Sami was filled with a mix of emotions he couldn't quite name.
The city was unlike anything he had ever seen before, but it was both overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time. To put it simply, it was like being cast into the future but a poor, dying part of it.
Tall buildings loomed everywhere with neon signs flickering weakly, some half-broken and buzzing with electrical sparks. The walls were filled with graffiti and wall art. Out-of-date holographic ads flickered above, promising luxuries only the wealthy could afford, a cruel contrast to the desperate faces shuffling below.
Vendors shouted over the chatter of people huddled under patched umbrellas, selling everything from cheap street food to stolen tech. Children played among piles of scrap and abandoned machinery, while drug addicts lingered in shadowy corners. Rusted hover carts rattled down the narrow streets, scraping against walls and sending up clouds of dust mixed with the stench of sewage. And water puddles, tinged with oil and chemical runoff.
Sami could also see a few old-looking, scrappy vehicles floating in the air, and motorbikes weaving through the streets, dodging piles of debris.
Unbothered by the noisy, familiar-yet-unfamiliar surroundings, Sami turned and began walking down the street. He could tell where he was, not just because of one of the large billboards in the corner that read Sector 9, but also because this poor, dirty, and dangerous place was where Vel lived.
'Gosh, it reeks! How do people live here?' He coughed, then stopped to look around and get his bearings. Right now, he needed to head to a nearby trading center and trade that core as soon as possible. Carrying it around in his pocket in a place like this, filled with thieves, was like inviting someone to smash his head with a pole and take it from him.
His gaze locked onto a large building not too far from him. It looked different from every other building nearby, and it had a fading neon sign above it that read: "Mickey's Trad—"
Sami squinted. The other part of it had been broken off.
He swallowed and began walking briskly toward the building, clutching his jacket tight and avoiding people as much as he could.
A few minutes later, he stepped through the sliding door and looked around. In a far corner to the left, he saw a private store tucked between the stalls with a sign above it that displayed the words "Anything Goes" in red.
Ignoring the crowd and the other vendors shouting from their own stores, he turned and walked toward it, stopping at the counter that rose to his chest. Above it, a sheet of glass stretched across, with a wide opening in the center for exchanging goods.
Sami leaned forward and peered through the dirty glass. Inside, a man was sleeping on a couch with a felt hat covering his face. Sami raised a hand and knocked twice against the glass.
The man jerked up, startled. He took the hat off his face and turned to see Sami smiling at him. An annoyed expression crossed his bearded face. He clicked his teeth, then stood and approached the counter.
Sami was about to speak when he saw the man's face twisted in disgust and then the man barked at him in an annoyed tone. "Boy, you reek! I know we don't take showers down here but goddamn."
Sami frowned, lifted his jacket, and sniffed… then gagged almost immediately.
'Ugh… jeez. It's bad. Really bad! Fuck, I need a shower!'
He looked up and said apologetically, "Uhm… don't mind me, I've had a really… unfortunate night."
The man scowled, then, after a brief moment, asked, "What can I do for you?"
Sami cleared his throat, then said, "I want to trade an aberrant's co—"
He didn't finish. The man immediately cut him off. "Shhh! Jeez, how reckless can you be?!"
Sami frowned in confusion, but the man went on. "How can you say that out loud? Have you forgotten where you are?"
At that point, Sami's eyes widened as he suddenly realized his mistake. Unless he wanted people to rob him on his way home, he shouldn't have said that he wanted to trade something that expensive out loud.
'Aisssh!'
He cursed under his breath as he quickly turned around to check if anyone had heard him, but luckily, there was no one around except a frail-looking homeless beggar who lay on the floor in a corner a fair distance across from him.
Sami heaved a sigh of relief, then turned back to the trader and gave him a tight-lipped smile, with his eyebrows raised, clearly embarrassed by his mistake.
The man shook his head, then after a few seconds, extended his hand through the large opening in the glass.
Sami reached into his jacket, enclosed the crystal core in his palm, then pulled it out and placed it in the man's hand.
The man instantly retracted his hand, turned around, and took two steps to a cash desk behind him at the side. On top of the table was what looked like a green metal box that functioned as a safe. The man placed his palm on a scanner on top of the safe, and it clicked open. He threw the black core inside and closed it again.
"That's a black core, so it's a stage one," the man said in a low voice as he approached Sami again. "Luckily for you, I have just enough to trade you for it."
He then leaned in very close to the glass and signaled for Sami to come closer.
When Sami inched closer to the glass, the man whispered, "What do you say to 100k Vey?"
Sami immediately suppressed an urge to smile. He could tell the man was not cheating him, because that was indeed how much a stage-one aberrant core traded for, and a hundred thousand Vey… that was actually a lot of money, at least for someone of his current level.
Vey was the national currency used across all the sectors in this district, and there were a total of nine sectors. Depending on which sector you were in, its value was splintered, and the price of everything varied as well. For instance, a thousand Vey in Sector 9 could feed a person who wasn't a glutton for a day. In Sector 1, it might only buy a coffee, if you didn't tip.
In Sami's case, since he was currently in Sector 9, that amount could last him for at least a month and a few weeks after, depending on how he chose to spend it.
However, Sami had worked as a clerk in a pawnshop back in Seoul, and so many years of backbreaking work and experience had taught him a lot about negotiations. He was not about to just accept a hundred thousand Vey for the core.
He leaned away slightly and tried to put on a serious expression. Then he spoke in an even tone. "Make it 150k"
"Fuck you mean, boy?" the man retorted almost immediately.
Sami remained composed. He lowered his voice, tilted his head, and shrugged a shoulder. "Come on, sir, I went through a lot to get that, you know." He smiled and raised a finger. "Matter of fact, I almost died."
The trader leaned back and scowled. "You don't fool me, boy. I know damn well you stole that core."
"No, I didn't!" Sami interjected instantly. "I killed it myself."
The man let out an annoyed laugh. "And you expect me to believe that? Look at your scrawny self!"
Sami's jaw parted. 'Jeez… how do I give a comeback to that?'
Thinking about it, this body was indeed scrawny due to poverty and malnutrition. Vel was short too. His only saving grace was his handsome face.
Sami sighed, then said resignedly, "Give me 130k for it then."
The man shook his head. "I can manage to do 110."
Sami arched a brow. "120?"
"115."
"Deal."
Sami smiled. An extra fifteen thousand Vey wasn't bad. In fact, that was exactly how much it cost to rent the tiny apartment Vel lived in, which… was due a week from now.
The trader raised a hand and asked, "How do you want it, cash or bank?"
Sami thought for a bit. There was no way he was going to walk around in this godforsaken sector with 115,000 Vey in cash. Luckily, he suddenly remembered that Vel had a bank account.
Looking back at the trader, he answered. "I'd prefer bank please."
The man turned back to the cash desk and grabbed a device shaped like a phone. He tapped in a few commands, then turned back to Sami. "Gimme your serial number."
At first, Sami's brow furrowed as he didn't know what that was, but then a fragment of Vel's memory triggered, causing him a slight migraine.
Apparently, everyone in this world carried serial numbers that served as complete identification, and these numbers could be tattooed on any part of the body. Depending on the scanner used, the same number could reveal entirely different details about a person. An authority's scanner, for instance, known as a Civiscan, displayed civil records such as name, age, sector of origin, and even criminal history. Hospitals used a Mediscan to pull up medical histories and blood types, while in the wealthier districts a Luxscan determined a person's social rank and spending credibility, deciding who was welcome and who was not. At trading centers like this one, a Crediscan allowed money to be transferred to or from one's bank account during exchanges.
Sami raised his hand to the glass slot and tugged back his jacket sleeve, revealing the serial number inked into his wrist. The man leaned forward, pressed his Crediscan close, and a brief flash of light confirmed the transfer.
"All done. Pleasure doing business with you." He turned away, tossed the device onto the cash deck, and shuffled back toward the couch in the corner, collapsing onto it with a grunt before settling back into his nap.
Sami retracted his hand with a faint smile, tugging his sleeve back down to hide the tattoo. As he turned to leave, Joonas's deep voice echoed in his mind:
"What's next?"
Sami muttered softly in response, "First things first… I need a communicator so that I can familiarize myself with this crazy ass world. After which I'll go buy myself some food." He paused, then added with emphasis, "Good food."
His gaze swept the trading center until it fixed on a tech store across the plaza.
Pocketing his hands in his jacket, he started toward it. But then he noticed a detail through the corner of his eye. The frail beggar who had lain at the corner was no longer there. All his belongings had been packed up too.
'Hmmm…'
For some reason, the detail struck Sami as odd, but not enough to dwell on it. He turned his eyes forward and kept walking toward the store.