It’s Not Easy Making Money In the Apocalypse - It’s Not Easy Making Money In the Apocalypse – V5 - Chapter 8

As I was leaving my apartment, my eyes fell on a folder mysteriously sitting on the counter in my kitchen. I hadn’t noticed it before because my mind had been caught up on my unexpected visitor. My first thought was that Mrs. Mizuki had left it behind, but when I flipped it open, I recalled the mysterious man from Allco. There was a lot of writing and no pictures.

“Any chance I can just take a picture of it and you give me the summary?” I asked.

“You’re turning me into your secretary! I know it!” Cecelia cried.

“Will you do it or not?”

“Whatever, just make a good picture. If it’s hard to read, don’t blame me for making mistakes.”

I smiled and quickly pulled out my phone, snapping photos of each page. Cecelia likely didn’t even need photos. A single solid look with a camera was likely all she needed. I kept a camera on my collar exactly for that reason, but it wasn’t the best quality, and reading anything that wasn’t close or large was difficult, even with her processing ability. I didn’t need to send the photos anywhere though. That was the advantage of Cecelia being hacked into the wifi and my phone. She had access to every device I wanted.

Of course, she wasn’t all-powerful. For example, she wasn’t able to figure out the identity of this mysterious businessman from Allco. She didn’t know much about Allco beyond the name, and she couldn’t confirm whether it came from my world or her world. While she went through the contents though, I headed down the lobby and ordered a carshare back to the factory. I had already settled all of my business in this world the previous two nights, and now that things with Lily and Mizuki were temporarily settled, nothing was keeping me on this side any longer.

As I walked out, the guard gave me a grin. I thought about cussing him out. I wanted to tell him that he wasn’t to let anyone up to my property for any reason. He must have thought Mrs. Mizuki was a geisha or some lady of the night. I wondered how she would have reacted if she knew that was how she had been perceived.

Then again, I had a feeling that even without that understanding, Mrs. Mizuki would have found some way into my apartment, so it was better that it came this way. Furthermore, what if there was a pretty lady that needed to get into my apartment? I wasn’t thinking from a perverted point of view. The two most beautiful women in this world were my mother and sister. I had left them my address, so if they ever came needing assistance, I would never forgive myself if these door guards turned them away.

In the end, I said nothing and left in my rideshare. A few minutes later, I arrived back in the familiar factory district. When I entered the factory, the familiar sounds of security buzzed nearby. I wasn’t foolish. There was a distinct drop-off area where people could enter and leave stuff without encountering my deadly security force. It was only when they got too curious that problems would happen. Either way, it wasn’t easy to get to the point where their lives would be threatened. I tried to be fair. I didn’t want dead teenagers all over my warehouse, after all. If they did get that far, they were asking for it.

In the bay were several baskets. They weren’t in crates or barrels, so they immediately caught my eye. These looked almost decorative. There was a note on one of the baskets. I opened it and looked at the delicate handwriting.

This is the plant that you requested. Usually, it’s the guy who should be sending a girl a plant. Feel free to use me in the future. You’ll find that I’m dependable for many things other than fetching your groceries.

Lily

It was the kind of display I was starting to expect from Lily. It was slightly petulant, a little intimidating, and it left me unsure of whether she was being flirtatious or if this was all just business to her. I opened up one of the baskets and found the bundles of the plant I had asked for. They were dehydrated though. I hadn’t told her that I needed the seaweed fresh, but that still put me in a bit of a bind. It did look like the picture though. I shook my head and grabbed the baskets. I’d just have to make do.

“World Travel.”

I didn’t have to say a word or anything. I just felt like I was doing something as long as I said the word. There was a flash, and the factory smells were quickly replaced by the muggy stench of the apocalyptic world. It was completely dark out, and even the lively atmosphere around the various bars and venues had seemingly died down. There was only a hand full of people still out at this time of night, and the majority of the businesses were no longer open.

I left the alley, immediately heading for the so-called cook who had to send me on this fetch quest. When I saw his building, I felt a bit annoyed. The cook had a large tube of a building that resembled a cross between a food vehicle and a zeppelin. The part where people sat was through a large open window. There was a metal cover that sat over the seating to give shade to the guests, but that part had been pulled down to cover the window. That was to say that the place was currently closed.

However, I could still see light coming through the cracks of the covering. In this wasteland, no one would allow so much energy to be wasted over nothing. That could only lead me to conclude that he was still in there. I leaned over the seating and knocked on the metal door, giving loud banging noises. Some kind of animal that might have been a dog started barking, and I heard someone a few doors down shout in annoyance.

I heard a few bangs and curses, but the metal door raised, nearly hitting me in the face had I not dodged back quick enough.

“What do you want?” The guy started, but when he saw me, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re back, are you? Gave up on the quest? Why are you bugging me?”

“I got what you asked for,” I responded instead, lifting the baskets in my hands.

Rather than look elated, he only grew more suspicious. I couldn’t blame him. The quest he had sent me on should have been a suicide mission. He didn’t expect me to take it at all, let alone come back unharmed. He looked at my hair.

“You’re wet, at least.”

“Ah… yeah…” I put my hand through my hair awkwardly.

I hadn’t dried very well after sleeping in the hot tube. My hair was still wet and my fingers were prunes. If someone didn’t look too closely in the dark, it could just as easily appear like I had been sludging through pond water.

“Well, what are you wasting my time for! Show me the goods.”

“Right. Here.”

This was the moment that left me the most worried. I handed over one of the baskets. He grabbed it and flipped it over on his corner without any consideration, causing the seaweed to plop down in a few tied-up bundles. It was still extremely neatly cut and tied. I had considered doing something to alleviate doubts. I had considered trying to rehydrate the seaweed on my own, or breaking apart the bundles and leaving it messy, but there were always going to be doubted. I decided there was no point in trying to hide anything.

“What the hell is this?” He demanded after picking up one of the bundles and sniffing it.

“It’s seaweed.” I declared. “As you requested.”

“This isn’t the seaweed from Riddick’s Pond.” He declared.

“No, it’s not.” I responded, “You said that you needed this plant for your soup. Whether it came from the pond or not shouldn’t matter.”

“Even if you say that… this isn’t fresh… I won’t buy it.”

“Fresh?” I pointed to the last plant of seaweed he still had hanging. “You call that fresh? You can only get supplies once every few months, right? Is your seaweed fresh on the soup you were serving with that plant?”

He grabbed the plant and stashed it under his counter. It was brown, shriveled, and splotchy. There also might have been something growing on it. It hadn’t been hanging up when he was selling his soup earlier. He was probably trying to rinse it off and get enough usable parts from it when I interrupted him.

“What of it?” He said, trying to appear in control.

“I’ll guarantee you in a taste test that not only will soup made from my seaweed taste better, but the shelf life will be ten times as long as yours.” I declared.

“Quit running your mouth.” He spoke agitatedly.

I smiled. “Oh? Don’t believe me? Care to make a bet?”