Chapter 32: Chapter 30

You always hear the word infinity used with reverence, infused with gravitas, displayed in simplistic ways like the common circle or ornate ways like the mobius strip. Never do you expect to gaze upon infinity and cringe back in revulsion. It was infinity alright, but its entirety was a flashing, ever-changing slate filled with faces, comics, emblems, and figures, all clamoring for my attention. Trying to sell.

“PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” they screamed via their various mannerisms. “ME ME ME! FREE TO DOWNLOAD, YA DICK!” That last part may have been my imagination, but it was just so crass and blatant. It was all I could do to keep my food in my stomach.

Again MortMobile was regarding me with that special squint. “Yeah, I know, I’m weak and I suck,” I said. “Common among hairless apes, I’m sure.”

The head was silent for a long moment. “I can make it better,” he said. And with those words the infinite zoomed and shrank. Now before me were just a thousand of the entities, screaming without voice. I glanced at the head. “I muted them,” he explained. “These are the highest rated and best survival apps in the multiverse. I suspect that they are still too many for you to properly sort and research, so might I suggest that you narrow your search?”

I gazed at the entity, thinking about the things that I really needed, and was surprised to see the apps flitter about and change position as I did so. Back before BuyMort, I often used to wonder if my phone was somehow reading my mind, and I found it no less disconcerting to know that it was for a fact. “Are you reading my mind?” I thought at him loudly.

“Yes,” MortMobile stated bluntly, with a wince. “Something I’m not really supposed to do without charging you. Now be quick about it, we don’t have a lot of time.”

I thanked him mentally.

INTERDIMENSIONAL THANK YOU CARDS. SOMEBODY DO YOU’SE RIGHT FOR A CHANGE? WHY NOT BUY A THANK YOU CARD FROM JOE’S EARTH CARD EMPORIUM? WE GOTS CUT-THROAT PRICES, WHAT WIT’ DA EARTH GONE TO HELL AND ALL THAT. JOE’S EARTH CARD EMPORIUM. WE TELLS THEM THANK YOU WITH STYLE. 10 MORTIES. 3.5 STARS.

I grimaced at the price, wondering what kind of hell Joe and his people were living in that they were cutting things so cheap. Then I realized I had no method of determining the value of a thank you card in this market and frowned. Maybe Joe was fleecing his customers. I’d have to collate and compare other greeting card companies operating locally to even get a window on the Mortie value.

MortMobile gave me that squint again and I hurried things forward. I needed something like satellites. Something like GPS. Also internet connections so I could contact survivors like Joe and maybe get a community going, like I had heard we were supposed to do if it all crashed down. Could definitely use a weather app. And, honestly, it’d be useful to have something to track what this constantly mentioned market price was, because BuyMort didn’t tell you a thing about how much something was selling for on the general market. The apps sorted themselves and now there were just a few, one for each of my decided upon imperatives, floating before me.

GLOBAL IMAGING APP — The GIA will give you the lowdown on everything on the planet. Feast your eyes upon the latest nano-scanned images and positions of your favorite beings, places, and routes of travel! The first planet free, subject to credit level and average income!

I glowered at those last words. I bet that all of these apps were free yet chock full of hidden fees. MortMobile nodded. I’d have to be careful with these. It was probably best that I chose just one of these apps for now, see what happened, then maybe come back for the rest later.

FRONTSKULLCOVERING-SCROLLCHAT — Grugg talk world! Worlds listen Grugg! Grugg provide general lifestyle advice and cover many interesting topics.

My eyes tore away from the page to MortMobile, who had the decency to look a bit embarrassed. “Hey, the reviews say it’s a lifesaver. I never used it myself.”

I went back in and checked out the next app.

HOW’S THE WEATHER? — Tired of trying to ascertain the conditions of your world? Angry that weathermen all got competed out, lost their job, and now Weatherman Affiliates charge top rate moolah to tell you it's sunny outside? Well no more! Introducing HOW’S THE WEATHER, the little weatherman for your pocket. Real sentient beings pledged to a hundred years of labor, digitized to fit into your pocket! And accuracy guaranteed (if they know what’s good for them.) Don’t believe us? Try a month free* Conditions apply.

“Real sentient beings?” I asked BuyMort.

He had a pained expression in his eyes. “Debt is something one does not ever want to fall into. Bad things can and do happen,” he explained. I felt awkward, unable to think of how to answer, so I turned and dove into the last app.

SSSTASSSTICO – All factsss in your handsss. BuyMort’sss will be praisssed. No tricksss. No gimmicksss. Real time tracking of world ssstatisssticsss. One week trial! Cancccel anytime.

“What’s with with the S’s?” I whispered to myself as I thumbed through the apps features. The front page kept it simple and told me that any numeric based statistic on our world would be available at my discretion, with only a single requirement in return. A three minute advertisement, once per day. I signed on without thinking past that point, paying for stuff by watching ads was nothing new to me.

The MortMobile floating head had been paying attention to something else, which I noticed was indicated by a slight shift in his appearance. When he refocused on me as my app was confirmed, a life returned to his eyes and he came more fully awake. “Oh. That one.”

I frowned and looked back at my app. It hovered open on the main screen, a blinking bar asking me what I would like to track. I asked it for the world’s death toll since BuyMort had arrived, and the basic weather in my area. It added those to my home page and informed me my advertisement would randomly interrupt my use of the app once a day. I could watch it in segments, or all at once, but until it was watched, the app would no longer function.

The MortMobile head nodded, with pursed lips. “Right, you have what you need. Good luck.”

He shimmered away before I could say good-bye and I was left wondering about the entire encounter. He hadn’t seemed like his usual jerkish self. But there were other things to get done, and so I set to walking again, idly getting my steps in as I went over this new and powerful trove of data.

For the time being, I could track several things about my planet, in regard to its standing in the BuyMort network. Almost any statistic was available, from total root vegetables grown to how much money was being made by which companies. The statistic that I tied to my BuyMort homepage and psychic phone background was different though. I was watching the death toll. Looking back in time to when BuyMort had come to my planet, we had roughly eight billion people living on it. Three days later the number down by a third and dwindling rapidly.

With food prices spiking on BuyMort, the death toll was spiking right alongside it. I didn’t imagine it was going to get better anytime soon. It made me think about Molls, her reverence for all of this animating her eyes, giving her a purple tinge on her cheeks. She spoke of BuyMort like some benevolent god. It hurt knowing that she believed such a monstrous untruth and I wondered if I shouldn’t consider her another victim of the thing. Thinking of it, I just felt a powerful need to stay away from her for a while. I needed to get Mr. Sada spun up and get out on that errand he had planned for me. That would help me escape her for a bit to think.

So once I had the information I needed on my phone, I left the desert outside Mr. Sada’s mansion and returned to find him looking bored in the hallway. I took a moment to be grateful he was out of his drywall cocaine when I saw the look on his face. We returned to the kitchen to discuss what Molls had told me over some more coffee.

Mr. Sada got out the coffee and a spoon, then turned on the electric kettle and pointed at the French press. “Your turn.”

A scowl formed on my face, but I quickly decided it was fair, and settled in to make some decent coffee. I ladled in dry ground coffee up to the line it indicated, and then added two more spoonful’s. As I worked, I spoke to Mr. Sada. “So, the way an affiliate storefront works is pretty easy.” 

I glanced up from the coffee to make sure he was paying attention. 

“We state, publicly, that we are operating a business in the BuyMort storefront. We pay a steep monthly fee in order to do that, and BuyMort cuts the giant fees on anything we sell. It also allows us to loop in staff, like the BlueCleave tribe, and assign them stipends or sales abilities on the MortBlock. Or if you screw up and we end up in rags, eating garbage and living on the run, we can have an affiliate service, no land, just something to keep us getting money while we do whatever it is people will pay us to do.”

He nodded with a scowl. “So it’s all based on the MortBlock I already have set up right now?”

“Yeah this one is,” I started. “But it’s not just that easy. You’ll have to set permissions for each staff member, and set regular purchases that we need, like the Goblin d’jhz. If you just give me general management abilities, I can do most of it for you.” I knew he was going to sense my hesitance, and he immediately did.

“So, what happens when I leave?” He asked, tapping his bull ring on his mug lightly. “Once you help me get off-world.”

I had been ready for this. “I take over all assets, per our agreement. The MortBlock, and everything on it except your house and personal assets become mine. In exchange for that, I run it and keep us all alive until that can happen.”

Mr. Sada nodded and nibbled at a thumbnail. “So I don’t get it man, what’s here that can fund all these plans you talk about? You gonna start renting out sites or something?”

I nodded, both eyebrows raised. “Yes, more or less. I plan to bring in people to work and farm food. There is also a natural resource that seems to have at least decent value right now, and I intend to cultivate that too. It can provide a regular income stream, possibly. Then I’ll possibly do something with the underground army lab. Hydroponics or something, food seems like a never ending resource. If we could grow more of it than we needed, we could get rich pretty quick.”

His eyes went wide at that last part and he snapped his fingers. “That reminds me Tyson, I need you to make a run today, for food. We can’t afford to buy it anymore, it’s way too high priced, but the hippy commune is giving away literally as much as we can carry in any single vehicle, if we just go talk to them for an hour.”

I breathed an internal sigh of relief that he had gotten distracted by our food needs. Then I realized what he had said. “The hippy commune is giving away free food for an hour-long conversation?”

Mr. Sada produced his phone and swiped at it, before turning it to face me and sliding it to me on the counter. I watched as an advertisement started playing. It was a shaky handheld phone camera scanning the Arizona desert from the top of a wall covered in dream catchers and turquoise beadwork. The area was perfectly peaceful and quiet, in spite of showing a paved road in the distance. Then the phone turned and the oversized face of an older man with long gray hair filled the screen.

“Where’d everybody go?” He asked, before turning to show the desert again. “We’re missing our visitors here and would love to get some company today. Anyone who can safely make the journey should. We’ll sort you out with food. Gaia knows we have enough.”

The camera faced the man again and showed some of the commune behind him. Crops grew in abundance in large gardens, and at least one fruit tree was visible in the background, inside a greenhouse attached to a nearby building.

“All we ask in payment is some time with another person, at this critical juncture in our species. Come on by and chat with us, we’ll feed you and yours.”

Then a strange graphic appeared over the end of the video, which appeared to be the old man forgetting to turn off his phone and walking down a set of stairs. A blue cloud of smoke blew in from the edge of the screen and showcased the name of their business. ‘Sundew Valley Foods.’

I scowled at the ad and slid the phone back to Mr. Sada. “So that’s real? I’m not going to be clubbed and eaten by cannibals or something?”

Mr. Sada shrugged and took a swig from his coffee. “Shit Tyson, I dunno. It definitely is that old hippy who runs the place in the video.” He shook his head and moved closer, leaning in on the counter to share a secret he had just realized with me. “Hippies don’t care about the same stuff as us normal people, he’s probably lonely and used to talking to a lot of people.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, we can’t ignore the offer of food at any rate.” With a sigh, I nodded and gave up. “I’ll go. Right after we finish this affiliate account set up. Oh and we’ve gotta pay the church ten percent of our profits too.”

Mr. Sada glared, and I put my hands up in a shrug. His face dropped and he sighed. “Yeah, right, I suppose if we don’t pay them Snake Tits leaves then we get squished. Got it.”

You are reading story BuyMort: Rise of the Windowpuncher – How I Became the Accidental Warlord of Arizona. Apocalyptic GameLit at novel35.com

I ignored the flare of rage inside my chest. It wasn’t going to help any of us. Besides, it wasn’t just Molls I was just confused about. Didn’t know what to think about a lot of stuff anymore.

“So what do I have to do, Tyson? How does this work? Is someone from BuyMort gonna beam down and give me some papers to sign?” He continued.

The moment he finished saying it his eyes rolled back into his head and I had to catch him and lay him down. I had a guess at what was happening, and I was pretty sure I was going to be sucked into it in a moment so while I let him lay on the floor I made sure to move over to the sofa. And just a moment after my head was up on the cushions, I found myself spiraling through into inside brain 3D space. At the other end was Mr.Sada, his hands cupped around his mouth, yelling for me, while floating in the air was Clippy, that anthropomorphic AI that’d helped us out with the mercs and the construction team before.

“Hey Clippy, how’s it going?” I asked. Mr. Sada had stopped yelling, but his eyes were wide and he was glancing about as if to find a way to escape.

“This MortBlock owner wishes to set up an affiliate. May I be of assistance?” Clippy asked, answering my question with his own.

“Yeah, we could definitely use the help.” My eyes narrowed. “Say, you aren’t going to try to charge us something for doing so, are you?”

Clippy frowned. As well as such a being could do so, anyway. “I’m here as a service, to help the people of this new earth with their tasks. No one ever had to pay anything for me. I’ve always come with the system. Cast down, spat upon, rejected over and over again. And yet, when BuyMort came and offered me my own server and a chance to represent humanity, I jumped at the chance. Because you guys love Clippy! You just don’t know it yet.”

I thought of the times, a decade plus ago, when I’d played some of the old flash games that featured Clippy in the place of old DOOM monsters or the like. Rip and tear on poor ol’ Clippy. We didn’t deserve him, and he didn’t deserve us.

“Sorry about all that man. Just, you know, things are hectic, and it’s been recently pointed out to me that our civilization was rather remedial. In . . . a lot of ways. Look, I’m acting as Mr. Sada’s representative now. So how about the two of us get this figured out and maybe we just let him get out of here and back to doing lines of drywall?”

Sada, who had been gently clawing at the hard emptiness that enclosed us, perked up at my words, his eyes starry and pleading.

“That wouldn’t be proper. Besides, everybody loves setting up their affiliates,” the being stated. “And in order for us to proceed with the arrangement that you have said exists, I need Mr. Sada to properly state that you are his representative in this matter.”

“Yeah, yes, Tyson represents me,” Mr. Sada grumbled.

“Do Affiliates allow partnerships?” I ventured. Mr. Sada’s eyes narrowed.

“You can work out whatever positions you wish within your affiliate, but specialty roles recognized by BuyMort can only occur at the proper Affiliate levels.”

I thought back to Moll’s breakdown and knew we couldn’t set up a BuyMort recognized partnership until at least 4^th level. I’d have to be careful to keep Mr. Sada from trying to excise me. I searched his eyes but saw nothing shifty. Good.

“Alright, and how about inheritors? This affiliate is going to be tied to this MortBlock, and so whoever is named the inheritor of the MortBlock will be the head of the Affiliate once Mr. Sada leaves, yeah?”

Clippy twirled, doing a brief little dance. “Indeed! But for a proper BuyMort recognized inheritance, one must file the appropriate paperwork. Shall I find a BuyMort certified legal technician to draw up the necessary case work?”

I gritted my teeth. Nickel and dimed, always, everywhere. “Yeah, fine, but I’ll take care of those details later. As Mr. Sada’s representative. Does he always have to give me the go ahead?”

“He has officially declared you his representative in these matters. That said, he may rescind that declaration in the same manner at any time or even retroactively reverse some of your decisions if he disagrees with them.”

Both of our eyes met his and his backed up a little. “I trust ya Tyson. Just get it done so I can get back to my coffee, yeah?”

I smiled. “Alright, so what do we have to do?”

“Any new Affiliate should specify what they sell. It doesn’t limit what you can list from your Affiliate and then advertise into BuyMort, but it definitely helps searching parties find you and it keeps you from experiencing needlessly expensive clicks on your ads! What is estimated to be your main source of future sales?”

My smile dropped. I would have to talk about the spiders, right here and right now, in front of Mr. Sada. And then he’d own the bastards.

“Well, I was thinking spider webs,” I said, slowly, as if the idea had just come to me.

Clippy skipped and flipped. “Wowzee, these records indicate that Nu-Earth spider silk is prime stock, a rising and valuable commodity in this present market atmosphere.”

“Yeah?” Sada asked. He ambled over close to us. “Set me up with that then.”

“Partners,” I muttered, none too politely.

Now his face looked calculated, his sluggish brain openly processing dick moves over the sags of his chin and cheeks.

“You can have ten percent.”

I opened my mouth and he put up a finger.

“Tyson, I’m going to be leaving soon. On a spaceship full of freaky goo aliens. And then you get one-hundred percent? So until then I need to be saving for my retirement? When this place is still here and still mine? Let’s be reasonable, and think this through. I’ll need an income after I leave, and if this system is as connected as I think, there’s no reason I can’t keep active ownership. I bought the damn place, I’m the one who made it a place where people could live, I’m the one who invested my hard-earned —”

“Inherited,” I interrupted.

He coughed and stumbled. “Yeah, whatever, if you know my pops you’d know I worked for those millions. Anyways I own it, it is mine. You take ten percent and when I leave, it’ll go up to fifty. Good?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Hell no. I’m working to keep us alive while you snort drywall and insult everyone around you. The only chance in hell I’ll accept ten percent right now is if it swaps when you leave. You take ten percent from them on, and I’ll keep running the place for you. You also can’t sell it out from underneath me or remove me from my position in the affiliate. We’re partners on paper, or not at all.”

Once I was done, I took a breath and stared at him. My lips were pursed, and my jaw was clenched. I waited for him to try something else skeevy, but he surprised me by nodding his head.

“Got it.” Mr. Sada said. He was quiet, and not looking at me when he spoke, but he kept nodding and repeated himself. “Got it, Tyson. Ten percent now, then I take ten when I leave. That’s . . . fair.” It almost sounded like the word hurt him to say.

Clippy, seeing that things had resolved, jumped right back into the middle of it. “Now I will need an Affiliate name! This will help to draw in a group of loyal customers, people who will make a constant stream of top notch dealings with your brand!”

I just wanted this done. I thought to myself about all the bland corporate names I had seen over the years. Most of them had stupid recipes, just the location and product mixed in various ways. It wouldn’t matter anyway and needed to be something generic to avoid unwanted attention. A corporate name for our park just popped into my head and I went with it.

“Silken Sands.”

“That’s a dumb name,” Mr. Sada muttered. But I noticed that he was slowly retreating his way back out of the actual work and I ignored him.

“Silken Sands – Spider Silk Specialists. I have set up an Affiliation page for you and I have deducted 1000 morties from your account for activation. Congratulations and welcome to the start of your personal dealings within the BuyMort Family.”

A new icon appeared in my mind and opened, showing me my affiliate screen.

It felt strange to have joined the system in such a permanent way. Almost like I had just sworn the damn thing my allegiance, to protect and defend, yadda yadda. But it was useful. It had data that I didn’t quite understand and that I could ask Molls about.

Another icon appeared next to that one. This one looked like a little factory, cheerfully pumping out noxious black smoke into a sunny and blue clear sky. It also opened automatically, showing me my first property screen.

I closed them both down, promising to open them again when I had a chance with Molls. Around me the BuyMort nothingness sales station vanished, and we were back in our own bodies. Mr. Sada got up from the floor, slowly, complaining about his sore back while my well-rested muscles bounced to the fore. Another item off of the checklist. Time to go meet the neighbors.

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