Chapter 13
It was another day, another falon, at Roger’s Grocery Store. Well, Righty’s pay wasn’t quite that low, but as is often the case, sayings of a monetary nature are seldom updated to keep pace with inflation. In fact, Righty was now up to nine falons per hour, not too bad, considering he had been hired at seven; but what burned Righty’s ego like the sun that formerly burned his neck and face at the lumberyard was that at that hellhole he earned twelve falons per hour.
Twelve! A quarter less wages earned each hour was what he had to show for his fancy book reading, improved vocabulary and grammar, and expanded knowledge. But, on the other hand, on days like today, he only had to take a peek outside and look at the ball of fire in the sky to realize that the quarter less in wages just might be worth it.
Except it wasn’t worth it. He wanted more. Much more. He was starting to feel like he had simply puffed himself up with airs and was now paying the price by making even less than he did before, and he had been at this book learning thing for at least six months. Some part of him deep down told him not to give up, to keep working hard and learning, and that one day, perhaps even when he least expected it, his improving knowledge would pay off.
“Wanna field trip?”
It was Rog. He had caught Righty in a daydream, but few could tell when Righty was daydreaming. Like the mythical elite soldier able to sleep with one eye open, Righty now was able to handle even his most complex accounting assignments accurately while indulging his penchant for reveries.
“Yes, sir,” Righty said.
“It’s these boxes of seed here. Now, this does beat all. I accept them yesterday, and then today I see this!”
Roger handed a rolled-up paper newspaper to him.
IT’S OFFICIAL!
SMOKELESS GREEN OUTLAWED!
“This came from my main inventory supplier, in Sivingdel. It’s about twelve hours each way by carriage. I’ll pay you for twelve hours each day and cover your lodging expenses. I need you to take this seed back to him. Technically, according to the papers, the criminal penalties don’t kick in for another few weeks, but I’m not trying to get myself landed in jail for getting my days mixed up, if you know what I mean. The sooner this stuff is out of here, the sooner I’ll be able to get a proper night’s sleep.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do it,” Righty said laconically.
“Here’s a map of what roads to take once you get into Sivingdel.”
“I’ll swing by the library and say goodbye to Janie on my way there. I can leave now.”
“I appreciate you doing this on such short notice . . . .” Rog paused.
“Sir?”
“I don’t know. It just seems weird. People have been drinking themselves to death and ruining their home lives that way since I can remember, and no one yet to my knowledge has come up with the ingenious idea of outlawing alcohol. But this new smoke-free tobacco or whatever in Kasani they call it comes along, and the next day it’s illegal! Go figure! All I know is it was selling nicely; that’s for sure.”
“They say it’s rather potent,” Righty said soberly.
“Well, anyway; we’ll let the geniuses in the senate decide,” he added with a sarcastic tone. “As for me, the strongest thing I prefer is regular tobacco, and it most certainly is not smoke free,” he said chuckling. “Well, enough politics; I’ve got some numbers to run.”
“Yes, sir; I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Righty found this strange as well. He had been studying constitutional law lately, and just a week or two ago at the most he had read something about an article forbidding the government from outlawing any substance except poisonous ones. He had to admit he had one hell of a hangover from the one time he tried Smokeless Green, but it certainly hadn’t seemed like poison.
Truth be told, he felt like it made him smarter and more focused. If not for his tendency to get a little too carried away with substances that he took for pleasure—at least he extrapolated that he had this tendency based on his years of alcohol addiction; he hadn’t had another addiction though in his life—he would probably take Smokeless Green on a regular basis. After all, he struggled to crack open the books at night after putting in a ten-hour shift at the store, and although coffee certainly helped, it was nothing compared to Smokeless Green. The very thought that it was about to become illegal made him suddenly crave it the way he used to crave a certain wet substance, something he had promised never to touch again.
(and that you won’t ever touch again!)
Then, suddenly, like a man who has been beaten over and over by his fencing instructor and has begun to feel himself utterly inept at sword fighting, only to find himself confronted by several assailants during a stroll home, whom he then dispatches handily to his immense astonishment and pleasure, Righty’s low view of what he had learned over the last six months in his pursuit of knowledge was suddenly shattered as an epiphany came to him.
This is it! a voice told him. You’ve whined, and you’ve moaned to me about how you never will get anywhere in life in spite of all your hard work and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! Well, here it is; I’m giving it to you on a platter. It’s almost too easy!
He thought back to his promise the day he saw that smug, pompous Oscar Peters talking down to him via his servant: He was going to become rich, and he didn’t care if he had to lie, cheat, or steal.
As he began thinking over what he both realized he had to do and would do, he realized that he was certainly going to lie, and he most definitely was going to steal, but he would make it right.
Deciding he didn’t want to give his mind the opportunity to even consider backing down, he put the whip to the horses and took off in his wagon.