Wow, this is a terrible place to do a summoning, anyone could have smudged the binding. If there was even an attempt at a binding, which, no, that pentacular thing doesn't count.

His summoner takes a big gulp from a beer and nods approvingly before shaking her spray paint can. The music booms, and she has to shout to be heard at all. "Eyy, welcome to the party!"

"This is a really dumb idea even for someone as drunk as you are!" he informs her over the music.

"Well fuck you too! You're the one dolled up like some kind of mutie!"

"I'm a demon, what did you think you were writing on the floor?"

"Decorations! I'm not drunk enough to think demons are real, this shit is just cool!"

She starts on another circle with her spray paint. On the wall, this time. Someone stumbles past them both, brushing past Cam's wing. The song changes to a slightly less overwhelmingly loud one.

Cam confiscates her spray paint. "You are too drunk to have any writing implements at all."

Oh, we're moving on to violence? Okay then. She will attempt violence to get it back, starting with throwing the bottle and moving on to punches and kicks. She's surprisingly good for a drunk person.

She can knock him over, and he's not going to hit back, but she's not getting the spraypaint.

She gives up when they attract a few onlookers from the main dancing area. One steps forward.

"Problems, head? You've had a few. Nannie shot?" He waves a small pill bottle-looking canister.

"No way, I got drunk on purpose! Fucker took my spray!" His summoner complains, releasing him and standing up, swaying. "Came out of nowhere too."

"I think you need a nannie shot if you want to stay here, or a time-out, goth girl, since you threw the first punch. And you, I didn't see you come in, head. You don't like people appropriating the hell thing?"

"I came here, from hell, because she summoned me, drunk in a crowded room like she's never heard of the Safe Summoning Authority, and if she keeps it up with the spray paint she could get somebody nasty."

"None of that sounded real."

"What rock do you people live under?"

"What cult did you live under that told you you're a real-life no-shit demon instead of some kind of mutant?"

"Oh, I didn't. I died first."

"Sure you did. We're all just here to have a good time and I don't know either of y'all- Anyone know these heads?" He asks the crowd.

One of them says he recognizes Goth Girl, vaguely.

"So, yeah."

"I mean, you can kick me out of this party if you want, but the thing where you're letting people do unsafe summoning is kind of a big deal."

"I am in fact kicking you out of this party and ignoring the bullshit about summoning."

...

Cam appears a lampshade on the fellow's head.

He startles back, bats it away off himself, and pulls a knife. Several of his buddies pull blades too.

(The goth girl cackles, behind him.)

"...The fuck?"

Peacetied sheaths appear on the knives. "I told you, I'm a demon."

???????

"...Why don't we go into a side-room that's a bit quieter? No need to air everything out in front of the crowd." He gestures vaguely. "I'll handle this, guys. Just be chill, okay?"

"Cool by me."

He hands the pill-tube thing to Goth Girl "I'll give you half a dozen later if I have to, just take it and sober up for now, it could be important." She grimaces, but presses it to her forearm, where it injects with a quiet 'hiss'. 

The guy indicates a door. Once they're all behind it and the music is much quieter: "So, I go by Cleaver and I'm still real confused, but it seems pretty important that we all get un-confused in this here situation."

The goth girl looks a bit sick and much more sober. "Same. Uh, call me Maxi."

"I'm Cam. I am a demon. I have been summoned. I'm starting to be so incredulous that you don't know about demons that I've wrapped around to being unsurprised because this is some kind of alternate universe."

"Sounds about right, seeing as you're acting like spraying the floor will get you fucked up and that's extremely not a thing from my perspective."

"Yeah, it's bullshit," agrees Maxi.

"Cause you sound remarkably eloquent for the insanity explanation, plus stuff did in fact, appear. How you wanna check, head?"

"Well, if you spray on the floor in the wrong pattern, you will summon a powerful extradimensional entity and they aren't all as nice as I am. But since this is an alternate universe I guess this could be a fluke somehow, the only time in all of history of this universe that summoning has worked."

"Matter conjuration and interdimensional travel is one hell of a claim, though. I'm game to try it if you want and it only involves, like, actual drawing."

"I mean, ideally you do it safely, which in this case since I assume you don't want me to teach a semester-long course means that I make most of the circle and you finish it off because it won't work for me as I am non-human."

"You aren't seriously believing this?"

"Where'd this lampshade and this nice sheath come from then, huh? Anyway, sure. If reality is how I think it is, which is what I'm banking on - much less strongly than before, sure, but still - there's no way for that to harm me that you couldn't manage already, after all."

"Oh yeah, we're super dangerous if you don't do it right, I'm just a nice dude." He appears a circle with a highlighted gap in it and hands over a pen.

"Oh, I believe you! Nice guys totally exist." Pen: Draws. The guy, Cleaver, stands back, arms crossed.

Maxi asks, "So you can make stuff? Like... Groceries and home repair stuff maybe?"

"Medicine," Cleaver adds. "Never enough of that in the slums. And I don't mean party drugs by 'medicine', either."

"Yes, I can make all those things. ...if everything were going normally that circle would have been answered in less than a second."

"So it's busted, or the one out there was a fluke, or you're confused in one or more ways."

"Yes. But not about the thing where I can make stuff. That's working as I expect." He makes a chicken nugget and eats it.

"So can I get some groceries?" Asks Maxi, who appears to be rapidly sobering up from whatever was in that white shot.

The other guy is scowling deeper and deeper. "I'm not gonna try and threaten you or anything. In fact, when you start making waves I'd appreciate not bein' named or referred to at all."

"You gotta give me a list if you don't want to wind up with stuff you don't know how to cook," Cam tells Maxi. And, "Sure, I already forgot your name."

"Uhhh...... Kimchi, Catfish filets- Or, wait, real steak! Sriracha sauce! Hold on, let me type up a wishlist actually!" She pulls out a phone.

"Great, I'd appreciate a case of nanite shots just like the one I gave her for the trouble on your way out. But not gonna insist. They do detoxing and that's about it. Oh and free tip, Tower Group Security shoots obvious mutants on sight so you might want to hide the extra appendages if you can."

"What are they going to do if they shoot me and then I get right back up again?" Cam asks, handing over a case of the doodads.

"Shoot you more? Try napalm and drone strikes? I dunno. Seems dangerous for bystanders though."

"Yeah, worth avoiding. What do they have against my fetching appendages?" he asks, putting on a long leather coat that hugs his wings to his back.

"Mutants are all one bad day away from being mass murderers, don'tchaknow. There's mental changes associated with biomods. It's for our protection, see? Total bullshit, obviously."

"Wow. That's not how mine work, but I suppose if someone's been swallowing cherry-picked stories about folks with wings doing mischief then they might not stop to ask."

"Tailed, muzzled, or fanged folks, more usually. Or those with exotic organs that do useful stuff. Grown ones. Metal ones are fine, for some reason." He leans forward and taps a small metal port under his ear. "Also, Tower are total assholes even besides that part. Welcome to Cinci, head."

"That's such a charming thing to call people. I don't seem to have the dialect in enough depth to know how it came about that you call everybody 'head'."

"Me neither."

He heads over to the door and hands off the box of nanite shots to a door-guard, letting in blaring music for a moment.

"Your shopping list almost done?"

She blinks. "-Uh, yeah, sure. What's your phone's KBID, demon guy?"

"I don't have a phone. No service where I live in Hell."

"Well, uh, maybe make one? Nobody trusts big providers you use local nets. Anyway, here." She spins her phone around. It's open to a notes app and lists fancy ingredients (a lot of them from Chinese cuisine) and a bunch of expensive-sounding pre-packaged meals. "And maybe an insulated tote. If I get robbed on the way home at least I'll have steak."

"I can make a local phone but it won't be validly hooked up to anything and I'd need to pick a model." Bag of colding full of all the things on the list.

"Sweet! Sinzil Sheen Pro, 2108 version, with a blank SIM. That's a phone I wish I had. Uh... What now?"

"Now you two get out of my party spot, 'kay? I wish you the best, completely sincerely. Exit's on the left, up the stairs."

"...'kay." Maxi heads to the door.

Phone appears and goes in Cam's jeans pocket, and he follows Maxi out.

They exit onto a ratty street where about one in three lights are working. There's a trash drift down the way, a line of rusty parked cars, a few panhandlers and a lot of people walking or standing around, and a forest of drones buzzing overhead. Maxi pauses at the exit for a bit, taking deep breaths.

"Urgh. I hate nannie shots on alcohol, even if being drunk was super not helping. Whatever. I'm going home now. Good luck with everything. And thanks again."

"You're welcome. Sorry for yelling at you as though you ought to have known not to draw on the floor. Can I find you again if something comes up in some way?"

"Yeah. Look for Maxi around the building with the Fat Burger stall in front of it, on 79th. My phone's KBID is-" She rattles off a number. "That's like, mesh networking, anyone could be listening in, by the way. But it'll work if you're closeish, usually. And... Reference nano shots and booze if you have to prove yourself to my sister?"

"Okay!" Cam writes all this down on his own device. "Thanks."

Off Maxi goes, affecting a confident poise and avoiding the worst of the trash, even if her stompy goth boots can handle it.

Cam walks more or less aimlessly down the street perpendicular, not especially avoiding the panhandlers.

A wild Old Man Panhandler appears.

"Spare change, stranger? You're new around here, I'll give you some tips."

"I don't carry change. Do you want a sandwich?"

"I certainly won't turn one down, at any rate."

Cam hands him a sandwich full of cold steak slices and vaguely Asian condiments in a ziploc bag.

"...Much appreciated. What brings you to Cinci anyway? If you like giving charity I can point the way there, if you like staying out of trouble too?"

"I like giving charity but don't care much about staying out of trouble."

"Most charities care a lot about staying out of trouble. Hard to rebuild a life when the Jags or Triads or Tower will just rip everything out of your hands again. There's a soup kitchen- Second right going that way, and then it's before the first right. Out of a little alley. Good folks. Another down by Henders Street- A church, still believing and doin' the Lord's work. Don't know the rest of the city. Going bigger, Saint Joe's, biggest hospital in the city in terms of bed numbers, they try their best despite all the bullshit."

"Where would I find Saint Joe's?"

"Just off Highway Six, exit twenty-three. Or if you don't have wheels, straight on that way to 46th street, then left a while. Giant red cross on the side of the building, can't miss it."

"Thanks! Enjoy your sandwich."

Cam walks off straight on that way, not because he doesn't have wheels but because he wants more ground-level observations and also wants to remain inconspicuous.

He can observe:

Lots of people. Lots and lots. Tired, stressed, frustrated for the most part. Just living their life, eating, chatting, playing games, working, shopping.

Drug use seems rampant, and the one time he sees an actual cop he pointedly ignores it.

A lot of people have these plastic spikes sticking out of their heads? Usually one, two at most. One person has more spikes than hair, and people give them glances as if they're a minor celebrity.

Tons of traffic. Way too much traffic, too many cars. Also drones, drones everywhere.

A line of 'stalls' in an alley, arrays of junk being haggled over by people with weathered faces.

A bunch of twelve to fifteen year olds with knives, claiming an entire alley as their own and chasing off anyone who tries to cross through.

Breaking glass, and a small gang of people in dark clothes actively stealing things out of the window they just smashed, everyone else avoiding them.

Hookers, both male and female, hanging out on corners. Drug trade on corners too, only tokenly concealed

GREEN DRAGON CONVENIENCE STORE! 24/7! FAST AND EASY! About 30 times.

Different gangs staking out shifting webs of claims- One dressing with dark slacks and jackets and openly carrying guns, the other full punk-style and favoring various melee weapons.

A Tower Group patrol walking leisurely down a street, four guys in black armor with assault rifles surrounding a full-on APC, tracked and armored with a cannon on top. Everyone stays well clear.

A ragtag construction crew loudly complaining that the city sure ain't gonna fix these potholes so we're doing it, throw in a tenner for the service anyone?

A good amount of misery, sickness, old and new injuries. Cyborgs walking around with both less and more extreme metal grafted to their bodies, usually kind of crudely.

And the buildings gradually get denser and taller, and there's 46th street.

Wow. This place is kind of hard up. Are the construction guys actually filling in the potholes? Enterprising of them.

They really are filling in the potholes! Not, like, super professionally or cleanly. But hot asphalt is going into holes.

Cool. He doesn't have any cash or he really might tip them.

Hospital?

It's a pretty obvious place! The ambulances will point the way- He sees a few once close. Giant concrete cube of a building, with a huge red cross on it. The whole first floor is a massive lobby/waiting room/triage area in front, with emergency rooms to the sides and back.

He will go looking for someone who looks like a general reception desk type rather than a nurse with better shit to do than entertain him.

There's a desk full'a orderlies efficiently sorting people!

"Hello! Do you take volunteers?"

"Sometimes, what do you want to volunteer for?" This person is barely noticing him any more than necessary to see that he doesn't have any major wounds.

"I've been to medical school - far away, and I'm not up on things like implant maintenance or anything, but I know some serviceable pharmacology and surgery."

"-State of Ohio accreditations? We have to have 'em for lots of positions, for legal purposes."

"Sorry, I don't think my credits transfer. Is there some kind of test I can take?"

"Yeah, we can do the tests if you schedule ahead. There's fees. And many volunteer positions don't require it, but surgical and pharmacy absolutely will."

"What positions don't require it?"

"Orderly, warehouse, janitorial, counselor, generally support roles? I think looking at an accreditation is probably the best use of your time if you want to help people with your surgery and pharmaceutical skills. That or go find a less official charity hospital, if a legal presence is a problem for you. There's a few operations like that. We might be able to work something out for the test fees, I wouldn't know, not my department. We're supposed to sort people and send them on quickly up here."

"Legal presence is at least slightly complicated, as are test fees but those I can probably rustle up. Where should I be hitting next?"

"Admin, fourth floor, desk six!"

"Thank you!"

Up and over goes Cam.

Admin is actually kind of empty? It's got a sort of DMV setup to it. Desk six is labelled 'LICENSES AND ACCREDITATIONS'. It doesn't have anyone behind it.

Is there a bell to ring? Anybody at desks five or seven?

No bell. The guy at Five looks up from his papers, sighs, waves him over.

"We're understaffed. What do you need?"

"I was sent here to inquire about licensing tests."

"Oh? Oh, good! Great! Uh... Let me just..." Some device-poking occurs. "Okay, d'you have a medical school diploma or anything like that, or are we working with a badlands education?"

"The lands are so bad you've never even heard of them."

"Right. So what we recommend in this case is that you go down to the Covedale Night School and sign up for 'General Medicine Audit'. Fifty dollars, and that's just to keep the school running. They'll run you through some stuff that goes on the standard tests, give you a course cert with whatever name you give them on it if you know what you're doing, and then you can come right back here for the official Ohio general medicine test, which is two hundred. We get a lot of confused records and still need skilled professionals, so there's a path for it."

"Gotcha. Do you have a minute for some background on the badness of my lands?"

"Yeah, we'll need some of that for the paperwork anyway. Speaking of which, name, place and date of birth? Or I can just print the form."

"I was born in 1987 in Forks, Washington. Is this already really surprising or should I go on?"

"...You're looking mighty healthy for a, what, quadracenturian? I suggest putting down 2087 instead."

"I'm actually only a hundred and seventy-two. I think I may be from an alternate universe. My education is all from a place where," he conjures up a pad of sticky notes in bright colors and drops it on the guy's desk, "everyone can do that. It affects some things."

"It's, uh, 2118... I don't know how to deal with this. I want to declare it a prank..."

Would he like a stapler. A snowglobe with a Martian city in it. A frozen solid ice cream bar Cam definitely didn't have anywhere on him for the last ten minutes.

"So you have some sort of teleportation device?" He asks, sounding kind of faint.

"No, this is all conjured new. If you want to direct me to somebody who's missing a limb and doesn't want a cyborg replacement, say..."

He lets his head hit the desk. "You need my boss. Maybe my boss's boss. That's one nasty can of worms. I can't imagine who'd want to kidnap you, I can't imagine who wouldn't- Christ."

"Yeah, I was sort of hoping to use this hospital as less a permanent workplace and more a way to get a native guide who wants to point me at the pockets of greatest need. I'm slightly hard to kidnap but it's probably not impossible."

"We're here to help and if you can help us help more it'll be worth it but eugh. Can you make something that can't possibly have been prepared just for this as proof. So I don't look like an idiot when I interrupt Maxim."

"Name it."

"Uh, shit... Now I can't think of anything. Limited edition toys or comics maybe, he's into that stuff."

"You'll have to specify, we probably have different ones in my universe."

"......Leroy Softworks Last Golden Phoenix: Fall of an Empire iridium collector's box? They made ten."

Box.

He compares it to a phone picture. "...Yeah this is probably good enough to interrupt Maxim with. Be right back."

He takes the box. The woman from desk three glances over curiously but goes back to her paperwork. A couple of nurses come in from the hall and head towards One.

The guy reappears from an office and waves Cam over.

Over strolls Cam.

Desk Five guy and some other guy, a mousey-looking fellow with hexagonal glowing irises, are inside.

"Close the door! And let's not write anything down about this until we figure it out! Situation: You can make stuff, even pretty specific stuff. Like say, refills for the Serisse nanite tanks that they charge three arms and two legs for. You're really not from around here. You want to do good and do more good later. And I'm not sure how we can verify much of that besides the 'make stuff' bit."

"Are you the kind of person who will be reassured if I point out that I could be easily doing bad things if that was what I wanted to do things?"

"A bit, but just a bit. Because 'some kind of long con' or 'wants an alibi' or 'wants some kind of patsy' or any number of other things are also options. Not that that will stop us from working with you? It just means some basic reasonable forethought, so please try to take in in that light? Call it cautious optimism?"

"No, yeah, totally understandable."

"So I'm thinking I can give you the tests for free and shuffle the paperwork along, just make sure you study the course materials first so it's not a waste. I'm head of accreditation and testing, mostly don't see patients anymore, but I know who to talk to in warehouse about large anonymous donations."

"I love the sound of large anonymous donations!"

"We'll fill a few dozen tractor-trailers, how about, then mark most of it as waste so it can go to independent operations or junk dealers who resell it dirt cheap."

"That wasn't what I was envisioning but as long as it gets to patients in the end it's all good."

"It's a massive insurance scam," He says, deadpan. "But we use it to our advantage. Bill, why don't you get the cheat sheets ready for Cam?"

"Sure, boss."

"Okay, I want to talk about medtech. Making stuff would change things. We use a lot of nanotechnology systems here, to get at deep damage without the trauma of surgery when we can."

"Yeah, my universe is light on the nanotech - in addition to folks like me there are two other kinds and one of them can just change stuff on the spot, cleaner than surgery, though you want one like me for specifically transplant or dismemberment cases."

"Okay, there's actually quite a lot, nanotech-wise, uh... The biggest thing is that excessive doses of nanomeds are contraindicated pretty much no matter what the individual interactions are, until the body naturally breaks down or expels some of them, the test for that is called a nanite load assay and we can do it with a one-milliliter blood sample or a tissue biopsy. What do you think about a shift as an orderly observing to go with the practice software Bill's loading up for you?"

"Sounds brilliant. - I'm not limited to medical applications, incidentally, like I'm fine for that but when I'm oriented enough to scale up I'll probably want to be doing infrastructure and supply."

"Not my expertise. Nobody will complain if you fix the roads, I'm sure. Well. Few enough that it'll probably be an improvement, anyway."

"I noticed some enterprising fellows doing that! It was relatively cheering.

"Do you have... a model of why the economy is like this?"

"What 'this' do you mean? The poverty? The legal snarls?"

"The poverty, mostly. I know my world is very much enriched by daeva but even before that became a major input the trend was decidedly against poverty."

"There were a lot of wars in the last two generations when all the easily mineable deposits of stuff started running out, and climate change really kicked in. Europe is doing fine."

"Is it really hard to immigrate to Europe? How are Asia and Africa and South America?"

"Not if you're well-off or have a useful professional skill. I think everyone's having a hard time, and the EU had the most functional response to it all? And North America the worst. Luna and El-Five are supposedly fully automated utopias, but you need to be a billionaire to live there."

"El-Five?"

"Lagrange point five. Big rotating cylinder thing."

"And they're expensive because... rocket fuel is expensive, the current inhabitants like having a cover charge...?"

"I assume both? I'm not an economist, I'm afraid."

The other guy comes back with a battered tablet. "Here you go, this has all the standard general medicine modules on it."

"Can you recommend me a history book or something? Also, is there a good place for me to hang out - like, on the roof or whatever is fine, just a place to loiter where I won't be in the way."

"Hmm... Most I can think of are incredibly biased in one direction or another. Maybe Meyned's 'Rusting Dreams', or the Serisse World Encyclopedia 2117. They should be pretty... Opposite each other. I can get you a room in the Nurse Hive. We have a dedicated housing complex for the hospital."

"I don't have to sleep, I don't need the place to have a bed."

"It's still the only place I'm thinking of where we can get you immediately and you probably won't be disturbed or spied on. Or well, an empty office I guess?"

"Whatever's convenient."

They quickly locate an office that doesn't have anything confidential in it.

"I'll be gone overnight," hexagon eyes guy (Maxim) says, "Well, it's about two right now so I'm not leaving for a while. I'm going to go talk to my friend in Logistics now, okay? You can make one of my business cards if you need to contact me."

"Sure, thanks! I'll do some reading, let me know if you urgently need ten units of AB-negative or whatever."

"Trauma always wants more Kobiyashi blood packs, centipede sutures, and MedChem sets but I don't think it's urgent on a scale of minutes!"

"Can you stash them in a cupboard somewhere if I give you a wheely cartful?"

"Oh, definitely. Faking the papers is the hard part and I have that down to an art. Uh, gonna open and test a few for due diligence though. More sutures and blood than medchems. The kits are kind of big. No refrigeration necessary."

Wheely cart. "How big?"

He gestures. About like three rolls of toilet paper stacked on top of each other.

Cam lines the top shelf of the cart with those and the lower two with the other things. "Enjoy."

"Well, I'm sure the recipients will enjoy shorter recover times."

Off goes Maxim.

The medical primers contain both familiar techniques- When it comes to lower-intervention stuff like rashes, burns, coughs, allergies, infections and trauma- And a lot of new information on implant complications, nanomed pharmacology, and so on.

Of the two books 'Rusting Dreams' seems to have undertones of some sort of anarchist manifesto while meticulously chronicling the Resource Wars and the dissolution of the United States of America and the collapse of the midwest into the Badlands Desert and how things have remained terrible since, and how greedy corporations and short-sighted fascists are responsible for it. Corporations push drugs and sabotage each other and have murder squads. The fate of humanity is eternal war unless everyone is able to defend themselves, apparently.

While the Serisse World Encyclopedia subtly emphasizes all about the wonderful technologies and opportunities that capitalism and enlightened self-interest have brought about, allowing those with the skill and drive to innovate to live out their dreams! It also covers a lot of the new technologies in broad terms- Computers are apparently incredibly modular now, there's widespread fusion power and drone-based warfare, lots of fancy sounding recycling tech, 'neural spikes' can allow access to new knowledge, skills, and experiences when jacked in via implants.

It does sound like they'd need recycling tech! Who's at war at this time? What about, if they've mentioned their causus belli or offered terms?

There's a whole lot of fighting that gets declared "officially not a war" by those in power, according to Rusting Dreams. The Serisse encyclopedia admits to the following big conflicts: The Russian Federation is in an ongoing nuclear standoff with the EU. Nigeria is fighting Ghana over massive electronics landfills both want to mine and recycle. Vietnam is losing against China despite ANZAC backing. The North African Federation is occupying Israel over its 'history of aggression and terrorism'. India and Pakistan are doing a proxy war in south and eastern Africa. There's brush wars in South America. Texas is fighting the Mississippi Combine over farmland. The New California Republic is fighting the Republic of Montana, ostensibly because the Felmann corporation owns Montana and is undemocratic but maybe also over farmland.

Wow.

What's the state of space colonization?

Going by these two reference books: Some lunar domes, a big cylinder at L5 lagrange point, and a lot of low and medium Earth orbit stations, in terms of serious population. Mars, some asteroids, and some Jovian and Saturnian moons have outposts, but nothing like a full city.

Political control over unsettled parts of Mars?

Divvied up between a bunch of big-name corporations, including Serisse.

Damn. Do they have procedures for claiming captured comets or are those up in the air?

The 2117 Serisse World Encyclopedia does not cover this.

Are there unclaimed moons? Anyone doing shit on Venus or Mercury?

Venus: Abandoned except for some unmanned satellites as 'too expensive'! Mercury has like a hundred people in an EU-run international science station, and has no other explicit claims. A bunch of the smaller Jovian/Saturnian moons are uninhabited, as is Deimos.

Okay. It is not his life's ambition exactly but he will start drawing up tentative plans to take over Venus. Do corporations own everything or are there like. Governments.

There are governments. Ostensibly. There is a State of Ohio, even. Rusting Dreams says that corporations might as well be governments in their own right once they have a private army.

That does seem like it'd help if nobody's being too precious about formal recognition.

What is the current value of the dollar - is that even a thing anymore - and what's it cost for people to get from planet to planet?

Ohio has Ohio Dollars, he's already overheard. Answering that more fully might require him to look for more reference material.

Sure. Encyclopedia, tell him where to find economics publications.

Cambridge Social Science Archive?

Marvelous. Back issues of the Cambridge Social Science Archive, where in you is contained the phrase "basket of goods"?

Lots of places. Here's some currency information.

There's NCR dollars, Ohio dollars, and Texas dollars. In Ohio Dollars, it costs about OH$5000 to take a week long trip to Europe and OH$150k to take the same vacation in orbit. The average daily wage in Ohio is estimated at OH$70 per day if you include the Badlands and Cincinnatti's slums, or OH$110 per day if you don't, but the studies say this is hopelessly confounded and therefore just an estimate. Overall, OH$ seems about comparable to about 2020 US dollars in his universe, though prices are maybe moderately higher.

Gosh.

What are the rules around starting a new corporation?

You can do that in Ohio for a OH$100 filing fee!

...If you're an Ohio citizen.

Is there a Cyberpunk Dystopia Delaware somewhere he can do it cheaper or should he pawn a hundred bucks worth of stuff.

Grepping around references for a while will eventually find him a free New York registry as long as he promises not to sell drugs, weapons, or neural spikes and pay the sales tax.

Drugs like meth or drugs like ibuprofen.

The list of controlled substances is large and includes many of the things in his medical reference but not ibuprofen.

Will there be a problem if he later starts a spinoff corporation differently incorporated that does his pharmaceuticals?

He might need a lawyer to figure that out.

Presumably those cost money?

Presumably they do.

Okay, is there a commodities market that he can drop into without it being a whole big to-do?

There's a huge junk trade in Cinci. He can drop freight containers of mixed scrap on these various outfits for cash in hand.

How much cash?

Sounds like hundreds to thousands?

Oh, cool, he can probably hire a laywer long enough to get one interested that way. Corporate lawyers with relevant jurisdictional proclivities?

Plenty of legal offices in the Policed Zone, in the center of Cincinnati.

But will they handle a place incorporated in New York and planning to operate out of Venus, is the question.

Their public facing websites do not provide an answer, being mostly slogans and 'success stories'.

Okay. He'll read his medical textbooks, scanning for diffs, and when he's done with that he'll go sell junk.

He needs to go north to the dump, then. It's pretty nasty up there.

Yeah-huh. He will be trucking in this haul of 1980s-era batteries and household appliances, all appropriately beat up and dirty. Is anyone going to bother him on the way up?

As long as his truck doesn't stand out too much, and he found a dark corner of some parking garage or alley to appear the truck in, nobody will bother him. There are some obvious places to do bulk selling - mixed junk, metal scrap, wire, old bricks, copper wire, empty fuel barrels, barbed wire... Wholesale prices listed on a giant board. Copper wire looks like the best deal on offer in terms of bulk to money if he wants to try again.

Old batteries and household appliances? Huh, nice find. The dealer hems and haws and eventually offers OH$2,500 for the whole lot.

"Oh, come on, it'd've been worth more than that back in the day when they decided to toss them instead of recycling them in the first place."

"What matters to me is what it's worth now after the expense of dismantling and sorting and shit, head. I'm not an electronics specialist either so I'd have to resell it."

"Man, if it weren't for travel costs" denominated exclusively in Cam's time "I'd find a competitor. It's not all electronics, there's washing machines and shit."

He looks in the trailer again. Peels back a panel on one of the appliances.

"...Yep, washing machine. The fuck did you find it all anyway. Never mind, of course you won't tell. You know what? Fine, six grand. I'll sell it all off piecemeal. Annoying but as a one time thing, why not."

"Deal! Thanks, pal."

He has a bunch of rough guys and gals unload everything after fetching stacks of bills from a safe.

"Stay safe out there, head. And you can always come back with more."

"Might do, might do."

Off he goes to leave the truck somewhere that the the locals won't leave it lying around in the way too long and then to go find a lawyer.

Finding a big law office requires getting into the PZs. There's a police checkpoint where they're making people walk through scanners. There are a few harder to find, scruffy looking law offices outside the zone, though. Not big firms.

He can walk through a scanner! However, those look like not just metal detectors but the full on see-you-naked doodads and he still has wings. He will disappear in a quiet alley, slice and burn, and come back.

Okay, he can go in. Don't cause any trouble.

The PZs are much nicer. Approaching a 21st century city in a lot of ways. Still tons of drones around though.

Cam has nothing against drones in principle!

He chooses a law office and strolls right in.

"Welcome to Mason and Wagner, do you have an appointment?"

"No, I am hoping to make one."

"Okay, great! What kind of legal assistance do you need today so I can determine the appropriate specialist?"

"I would like to start a corporation which will initially be operating in the commodities space but may eventually" next week "integrate more industries with a view to ultimately claiming and colonizing Venus."

"-Ambitious! Okay, so that's incorporation proceedings and perhaps consultation on commodity law? And maybe space law."

"That's right! And I assume there's very robust confidentiality but in case that varies I do want it."

"Well, we make a sincere effort at confidentiality and security, but cannot guarantee information security in many cases due to the nature of modern technology. And for example, corporate registrations are public record. I would advise not discussing any trade secrets in areas you haven't secured."

"Understood! Do you have rules about lawyers working for your firm accepting gifts from clients?"

"We do not, as long as they are not an inducement to act in an unethical manner or one that harms the company."

"Cool. How long will it take to match me with a lawyer, should I go sit down or come back after lunch or what?"

"I'm checking right now!" And she is indeed working on two screens Cam can't see.

"Okay, I have an 11:00 with Ms. Lesaer, a junior partner with specialties in corporate, tax, and import-export law. The rate for junior partners is one hundred and ten dollars an hour. Does a one hour consultation sound appropriate? We do want a partial deposit ahead of time for new clients."

"An hour to start sounds fine, though if she does have a two hour slot it might be prudent." He counts out some fifties from his junk cash.

"Very good, I have it reserved, what name should it be under? Aaand here is a questionnaire to fill out before your session so you get the most out of your time!"

A slim desk printer extrudes a paper.

"We also have it available electronically."

"I'm Cam Swan." He takes the paper.

Type type, and giving him a bit of change, "Okay, you're all set for eleven and possibly until one! We'll show you up to Ms. Lesear's office when you come back. Or you're welcome to wait here."

The paper wants to know if he has a criminal record, where he is a citizen, biographic information, any ID numbers and the like, what his company will be doing exactly, where it will be operating, whether he is interested in security services, any legal concerns he has, and what his ideal result from a consultation looks like.

No criminal record. Citizenship: It's Complicated. He puts his birthday down as September 13 but omits the year. Leaves a few things blank. Company will be doing commodities, physical delivery and also stuff like selling call options and so on, but also consolidating legible corporate infrastructure suitable to underly a future Venusian colonization attempt. It will operate "on Earth, for now". He would be willing to hear more about security services. He is concerned about his limited ability to demonstrate a legal identity and interface with systems that expect same and is hoping that acting through a corporation will help. Ideal result is colonizing Venus without giving anyone a reason to try to sue him into oblivion.

The receptionist will take that back and wish him a good day. It's about 10:20.

He will hang out and read more encyclopedia. How's the climate these days, do they have any good geoengineering or anything?

They just baaaarely avoided a mass ocean die-off with gratuitous genetic engineering. Climate's slowly recovering now since all the really big extractive industry is now kaput and recycling is all the rage. Russia's climate is great, and they did some nuclear excavation in the 2060s and 70s. The Sahara is a massive solar field. The Amazon is still there. Lots of islands have sunk though and Florida is mostly gone. Oh, and the Midwest is now one giant desert, with abortive attempts to remediate this quickly abandoned as infeasible.

Wow. Dust Bowl 2.0.

He studies his notes on the local medical texts to make sure he has the differences down till eleven rolls around.

The receptionist shows him up! His lawyer is dressed in a Power Outfit, suit-like, very sleek and corporate. Subtle makeup. It looks like something one spends thirty minutes perfecting each morning. Her office is all glass and chrome.

"Mr. Swan, hello. I'm Eva Lesear. Attorney-client privilege means I'm not going to disclose what we discuss outside of this office deliberately unless you permit, or try to directly get me to help you commit crimes. You may scan this room for bugs if you prefer. The only ones that should be in here are two microphones and cameras on my personal devices, as well as some occupancy sensors. Our local network is quantum encrypted but there are no guarantees in IT security. Once you're satisfied with that, we can go over your legal concerns."

"Lovely to meet you, Ms. Lesear." Cam conjures for bugs to check, since he can.

The only data-receiving devices present are Lesear's phone, laptop, some infrared and CO2-detecting occupancy sensors, and anything Cam has.

Cool. "So, I am a magical being from another universe, and I can create arbitrary material objects." He materializes a deep fried mac and cheese bite. Nom.

"Okay."

She stares at the food.

"So you're going to be selling commodities acquired in a non-traditional manner. No mining, recycling, or refining."

"Right. I got the cash I needed to book you by selling a shipping container full of junk but if it wouldn't have looked suspicious it could have been all brand new. I left the truck lying around in a bad neighborhood because I didn't want to continue to own a truck."

Her jaw moves slightly as she thinks.

"So I'm going to focus on the legalities of the situation, and that is that not having a verifiable source for your products is going to be suspicious as fuck to everyone with the power to audit things. Everyone is going to assume you're a money-laundering front, or a fence of some sort. Or possibly a competitor fucking with the market by dumping. You're going to want business advisors and bodyguards well as lawyers. In terms of actual incorporation, that's easy, we don't even need a real name or citizenship and we can get you a faceless bank account. You might have to worry about being sued if you sell electronics or other complex finished products- cloned organs, nanites, spikes- But I don't think that'll be a concern if you sell fuel, monocrystalline silicon, bulk copper, that sort of thing. You'll be theoretically based out of New York, with no additional work needed to sell anywhere in North America, except for NCR. We partner with a tax firm that can handle all your taxes. Here in Cincinnati, Tower Group Security or Touchstone Security, if you use the airport, will have the right to inspect cargo and almost always press for bribes to 'smooth the process along'. The same is true in a lot of major cities in the region."

"I don't need bodyguards because I am indestructible but business advice would be good, can you recommend people?"

"Mmm... Let me think on that. Your people will need bodyguards, then. And your cargos. Maybe if you get the recipient to provide transport and security, but actually getting things to the place they're meant to be without falling out of the truck is- Most of the service that distribution companies provide. One person is not a company- And I don't imagine you want to drive around talking to individual electronics fabricators personally."

"I'd rather not, yeah."

"How much graft are you going to tolerate and how well are you going to pay?"

"I have no personal needs and no materials costs, but I'm not sure how much that will leave in the budget even if I put absolutely all of it toward salary. I would rather not have corruption in the enterprise, I think it can be stamped out of a culture with swift and certain enforcement and there's no time to start like the present before I start a Venus colony."

"It's going to be a matter of presentation, the rules for your enterprise, your 'crew', being enforced with swiftness and certainty would certainly allow you to set ones that amount to 'no corruption', however you define corruption. Depending on what you mean by 'in the enterprise'. To get an idea of the space: Someone pays an employee to pass information about you to them despite a non-disclosure rule. Someone pays an employee extra outside the corporation to process their requests first. Same situation but it gets termed a 'rush order' and the company gets most of the money. One of your employees bribes Tower Group's gate guards to get their shipments through faster. Some of your employees pay gangs protection money. Some of your employees try to exclude certain people from the company's services. Someone threatens your employees for kickbacks, and the employee provides them instead of reporting it."

"Bribing someone outside the company doesn't, I think, present quite the same problem, and I don't mind people, like, getting bonuses for processing rush orders. I don't really want the employees compromising their personal safety if paying out to gangs and extortionists is called for, and that suggests I'm going to want to spend a lot on security to make sure it's not."

"Well, you're paying for legal advice, not business advice, so I'll return to the matter at hand. I do recommend you retain a criminal lawyer and security services as one method of attack against a perceived new competitor would be... Motivated investigations and seizures and detention of people by security companies, let's say."

"Good thought. Can you recommend someone?"

"I don't often found companies with no structural backing and a miraculous source of infinite free materials. In terms of criminal defense, I'm obligated to mention my own firm but we don't specialize in it."

She is making some kind of face. It's hard to tell what kind of face, but definitely some kind.

"And it seems like you would do well with colleagues that closely align with your viewpoints. So in that frame of view I can recommend one Mrs. Amber Bacon, of Cook and Bacon Legal- Yes, the name's an inside joke. We went to school together and Mrs. Bacon struck me as idealistic to the point of naivete at times. Though she grew out of it enough to function as a lawyer. She's a public defender and very good at it. And for security services your options are basically Touchstone, Tower, rent-a-cop outfits, or building your own security team."

"What should I know about Touchstone and Tower?"

"Tower Group are in charge of the perimeter between Cincinnati and the Badlands, as well as keeping order outside the Policed Zone in downtown. They often face combat with anarchist cells that attack the walls or use car bombs, and sometimes fight gangs inside the city. Touchstone is in charge of security for the airport and other long range travel depots, and often acts as an anti-smuggling force against the various cartels. They're owned by the same parent company, share information and resources often, and are widely considered fairly brutal and corrupt, considered necessary by some and overbearing by others. Though Tower Group is overall worse than Touchstone. Technically neither company has the power to convict people of crimes worse than misdemeanor. Merely to gather evidence, make arrests, and detain for up to thirty days for misdemeanors. The Cincinnati Police Department or Ohio State Police have to gather evidence and prosecute for crimes worse than misdemeanors, though they cooperate with Touchstone and Tower Group sometimes."

"Man, this timeline is sure in a state and by state I mean corporate oligarchy. How doomed is rolling my own security?"

"It's not... Entirely hopeless. Legally speaking, you'd need to get approval from the State of Ohio to act as a security company. There's trainings, certifications, inspections... We could help with most of that, but it's still something you'd hire someone to manage any prospective guards for. Depending on what exactly you can make, superior equipment and pay might attract a lot of semi-professionals, disciplined types who will follow your rules of engagement. I'm not sure. Keeping it limited at first, to just guarding shipments or a warehouse, would help on that front. If you want to go with informal, unofficial security - that is, not an official state-certified security force but rather, effectively, a gang you build up protecting you - you just have to avoid giving them explosive weapons with a yield of more than four ounces of TNT, guns of a caliber above zero point three inches, drones carrying weapons, or any chemical or biological agents. Armor and smaller weapons and other equipment are covered under the inherited second amendment. It doesn't give you any serious protection from investigations, but the reality is that even just a show of force will prevent the bulk of trouble that might come your way."

"I can make most things, but don't want to counterfeit money specifically, that way lies problems."

"Hence the commodities. I foresee some potential copyright issues too..."

"How seriously do people take IP law here?"

"Oh, it's violated constantly at the low level, but SensPerience spikes in particular have robust copy protection nobody understands, that has held up for over a decade. So I'm sure they can and will kill over it and convict the corpse of felonies, if they think someone can. It'd be in your interest to be unable to."

"Huh. My own anti-hacking protocols rely on my brain chip and the chip is safe for humans but this won't help if they're going to complain about duplicated, say, technology."

"If a duplicated skill spike works normally, they will freak the fuck out about that news. I have a neural port and could test that... But if a duplicated spike works abnormally instead of just not working, it could cause issues."

"I would expect it to work normally or to not work at all but I suppose it's possible they're, I don't know, sinisterly uploading people into the spikes to make them work and if the upload is disabled the spike will attempt to put malware in your head, is that the kind of thing that's remotely plausible? I can't make minds."

"Doesn't sound plausible. It's just that it interacts with brains, so the downside is high impact even if low probability. I'd try it out and cover this attempt in our confidentiality for two kilograms of gold."

"You're lowballing, unless that's all you want to fit in your bag on the way home or something. Is it safe to use one in a Faraday cage, another way it could fail would be if it has an authentication protocol and I wind up with a dupe serial number or something."

"Yes exactly and also I want to maintain a working relationship here and also gold is easily fungible unlike, say, osmium or prescription drugs. They don't require a network connection, you can use them in faraday cages."

"Okay. Let me think for another minute here... pretty sure they're not magic?"

"Pretty sure magic doesn't exist. Or I was. The memory-recording ones anyone with the right kit can write to, that might be less risky?"

"I can get you one of those, sure. What form factor would you like your gold in?"

"Random jewelry? As for which, the hang-gliding one I watched yesterday at lunch?"

Cam fills a sack with wedding rings and chains and bracelets and ear studs and suchlike. And hands her a spike.

She takes a deep breath, and plugs it in, a narrow port just behind the ear.

Her posture shifts back and she looks distant.

And then she blinks out of it with a smile. "Seems to work fine. I don't know if skill or data spikes would be the same, though."

"Do you want to try one now?"

"May as well. I don't have a good candidate for data spike, but SensPerience number 73, Basic Medical Skills, works for a skill spike?"

"Sure. What does that even do, do you keep the skill if the spike comes out?" Spike.

"Not really. You can practice with it in, but... Hard to describe. Like instinct and muscle memory. You don't think about how to walk. You just walk." Deep breath. Swap out the spikes. Blink. "-And with this, I don't think about so much as know that I'm slightly dehydrated. Hmph. Some variants make you faster, or more perceptive, or other things. And there are at least rumors of malicious spikes."

Cam hands her a glass of water.

She drinks it, then unplugs the spike.

"I sincerely advise you to never let on that you made spikes. And possibly to destroy these in case they can be discovered as duplicates with some kind of serial number or RFID scan."

He picks them up and interpolates them to dust as he drops them into her wastebasket.

"...What do you want your corporation to be called? In terms of business advice, by the way, I'm thinking turning a profit is not going to be a challenge so the real issue will be building influence and an organization. More and more as I think about it, I am having the idea of giving one or more large corporations sweetheart deals so they'll be interested in protecting you from retaliation, even if they're also interested in taking control of you. But again, though I work with businesses and somewhat understand the shark tank, I'm not the best for it. I'm going to have to do a lot of research regarding the colonization of Venus. Selling mass in low earth orbit could be extremely profitable but it's also likely to be extremely remarkable, so perhaps best avoided..."

"I want to call it Atriama." He spells it. "Mass in low earth orbit, what do you mean?"

"Selling bulk water ice or steel or titanium or glass or other commodities to orbital enterprises, by making the materials in orbit. If you buy commercial cargo-lift service it'd be different, but that's barely an advantage."

"I don't mind attracting attention eventually, but I don't really want to have to spend all my time falling over and having to get up again because people are shooting me or whatever."

"Uh huh. Still, better to put it off until you're prepared for it, correct?"

"Quite. Also I have a secret weakness. - it won't harm me but it will get me out of the picture."

"I don't want to hear any more about it, I think. Do you want to hear about taxes or just let us handle all that?"

"I'd love to never have to think about taxes if that is a service you offer."

"It is. I assure you the rates are high but not ridiculous."

"I am willing to believe you. I care about money almost not at all except insofar as it buys me cover, anyway."

"Mhm, I'd like to work for you on a consulting basis. I think you can trust me to look out for my own enlightened self-interest and cooperate given how I already know some dangerous secrets, and I smell a winning horse and want to hitch my wagon to it. Okay, we'll handle the taxes. I think let's get started on the reading and signing things part of the day."

She pulls out some papers from a drawer, and a pen.

Cam believes in reading things before he signs them!

The corporation Atriama will be established as a Limited Structured Company registered with the State of New York...

...Intending to act in accordance with applicable commercial and environmental law...

...Aforementioned corporation agrees to retain the services of Mason and Wagner Legal as pertains to administration of tax obligations...

He's going to found a company called Atriama. Atriama intends to pay its taxes and follow the law. It has to store its money in an official New York bank account, and fines come straight out of that. The legal firm will have the ability to authorize transactions for tax purposes and make, view, and keep records of all his bank info, for the express purpose of doing his taxes for him.

Ms. Lesear explains everything patiently. Nothing seems too out of place or has completely unreadable amounts of legalese.

Campbell Mark Swan goes the signature. His handwriting has atrophied somewhat over the years.

"Aaand now I submit this electronically and you'll soon have a bank account. Want me to sort out a website too? Want me to look into the prospects of selling medical supplies, or internationally, or is commodity work fine for now?"

"I'd like to be able to do medical supplies and international sales, yeah. I guess a simple contact form and list of services would be a good idea but I think I don't want a big splashy web presence."

"That's what I was thinking, just a small thing to show presence. How should we contact you and how often do you want updates, checkins, and so on? -Oh, New York approved the sign-up. I have your bank info here, you'll want to take it down- Cash deposits and withdrawals only in full branches, inside the PZs. Many slum businesses just use cash, but many will accept and pay in bank transfers too, especially the larger ones. Tower Group, Green Dragon, that kind of scale, definitely will."

Cam takes notes. "You can reach me asynchronously by writing a letter entitled 'letter to Cam' and then not sending it. If you need me in an emergency probably we should be able to get in phone contact."

"Almost all electronic communication is vulnerable. The popular solutions to this are various forms of security through obscurity, obsessively strong cryptography, and in-person meetings. This phone has a satellite receiver and service with Helix, you should probably get the same- I can sign you up for it if you make the device."

Cam pulls out his Sinzil Sheen Pro. "Will this do or do I need a different kind? I could also get you my kind of computer security, with the brain chip, but I admittedly don't know what your port is already interacting with and there could be some contraindication."

"...Let's not until you get a doctor on board. The spikes were... Exciting. That seems too novel. Sinzil makes good stuff. Let me see it for a bit?"

Cam hands over the phone. "Writing me a letter and not sending it is completely secure against anybody but more of me but I don't think there are those around here, so the real issue is if I need to tell you something confidentially, otherwise you can just call and say 'hey check your mail'."

"Urgent confidential communications to your lawyer seem less likely, yes. Not impossible..."

She is doing things on his phone now.

Phone things for a few minutes.

"There. Flipping this icon on makes it connect to Helix only, turns off everything else for security. It'll take a bit to connect. And then you can call me in the priority contacts in the Helix app- Under Eva Lesear, right here. I didn't put the New York Bank app on here because that would be an unwise security move. Anything can be hacked and stolen if enough angles are exposed."

"So, some final notes. Mrs. Bacon is your best bet for criminal defense particularly, if someone attacks your organization with malicious arrests, but there are probably going to be a dozen other things to take care of. You can contact me whenever you like, consider me on retainer." She pats the bag of jewelry, which jingles slightly. "I'd even be happy to act as a manager or company face if that starts proving frustrating or difficult to hire for. I still don't know anyone I'd recommend trusting with the secret, and telling managers 'sell, sell, sell at rock bottom prices' without the secret might be complicated."

"I already told a couple random people at the hospital. And there are a couple other randos who know."

"I have no idea how likely it is to spread and be believed. You're the one who's assuming risks, there. And I want to emphasize again that I take the confidentiality seriously, I'll keep to it, but I want to do anything and everything I can to remain involved in whatever comes next. It'll be as much a paradigm shift as the industrial revolution or the information age."

"You wanna live on Venus?"

"Once it's safe," she hedges.

"Oh, yeah, I'm going to terraform it and in the meantime we're gonna do a dirigible thing above the cloud layer."

"Isn't the atmosphere very thick? Opposite problem of Mars?"

"Yup. Breathable air will float a balloon."

Nodnod.

"When it's safe. Say... When a hundred people are there and nothings gone wrong in three months."

"Valid not to want to be an early adopter."

Shrug. "I practically think in risks sometimes. Should have been an actuary, I think sometimes."

"Well, I feel fortunate to have encountered you and it wasn't as an actuary."

"It doesn't hurt that law is kind of exhausting. Though I'm sure some people would say that about any job. You should take steps to verify me."

"I suppose it would defeat the purpose to ask you what those steps should be but I don't actually know how to do that."

"Yeah, anything I say could be aimed at- Yeah." She shakes her head. "I don't mind being investigated for this, is what I'm saying, but if you don't have an obvious place to start that's valid."

"I guess I could just conjure your personal correspondence but I don't really like doing that."

"I think the usual way is hiring a PI, checking for employment history, criminal history, possible loyalties to inconvenient people or organizations, and then only increasing trust and access level slowly."

"Well, you already know enough to be mightily inconvenient and I think I can pay better than whoever else you're working for."

"Yes. I think the plausible deniability of receiving a much, much better offer from Atriama will cover my departure. I definitely would like you to hire security services though. I don't want to die if someone gets bright ideas."

"Absolutely. Does this universe have any cool personal defense doodads you might like while that's getting sorted out?"

"For personal defense it's mostly escort, support, augmentations. And bullet resistant casual wear. And armored cars. Augs... I already have a biomonitor but there is much more you can add. They take weeks to implant safely though. There are a few smaller but reputable outfits around, mercenary wise. I will do my research and have a pick when you start making money?"

"Thanks. And now I guess I have to figure out how to break into the market."

"Fuel. Go to one of the larger distributors and offer them a tanker full, twelve thousand gallons of fuel ethanol, at a no-questions-please price of ten thousand dollars."

"Oh, that's better than I got for the junk, good thought."

Nod, nod. "Random junk, they have to sort through. Fuel, there are oneshot chem analyzers. Bulk copper wire might be good too. Huge rolls of fiber optic, building materials... All of it less head-scratching and more saleable than mixed junk. There's a lot of stuff the city will buy, but relatively little of it in job lots."

Nod nod. "I left my junk truck lying around to be gutted and stolen but I don't know that I can reasonably do this with a tanker..."

"Hire a driver and buy garage space somewhere? Take over a trash warehouse and put in all new locks and electrics yourself? This is starting to require boots on the ground, though. I'm much more of a corporate face than a ground level commerce one- Me dressed like this with a goon with a gun by my side will make most interference think twice."

"What goes wrong if I go find some goon-looking folks who like being paid in gold?"

"They don't trust you because you're not local. They prefer cash, food, booze, drugs, or gas to gold. They report some of what you're up to to someone else, probably one of the gangs. Someone thinks you're a new gang and decides to resort to violence about that. They steal the stuff you're trying to sell. Someone has debts or violence following them."

"Is there a standard solution for any of this or does it just come with the territory?"

"It kind of comes with a territory. I've never really lived in the outer city, but I work with clients who do sometimes, and that's what I hear. You can work with local fixers to resolve some of this- As long as the money keeps flowing, they don't want to end a good payday."

"Okay. So if I wander in a dubious neighborhood and find somebody whose vibe I like and they agree to work for me in exchange for ramen or whatever, we're in business?"

"Someone whose vibe other people seem to like, too. And we're talking stacks of beer crates and fridge-fuls of food, but that doesn't sound like a bad approach."

"Cool. I will pencil that in to my schedule."

"It's nearing an hour. I can keep going if you want, but it'd be a good break point now. To sum up: Atriama Corp exists and you have the bank info. Don't sell drugs or weapons. We'll handle taxes. You have my contact info and I yours. I'll be looking into space law, I'm confident you're going to be able to pay those billable hours, and stay here for at least another day or so, until you have money in the bank, then be working as a legal and general consultant for you. I need to do some office politics for best results of my leaving anyway. Fuel is the standout product idea. No spikes. Can I have, mm, a Sinzil paraline series heavy coat, neck protector, gloves, pants, and boots? They're bullet-resistant clothes that don't look like armor, very expensive normally. Or is that not specific enough?"

"Should be enough, do they come in colors or anything?"

"I think there's a few variations. Different shades of grey and black, please."

Tasteful monochrome.

They're pretty snappy. Somewhat different style than the power suit she's currently wearing. She looks them over, tugs at one bit to see how it stretches (it mostly doesn't), and smiles. "These will do fine. I should probably stop accumulating stuff to take home for now. Best of luck out there."

"Thanks. I'll try to remember to check my mail more often than once every few days."

And he strolls out.

He's already squared up on the bill for one hour, so nobody will stop him!

He's now on the street in the PZ. Smartly dressed delivery-people are unloading a box van nearby. Bright animated billboards flash over most buildings. There are distinctly no beggars, graffiti, or trash visible.

Yeah, he's going to go back to the general area where he first landed, maybe by way of the hospital if that makes geographic sense.

The hospital is on the way-ish. (The guy he met before can show him to a cavernous disused garage sublevel where dozens of trailers of medical supplies can mysteriously appear! He's still awake! For now!)

Yay, a cavernous disused garage! Cam fills it up.

And then he heads back to where the pothole guys were working. He wants to tip them and see if they know anybody. He likes their deal.

They're now doing street cleaning. Gathering the trash drifts and compacting them down with a fun-size compressor box, even as random passers-by just casually toss more trash down. A bunch of 'em are fussing with one of the busted light poles. A few minutes' observation picks out a pair of foreman types.

Cam heads over and hands them a couple of twenties. "I like what you guys are doing. Find a thing to do and do it, that's the only reason anything ever happens."

"Well, much obliged! There's always more work to do and everyone has their own worries, right? But that's the goal here. Local people doing local things, and giving some of the folk who need it most some work, too. Donations to that cause will always be well received. I haven't seen you around here before though, what's your name? I'm Iras, and that's Ben."

"I'm Cam, lovely to make your acquaintance. I was wondering if you know anybody who might want a security job, the last person I talked to about it didn't know the right kind of folks but I hope I'm right that anyone you recommend is the kind I'd want to work with."

They look at each other warily.

"That kind of thing sure depends a lot on the specifics, head. What kind of security?"

"Bodyguarding, cargo shipments."

Skeptical looks all around. "Oh yeah? Say a little more?"

"I'm starting a company in the commodities sector and have been advised that somebody's going to try to steal all my stuff if I just drive it places hoping to exchange it for money, or try to assassinate my lawyer, or something like that."

"Sounds about right."

"The problem is we can't vouch for you. I'm sure you could find someone willing to get behind a wheel, but it could be trouble, handing out names to out of towners we don't know, up to some kind of strange business."

"That is incredibly legit, I'm not local at all. How do people usually demonstrate their bona fides?"

"Hanging around for at least a few days and getting to know folks. Getting your name around, being known. Letting people see what kind of player you're going to be."

"Donating to the neighborhood watch... Two fifty is the standard if you want to go above and beyond. Or some free products could do."

"Get an information broker to vouch for you. Hire a crew for this and that, low commitment stuff, and treat them well."

"Sure, that sounds good. I wanted to sell off some fuel, that could be a one-off. What kinds of products do you folks most find yourselves short of?"

"Fuel ethanol, electrical-grade copper wire, fiber optic. Bricks, plascrete sheeting, insulation foam."

"Coffee, bits and bobs and gubbins for repairing our gear..."

"Could always use more nanite shots and first aid kits. Maybe some hard hats and hi-vis gear. You said commodities, though."

"Oh, I have lots of stuff, commodities are just the most fungible."

"Uh huh. As long as nobody's going to come looking for the stuff."

"Nobody is going to come looking for the stuff and be telling the truth about it, at any rate."

"And it's not like this is diamonds we're talking about. We certainly appreciate it. This association covers this block and the two to our south- We're based out of the old disco palace."

"Neat, is it worth my hitting up people there too or a neighboring similar org or nah?"

"You should head around and have a chat, yeah. Maybe visit Frank's Bar and get to know the block there too. Just... Generally get to know the place."

"Can you get me directions?"