Chapter 4: What Was That Saying? The Wheels of Fate Start Turning…
“The most important thing now is to get that son of a b*tch to drop the charges, or Ethan will have to keep hiding in the shadows.”
“If they catch him, it’ll be a huge mess!”
Lance was already thinking about how to handle this. Over the past month, it had become clear to him that the people in the Federation couldn’t be trusted.
Being rootless here, perhaps his fellow countrymen from the Empire would be his best allies.
“There are two ways to go about it. First, we scrape together some cash to shut this guy up and get him to withdraw the complaint.”
“Or, if we can’t find the money, we’ll have to convince him by… other means.”
Elvin frowned. “That’s not really much of a plan. Where are we supposed to get that kind of money? Who would lend it to us?”
They’d only been here a month, didn’t know anyone, and hadn’t brought much cash.
Now, many fishermen back home had quit fishing entirely, instead ferrying people offshore to waiting smuggling ships.
The whole journey had cost around fifteen hundred, a sum most families could barely afford.
And since their families back in the Empire still needed money to survive and handle emergencies, the newcomers barely had anything left.
When Lance disembarked, he’d had less than five bucks to his name, and the others were in a similar situation.
The most anyone had was maybe a few dozen.
Elvin grumbled in frustration. “So where on earth are we going to find that much cash?”
Lance asked him to wait a moment while he went back to the bakery to discuss taking time off with the boss.
“My buddy’s in trouble, and I need to go check it out, so I might not be back this afternoon.”
The boss sat behind the counter with a pipe clenched in his teeth, his squinty, beady eyes almost hidden under folds of fat, just two pinpricks like buttons on an over-risen loaf.
He eyed Lance up and down. “You can have the time off, but I’ll dock you a buck. And if you’re not back by five, it’ll be two.”
“If your absence causes us to sell less than yesterday, you’ll cover the difference, since it’s your fault.”
Lance stared at him, and the boss met his gaze, unafraid. “I know you hate me. And I enjoy watching you hate me, knowing there’s nothing you can do about it.” Ꞧ𝓪Ŋ𝔬BÊṩ
Tapping his pipe against the counter, he pointed a finger at Lance. “If you run off or don’t come back, I’ll call the cops and say you stole from the store. You get me?”
Lance maintained a respectful demeanor, even managing a slight smile. “I understand, Boss.”
The boss sneered. “Then get out. And remember, I want to see you behind that counter by five.”
“Oh, and by the way, you now owe me four bucks. I’m charging interest. If you don’t pay by the end of the month, it’ll be four-sixty…”
A fifteen percent monthly interest rate—equivalent to a 180 percent annual rate—practically murderous.
Sometimes, people standing on the edge of a cliff feel the urge to jump. Some resist it; others take the plunge.
Lance was silent for a moment but didn’t refuse. “I’ll keep that in mind, Boss.”
The boss, no longer able to draw satisfaction from lording over him, waved him off irritably. “Scram.”
Lance took off his apron, and he and Elvin headed out together. Not far off, their friends were waiting, about a dozen or so, crouching in the cool shade of an alley. When they saw him, they stood up and greeted him anxiously.
“I’ve got five bucks here. How much did we pool together?”
A guy named Mello dug into his pocket and pulled out a faded handkerchief, bulging with coins.
When he opened it, nearly all of it was small change, though surprisingly there were also two two-dollar bills.
Seeing this camaraderie in a foreign place, facing a crisis, Lance felt a sense of “power” stirring within them. Like seeds planted in dark soil, it would one day push through to the surface.
“With yours, we’ve got seventy-seven dollars.”
The young men exchanged a mix of expressions on hearing the total.
In this period, inflation in the Federation was low, and with the economy booming, the dollar’s purchasing power was strong. Seventy-seven bucks was not a trivial amount.
But it was still a ways off from two hundred.
“Anyone know where the nearest finance company is?”
After thinking it over, Lance decided to take out a loan—a high-interest one.
Sure, the interest was harsh, but with fourteen of them pitching in, even at a fifteen percent monthly interest, each of them would only shoulder about one-fifteenth of a hundred and fifty, meaning around a buck-fifty.
If they paid it back with interest, each would only need to contribute three bucks a month, and they’d clear the debt in less than half a year.
He explained his plan to the group, and after some discussion, they agreed it was the best option, though it’d mean tightening their belts a bit.
But after working for a month, they’d gotten used to the city and learned a few tricks to survive.
They knew where to find shelter, where and when free meals were handed out, and where they might snag used clothes on a lucky day.
The longer they survived in the Federation, the better they’d manage.
And recently, the news had been abuzz about Congress passing a new bill concerning illegal immigrants.
Once it was signed, they’d be able to register at the immigration office and get their own work permits.
Then, every dollar they earned would be theirs, and they could pay off any debts in no time.
Lance led the way, with about a dozen young men trailing behind him, and entered a finance company.
Finance companies were everywhere in the Federation, especially in a fast-growing city like Jingang.
Ninety-nine percent of the Federation’s citizens clung to the “Federal Dream.” Many had seen ordinary people like themselves seize some opportunity, rising from the lower classes to become middle-class, even capitalists, driving the nation wild with ambition.
Miracles happened every day, celebrated in the media, equating the Federation with the promise of dreams, pushing people to pursue their own.
But starting a business required money, and banks weren’t the easiest lenders.
To reduce risk, banks demanded collateral, usually only lending sixty percent of a property’s value, with strict evaluations and conditions that blocked many from their entrepreneurial dreams.
Finance companies, however, didn’t ask as many questions.
As long as you had something of value or the ability to pay back the loan, they’d lend to you.
Sure, some people took the money and vanished, but they often ended up in barrels, becoming part of the port’s foundations.
If someone thought they could exchange a few hundred, a few thousand, or even ten thousand dollars for their life, the finance companies would settle for that loss and end the borrower.
Of course, few would go that far. The survival instinct was the strongest of all.
So, finance companies lined the streets and alleys near the port.
Lance picked one that looked relatively large. The bouncer at the door stepped in front of them. “This isn’t a club. If you’re looking for girls, they’re across the street.”
Facing this group of young men, he didn’t quite know what they were after, and to play it safe, he placed his hand on his hip, where his shirt was slightly lifted, revealing a holster and the glint of a handgun.
Some of the group immediately took a step back, while the rest grew too nervous to speak.
Lance, however, remained calm, understanding that there was no reason anyone would shoot him. Not over this.
“We’re here to borrow some money.”
The bouncer looked at Lance, recognizing him as the level-headed one. “You and one other can go in. The rest stay outside.”
Lance glanced back at the group. Though most held their ground, none stepped forward.
After a moment’s hesitation, Elvin volunteered. “I’ll go with you.”
Lance nodded, and the bouncer let them pass, while the others waited outside.
The company’s interior was lavishly decorated, though it wasn’t very large.
Right past the entrance was a reception desk, where a pretty girl was busy filing her nails.
She glanced at the newcomers before returning her attention to her nails.
Lance walked up and tapped the counter. “We’d like to borrow some money.”
“End of the hall, left turn. There’s only one room there,” she replied without looking up.
Lance smirked, then gestured for Elvin to follow him.
Elvin was visibly nervous, so Lance didn’t speak, knowing that small talk would only make him more anxious.
The hallway was short, lined with offices on either side, though the occupants looked less like office workers and more like enforcers.
Each gaze lingered on the two of them as they walked past, and Lance could feel Elvin sticking close, even more uneasy.
Tattoos covered muscular bodies, the hardened look of these men enough to make Elvin bow his head. But Lance walked on, unfazed.
At the end of the hall, they turned left, stopping at a door marked “Manager’s Office.” Lance knocked, and a voice from within called, “Come in.”
Pushing open the door, they found a well-dressed man in a suit and tie sitting behind a desk.
He looked to be in his early thirties and, after a moment’s surprise, invited them to sit.
“Can I get you something to drink?”