This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 534.1: Schemes... Schemes Everywhere!
“Dear listeners, it’s your most beloved Mr. House! It’s finally snowing today, praise the first snow of the year! Don’t you think it dances like a graceful girl? Even though this winter’s been unusually warm, don’t forget to bundle up while enjoying the snow. I sincerely wish all my listeners good health.”
“Also, in the interest of your health, to help avoid diabetes and obesity, the Goodtaste Food Processing Plant, under the Vega Trading Company, has expanded its product line. They’re launching a new, healthier, more nutritious, and better-tasting nutrient paste. You’ll be seeing it on store shelves very soon...”
That oily, slick duck-like voice echoed repeatedly down the street, drifting from the bustling districts toward the dilapidated, overcrowded alleys.
Spielberg shut the patched wooden window, trying to block out the wind and snow, and that grating voice. Rubbing his frozen hands together, he pulled a letter from his coat, still warm from being tucked close to his chest.
Lately, he had been wandering near the New Alliance's embassy every day.
Though he hadn’t dared hope too much, to his surprise, Survivor’s Daily actually replied!
He slid out a pristine sheet of letter paper from a clean envelope. A chip tumbled out right after it with a metallic clang, landing on the table and giving Spielberg quite a scare.
Especially when he saw the value printed on it.
100 chips.
100 chips?!
Even busting his back on the assembly line, he only made about 120 chips a month.
Not to mention his wages for the month was issued as some rubbish bond.
The New Alliance’s newspaper office is this generous?
He carefully stashed the chip in a drawer of the wooden table, swallowed hard with excitement, and eagerly unfolded the white letter.
The handwriting on the page was neat and crisp, completely unlike his own crooked scrawl.
Skipping past the body of the letter, Spielberg glanced at the name signed at the bottom, and nearly fainted.
It was from the editor-in-chief of the Survivor’s Daily!
His face flushed with excitement, and his breath quickened.
“Dear Mr. Spielberg, we’ve read your manuscript and attempted to retrieve the unfinished original. We all agreed, it’s a truly wonderful story. The break in the narrative was perfectly timed, and your continuation picks up in exactly the right place. Even the original author had no idea how to move it forward... but you figured it out for him.”
“Due to length constraints, we plan to follow your example and launch a few types of newspapers with the same concept of Survivor’s Daily. We’ll publish Bore’s story in the Worker’s Daily, using only a small excerpt in the main paper as a teaser. I believe that’s a fantastic idea, this will allow us to share more relevant, timely stories that matter to readers. Since most of our readers haven’t seen the earlier chapters, we’ll serialize the first 30 chapters over 30 issues, then release a compilation and begin publishing your sequels.”
“Unfortunately, the original author of Bore’s story has moved to Sunset Province. While he supports your continuation, he doesn’t want to revisit his memories of Boulder Town. Luckily, Miss Dori, who once worked as a reporter for the Survivor’s Daily in Boulder Town, has agreed to serve as editor for your series. You may contact her directly for future submissions.”
“The 100 chips enclosed are an advance payment. Technically, we should wait until publication and reader feedback to calculate your payment, but we all felt it was better to pay you something upfront. That way, you won’t have to keep writing stories on old newspapers, and our collaboration can proceed more efficiently.”
“... And by the way, our administrator is quite fond of your work. He said he’d be delighted to host you in Dawn City if you’re ever free. He’ll even let you try on an exoframe, so you can better imagine how to really beat it up, if that helps your writing...”
Spielberg’s cheeks flushed red.
By the Great Stag God, he had never intended to beat up the New Alliance’s exoframe-wearing monsters, nor had he ever dared to think of challenging the administrator!
Besides, the story was set in Boulder Town... The New Alliance had only been vaguely referenced, with a few passing mentions of survivors on the northern outskirts.
Still... That generous invitation stirred something deep within him. His eyes began to burn.
He knew exactly what he was. He was a nobody. Even Kent, who worked the same assembly line, dared to spit in his face.
But now, a man so important even Boulder Town Bank President Malvern had to respect him... had read his writing.
He even invited him to visit...
At the end of the day, Spielberg was a coward. He was afraid of pain and afraid of death. He had never even dared step outside Boulder Town, let alone face the wasteland.
But for that man?
If anyone asked him what he would be willing to do for the administrator of the New Alliance, Spielberg would tell them he would lay down his life with no hesitation.
Spielberg hurriedly grabbed a piece of old newspaper, tore off a blank corner, and, using a pen that kept sputtering out ink, began to write carefully.
“The title was a misunderstanding! It’s just that the guys at the Union were all really curious... How could an awakener possibly beat an exoframe? So I used it as a gimmick in the headline. In the final showdown I’ve envisioned, the armor is worn by an evil commander! I absolutely meant no offense to anyone!”
“Thank you, and thank that great man, for your kindness and generosity. But I still need to read the rest of Bore’s story to the other workers. Once this winter passes, I swear I’ll save up for the trip and visit you...”
At that point, Spielberg paused. After a moment of hesitation, he added one more line.
“... Also, could you send me a copy of your Worker’s Daily in your reply? You can deduct the cost from my next payment! The guys from the union want to revisit the old chapters. We've tried collecting the past issues, but several pages are missing. Some of the other factory workers have joined our group too, and I would like to read them stories about what’s really happening out there on the wasteland.”
He carefully folded the note and tucked it into the safest pocket of his coat. Then he pushed back his chair and ran out the door.
A moment later, he came sprinting back in, as if he had forgotten something. He scooped the letter from the table into his pocket.
He planned to read the reply out loud to the others.
There were still people on the wasteland who cared about them!
The thought filled Spielberg’s heart with a warm glow. Maybe the winter wouldn’t be so cold after all...
...
As Spielberg dashed off toward the New Alliance embassy, a merchant from the New Alliance passed him by on the street, walking in the opposite direction toward Spielberg’s usual workplace.
To be precise, he was walking to the building next to Goodtaste Food Processing Plant, the Mighty Steelworks.
This steel factory had some name recognition in Boulder Town. The owner, however, had a common name. He was called Fred. To make himself seem more sophisticated, he always wore a tall top hat and perched a gold-rimmed monocle on his nose, despite not being nearsighted and having barely read anything in his life.
Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead standing at the entrance of his own plant. The soot from the chimneys would dirty his shoes. His real office was further toward the inner city, on a cleaner street with more refined company.
But there were always exceptions.
A distinguished guest from the New Alliance had taken an interest in his dusty machines!
If it meant selling those machines worth millions of chips, Fred wouldn’t mind a bit of grime! He would even lick the guest’s shoes if it sealed the deal.
"Haha! Welcome, friend from the New Alliance!" Fred’s face bloomed with smiles as the guest approached.
Sun Shiqi stepped forward, gave his hand a firm shake, and smiled. "Pleasure to meet you!"
The New Alliance was about to build a batch of prefabricated apartment blocks using reinforced concrete panels. It was something like stacking Lego bricks.
Previously, Dawn City had produced a series of tin-plated premade houses, but those were barely adequate for summer. In winter, they would be more like walk-in freezers.
Sun Shiqi wasn’t too interested in the buildings themselves, but he was very interested in the fat construction contracts.
