[Chapter 1: Orlando Keller]
March, 1990.
East Coast, U.S.A.
3 p.m. in New York City, a cold wind howled through the Bronx, specifically at Barreto Point Pier Park.
"Orlando, Boss Al needs two lookouts tonight, paying fifty bucks a person. He specifically wants you and me."
A young black guy -- definitely a streetwise type -- smiled as he spoke to a white guy with black hair sitting on a park bench.
"No way, James. I'm done with this kind of work."
Without looking up, the black-haired white kid answered softly, eyes glued to the newspaper in his hands.
"What the hell did you just say?"
"I'm saying I'm done with this shit. Don't forget I just finished my community service yesterday."
"You scared, man? You serious? You're not going?"
"Absolutely not."
"Screw you! You're not afraid I'm gonna tell Boss Al, are you? You wanna stay in the Bronx or what?"
"Whatever."
James really wanted to teach this calm kid a lesson, especially seeing how he didn't even bother to look up.
But nearby, two cops were happily chomping on donuts, so James had to hold back.
He swung his fist around and threatened, "Screw you, you're gonna regret this!"
The moment James left, Orlando finally raised his head, watching him walk away.
Just a glance, and then he went back to reading his newspaper.
He wasn't the scared half-breed orphan Orlando Keller from the Bronx anymore.
---
Rebirth, time travel--
Those were words only found in movies and novels, yet here he was, living it.
To be honest, even after a few days in this young body, Orlando sometimes felt like he was dreaming.
He couldn't figure it out.
A twenty-first-century failed novelist with barely a few hundred online fans somehow got transported back to 1990 America, reborn as this mixed-race kid.
They said rebirth came with perks, and Orlando wasn't an exception.
Though he didn't have some fancy system, the abilities he'd gained might as well be one.
He had superpowers.
Several, in fact.
First, Orlando found he could generate electricity -- like an electric eel. He had secretly tested it. At full power, he could stun anyone he touched. He controlled the voltage and current perfectly.
From this, he also discovered an amazing side effect -- he could power electrical devices just by touching them!
Of course, he didn't figure that out entirely on his own. A certain woman helped.
Second, telepathy -- he could read people's thoughts. But it was limited. He could only pick up thoughts aimed at him or related to him within roughly a 50-meter radius. If someone wasn't thinking about him, he was out of luck.
Third, his physical condition had been enhanced. He ran faster, jumped higher, remembered better, learned quicker, and recovered amazingly fast.
Fourth was a bit unusual, something he called "The Awakening" -- when triggered, it could instantly download future entertainment knowledge directly into his brain.
---
As for the original Orlando Keller, he was a newly adult American with a mixed heritage.
His grandfather came from Germany, his grandmother was an American. His father was half German, half American.
His mother's roots were even more complex. The original Orlando's mother was mostly African American, with some Spanish ancestry, plus remnants of Native American and other origins mixed in.
So technically, Orlando was a multi-nation blend -- he could've been a walking museum of American ethnic diversity.
Luckily, Orlando's own mixed blood wasn't obvious -- he mostly looked like a black-haired white kid.
Sadly, both his parents died in a car crash five years ago.
At thirteen, Orlando was left to live with his grandfather, who ran a restaurant in the Bronx.
Worse yet, fires were common in the Bronx during the '70s and '80s.
Three years ago, his grandfather and the restaurant vanished in a blaze.
The original Orlando became an orphan, sinking into the rough street life.
Recently, he got caught during a burglary and was sentenced to a few months of community service.
Two months ago, Orlando took over the original Orlando Keller's body.
The "Boss Al" James mentioned sounded impressive, but Orlando knew better.
Al was just some small-time punk leading a few kids into break-ins -- a street scumbag, not even a gang leader in New York.
So Orlando, armed with his powers, wasn't worried about him one bit.
He looked back down at the newspaper.
---
Today was March 9, 1990 -- Friday.
The New York Times screamed boldly on the front page: "How Much Longer Will Housing Prices Fall?!"
The editorial detailed the numbers: "Since the 1987 global stock market crash, housing prices across the nation have dropped steadily for three years.
Industrial land in Detroit fell from a peak of $360 per square foot in December 1970 to just $95 now, a 74% drop.
Luxury residential prices in Manhattan plunged from a peak of $1,500 per square foot to $825, a 45% decrease.
Residential prices in major cities like New York, San Francisco, and Boston have all been slashed by about 30%.
Vacancy rates have surged, trade tensions with Japan escalated, and the economy remains sluggish..."
Orlando sighed.
He grabbed another paper, The Wall Street Journal, which was equally grim about the market:
"The Dow hit an all-time high of 2,800 in August 1987, but ended the year at 1,900 -- a 22.6% drop. In 1988, it slid further, closing at 1,650 with a 13.2% yearly decline. This year, trade wars have caused the Dow to fluctuate between 1,700 and 2,400.
When talks with Japan improved, the market rebounded; when negotiations stalled, stocks plummeted. The trade dispute remains unresolved, and the market stays unstable..."
The Washington Post focused on currency issues:
"Three years ago, the dollar-to-mark exchange rate was 1.85; it strengthened by 8% the next year, averaging 1.70. Last year, the dollar weakened by 10%, averaging 1.88. This year the decline accelerated; as of March 8, the rate hit 1.98 -- a drop of over 15%.
Speculation has caused inflation to surge -- current currency mechanisms urgently need reform..."
As Orlando scanned headlines across papers, the economy, trade talks, and currency dominated front pages.
---
The Wall Street Journal's only entertainment mention was the upcoming Oscar ceremony in five days.
Leading the Best Actress race was Michelle Pfeiffer, newly nominated.
In 1990 America, the economy was at a turning point.
With his future knowledge, Orlando knew once the U.S.-Japan trade agreement passed and Japan's bubble burst, the American market would stabilize and rebound.
Then the West would witness a massive geopolitical shakeup--
The collapse of the "Red Bear."
Throughout the '90s, Europe and the U.S. would enjoy steady growth until the tech bubble burst in 2000.
What happened beyond that was a bit fuzzy for Orlando, who was just a transmigrated ordinary writer from early 21st-century.
He set down The Wall Street Journal.
About to pick up the more entertainment-focused New York Post, something caught his attention.
---
Orlando glanced toward the direction James had gone.
There, James had returned with three others, heading straight for him.
Orlando's telepathy, or "mind wave," gave him a clear read within fifty meters -- kind of like "Enel's Mantra" from One Piece -- which let him tune into conversations and thoughts in electrical signals.
But only when related to him.
He could sense the hostility from James and his friends clearly.
They were taking advantage of the moment the cops were gone, planning to teach Orlando a lesson.
"Ha-ha..." Orlando smiled to himself.
He wasn't about to meet them head-on.
Sure, his electrical powers could knock them out, but he'd have to touch them to do it, and electricity needed a conductor.
And this was New York -- more specifically, the Bronx, one of New York's most dangerous neighborhoods.
In a place where there were easily ten shootings a day, cops would hit the bar after their shifts to celebrate living through another day.
His telepathy picked up that one of James's guys had a gun, no doubt about it.
Almost instinctively, Orlando folded up his paper.
He turned and headed deeper into Barreto Point Pier Park.
"Fuck! He's running!"
James yelled from behind when he saw Orlando move.
The three guys quickened their pace, chasing after him.
*****
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