story_mitm_1_1

Sure and steady, you hear me?

This is your last chance before I kick you outta here.

Yes.

That's right, slow and steady—

...Ahh!

I told you to be sure and steady! Now you've gone and ruined another one.

Just copy the pattern on the wax paper. It's not that hard.

I didn't mean to ruin it, Consultant. It's just, the scribblings are all weird and complicated...

Those are words. It says, 'Get 20% off with this coupon.'

I know those are words, and I know you're printing coupons, but like I told you, I can't read...

Alright, fine, never mind.

But forget about your wages. You're lucky I'm not asking you to pay for all the ruined wax paper.

*Sarkaz expletive*, why don't you do it yourself?

Because I've got a bunch of other things to do, and I don't have the time to fiddle with wax paper—

Consultant! There's another gang fight out there!

See?

...Fine.

Well, you wasted all my wax paper, but I guess you put in the work. You can grab a couple of potatoes from that sack over there. Can't have people calling me a miser.

Really? Thanks, Consultant!

Who's fighting who this time, Liz?

Over a few damn rocks again? I've practically memorized a script for breaking up fights now.

Say, Liz, want to try your hand at etching wax paper?

I thought you ran out.

Well, I just remembered I actually had an extra pack lying around.

A likely story. Anyway, I'm not doing it. Words make my head hurt.

But I'm curious. Why did you get a printer when you knew you couldn't afford to found a newspaper?

Okay, don't tell anyone. You know the food trader asked us to print some coupons, right? Four pieces of scrap metal for one bag of potatoes.

You want to print extra coupons?

Only a moron would ruin his own reputation like that.

He's printing this because scrap metal is in short supply, and he has a basement full of potatoes. What we're printing, though, is not 'scrap metal for potatoes', but '20% off'.

I see... you want to trade with other stuff? Maybe wood? We've got plenty of that lying around.

Depends on the current prices.

You always see further than anyone else.

I see so far ahead that I forgot nobody here can write.

Speaking of which, I hear a reading class just opened.

Reading class? Oh, you mean that merc. Doesn't look like somebody you'd wanna mess with. Might think about it, if one of his students strikes out on their own.

Fat chance. It's all kids even younger than me. He probably has his hands full just keeping them in their seats.

Kids? Doesn't sound like he's trying to make a living out of it...

So why did he start the class at all?

Out of some big dreams, maybe? I've got a relative whose kid goes there. He says the teacher talks about Kazdelian culture, our future, stuff like that.

Great, now I'm sure we won't get along.

Well, you can start etching your wax paper right away. Plenty of work for one person.

Hey, I was joking. I'm not about to let someone like that slip through my fingers.

Ooh, getting serious, aren't we?

So, what's the plan, Consultant?

Quiet, I'm thinking.

Is Mr. Hoederer in?

Thank you.

Hi there, Mr. Hoederer. My name's Pohl, and I live around here.

Pohl looks around the room. The only notable feature is a blackboard with a few basic sentences written on it, plus some children's scribblings on the side.

There are also a few old, tattered books.

Seeing this, Pohl is even more certain that he has the right plan for talking to the guy.

He rubs his hands and deliberately avoids looking into Hoederer's eyes.

I apologize for the abrupt visit, but I...

I have a dream.

Pohl chooses to look to Hoederer's face after this statement. However, he reads no notable emotion upon it.

Not much of a surprise. People willing to do things like this tend to be a little eccentric. Perhaps he is just not the talkative type.

I've heard that you have the same dream. You're teaching the next generation of Kazdel to read, right?

That's my dream too. A Kazdel where everyone can read.

Honestly, you're one step ahead of me. You're doing great work here.

Teaching some wild kids in a tiny room like this... you are a dreamer, sir, and I respect you for that.

Sarkaz culture has been lost to us for too long. Kazdel has to learn the importance of writing, culture, and civilization again. And it all starts with education.

All you have, though, is one little classroom. Pretty easy to fail here.

Word of mouth can get distorted, disappear. That's why I cobbled together a printer.

(His eyes lit up! This is gonna work.)

Think about it. It takes seconds to print what takes you an hour to say, and you can reach more people this way. That's what you should be aiming for.

So I came to you. To ask you to spare some time to help with etching wax paper for my type, to give your dream a leg up.

I'd do it myself, but there are other things that need my attention—

You can read?

Yes, the work needs reading...

Wait, that's not what I meant, I mean—

In order to read... no, we were talking about wax paper...

Wax paper... wax paper—

Wait, what was you question?

You asked me if I could read?

(Nods)

Er, yes, I can.

Who taught you to read? Your parents? A teacher? Are they still in Kazdel?

...I taught myself.

You're self-taught? That's impressive. I haven't met a literate Sarkaz in these parts for a long time.

...Same here.

I mean, I'm just as happy to meet you, Mr. Hoederer.

Back on topic, I wanted to ask you to help contribute to a Kazdel where everyone can read. Your classroom is an achievement, of course, but—

You said you built a printer? What are you printing?

Just stuff I think is useful, brochures, local news—

Can anybody else read them?

Ugh—

That's certainly an issue. And it's why I print other things, discount coupons for example. Don't need to be able to read, as long as the food trader has a sample to refer to.

It's not exactly in line with my vision, but that's all I can do on my own, which is why I came to you—

On the contrary, there's a great deal of power in words that can be traded for food.

...Power?

Well, talking to you sure is enlightening, Mr. Hoederer. Now, about the wax paper...

I'll go when I have time.

Well, a little etching here and there wouldn't quite be enough. I truly want to make this a real print shop. Could we set a more regular time? Like a few afternoons each week?

I have other business besides the literacy class. I can't offer you too much time.

Well, if you'll pardon my frankness... we must all make sacrifices for our dreams.

...Of course.

And, a dream is not something measured so simply in terms of time, is it?

All the gangs around here know I can read, so they come to me whenever they need something read or calculated, like figuring out who gains money and who loses...

Yet I've squeezed out the time to open this print shop. Sure, it cuts into my leisure, but...

(No... that won't work. Seems like he's for-real busy.)

Perhaps you could let me know what's eating up your time? I might be able to help you deal with it.

(Wry smile) Thanks, but no thanks.

(No, I can't back off now. At least...)

(Sorry, Mr. Hoederer.)

We're really shorthanded. If you couldn't help... I'm afraid this print shop venture has to come to an end...

I'm really at my wits' end, and I don't want the printer to go to waste. If even you can't help me...

Well...

So you need a typesetter right now, no matter what?

Yes. If you really can't spare the time, maybe we can find another solution together? I've spent all my savings on the printer.

You know what the gangs are like. I end up owing them money, after all I've done for them. Never mind the printer; I'll be out of a place to live if I can't keep this running.

Mr. Hoederer?

How about this.

Hoederer turns around and goes to a corner of the room. His tall frame obscures what he is doing.

Pohl feels his heart race.

What is he getting? A letter? An address? Perhaps... a weapon?

Couldn't possibly be money—

Here, this money should last a while. Just pay me back when you're able, take your time.

What?!

I know that paying with money in Kazdel isn't easy, but it should be enough to pay the gangs off.

Use the rest of it to hire someone, teach them to read and write, so there'll be another literate person in these parts.

No, I mean, yes, I could do that, but this money is...

I saved it together with someone. I didn't touch her part. This is all coming from my share.

But... aren't you worried that I'll just take the money and—

(Bite your tongue, Pohl! There's cash right in front of you!)

Guess I'll... take it?

Take it.

Pohl stands dumbfounded with the money in his hand. Hoederer steps to his side and bends down to pat his shoulder.

How old are you, kid?

I...

It's alright if you don't want to say.

You taught yourself to read and write. I was just thinking about that.

No parent, no teacher. What kind of life drove a Kazdelian kid to learn to read and write on his own?

Go home now. And I want a copy of whatever you print, once you find your typesetter.

Mr. Hoederer, I—

I'm...

No, forget it.

Thank you.

You're back, Consultant! How did it go with the merc?

What's with the face? If he said no, he said no.

He... didn't say no.

Even better!

It's not like that. He—

What is it? You're not acting like yourself. Did he hit you or something?

Of course not.

Did he have a bunch of books that even you couldn't read?

No, that's not—

—Oh yeah, books.

Give me a hand, Liz.

I said I'm not helping with the wax paper.

I'll take care of the paper. There's a sliding door under my bed. Inside is a wooden box.

Wow, I didn't know you had a hiding spot like this! What's in it? Jewels? Pure Gold? A Sankta gun?

You'll know when you see it. Just grab it for me while I check the printer.

Wow, this is heavy. What the heck is in it?

Here's the key, open it up. I've got ink all over my hands.

Well, guess I should be glad that you trust me.

What's with all the old books?

Yes?

Oh, I thought this was Mr. Hoederer's home...

It's for you.

Pohl? Come in.

Here, Mr. Hoederer.

...Printouts?

I printed a few books I used when I learned to read. They might be useful for your literacy class.

From a decade ago?

Thanks. This will work nicely once the children have progressed a little further. Let me see... mercenary diaries, propaganda pamphlets from the Military Commission during the Leithanian invasion...

You've got all sorts of stuff here. This looks like a manuscript from around 1030.

Is it valuable? I'll bring the original, if you need it.

No, the copy will do just fine. How much?

I couldn't possibly ask you for more money! I can't even spend everything you gave me, even after paying back the gangs.

Here's half back.

Pohl—

Here.

Don't worry about the other half. I'll pay it back in a few months, with 10% interest.

Ha. I'm sure we can cut the interest out?

Don't look at me. It's your money.

In that case... could you make a printout of this map, Pohl?

Of course. Anything else?

Let me think...

Test papers for the kids, maybe?

The wax paper's done, Consultant.

Mm... not bad. You're almost ready to get to work.

But I didn't understand half of what's on it.

Don't worry, I wasn't much better when I started learning. Want some potatoes?

Yeah!

...With sugar? Wow!

You're my only typesetter. Got to make sure you're happy and well-fed—

We had an agreement with them to split forty-sixty, but now they want fifty-fifty! You tell them they're greedy slugs, Consultant!

Greedy slugs? Our guys bled for this!

Not again...

It's always the same with these people, isn't it?

What did you say?!

Don't mind her, she's just a kid.

Anyway, this is simple.

Pohl takes out a printed sheet and slams it down on the table.

Here's your agreement. I have the hand-written original with palm-prints, and both of you have a copy.

Let me see... 'the profits shall be split 40-60...'

See? Written in black and white!

'In the event of any casualties, the side with fewer casualties shall relinquish part of their share, up to a 50-50 split...'

Now THAT is black and white!

*Sarkaz expletive*, you're not playing me for a fool, are you?

You're the only one who can read here! How do I know you didn't print this just to fool us? How do we know you're not full of shit?

Pohl grins and points at the door.

Why not learn to read and check for yourself?

There's a merc who teaches reading classes over there. I hear he's still taking new students.