@bloring1222@precisox All you have to do to see the future of what you speak of is look at China. So many Uber-eats/delivery courier workers who compete with each other tooth and nail only to be paid for a pittance that doesn't cover the basics for survival.
@japan_nobunaga Distance doesn't matter when Time is the most precious resource by which one has to spend. So we measure how much time it takes to get to a destination.
@esrtweet An advice from a friend of mine who has spent 8 years on a fanfic war story: Allies and enemies have a vote in the matter and their own agenda.
Commission
-----------------
"Proposal"
Lobotomy Corporation - Happy City AU
Continuation of [Prologue]
(Commissioner gives an OK for translation/repost.)
In America, a warehouse store. A fully roasted chicken costs five dollars, the raw chicken beside it costs seven, and I stood between them like a man between two truths.
Golden. Hot. Seasoned. Spinning in glory under the lights, in a line of its brothers. Four dollars and ninety-nine cents.
I checked the raw birds. Seven dollars. Pale. Cold. You must do everything yourself.
This is not commerce. Commerce does not move backward. Somewhere in this building, mathematics lies defeated.
I asked the man at the counter. "How is the cooked bird cheaper than the raw bird?"
"Been five bucks forever. They keep it that way."
"But the store loses."
"Yep. On purpose."
On purpose. I held my receipt with both hands.
In my land, a lord who lowered the price of rice in a hard winter was remembered for generations. They built him a small shrine. This store does it every day, with chicken, and tells no one.
A woman behind me grew tired of my reverence. "It's just a chicken, sir."
It is not just a chicken. It is a wound the merchant takes on purpose, so that anyone, on any day, with five dollars, eats like a lord. The bird is the message. The price is the vow.
I will confess: I bought two. I did not need two. The second was not hunger. It was gratitude, and it was delicious.
Some prices are not prices. They are promises.
I return every week now. I take one bird. I bow toward the deli, briefly, so as not to alarm the staff. They have begun nodding back.
The vow holds. The bird turns. Five dollars.
Long may it spin.
@planefag They're like the cracked up version of army medics who deal with all the nonsense that happens during BASIC, patrols, raids, and being the guild therapist who listens to and mediates all the MMO drama on how the party is on the verge of disbanding over a loot drop.