[January 10th, 2132.]
In my mind, yesterday felt akin to a sudden mid-winter fever dream.
Following breakfast, Cacophony and I spent the entirety of the day relaxing in the comfort of my shabby home. True to what I'd seen up until now, the Empress touched and prodded every appliance and utility in my house that caught her eye. As her dutiful servant, it became my job to guide her through the use and function of said appliances and utilities.
The work, while exhausting, was fulfilling in its own way.
In that way, the day progressed, the sun soaring through the sky from east to west. By dinner time, I took note that my fridge was looking quite bare. On that front, I'd procrastinated twofold. Firstly, and most obviously, I'd been putting off going into town and getting food. Since I'd been living alone, I've been eating breakfast at home, eating lunch at school, and forgoing dinner. Now that I had a roommate that I had to feed, that habit of mine would have to die a swift death.
The second front that I'd been procrastinating on was my finances. The allowance that I received from my benefactor every month wasn't enough to cover my cost of living, so I took on a little side gig, one not too uncommon in these parts, but unsavory all the same. For personal reasons, I haven't done this side gig in several weeks.
Now, it seems that my brief retirement will be coming to a close. Within the next few days, I'll be clocking in once again.
***
As these thoughts leisurely crossed my mind, I let out a disappointed sigh. My stomach growled as it protested not eating since last evening. Sadly, breakfast was skipped today.
The afternoon sun came through the window in bright streaks; it brought heat into the house, but not enough to fend off the January chill. Still exhausted from everything that happened in the Null Streets, I made the executive decision not to go to school for a second day in a row.
Wearing a black shirt and shorts, I sat cross-legged on the couch, a worn, coffee-colored hardcover fiction book on my lap, and on top of it was a sheet of paper. My pencil hovered restlessly above the paper, unsure what to write.
I had intended to jot down an outline of my current finances, including estimated income, utility costs, rent, food, and anything else I might need to spend money on. But now that I was seated and ready to write, nothing from my mind seemed to want to commit itself to the paper. It was a troublesome predicament, but one that I expected long before I sat down.
'All of the ideas that I had suddenly vanished the instant that I wanted to write them down...'
It was a plight caused by my human nature. When faced with this truth, surely the only answer would be procrastination, no?
Whump—shhhhk.
A wave struck the floating foundation of the house, the hollow thud reverberating beneath the floorboards. My pencil jerked, leaving an unintended mark across the blank page. I clicked my tongue and stared at the accidental line.
Living on the sea, it wasn't uncommon for waves to crash into the house. If one were to listen closely, they'd be able to constantly hear the ebbs and flows of the water at all times. But it was still uncommon for a wave to be powerful enough to reverberate throughout the house.
'Maybe a storm is coming?'
Beside me on the couch, Cacophony sat with her legs folded beneath her. In her eyes, you could see flashes of bright, colorful shapes. She was completely entranced by the television in front of her. Her damp crimson hair, still a little frizzy from an earlier shower, framed her face as she stared at the screen with a level of awe and concentration most mortals reserved for witnessing miracles.
Looking up from my empty paper, I glanced at what was playing on the television.
On the screen, a stupidly handsome man with dirty blonde hair and sharply angular facial features moved into frame. Reaching his arms up, he held the hands of a stupidly beautiful woman with blindingly blue eyes.
"Come on, Jess! Let's run away together! I don't care about my dad's fortune; it's worthless to me! Everything means nothing if I can't have you!"
The male actor spoke robotically and had little emotion in his voice and body language. Based on what I watched, I'd guess that he's a rising star who only got the role due to his connections or his good looks.
Jess, the female actress, eagerly nodded to his words before leaning in for a passionate embrace and kiss.
'They didn't even give her a line for the scene. Is she meant to be overcome with emotions because her idiot boyfriend chose her over life-changing money? Poor and happy is better than rich and lonely... If he were rich, he'd definitely be able to find another girl...'
Cacophony was enjoying the episode much more than I was. Her eyes sparkled with delight. "Veri... This box of moving paintings has shown me such a magnificent story. This must be the peak of human inventions! This is the ultimate art form!"
"It's called a television," I said automatically.
If you asked me, I would tell you that there isn't anything good airing nowadays. This boring slop is a recycled, cliché storyline that only appeals to sappy teenage girls who fantasize about romance and love and whatnot. There isn't any depth to the stories, and you can't take anything away.
Compared to real fiction, comic books, manga, and novels, there's a clear winner.
Stories like 'Harem King's Dungeon Diving Party' might be a bit rough for the first five hundred chapters, but once you get into it, it's peak fiction.
At that thought, I began to miss my phone. Without it, I couldn't read any of my favorite webnovels. I'd have to look for it when I get back to school—assuming it wasn't crushed, stolen, or swallowed by some metaphysical void monster. Though I must admit, I wouldn't mind if the last option were the correct one.
I tapped the end of my pencil against the paper, staring at the single accidental line I'd drawn. It looked like a crack. Like the kind that had lit up the sky.
"Ultimate art form…" I muttered under my breath, still replaying her earlier declaration.
'If this is the pinnacle of civilization, then we as a species peaked at mediocrity.'
On screen, the camera zoomed in on the couple's dramatic kiss in the rain, orchestral music swelling to a painfully predictable crescendo.
Her lips curled up in wonder. "Their bond is tested by status, wealth, and family… Yet love triumphs! Such powerful storytelling! Do all dramatic tales of this age possess such beauty?"
"…Yeah. Sure. Beauty," I said, deadpan.
The show cut to a commercial. A bright and bubbly cartoon rabbit danced across the screen, advertising scented laundry detergent.
Cacophony gasped. "We've moved on to a new tale already! This one seems a bit off. The storyline is..."
"Commercial break," I sighed, drumming my fingers on the closed book beneath my page. "A short interruption where companies show you things you don't need so you'll buy them anyway."
She watched the rabbit fold towels with reverence. "I see. There are ups and downs, no matter the art form, it seems. But I don't see why you're so downcast. Why would you not want fragrant clothing infused with the freshness of spring dew? I desire it already."
"Yup, that's how they get you."
Not wanting to indulge Cacophony any further, I stood up from where I was sitting and walked toward my room.
"Where are you going?" Cacophony asked.
"There's something that requires my kingly attention." I declared with a grand flick of my wrist.
I didn't wait for her response. I didn't even want to take the slightest chance that she might figure out a way to rope me into discussing the lore of some commercial. And what would happen if a weird commercial popped up, or one that advertised some awkward-to-discuss product? Surely, when considering the possibilities, it was best if I walked away now and spent my time more productively.
I stepped into my bedroom and stopped for a moment to consider whether I should close and lock the door. After hesitating, I opted to leave the door open. Since Cacophony and I would be living together, I figured that I'd have to share some of my secrets with her.
Shifting my attention, I focused on what was in front of me. The room was dim, lit only by the pale sunlight bleeding through the curtains. I moved to the far corner, toward the small space between my bed and the wall.
Crouching down, I had to nimblely position my hands into that space. It was uncomfortable and felt unnatural, but it was manageable. Targeting a loose floorboard, I wedged my fingers underneath before prying it out.
With that removed, in a newly revealed crevase, a metallic lunchbox with a rosy hue sat.
I slid it out carefully, setting it atop my bed before opening the rusted latch. Inside lay neat stacks of bills, sorted by color and bound by mismatched rubber bands.
I looked down thoughtfully at the stacks of money before I tilted my head up and called toward the living room. "Empress! There is something of great importance that we've got to discuss."
A brief pause followed my words, followed by the soft sound of swift footsteps. Before long, a beautiful redhead was waltzing into my room.
"You called?"
I gestured toward the open lunchbox on my bed. "This," I said, "is my treasury."
She gazed down at the box, but her expression didn't seem particularly impressed. "I feel that you are being genuine, but what I'm looking at isn't a treasury. All you have are pieces of paper. Do these papers have some hidden use or value?"
"Use, no. Value, most certainly. You can think of this as the modern-day currency. It doesn't have any real value on its own, but it's backed by both the government and the people's belief. As long as people perceive something as valuable, it is. Through some complicated means, people quantify this belief in paper and bam, we've got cash money."
She stepped closer, leaning over the box with reverent fascination. "Economics has evolved in such a strange manner. I have to admit, it's quaint and pleasant. Light and easy to store in large quantities as well. So then, how much is the money in this box worth?"
Inwardly, I sighed. To even answer her simple question, I would have to explain a whole lot of boring real-world lore.
Outwardly, I grinned and crossed my arms. "First off, let's establish that what's in this box is everything that I have to my name. I don't have a cent in the bank or any paychecks that I'm waiting for.
"Let me say that again," I continued, tapping the edge of the lunchbox, "let's establish that what's in this box is everything I have to my name. I don't have a cent in a bank, or any paychecks waiting for me."
Banks, really, weren't much of a thing for people like me anymore.
Back in the 21st century, nearly every transaction was digital—taps, swipes, online transfers. People got used to money they couldn't touch. But after the Collapse, the event that ended humanity's golden age, economics took a hard shift. Governments across the world suddenly became unable to print and spread currency due to a lack of logistical means, societal anarchy, or loss of legitimacy.
Instantly, the value of a single dollar rose. The less paper there was, and the less currency there was, the more each bill started to be valued. At the same time, people lost access to whatever money they had saved in any digital accounts.
It was a perfect storm to recrown physical money as the economic king.
"Most people keep their wealth in paper," I said, lifting a neat stack bound by a faded red rubber band. "Digital cash still exists, but unless you're a member of the upper class, that's a pipe dream for a couple of reasons. Little to no access to technology amongst the lower classes, too much paranoia that digital money can vanish overnight, and a whole lot of people who still don't trust anything they can't physically hold. Basically, everyone is afraid that their hard-earned money might get wiped out at the drop of a hat and all of their savings will vanish into nothing."
Cacophony nodded slowly in understanding. "Do you share these fears?"
"Well, I can't say that I trust digital money, but I don't think it's as bad as most people. But, sadly, my current earthly guise is a mere sixteen-year-old boy, and without the consent of a parent, I can't open a bank account until I'm eighteen."
"Also," I continued, separating the stacks, "not all paper is created equal."
I held up a green bill between two fingers. "This is United States dollars—USD. The good stuff. Old-school, federal mint, ironclad value. One of these can stretch a long way."
Then I plucked a cyan bill from a different stack. The paper was thinner, the print a little cheaper, the texture slightly waxy to prevent seawater damage. "And this… is Southern Florida Credits, nicknamed SFC. Minted by the regional government. Still valid, still usable, but its value isn't anywhere near as solid as USD. Most stores and people on the street will take it, but it's not a guarantee. Plenty of storekeepers avoid it like the plague. It's also just worth less than USD, so there's a bunch of annoying stuff to deal with there. Prices in SFC tend to be higher. The idea is that the store owner is going to charge you extra since, by accepting your money, they're taking the risk that they won't be able to spend it later. In contrast, when paying in USD, store owners are incentivised to make prices cheaper. The lower prices are worth it in exchange for having more USD on hand."
As I thought about it, a sea of terrible experiences flooded my mind: "As you can guess, SFC really isn't a well-liked currency and USD is the destined hero chosen to save us all." I spoke bluntly. "Green money is respected by everyone. Cyan money is tolerated only amongst some."
I set the two bills down side by side—green and cyan, hero and sidekick.
"To keep it simple," I said, "one USD is worth about twenty SFC on a good day. Fifty on a bad day. Most of the time, the exchange rate bounces around between those two numbers."
"What is it right now?"
'How would I know something like that? Or... well, actually, maybe I should know that. It is kind of important...'
"My monetary divination abilities don't work past noon on Fridays while I'm wearing black. You'll have to ask some other time."
Cacophony squinted her eyes as she looked between the two notes. "I don't understand. If the green dollars are superior to the cyan Credits in every way, then why not get rid of the inferior? Would everyone not be better off?"
I gritted my teeth.
'That's a complicated, loaded question. I really don't want to explain something that annoying. Economics was already boring me to death here; if I start going into economic politics, I think I might really die.'
"My dear Empress, you must be familiar with the tale of neighboring kingdoms! Though they might be right next to one another, fighting and bickering are inevitable! Even when they act like they're friends, secretly, they harbor all kinds of ill will towards one another for stupid, nonsensical reasons. This is one of those kinds of things."
Before she could press further, I clapped my hands sharply. "Anyway! Before your curiosity bankrupts my will to live, let's focus on the real tragedy at hand—our finances."
'That was all background so that she'd be able to understand what I'm about to say.'
I turned the lunchbox toward myself, scanning the stacks with a solemn expression of a king surveying a barren kingdom after a drought.
"Currently, we have…" I did a quick mental count, lips tightening, "…just enough to feed a small pigeon for about three days. Four, if the pigeon has self-respect and fasts on weekends."
Cacophony peered into the box, her brows knit. "Is that supposed to be a unit of measurement?"
"It is now," I said flatly. "A very depressing one."
I separated the stacks to get a clear view. "Green pile: twelve dollars. Cyan pile…" I flicked the stack with a finger. "A total of three hundred and twenty credits. If you do some quick division, assuming that the exchange rate is 40 credits per dollar, this is worth eight dollars."
In total, the box had twenty dollars. Even the thought caused me to shudder.
Cacophony didn't seem fazed, but her concept of money wasn't properly developed. Her brows remained knit. "I assume that twenty dollars is bad?"
"For context... my monthly rent is forty-five dollars, a price that is absurdly good for a house in this neighborhood. Keep in mind that these floating neighborhoods are already fairly cheap due to the constant risk of natural disasters. I'm renting the solar panels on my roof; those are five dollars a month. Water is free unless you go over the government limit. Food for a single week is around two or three dollars, but that was when I was alone. With two people, it's likely to be three or four dollars. Within a month, other items and resources might add up to around six dollars."
Cacophony did the math in her head as I spoke, and a frown appeared on her face. "We would need around seventy dollars for a month."
"That's for barebones living.", I added, "Including other costs that might pop up or that I haven't thought up yet, I'd say we should be prepared to need upwards of eighty or ninety dollars."
Cacophony stared at me with a heartbroken expression on her face. "Veri... that means... we're impoverished!" Her voice held a deep heartache.
"Poverty," I said with a sage nod, "is merely wealth that hasn't realized its potential yet. In a parallel world, I vividly remember a wise man telling me those words."
Her mouth was agape in her growing shock. "Even you know those profound words are utterly meaningless."
"Correct as well. They were words said by one who did not know the tragedy of poverty."
Cacophony's mouth remained wide open, as though unhinged. Her head spun slowly, scanning the room in disbelief.
"We must be on one of those cute television shows that we were watching. This cannot be real..."
'At least she's becoming more accustomed to modern life. Even if what she said was totally wrong.'
"How often do mortals in this age fail? If they cannot pay their rent, do they lose their home?"
My jaw tightened. "…Yeah. Pretty quickly, actually."
The Empress put her face in her palm. "Veri... What in the world have you been doing?"