The green-hued image of the suffering creature burned behind Rajendra's eyes. The Mad Scientist's ultimatum was a cage of pure, brutal logic. He could not let her seek another Earth supplier. The risk was total.
"System," he thought, his mind cutting through the panic with a sharp, transactional focus. "Clarify procurement and host rules. For my Earth. Can another being from my planet become a host? Can another host from anywhere procure items directly from my world?"
The System's response was immediate and absolute.
[Host Uniqueness Protocol: Active.]
[Explanation: The Multiversal Procurement & Auction System binds one (1) Host per Universic Unit (Local Universe Cluster). You are the designated Host for your Universic Unit (Designation: Earth-Prime, Sol-3).]
[Consequence: No other sentient from your planet can be granted host status while you live. No other host from any alternate Universic Unit can establish direct, System-facilitated procurement channels with your world. All cross-dimensional trade for Earth-Prime must flow through you. You are the Singular Merchant.]
The weight of the words settled on him, heavy and immense. He was a monopoly granted by cosmic law. She couldn't just go find another Indian spice dealer. He was the only door. This changed everything.
Her threat was a bluff. A terrifying, potent bluff, but a bluff nonetheless. She could not "find a less cooperative supplier" through the System. She could, however, use her own world's technology to perhaps reach Earth physically or dimensionally. That risk was real, but it was harder, riskier for her. It gave him a sliver of leverage.
He re-read her contract. Indefinite, unless breach. 40 VC per month. It was a lowball offer for a sole-source, life-saving commodity. She was exploiting his perceived weakness.
He would not accept. But he could not refuse outright. He had to counter. Not as a desperate man, but as the Universe's Only Merchant.
He typed his reply, each word deliberate.
Rajendra (Earth-Prime): The visual data is noted. The suffering is regrettable. My capacity for compassion, however, is separate from my business.
Regarding Contract MS-02:
1. Term: Indefinite is unacceptable. Proposed term: 12 (twelve) months, renewable with renegotiation.
2. Price: 40 VC/month is insufficient for a sole-source palliative of unique bio-active compounds. New price: 80 VC/month.
3. Exclusivity: You will not attempt, via any technological or extra-dimensional means, to source these materials directly from Earth-Prime. This is non-negotiable.
4. Additional Consideration: In exchange for my reliable supply, you will provide, within 6 months, one (1) piece of non-weaponized Tier-2 technology of my choosing, for assimilation into my world's technological base.
This is my offer. The terms reflect the unique value of what you are buying and the unique position I hold. Accept, or the door closes.
He sent it. It was the boldest move of his life. He was calling the bluff of a being who likely viewed his world as a petri dish. He was betting his life, and potentially Earth's safety, on a line in a System rule.
The wait was agony. He sat in his room, the sounds of Mumbai a distant hum. Minutes stretched. He expected fury. A threat. A demonstration of power.
The reply came. It was not what he expected.
Mad Scientist: Your analysis of the Host Uniqueness Protocol is correct. Your leverage is acknowledged.
Counter-Proposal:
1. Term: 24 months.
2. Price: 65 VC/month.
3. Exclusivity: Agreed. I will not seek direct sourcing from Earth-Prime.
4. Technology Transfer: Denied. Tier-2 tech introduction to a Tier-0 world violates my ethical codes and System Safeguards. Instead, I offer: One (1) customized piece of Tier-1 medical or agricultural technology per year, designed to appear as a natural innovation within your world's scientific paradigm.
This is final. The beings here are dying. I do not have time for further haggling.
She had folded on the big points—price, exclusivity. She had met him in the middle. She had offered a compromise on the tech. It was a good deal. A great deal. It made him a fortune and gave MANO a pipeline to "miraculous" innovations.
He accepted.
[Contract MS-02 (Amended) ratified. First delivery due: 30 days.]
[Void-Coin advance (goodwill): 20. Received.]
The tension bled out of him, leaving behind a profound, trembling awareness. He had just negotiated, as an equal, with an entity from a higher civilization. And he had won.
The victory was intoxicating, but short-lived. The real world was waiting. With his new capital and secured income, he launched MANO's pressure cooker. He took Shanti's advice. He didn't hire a film star. He found a retired, beloved Marathi doctor—a grandmotherly figure with a kind face—and paid her for an endorsement. The advertisement, filmed on a new camcorder bought through MAKA, was simple: "The MANO Supreme. So safe, even a doctor recommends it for her own kitchen."
It aired on Doordarshan. The orders, facilitated through a network of small appliance shops, began to trickle in. It was a start.
The MAKA ring funded it all, its red smoke moving everything from VCRs to turmeric. The organization was growing. Ganesh was now a capable manager. Vikram showed a knack for logistics. They were no longer just mill workers; they were the trusted lieutenants of a shadow empire.
A week after the contract with the Mad Scientist was sealed, Rajendra was at the mill, reviewing blueprints for new looms funded by MAKA profits. Ganesh approached, holding a plain cardboard box.
"This came for you, bhai. No return address. Left at the chawl gate."
Rajendra took it. It was light. He opened it in the office. Inside, nestled in foam, was a device. It was the size of a large book, made of a smooth, ceramic-like white material. It had no visible controls, only a single, subtle indentation. A small, elegant note was tucked beside it, written in precise English script.
*As per Contract MS-02, Annex A (Technology Provision).*
*Item: Atmospheric Water & Purification Node (Tier-1, Customized).*
*Function: Extracts 100 liters of potable water per day from ambient humidity. Self-cleaning. Solar/Biokinetic power core. Output is mineral-enhanced for health.*
Design Paradigm: Appears as a modern ceramic water filter with 'advanced catalytic principles.' Suggested retail name: 'MANO Amrit'.
- M.S.
She had delivered. Early. It was a masterpiece of disguised technology. It looked like a high-end designer water filter, something that could be manufactured in Japan. It could solve water problems for a small community. It was a goldmine.
This was the partnership in action. He had spices; she had subtle, world-changing tech.
He was examining the device when the System pinged with a new, general broadcast from the Auction Network. It was a public post.
[Host 'Kritakk, the Gear-Smith']: ATTENTION PRIMITIVE-TIER HOSTS. New market opportunity. Seeking raw, unprocessed narrative emotional data. Specifically: recordings of Tier-0 sentient grief, joy, rage at its most primal. Wedding wails, war cries, festival cheers. Unedited. High fidelity. Paying in Void-Coins and low-tier fabrication blueprints. Direct inquiries.
Another vulture, circling the primitive worlds for easy pickings. Rajendra ignored it.
But then, a second message appeared directly below it. A reply from another host.
[Host 'Vex'] replied to [Host 'Kritakk']: Forget the primitives. Their data is weak, diluted. I have a lead on a richer source. A newly active Tier-0 host in a biologically lush universe. Specializing in organic exports. His world is dripping with untapped emotional and biological potential. I'm tracking his trade patterns now. The name is 'Earth-Prime.'
Rajendra's blood froze.
The message was public. For anyone in the network to see.
Host 'Vex' wasn't asking him for anything. Vex was telling the whole bazaar about him. Painting a target on his world.
"Biologically lush… dripping with potential."
He was no longer a quaint merchant of curiosities. To hosts like Vex, he and his world were now a resource deposit to be discussed, tracked, and potentially claimed.
The privacy of his unique position was shattered. The cosmic mall had just noticed the new shop in the primitive wing wasn't just selling souvenirs.
It was sitting on a goldmine. And the other shoppers were starting to whisper.