The Industrialist

"A business is like a tree. In the first few days or weeks, it will need your fullest attention; watering it, cultivating its soil, providing fertilizers, and more. But when the tree grows to its mature state, it can live without your presence anymore. It can bear fruit for you or provide shade.

So in a business, patience is a virtue. And hard work is a must."

- Erik Berkley

***

"Ok, what’s your number?" Lance asked, about the forecast.

"Hmm," Jonaz smiled, his teeth retainers glimmered against the penlights. "20 Zelkians! That’s per month, kid."

Lance had only a farm capacity of 12 Zelkians per month, and promising 20 Zelkians would ensue disagreeable terms. And the Mafia don’t like disagreements.

There was silence. Lance calculated but had not uttered a word for a few awkward moments.

"That’s 240 Zelkians per calendar year, kiddo," Jonaz clasped both hands close to his chest. "Remember what I told you about the consequences, kid, of any undelivered orders."

"Think this through, kid," Damian said, his voice with a hint of utter concern.

"16 per month?" Lance asked.

"Oh, poor you. You are comfortable with 16. Well, I am not. It’s either a deal or no deal for me, kiddo," Jonaz mused.

Then Lance understood what the Bartender reminded him, ’Black and white’.

"Remember, kid," Jonaz released a deep sigh. His elbows were placed on top of the table and leaned toward Lance. His witty humor had departed from his expression and only seriousness remained.

"Reputation is everything for Jonaz Enterprises." The boss mused. "It’s either I can deliver or not. I would rather be the former to preserve my name, my precious reputation. I squandered away tens of thousands of units for an investment gone bad with Valentyne. Bless his poor soul."

Lane knew the name. Vice Governor Valentyne was murdered and the Media falsely accused the rebels as they printed it in the headlines. Probably, the Mafia killed him.

"You heard the news, right? So unfortunate." Jonaz taunted. He shook his head. Lance always was confused if the boss was acting or authentic.

"Yes," Lance said, interjecting before Jonaz could continue.

"Yes, what?" Jonaz clarified.

"Yes, I am good with 20 Zelkians." Lance finally said. It’s a gamble. But weighing his options, only the Black marketers offered Zelkians to the Inlanders. And there was no other way to bypass Jonaz Enterprises for such merchandise.

"Are you sure, kid?" Damian asked. He was not sure at all.

"I am sure, Damian," Lance responded.

"Ok. Then, it’s a done deal for me," Jonaz smiled. "You are a gambler, kid. I can see it in you. You were like me when I was young. A gambler, hoping for the Universe to assist me in achieving my dreams."

But Lance knew it was not the case. He could provide 12 Zelkians on his current farm. 16 Zelkians could be achievable granting another Breeder would be born in the current natal batch. But a solution lingered inside his mind, oblivious to Damian. Jonaz probably won’t care how, as long Lance would deliver at his end of the bargain.

"Great!" Jonaz exclaimed. He clapped once. "Then, let’s proceed with regulations."

"Regulations?" Lance asked, having not anticipated about regulations in this exchange.

"Yes, GLD regulations. GLD-EU or the GLD extension Units, sector-based regulators. Bloomforge is different from other sectors. Business is more stringent here. They will be needing this 2304 Tax schemes nowadays. Valentyne, bless his soul.

He established the Order of 2304. Now, I am in a microscope, Lance. And I can’t feck this up. I hated those fat butt lickers!"

Lance knew about the border licenses and his scrapper registrations. These were issued by Sectoral Extension Units governed by the GLDs.

"So you need me to have a 2304?" Lance asked. He assumed that it was a requirement for Jonaz Enterprises to legitimize their books.

"But what we do here is an illegal merch," Lance added.

"Yes. Yes. Zelkians are illegal. But I must cover our transaction with legal trades as to mask the proceeds."

Lance was perturbed with how Jonaz processed his thinking. It was just a simple exchange of Black market merch. He had missed something.

But what?

"You probably hadn’t heard the term yet, kid," Jonaz interrupted Lance’s thoughts. "Laundering."

"Let me explain," Jonaz said, "I can’t run my other legitimate businesses with a dirty currency. Now what you are dealing with here is sure dirty currency as you are offering black market merch. The books will tell me that I am investing in another business, for example, my restaurant business expansion, using Zelkian trade. GLD EU would kill my businesses."

Jonaz was smart. He had a restaurant business at one end and the opposite side of the establishment was his Rave Party Bar. Two separate businesses, however, used one kitchen with the same workforce.

Efficiency.

And with the same kitchen, probably farming Abominants. He must have deep pockets to bribe the inspectors to bypass kitchen inspections.

"If you don’t have a 2304, Jonaz Enterprises will fixed it for ya!" Jonaz offered.

"How?" Lance asked.

"Just provide me your legitimate license, your scrapper reg, could be. Then my accountants will process it in EU office. Then we can proceed as agreed."

Lance heard about fixers. It was an easy but illegal way of gaining legitimate documents from regulating bodies such as scientist-level registrations, border licenses, Merchant registrations, and more. The Sectoral Extension Units processed these tedious documents and by fixing, one would avoid longevities.

"What’s the catch?" Lance asked.

"1000 units. Of course. The common trade for fixing."

Dealing with Jonaz was like playing with chess. The opponent would always anticipate the player’s move. In their case, Lance was at the losing end. His pieces, his wits, were already consumed to the fullest. He played in a different world now with different rules.

A 1000 units was not a sound deal of just fixing a document. But he could not process it on his own. GLDs would require a financial audit that the applicant had sufficient liquidity to support the business. If approved, there will be another set of inspections or another way of milking business owners.

Power trips.

He had a little over 2000 units in his account but a factor of it (800 units) was a downpayment for his Tyllrium trade in Axiom, surmounting to 1600 units.

"Is it a deal, kid?" Jonaz extended his right arm for a handshake. However, Lance hesitated to shake the dealer’s hand.

"How would I know that you are good for it?" The same question he asked Damian when he transacted for a Specialist fee. Damian smiled at that.

"Witty. Witty. I like that." Jonaz retracted his hand and clapped once again. "That’s the right question, kid! You are learning now, aren’t you?"

"To answer your question," Jonaz continued, "I can offer you a 50% downpayment for the Fixing."

"30%," Lance renegotiated.

Jonaz’s face brightened like a summer sun. Gleaming retainers showed as Jonaz smiled. He extended his right hand again for a handshake attempt.

"Let’s do the old-school seal-the-deal, Mr. Lance of Steelpoint," Jonaz mused.

Lance clasped it and shook hard.

"Deal, kid!" Jonaz was exhilarated. "Now, unto the last agenda at hand." They released the handshake. "Let’s make this legitimate on paper, shall we? Zelkians are illegal so we will mask out transactions with legal merch. And you should have this kind of merch for documentation purposes, ya know the drill. These regulators always lookin’ for evidence."

"Tyllrium. We can make my Tyllrium business a front for our Zelkian deal."

Another business opportunity presents itself. It would also mean another opportunity to earn more units.

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