Hello and welcome to me this pod episode 12. I'm your host de metus. Our story for this episode The salesman comes to us from MK Owens in K is 25, an engineer by trade and from Texas. Hey, I'm from Texas. He loves reading and is currently working on a cyberpunk novel. He also spends his time writing short stories with the salesman being his first. The best way to read his works would be on Reddit under the handle in K underscore Owens or on Twitter at in K underscore Owens. Links
will be in the show notes. Without further ado, the salesman by N K O ns. Park the cruiser at the top of the valley and took in the view the tiny wooden village and alone at the bottom. It was nearly deserted, each building 5060 yards away from the other. No network connection. No transit lines, no climbs and no lights. The soil arranged and hopeless plots around the village dry gray fishers cut through the plots. They weren't gonna grow shit here. No wonder Nexus and color them keep it I
plucked a cigarette from my pocket and lit it. Who would want to live in the stomp? Check my ptr is the smoke drifted overhead. The number of flickered before my eyes too fast to read and transformed into a READ ERROR that consume the Golden Valley and its wooden village. I slapped the metal in my neck once twice and the error disappeared. Piece of shit software check the PTR again 1108 was will drive down there a glare from the valley a dinky antique truck towards way up
clouded dust behind it. Bout time I flattened the front of my blazer rolled my shoulders back and went over my lines howdy excellent plot of land y'all folks have here now now to hockey talk that are simple not cowboys. How are you doing? Beautiful place for I can't help but notice it's a bit dry. Seems like it might be difficult to grow crops out here now to patronizing. Howdy, it looks great out here do it and damn it Honky Tonk again. I chose my collar and it barely moved. How
these fuckers wear these things. I use my cruiser as a mirror and loosen my tie a bit. Now too much. It lost its shape and lay flat. a noose like around my neck. What a waste of money. I grumbled at the back of my truck can't have these clients seeing a salesperson disheveled. With a tap on the back of my cruiser the trunk unfolded inward through the tie inside. I pressed the button again and came around to the front of trucks rested maroon body all dents and scratches road to stop
just past the gate. It was a wonder it could still drive. I gave it a wide smile on a wave and took a step forward. No response. The windows were smooth and with a permanent black tent and with the sun bouncing off of them secretive. What was going on in there? I shifted my way to the other foot. HQ said it would be a hard sell out here. But rent wasn't going to pay itself. I took another step toward the truck
and hornblende I froze. A driver door flew open and a man stepped out clad in a white shirt and black coat and off yellow bowl shaped hat was affixed to his head. He spit a gob under the dry earth and stared at me. I gave him a smile. Howdy. Beautiful place y'all have here? A man frowned. His contempt was palpable. Was it my neck mod or maybe the car should have brought a beater instead? I can't help but notice it's a bit dry out here in both water and electricity. I was hoping to
discuss how we could help you all. The man snorted. Who sent you Damn offensive already. I'm with pill sack corpse. I said, Well, it's a more of a independent contractor. Like I said, I'm here to find people who can benefit from our products. We don't want it sir leave a said. I let the word simmer. Nothing moved. Sir, I'm afraid I have to invoke mi 193. I paused, which guarantees the right to enter for purposes of either marketing or the man jumped in his truck and slammed
the door. And another second he was tearing down the dirt road. I side as he went, legally, I had the right to follow but practically I did not, I groaned. The threat had been to force a bargain. Not make me drive down there. If you actually had to invoke mi 193 than the deal was already drowning. I glanced to the city behind me. Pilar didn't care if I couldn't make the sale. He wanted his rent money. My shoes were shreds a plastic cleaning into my feet. My software barely
functional. I could still make it back to the city and peddle around the southern district for bet might find someone in dire need like last month. I ran my fingers through my hair that was barely a commission. Selling to these people was much more lucrative. There was no choice. I tap the cruiser and slid into the driver's seat. Manual mode. He said in manual mode. My hands felt good on the wheel. It had been a while. Soon I was rolling
down the hill to the trucks dusty wake. How can I make this sale? What can I offer these people my top my fingers against the wheel. The crop angle had been the best pad and that idea had been shot down kicked and Pulverize. Against all odds they still refused internet and nearly anything electronic which cut down the list of pesticide products by 90%. Close tools food all created and bought elsewhere. Aside guess it would
be another attempt of the crop genetics. I turned the tent down the sunlight flooded the cruiser, white fluffy clouds drifted across the cool blue sky. The land might have been shit but the sky was appealing. It was a far cry from the solid sheet of grey that passed for the sky in the city. And that was if you could glimpses this guy walks in the low clouds. When I reached down, I set the drive to auto and watch the buildings pass by the wood was charming antique feel to it. It
was almost comfortable. Now safe. Like you could Nestle inside it and be protected from the world. That that was true though. And the bomb on the street would have enough firepower to knock one of those things down. For all its prettiness it wasn't worth it to live off the grid like this. These poor slobs didn't know any better. I rolled to a stop behind the truck was parked at the far end of the town, close enough to be seen in the shuttered windows of the houses
but far enough to be quiet. The man was already in an animated conversation with a plain dressed woman. She stomped away as I got out. I flattened my blazer and cracked my neck. No pitch this time. No more hokey dokie talk just one man sell into another man. It's even nicer once you get down here. I said. Look, let me say that I hate to invoke mi 193 a man slammed his door and grumbled you got five minutes and get out. A woman whistled and approval or disapproval from an
heiress houses porch. She could hear good. She could help drive the sale. Happy wife happy life was one of my grandpa's favorite sayings. I know you might not be able to tell. I tapped into metal that ran up my neck. But I've been in your shoes before. I grew up with dusters. Now we didn't have any hope of growing crops and motion to the empty fields. But I remember when the freaks from the city would come down and tell us what we needed and why and that's what they were freaks metalled and
tattooed freaks paused for a fact. He was still listening, a good sign. So I get it. I said now my job is to find people who would benefit from it. Will sacking products. Poolside primarily sells medical equipment modifications, augmentations, whatever you want to call it. You don't want that. You don't need that and that's fine. But what about fertilizer? Or crops genetically altered to thrive in the soil that you have here? Imagine how things would be with something like that. I
pushed my hair to the side and shrug. Who knows you might not need to buy any more food from the city. Man thought it over. Weigh the scales. Perfect. I wasn't so hard. was an obvious though when you think about it. You can't sell a fish shoes. What city you grew up in? I froze the city. No, I couldn't say that. Mercedes I've learned that was a name from somewhere from some time and it was too late and the word itself jumped out of my mouth too fast and too
unnaturally. A man scowled. Mercedes got swallowed 30 years ago, just another liar, aren't you? He spit on the ground. We don't need your help with the crops. When he returns he will bring us a plentiful harvest. The man looked at his mechanical watch. Three minutes. I rolled my eyes and turned and I was the freak because I had a few chips lodged in my head. The cell was more dead than this place. I sighed and ran my fingers over my jaw and the savings tooth inside. My last, unfortunately,
least valuable. And I saw it a mural splay across a lone stone wall. In the painting, a gangly white man with brown locks in a brown beard looks skyward. His eyes blue, and full of hope. Jesus Christ. I spun to the man. So when does he return? The man narrowed his eyes and took a step forward. August 3 is the divine day a man said, and we'll see to that. My wife is carrying him. He just had his chest out. August 3, that's very specific.
His wife leaned forward. The man spoke again loudly, confidently, his eyes full of hope, like the mural on the wall. That was the day to Cree by the Lord Himself, August 3, and we will rise again and he will wash away all of this. And in those rains, a fruitful harvest will grow. I don't expect you to understand that. And you're sure she's carrying him? The man scout? Of course she is. Well, then that's a great honor. And I'm sure your
neighbors will look up to you folks. I continued. Last year my sister was pregnant with my nephew. The due date was February 15, which was unfortunate because Len was set to demo some technology and Antarctica, from the third to the 22nd. As you can imagine, that isn't the best time nor place to have a baby. I laughed and lit a cigarette. The man and his wife We're all ears. So she ordered one of our new products, Leo. It's called and used it to move the delivery. She picked
the 25th I believe. And then she had plenty of time after the trip to rest and hydrate before the big day. Took a drag. Of course, we could have set it before the trip. Or any day really. I showed you folks must be grateful not to need something like that. The man was wide eyes. His lips parted, hungry. His wife waddled to him and whispered in his ear. She was hungry to maybe even hungrier. I check the time via PTR 1123. My five minutes was up. Well, I said looks like my
time is up. Sorry, I couldn't be of any help to you folks. But you do have phones, don't you? I pulled a paper business card from my jacket and extended it. Give me a call if I can ever help you with something. The man licked his lips and grabbed the card. I nodded at both of them and turn towards the cruiser. The door slid open and I hopped in, wheeled it around and was throwing up dust on my way to the top. I could feel myself
grinning and it turned into a good pitch after all. I flicked the into my cigarette out and glanced in the mirror and hoped they didn't see that. I watched the town grow smaller in the rear view. It was tiny, dusty and isolated. But the sobs didn't mind as much as a person might expect In fact, I hadn't seen someone with that kind of hope in their eyes since well, never. I looked in the mirror and studied my own eyes. I had
never looked like that and molded that over. Maybe these people are onto something or maybe not our theme music comes to us from on Sprite, you can get more of their work at odd sprite.com If you're interested in supporting the show, just head over to metus pod.com and click the donations link. All money donated goes to server costs and making the show better. made as part of the metus media production. All rights reserved unless otherwise specified. Have
a good one, folks. We'll see you next time.