds hung upon the skyscraper directly across from the massive gate. Traveling merchants and visitors of every description milled across the plaza before the entrance. Occasionally, one could spot cybernetic prosthetics made of metal or silicone, or machines with antennae protruding from their craniums. Scantily clad paupers stood along the roadside, holding wooden signs, waiting for day labor to come to them. The stark polarization in living standards remained the same here year after year. Hal craned his neck eagerly, looking every which way, finding novelty in everything around him. The players, on the other hand, had visited the city countless times; they had long grown accustomed to the sights and people here. "A new quest triggered." Looking down at the VM on his arm, Lao Bai raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "What quest? Let me see." Fang Chang leaned over. A line of text appeared on the screen: [Quest: Head to the Pirate Bay Tavern, locate Bite, and gather information regarding the employer.] Lao Bai studied the quest for a moment. "It looks like a follow-up to that muscular fellow, Black... I've synced it to the team." "A tavern? Old Brother Fang Chang knows that scene best," Killing Dagger said with a roguish grin. "Boss, when are you going to write that romance walkthrough? We've been waiting forever!" Brother Dog chimed in. "Get lost, all of you! I'm pure as driven snow, unlike you dirty degenerates who think about 'art' all day long." Watching his teammates snicker, Fang Chang rolled his eyes in annoyance. Lao Bai didn't tease him, merely offering a smile. "So what's the plan? Once we deliver the NPCs to their destination, do we head over to the Pirate Bay Tavern to ask around?" Fang Chang sighed. "Do you honestly think this is the kind of thing you can solve just by walking into a tavern and shouting questions?" Lao Bai asked curiously, "Then what do you suggest?" Rubbing his chin in thought for a moment, Fang Chang fixed his gaze on the paupers holding up signs by the road, his eyes glinting slightly. "...Black lives in the slums. Let's find his place first. Whether he has surviving family or not, there are bound to be friends who know him. Through them, we should be able to figure out who this Bite guy really is." "That sounds like a lot of work," Killing Dagger said, stunned. "This game does require some brains," Lao Bai laughed. "Let's do as Fang Chang says. We'll head into the city first." After paying the city entry tax, the group checked in their restricted explosives and passed through the towering city gates. The militia stationed at the gate paid little heed to the exoskeletons worn by the delegation. After all, in a place like Boulder City, such gear was hardly rare enough to warrant a second glance. Following the Administrator's instructions, Luka prepared to head directly to the Alliance's liaison office in Boulder City. But the moment they stepped into the streets, he noticed that the atmosphere was decidedly off. A dense sea of people packed the entrance to the warehouse district, stretching as far as the eye could see. Citizens clad in linen shirts and hyena-pelt jackets had gathered in massive numbers. Their faces burned with fury as they raised wooden signs, chanting ragged yet deafening slogans while surging toward the core sectors of the outer city. "Reject unequal trade!" "Give us our jobs back!" "Kick New Alliance garbage out of Boulder City!" "We want bread! Not nutrient paste!" "Traitors, get the hell out of the Great Wall!" The clamor was like a boiling heat wave, made all the more searing under the scorching June sun, biting like a branding iron. The guards standing along the edge of the crowd looked thoroughly helpless, their truncheons no longer capable of keeping the mob in check. The militia loyal to the castellan merely watched the spectacle from the sidelines. So long as it didn't escalate into a shootout, they couldn't care less. Visiting Boulder City for the first time, Hal craned his neck excitedly, peering at the surging throng. "Are they celebrating a festival?" The diplomat beside him wore a grim expression. "...Does that look like celebrating to you?" "Fair point... By the way, who are they telling to get out?" Luka glanced at him without answering, turning instead to the diplomats at his side. "Let's pick up the pace. We shouldn't linger on the streets." The party nodded and quickened their steps. Although the players walking alongside the NPCs were curious to push through and have a closer look, the mission took priority. "...Well, that's rare," Killing Dagger muttered under his breath. "It wasn't like this last time we were here." "I figured what had to come would come eventually," Fang Chang remarked thoughtfully, watching the surging crowd. "What had to come?" Brother Dog asked, puzzled. Fang Chang replied, "Can't you see? They're protesting because the things we sell them are too cheap." Too cheap? Brother Dog couldn't wrap his head around it. "Wait... We gave them good, cheap goods. What do they have to complain about?" "Under normal circumstances, exchanging ten tubes of nutrient paste for a loaf of bread is reasonable. But suddenly, someone shows up offering a thousand tubes of nutrient paste for a baking oven, making both the paste and bread businesses completely unprofitable at once." "Even if bread becomes cheaper, it only benefits those who actually have chips. For ordinary survivors who have lost their jobs, cheap bread means nothing if they can't afford a single bite. Why on earth would they be happy?" The factories of Dawn City had stolen the jobs of Boulder City's residents, yet recently, City Hall in the outer city had actually planned to expand trade with the New Alliance. The outer city residents, who were already scraping by on the brink of destitution, had completely erupted. And yet... Was the root cause really that the New Alliance's goods were too cheap? The essence of the crisis lay in the concentration of wealth in the hands of a tiny minority. Once currency ceased to circulate, it lost its function in the market. Boulder City's residents had no chips to spend, so factories scaled back production. That led to fewer jobs, leaving the residents even poorer, spiraling into a lose-lose cycle. The massive influx of external industrial goods had merely accelerated that process. The simplest solution was external colonization. Whether through economic colonization or military conquest, so long as surplus goods could be continually dumped into small and medium survivor settlements like Bet Street and Brown Farm in exchange for industrial raw materials, the old cycle could be kept alive. Unfortunately, not only did the New Alliance refuse to serve as Boulder City's colony, but it had even liberated several settlements that Boulder City had economically subjugated, counter-exporting industrial goods back into their markets. Boulder City's economic crisis had begun a very long time ago. It was just that in the wasteland, economic crises were negligible compared to raw crises of survival, so nobody had ever realized it, nor did they have the leisure to care. The nobles of the inner city couldn't care less about the squabbling of their outer city "providers." And in the eyes of the castellan, everything was beneath notice except for the matters that truly concerned him. Furthermore, even trapped in poverty and unemployment, the residents here were still far more fortunate than the inhabitants of Bet Street or the serfs of Brown Farm had been a year ago. It was just that recently, these miserable souls had finally found an outlet for their rage. Thinking of this, Fang Chang couldn't help showing an intrigued expression. It wasn't that he was cold-blooded. To a hardcore gamer like him, NPCs were just lines of data; there was no reason to feel genuine pity. It was just that he hadn't anticipated the game's economic simulation would be this realistic. Not only had they modeled supply and demand, but they had even simulated relations of production. Awesome. It looked like open beta was one step closer! The party soon arrived at the liaison office located on the edge of the warehouse district. When they arrived, they found a massive crowd gathered outside the entrance, held back by several guards attempting to keep order. Judging by the chaos, something unpleasant had almost certainly occurred not long ago. Having received advance word of the delegation's arrival, Shu Yu, who oversaw operations at the office, had already come out to meet them. "Thank goodness you arrived safely. I was worried you might have run into trouble on the road." Shu Yu wore a relieved smile, though it looked somewhat haggard. Clearly, he had been racking his brains over recent events for the past several days. Noticing the debris, rocks, and shattered glass on the ground, Luka frowned and led the party through the crowd to Shu Yu's side. "What on earth is going on here?" Following his gaze to the shards of glass scattered across the pavement, Shu Yu couldn't help showing a helpless expression. "Most of the factories in the industrial zone put their workers on leave. Deprived of income, the residents took to the streets... City Hall sent guards over, but as you can see, a couple of guards can hardly control a mob this size." "Was anyone hurt?" Luka asked with concern. "No," Shu Yu shook his head. "We have quite a few 'players' staying here, and City Hall sent guards to maintain order, so security isn't a major issue... Still, at a sensitive juncture like this, it's best not to wander outside." The real danger was someone taking advantage of the turmoil to pull a stunt. Like firing a shot into the crowd. Given the proliferation of weapons across the wasteland, such an occurrence wouldn't be surprising in the least. Order here was only a matter of relative safety; absolute safety didn't exist even in the Ideal City, let alone here. At this point, Shu Yu paused, glanced at the nearby guards, and continued, "The situation here can't be explained in just a few words. Let's head inside first." ... Having delivered the NPCs to their destination, the players dispersed to attend to their own business. Lao Bai took his two comrades toward the slums outside the Great Wall. Fang Chang, meanwhile, stripped off his gear, changed into plain clothes, and melted into the protesting crowd. There were a few things on his mind that he wanted to investigate. In his own words: "Participating in a special event like this might trigger a hidden quest." As for Old Luka, after conveying the Administrator's regards to the office staff, he followed Shu Yu up to the third-floor lounge. A young maid stepped forward and poured each of them a cup of hot tea. Shu Yu took a slow sip, hoping to bring up some lighter topics to ease the tension, but seeing Luka sitting there impassively, he smiled wryly and set his teacup down. After a beat, he said, "Last night, a warehouse in the industrial zone caught fire." "Caught fire?" Seeing Luka's surprise, Shu Yu nodded. "Yes. One thousand tons of Didiwei nutrient paste stored there burned down... The stuff can't handle high temperatures, so it was essentially a total loss." One thousand tons of nutrient paste, calculated at wholesale cost, was worth nearly one hundred to two hundred thousand chips. At retail, there would usually be another zero tacked onto that number. Luka felt his heart tighten slightly. "Is it serious?" "The warehouse had insurance, so part of it will be compensated, though the exact amount is still unclear." Pausing, Shu Yu continued in a solemn tone, "You probably saw it on your way into the city: the demonstrations against us are intensifying. These tensions didn't build up overnight, but they've all erupted at once over the past few days." "I'm worried... what happened recently will jeopardize our friendly cooperation treaty with City Hall." "To prevent things from going from bad to worse, I suggest we sign the agreement as soon as possible." Hearing Shu Yu's suggestion, Luka pondered for a moment before replying: "The Lord Administrator said that a treaty is merely a piece of paper. If we don't resolve the underlying problem, they'll tear that paper to shreds whenever they please, even if we bring back a magnificent agreement." Shu Yu rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "The problem you're talking about has no solution... Do you know what those people out there are shouting for? They're constantly demanding that City Hall levy a one hundred percent special tariff on our goods, and redistribute those taxes to the unemployed poor." "Not only that, but they also demand that we deposit all our chips in their banks, settle accounts strictly on ledger credit, let the market dictate exchange rates, and spend every single chip according to their rules." Put simply, they didn't just want to make New Alliance goods unprofitable in Boulder City—they wanted to dictate how the New Alliance spent the profits earned here. If they agreed to that, the New Alliance would become a dumping ground for Boulder City's industrial goods, effectively de-industrializing until it was reduced to a giant farm and mine. The residents of Dawn City needed jobs too. No sane person would sign such an agreement. The protesters and the factory owners backing them clearly had no intention of solving the problem; they simply wanted to flip the table by making impossible demands. *If we can't beat you at this game, we'll just stop playing.* "There is, of course, a way to solve it," Luka said in an earnest tone. "That is precisely why I came." Shu Yu looked at him in surprise, unable to fathom what solution Luka could possibly have. Just as he was about to ask, a knock came at the door. The maid who had served them tea earlier stepped back in. "Sir, the Director of City Hall is downstairs. Shall I invite him up?" Shu Yu froze, having no memory of any appointment scheduled for today. "Did he... have an appointment?" The maid shook her head. "No. He claims he stopped by on a whim while inspecting the fire site in the warehouse district." Shu Yu looked at Luka. Seeing the latter nod, he turned back to the maid. "Please show the Director to the second-floor reception room." Since the man was already downstairs, they could hardly shut him out. "Understood, sir." The maid gave a slight bow and left the lounge. "...What do you plan to do? That guy definitely didn't just 'stop by'—he was almost certainly driven out of City Hall by the survivors besieging the building... I'd bet anything he isn't here to make peace," Shu Yu said in a low voice. Yet at that moment, he noticed that Old Luka's face showed not the slightest trace of anxiety. A spark of realization flashed in Shu Yu's eyes, and he understood at once. "...The Lord Administrator already gave you instructions on what to do?" Old Luka didn't answer directly. He merely offered a reassuring smile and stood up from the sofa. "Come. Let us meet this Director." ... Inside the reception room, Dulong's face was etched with anxiety and irritability born of sleep deprivation. He simply couldn't understand. He had brought back a splendid agreement, not only getting the New Alliance to waive its claims over Qingquan City's airspace, but also opening up the northern outskirts market without costing a single dime. He had thought everyone would hail his wisdom. Yet aside from the Lord Castellan and Boulder Military Industries raising no objections, the residents and other factory owners in the outer city had cursed him black and blue. Dulong was completely at a loss. The factories in Boulder City had all the technology and manpower they could ask for, and were completely free of twelve-hour work limits or minimum wage regulations. Why on earth were they afraid of small workshops run by a bunch of scavengers? If they dumped low-cost industrial goods, couldn't Boulder City just dump goods right back? This wasn't acceptable, that wasn't acceptable—what more did these insatiable leeches want?! Dulong couldn't help wishing City Hall possessed its own militia regiment. It didn't need to be as formidable as the Castellan's; so long as it fought slightly better than common mercenaries, he wouldn't have to waste so much effort negotiating. These people were unwilling to grant him the power he needed, yet refused to give him money. What on earth did they expect him to accomplish? Footsteps approached outside the reception room. After three knocks, the door swung open. Seeing the familiar face he had previously encountered via holographic projection, Dulong rose from his seat out of courtesy, cleared his throat, and took the initiative to speak. "Greetings... Castellan, sir." As he said the words, his expression felt slightly awkward. After all, in Boulder City, "Castellan" was an exclusive title reserved only for that gentleman. "Greetings, Mr. Dulong. There is no need for such formality; please, sit..." Luka said, wearing a disarming smile as he took a seat opposite Dulong. "In truth, we can address each other by name." "Those are minor details of no consequence," Dulong said, waving his hand as he sat back down, shedding his earlier polite demeanor. "I'll cut straight to the chase. I know this is abrupt, but we must renegotiate our agreement..." Not the least bit surprised by the proposal, Luka nonetheless furrowed his brows slightly. "This is not what we agreed upon." "Because the situation now is different from what it was then," Dulong said, staring at him. "You've seen what's happening outside. If I don't bring back an agreement that satisfies those people, they'll tear both me and the contract to pieces. When that happens, the person sitting here negotiating with you won't be me." "So everything we previously discussed is void?" Luka asked calmly. "Only the trade provisions. The airspace and borders are non-negotiable... That is our Castellan's command." Though Dulong phrased it diplomatically, his unyielding stance hadn't softened in the least. Luka nodded. "We understand your difficulties." Seeing the unexpected concession, Dulong felt a wave of pleasant surprise and relief. A faint smile finally crept onto his face. "That is wonderful... Rest assured, I am not an unreasonable man. In exchange for your concessions, we will look after your interests regarding security. After all, we are friends now. Whether it involves leasing aircraft or acquiring more powerful weaponry... I will do my utmost within my authority to secure favorable terms for you." Shu Yu looked at Old Luka in sheer disbelief. He was certain he had just told Luka what those people were actually demanding. Wearing a look of assured victory, Dulong took a list from his assistant and placed it on the table before them. "We have compiled several demands from our residents, and I believe many of them are entirely reasonable. The finer details will require discussion, but I hope to conduct our negotiations within this framework." In his view, now that the other side had softened, the matter was essentially settled. However, things did not unfold as smoothly as he envisioned. Luka merely cast a cursory glance over the list on the table before fixing his gaze on him. "We can sense your sincerity in wishing to resolve the issue, but this is clearly not a way to solve it." Dulong stared at Luka blankly, his brow slowly furrowing. "...What do you mean?" "Levying heavy tariffs on our goods, demanding that we store our earnings in your pockets, and dictating how we spend them—not even a dog would agree to such terms." Looking at the stunned Dulong, Luka shook his head and continued: "Signing this agreement makes no difference whatsoever. If I sign it, not a single silver coin's worth of trade will pass between the New Alliance and Boulder City. And if any does, it will only be through the black market." "...Do you have a better idea, then?" Dulong frowned. Luka nodded cheerfully. "Of course. In contrast, our respected Lord Administrator has a far better proposal." Although Dulong's instincts told him these cunning blue jackets were probably up to some new trick, he decided to hear them out first. "...What proposal?" Seeing that the fish was about to bite, a confident smile spread across Luka's steady face. "The dissatisfaction of your factories and residents boils down to two things: the former need a market to turn a profit, and the latter need jobs to feed their families." "Since that's the case..." "Why don't you lend us a sum of chips?"