''"You are nothing"'', says the desk in front of you, or at least that's what it feels like. This mere desk alone is probably worth more than the entire farm where you grew up. Its black granite body partially covers the CEO you've come to visit, leaving you no choice but to strain your head upwards just to even really see him. The Great Immortal Ned Katzenbach still hasn't noticed you.
You shuffle in your seat. How is it so unbelievably comfortable, yet so tiny before the massive desk? This must be real cow hide you're sitting on, that's nice. Ned probably appreciates the quality of organic-grown material, so that's at least //one// thing that you, a lowly rancher-turned-rebel-turned-envoy, and him, the Master of A Thousand Suns, have in common.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Alright, team, let's pick this up on Tuesday, yeah? And Nancy, I expect those sales reports to be complete this time, alright?"] You can tell that his smile is meant to look strained. (text-colour:#3706FF)["Alright, see you Tuesday then, bye-bye."]
(box:"=XX=")[[<img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRfddbqzOKq5p7qqGHobXsKtNXVnBA4qSHz6WI1odfF4_1UEHfocsWQ1y87ZynH1qRquCM&usqp=CAU
"; width="200" height="200" alt="Orbit" >]]
Ned removes his VR headset and gloves. (text-colour:#3706FF)["Alright, so: Frontier Worlds."] He looks at you. (text-colour:#3706FF)["Massacres, reprisals. Revolution. Talk to me."]
Right after he says that, your mind goes blank. Floating power stations drift by along massive blue-and-silver clouds behind him, as his luxury office overlooks the work of only one of his million business concerns on this previously-pristine gas giant.
Ned Katzenbach, the Immortal post-human being iridescent with subdermal cables, nods impatiently.
How do you open?
(text-colour:green)[[[Flatter him, let him see you're refined->Flatter]]
]
(text-colour:green)[[[Get straight to it, no use in wasting a great man's time->StraightToIt]]
]
(set: $good to 1)
(set: $bad to 1)
(set: $bad to it +1)
(text-colour:#f00)["C-can...Can I just say, Mister Katzenbach, that this is a wonderful office that you've built here. The view really... captures the grand scale of your company's works. All this abundantly shows that clearly you're a visionary who can see the wisdom in betting on progress."
]
Ned rolls his eyes. But he doesn't just roll them, he makes a show of bending backwards so that he's even rising from his chair, sticks out his tongue in the manner of a dead dog and lets out the most childish and unpleasant annoyed groan you've heard on this or any other planet.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Ugh, BO-RING. Look, man, if I wanted to hear empty flattery, I would've stayed on that call I was on when you came in. No, dude, //come on//. Give it to me. War, revolution, the frontier planets rising up against the evil empire! That's what I want to listen to, man, //that's why you're here//! Stop it with this corporate nonsense, you're no good at it anyway."]
Alright then, that seems to have backfired. It seems like the only thing to do now is (text-colour:green)[[[explain the war.->ExplainWar]]](text-colour:#f00)["Mister Katzenbach, I know you're a very busy man, so I'll get straight to it..."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Right on!"] He sticks out a thumb.
(text-colour:#f00)["The Outer Colonies have suffered injustice after injustice from the Galactic Core. For decades we have tried to reach an agreement, but every time we seem to be getting close, the Colonial Administration finds a way to sabotage the process. Truth be told, we think it's obvious that the Viceroy has no interest in letting us reach any sort of treaty with the central government, and this is why he orders his forces to consistently break every ceasefire. Now, us colonists have been holding out pretty well on our own, and it's obvious that the Viceroy can't hope to squash the rebellion in the short term, but, if we're really going to dislodge the enemy forces, we need more support."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["And that's where I come in!" ]The Immortal seems almost jubilant at the prospect. Good, this won't be one of those haranging sorts of lobbying sessions.
(text-colour:#f00)["Exactly, sir. We need money, guns, ships, explosives, food, medicine... but mostly it's about the ships. So far we've made do with a small fleet meant for harassing the occupiers, but amassing our forces and launching a counter-attack is gonna require a bit more serious firepower."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Can I just say? Man, I like you. You're fun. This is all so fun. Ooh the evil galactic 'empire'! (I've seen that's what you guys call the Administration) Ooh here come the rebels, oh no! They've destroyed a terraformer, hooray!"] He seems to catch himself and adds more calmly, (text-colour:#3706FF)["But honestly, you're all on the literal other goddamned side of the galaxy. I don't have time to read up on all this, and we both know the news is all propaganda, anyway. So tell me, man, what is //really// going on?"]
The man tries to be all comradely and confidential in those last few words. You repress any outward sign of your certainty that this Immortal CEO has never so much as held a gun.
Alright, the stage is set. Time to (text-colour:green)[[[explain the war.->ExplainWar]]]
(set: $good to it +1)(text-colour:#f00)["Alright, Mister Katzenbach, one second..."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Please, call me Ned."
]
You click on your wrist computer and a holographic display comes up, filling the space above and between you. After a few movements of your arm, a map of the outer systems is displayed, along with flat videos of battles raging on space and on the surface and a multitude of animated diagrams.
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="https://i.imgur.com/socuJbf.png
"; width="275" height="250" alt="The Show" >]
It's these abilities of putting on a show and displaying it that landed you the job of Special Envoy.
(text-colour:#f00)["Okay so as you can see on this diagram //here//, before the economic crisis of 5432, the Outer Colonies were mostly settled by independent homesteaders, who grew vast amounts of traditional organic food, all shipped straight to the Galactic Core and highly valued for its quality, thanks to the unpolluted soil and clean atmosphere of our virgin planets, and, also, by using a stable supply of ample credit."
]
Another flick of the wrist, and now the diagram expands and shifts to a new situation, surrounded by graphs that make the argument look all "economic."
(text-colour:#f00)["But after the crisis left many small landowners unable to cover their payments, the Viceroy abused his power to grant his own holding companies permission to swoop in and collect settler debt, often kicking them out of their land, or leaving them with so little of it that they had to work on //his// land just to make a living. Providing the labor robots themselves, of course."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Now, this is an interesting point, actually. From what I've heard, the homesteaders took out large loans that they later couldn't pay back, and at least //some// of them are up in arms now to get out of paying their debt."
]
Yes, the other side has also been in contact then... No matter, you can turn this around, just (text-colour:green)[[[stay cool...->ExplainWar2]]](text-colour:#f00)["It's about Freedom, Ned. That's what this is all about."
]
The Immortal CEO furrows his brow. (text-colour:#3706FF)["Freedom?"] He raises an eyebrow.(text-colour:#3706FF)[ "What a folkloric little word you've got there, dude. Nobody talks about //freedom// these days, especially not to an Immortal cybernetic man who can change the fate of billions of people just by speaking a word. What do you mean by 'freedom' in this context?"]
Hah, he thinks he's a skeptic. Just as well. No one is as susceptible to propaganda as much as the fools who think they're above it.
(text-colour:#f00)["Simply put, Ned, the freedom to succeed. We homesteaders have worked the land for generations. Some Outer Planets even have enough population now to support cities, but we're all farmers there, deep down. We live and die by our labor, and if we can send our sons into the cities these days it's only because our family worked hard for ages before that. Out there in the Outer Worlds, any person can earn a comfortable living as long as they're willing to work for it. It's a meritocratic place, you would like it there."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Yeah, I've heard a lot about the benefits of merit-based gamification for human resources, but I still don't see how that has anything to do with freedom."
]
(text-colour:#f00)["That for us it's not a game, man, we're actually //living// it out there. Think about it: the Galactic Core is so rotten in its abundance that they have to invent artificial ways of earning and spending 'merit points' just to keep the workers happy and sane. But out on the frontier? That's //real// merit, Ned, that's //true grit//. That's what //we// have that the Galactics are lacking, and //that's// why the Viceroy hasn't been able to defeat us, no matter how much of the Administration's resources he wastes on elite mercenaries."
]
It takes a second, but the hit lands. Like a smart missile making its way into a bunker before blowing it open, you can almost //see// the idea arriving at the Immortal's head, and then a slight delay before his expression changes from amused puzzlement to wide-eyed admiration. Just as you expected, he darts his face back and forth from one video feed to the next, amazed at the ragged militiamen confronting hired killers in power armor.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Self-reliance... //of course!//"] He almost shouts this.(text-colour:#3706FF)[ "//This// is what I've been telling them, man! //This is what I've been saying!// We need self-starters in this company... No, we need them in the whole galaxy! And this thing, this... //war//... is amazing! It's the great rebellion of the self-reliant against the parasitic! I deal with a lot of bureaucracy, you know, you wouldn't //believe// the amount of planets willing to go to war over some late taxes, but this is exactly //it//, man, it's the same thing! The planets want their taxes from //me//, just like the Viceroy wants the land from //you//! We're exactly the same, man, those rebels fighting out in the frontier and me in my office, we're exactly alike."]
Okay then, best make use of this sudden rush of energy. You've been told that this Immortal is as enthusiastic as he is fickle. Time to bring up the Outer Colonies' (text-colour:green)[[[untapped riches.->UntappedRiches]]]
(set: $good to it +1)(text-colour:#f00)["It's about vengeance, Ned. That's what this is."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["V-vengeance...?"] He seems taken aback.
You press on. (text-colour:#f00)["Every time the colonists have appealed to the Administration for help, the Viceroy has punished us. He imprisons our leaders, burns our fields... He's even gone as far as to commit massacres against protesters in our few cities."]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["I don't know that that's very positive..."
]
(text-colour:#f00)["It's not positive, Ned, it's a shitshow, that's what I'm telling you. The people are angry, and nothing is going to satisfy them until the Viceroy is well and truly out of power. We don't care how many of his mercenaries or colonial employees have to die in the process, we're committed to seeing the lot of them strung up for what they're doing. Every one of them is complicit in a campaign of terror against the colonies, and we want our vengeance..."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Let me cut you off right there, man."] Ned now takes on the look of a skeptical executive critiquing a corporate project. (text-colour:#3706FF)["I don't know if this is such a good proposition now, see. This all sounds to me like you're asking me to fund a reign of terror, and this could get back to me. The Viceroy is rich (not as rich as //me//, but you get the idea). He can easily get his media outlets to report back that the Outer Worlds bandits have now turned to retributive massacres driven by hatred... and funded by me! Do you have //any// idea what that would do to my stock? I'm a //brand//, man, 'a Ned Katzenbach project represents a better future for everyone', and all that good stuff. By talking about shinier prospects I've bent hundreds of governments to my will, and you're telling me that //I// should be the money behind a campaign of vengeance? I don't think so."]
Well, shit. That wasn't the right way to go at all. Quick, switch topics to the Outer Colonies' (text-colour:green)[[[untapped riches.->UntappedRiches]]]
(set: $bad to it +1)
(text-colour:#f00)["There's also the matter of the untapped riches of our planets."
]
At this, Ned perks up. (text-colour:#3706FF)["Oh?"] He seems more in his element now, you're gonna talk to him about money.
(text-colour:#f00)["We've been discreet about it, but the High Command of the United Outer Worlds Forces commissioned a series of prospection expeditions during the last year."
]
You flick your wrist and the holographic display changes. You're now seeing the Outer Planets spinning in their orbits, all surrounded by graphs and lists of precious minerals found beneath their surface, along with estimated returns on varied degrees of investment.
=|=
And to think: everyone you know back home is fighting for their families, and here you are: reducing their homes to their prospective mineral value... but: orders are orders.
=|=
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/22sA0E1.png" alt="smiley face" height="200" width="200" />
|==|
(text-colour:#f00)["The main asset of the Outer Worlds so far has been their pristine atmosphere and natural soil that is useful for high-quality organic agriculture. That's the way the Viceroy has kept it, deliberately blocking new investments to keep our virgin climates untarnished."]
Another flick, and pictures of massive mining equipment appear.
(text-colour:#f00)["But with the concentration of land in the Viceroy's hands, there's a lot of unemployed people on our planets now, too, most of them forming the rank-and-file of our Defensive Insurrection. If you look at this graph here, it shows that potential investment costs are greatly driven down by the fact that this 'reserve' of potential workers is already in place. Anyone looking to exploit the vast untouched resources of our planets could count on significant savings when it comes to importing labor. There's a lot of us already there, all out of land and looking for work."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["But won't your people want to go back to their farms? I mean, isn't that what they're all fighting for? Don't they want their land back?"
]
(text-colour:#f00)["The truth, Ned, is that there is indeed a minor faction of agrarians in the rebellion. But they're marginal voices, rabble-rousers, we can easily quiet them down by redistributing some of the land stolen by the Viceroy, yes, but then we can use //the rest of it// to grant mining concessions. That is, of course, //after// we have achieved a military victory."
]
=|=
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/zDTb1IJ.png"; width="175" height="100" alt="Investment" >
=||=
(text-colour:#3706FF)["And what about the virgin soil... won't that be ruined by intensive mining?"
]
|==|
(text-colour:#f00)["That's part of the beauty of it, Ned. As an investor, you can count on your first incursions ruining enough of the surrounding agricultural area that the current owners will have no option but to sell you their land and come work for you. This phase is all secret, of course, but the people who support this vision have the majority in the High Command and can easily impose their will on the rest of the colonists."]
The Immortal looks over the graphs. You think: //The math is all sound, motherfucker, look all you want.//
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Ok, so the business side makes sense, but tell me: What are you really offering me here? If I invest a few trillions to help you win your war, what am I //actually// getting out of it?"
]
Finally, he's being direct. Time to decide what you're going to offer the man who has everything.
(text-colour:green)[[[Offer Wealth->OfferWealth]]]
(text-colour:green)[[[Offer Glory->OfferGlory]]](text-colour:#f00)["Why... Wealth, of course! A fuck-ton of money, to be exact!"
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Wealth..."] The Immortal immediately slumps back on his chair and looks bored.
(text-colour:#f00)["Yeah, man... //Ned//... Think of all the money you can make off of this! You'll make a killing! As our wartime benefactor, you'll have no trouble securing an official monopoly to mine our planets, and from then on it's easy money all the way to the moon, dude!"
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Oh..."] Ned looks away, almost as if hoping someone will come in and tell him he's late for something. (text-colour:#3706FF)["I'll tell you the truth, man. I like you, so I'll be honest. I was kind of hoping for something more."]
Shit.
Ned swivels his chair to look out at his floating power stations. (text-colour:#3706FF)["I have all the money in the world, man. Multiple worlds, in fact. Thousands of them. I was really hoping that this interview could show me something beyond that. To tell you the truth, there's nothing that //more// money can give me now that I couldn't already buy. I've been everywhere, you know. Tried every exquisite cuisine of, at this point, //hundreds// of luxury resort planets. I even have a yacht out near a black hole, did you know that?"] He sighs. (text-colour:#3706FF)["Every year they tell me it's more dangerous to get back on it, and one day it's going to be lost. A Hercules-class spaceship, good enough to fit a small army and take over an asteroid or two, and I'm sinking it into a black hole just to feel //something// when I get onboard."]
For the first time in your life, you're pretty sure the iridescent Immortal being in front of you looks sad.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["And it's not even the view, you know. You see a black hole up close once, you've seen it a hundred times. It's the rush. What if something goes wrong? What if our containment field collapses? To be sucked into compact nothingess for all eternity... It would be better than controlling a galaxy that's got nothing new to show you. So yeah. Money..."
]
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[[[<img src="https://i.imgur.com/dEd8Izp.png
"; width="600" height="600" alt="Orbit" >]]]
He swivels back at you.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Big whoop."]
God fucking damn it. //Money?// You offered an Immortal //money//? Money. To the being known as the Master of a Thousand Suns. The fuck is wrong with you, man? This could've been big, now it's just...
You'd keep going on against yourself in your mind, but Ned (text-colour:green)[[[is about to speak...->PreConclusion]]]
(set: $bad to it +1)
(text-colour:#f00)["Glory, Ned. That's what you get from this. Glory."
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Glory..."] The Immortal lets the last syllable rest on his mouth, as if he's never said it. He seems honestly dumbfounded.
(text-colour:#f00)["Think about it. Right now, who are you? You're the Master of a Thousand Suns, alright, and everyone knows who you are because you keep coming back to the number one spot on the galactic wealth rankings. Your companies are everywhere, there are many sectors where you control everything. You're credited with expanding the notion of the 'company town' all the way into 'company planet', and pretty soon you'll have company //systems//, but... That's not glory, now, is it? You have to know, smart man that you are, that, on some level, everyone kind of hates their boss. And you're the boss of billions of people, man, not counting the trillions more who depend on your companies running smoothly so they can carry on like normal. No matter how much good PR you have, you're always going to be somebody's 'rich bastard', the visible figure they can blame for anything that goes wrong in their lives..."
]
Ned squints at this, he seems about to say something, but you raise your hand before he can.
(text-colour:#f00)["No, let me go on, Ned. This isn't a judgement on you, per se, I know just as well as anyone how difficult it is to really keep everything running. But that's not really how the human mind works, though, is it? It looks for a scapegoat, a bad guy, a villain. It's been that way forever, and unless you get some glory under your belt, that's the way it's gonna stay."
]
Ned slowly leans back on his chair, tense. He's clearly not used to being talked about in any sort of critical manner.
You continue, confidently. (text-colour:#f00)["Now, what we offer here is the chance to get in on the ground floor of a good story, Ned. That's all this is: a good story. The rebels versus the empire, you said it yourself. It's a tale as old as time. People love it. Surely you've seen the opinion polls from the Core? Every time our people take out a mercenary ship or our innocents get massacred, people in the Galactic Core eat it right up. They love us, Ned, because we give them something no artist can give. We're the real deal, //the rebels//, we're actually suffering and dying out there. The blood of our people is, quite frankly, the best show in town."]
You allow your words to linger in the air for a minute. Ned seems to gather his thoughts, but he's out of his element. He's obviously never had to consider for one second the simple truth that all of the money in the galaxy can never buy him authentic glory from a battlefield.
You wait for him to sigh, then you go on.(text-colour:#f00)[ "Join the action, Ned, become a key player in the story of our rebellion. You must have thousands of people working on your image. Designers, consultants, film directors... but none of them can give you the authentic legitimacy of being known for financing a revolution in real life. Think of how many planets will line up to work with you after this. You'll never have to worry about taxes again. Governments will trip over themselves to give you everything, pushed by a population that will proclaim your name as the defender of their most sacred ideals. Not even the most radical anti-corporatist will deny the greatness of what you will have achieved."]
Ned is silent. Sometimes, the most powerful effect you can have on a person is to leave them silent. Right now, you have offered Ned the perspective that none of his wealth can ever buy him the love of the people. You've confronted him with something he simply can't have. It's a hard pill to swallow, but you've offered him an exit. He's finally come to his senses as a negotiator and is trying to control any outward sign that he's feeling an overwhelming emotion. But you can tell. He was born as a rich kid, and, like all rich kids, he envies the pure violent glory of the successful gangster.
You let the silence simmer, as Ned struggles with his emotions and is defeated at every turn by a sense of urgency and loss. You've presented him with something new here, and it's wreaking havoc with his cybernetic heart.
Finally, (text-colour:green)[[[he looks up...->PreConclusion]]]
(set: $good to it +1)(text-colour:#3706FF)["You know what, man? Yeah. I mean, fuck it. Why not? Let's do this thing."
]
You feel a massive weight slip off your shoulders. You almost automatically rise up and begin smiling. Diplomacy be damned, this is a good thing.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Now, now, before you thank me, I'll direct you to Joseph, he handles my defense interests. You know, weapons and power armor and all that stuff... You also said you needed ships, right? I should put you in contact with the heads of my consortiums. Actually, let me just get you a sit-down with Nancy, alright? She'll make a list of everything you need and will see that it gets sorted."
]
It takes you a second to reconstruct what you just heard. You can barely believe it. This is the first such lobbying mission that's actually been a full-on success.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["What are you staring at me like that for? Is there anything else?"
]
(text-colour:#f00)["No, Mister Katzenbach... I mean, Ned. It's quite alright, sir."] You've never felt this much relief in your life. (text-colour:#f00)["It's quite alright."]
.....
Over the following months, you visited who-knows-how-many executives across dozens of companies owned by Ned. Nancy made sure to tell each of them of your arrival ahead of time, and not one of them batted an eye at your requests or even at their purpose. Apparently, Ned Katzenbach's business empire was well-acquainted with interfering in armed conflicts to advance its interests, and very rarely bothered the Immortal CEO himself with the gritty details. By the time you were done with them, the first shipments of weapons were already arriving in the Outer Colonies via the rebellion's complex network of contrabandists and smugglers.
The Viceroy held out, at first, reportedly only mildly puzzled at the rebels' increased firepower, but by the time Ned's affiliate systems were smuggling full battleships into the Outer Regions it was already too late. One by one the Viceroy's fortresses fell, increasingly unable to hold even the supply and communications lines between them, and slowly but surely outgunned by a rebel army equipped with every weapons system that can be bought with the god-like wealth of an Immortal CEO.
Of course, the High Command made sure to not appear //too// dominant. After all, they didn't want to tarnish their image as a rag-tag band of scrappy upstarts.
By the time the Free Confederation of the Outer Worlds was proclaimed, Ned Katzenbach was no longer just the Master of a Thousand Suns, he was also known as the Protector of the Everyman, and graciously took his place at the proclamation ceremony as an honorary member of the Executive Council, and Special Advisor on Business Matters and Environmental Health.
The history books, so far, haven't delved into your role, but everyone who matters knows that, in reality, the entire course of the war turned all because, that one time, you made a good pitch.
''The End''
(text-colour:green)[[[Go back to start.->TitleScreen]]
](text-colour:#3706FF)["No."
]
Your heart sinks.
(text-colour:#f00)["No?"
]
(text-colour:#3706FF)["That's what I said, now go away. I have a lot of things to do and you're simply not worth my time."
]
Before you can muster any sort of response, a couple of guardian drones are already lifting you up by your shoulders and escorting you out. You can barely twist your neck long enough to see the door closing as Ned puts on his VR headset and gloves and says (text-colour:#3706FF)["Sorry, I was in a meeting. No, it was nothing. Now, you were telling me about a 'great opportunity'...."]
.....
In the months that follow, updates from back home slow down to a trickle, then they stop entirely. You're alone in a hotel room when news reaches you:
Apparently, the Viceroy, upon learning of your failure, immediately contacted Ned Katzenbach and made him a different offer. He sweet-talked him about the benefits of appearing before the galaxy as the wealthy benefactor of an embattled colonial adminstration. Every planet got the news that the Master of a Thousand Suns had put his wealth in the service of restoring peace, order and prosperity to the haggard Outer Colonies, namely by providing the funds necessary to defeat the bandits of the so-called insurrection.
Entire planets were devastated, bombarded from orbit into submission, and the Viceroy's special forces made sure to hunt down the leaders of the rebellion down to the last man. Gruesome murder scenes are all that's left of the High Command, and rumor has it that the Viceroy's revenge is going off-world, too. There's a price on the head of every ambassador and envoy of the fallen rebel government, the large bounty magnanimously bankrolled by the benefactor, Ned Katzenbach, himself, at great expense. The hitmen fly first class while you can barely afford this hotel.
You have nowhere to run, it's only a matter of time.
You hear a knock at the door.
''The End''
(text-colour:green)[[[Go back to start.->TitleScreen]]]
#(text-style:"bold")[''The Pitch
'']
(align:"<==")+(box:"X=")[//An interactive short story
by Alejandro Manzano//]
(text-colour:green)[[[Begin->Acknowledgements]]
]
[(text-style:"subscript")[Alejandro Manzano, 2022]]Ned Katzenbach, the cybernetic Immortal CEO known as the Master of a Thousand Suns for his unfathomable wealth, has listened to your arguments as to why he should finance the Outer Worlds Colonists' rebellion.
He sits up in his chair, careful to collapse everything he's heard into a studied corporate poker face, and {(if: $good > $bad + 0.5)+(text-colour:green)[[[[makes a decision...->GoodEnding]]]] (else-if: $bad > $good + 0.5)+(text-colour:green)[[[[makes a decision...->BadEnding]]]]}(text-colour:#f00)["Ah, so you've heard the Viceroy's propaganda, then."] A challenge. (text-colour:#f00)["Truth be told, Mister... I mean, //Ned//, agriculture has //always// required large amounts of credit to buttress up against the whims of climate and weather. You see, the Viceroy counts on the Galactic Core's now ancestral ignorance of the methods of traditional Terra-style farming, but in reality every successful countryside enterprise during Earth capitalism had to rely on some sort of outside creditor, be it a bank, an international agency, or State funding. Clearly, the Galactic Empire... I mean, //Administration//... lacks the business acumen to understand this, but a man such as yourself who has lived through centuries of business cycles can clearly see that the Viceroy is unjustly profiting from the basic needs of the sector."]
This little bit of flattery couldn't be helped.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["So am I to understand that this war is being fought mostly to get out from under the thumb of an abusive money-lender, is that it?"
]
(text-colour:#f00)["Not at all, Ned, but I wouldn't have come all this way to solicit your aid if I couldn't back it up with basic factors of political economy."
]
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[<img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRnLa7z81DVCahsQHQ9xZ8vxXuE4q-_wfzEFDaF-rq895hNjG94tczrgYbueRzpJwaRUeY&usqp=CAU
"; width="275" height="250" alt="Facts and Figures" >]
The Immortal shakes his head and hands dismissively.
(text-colour:#3706FF)["Okay, okay, so that's the economic side of it. Fine. But I don't believe that millions of frontiersmen are risking their lives in an interplanetary war all because of your diagram here. Can you tell me, man, in your own experience as someone from the Outer region, what the //cause// really is? What are you //really// fighting for over there? Why should I care?"
]
It's time to make an impression, gotta choose something that will capture his attention.
Say you're fighting for (text-colour:green)[[[Freedom->Freedom]].]
Say the war is about (text-colour:green)[[[Vengeance->Vengeance]].]
#Cast of Characters
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<img src="https://i.imgur.com/oNTCz2a.png"; width="300" height="400" alt="Ned Katzenbach" >
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(text-colour:#3706FF)[''Ned Katzenbach, Founder and CEO, and Master of a Thousand Suns''
A rich man whose properties and investments control the fate of trillions of people across the galaxy. Excitable and capricious, known to be as prone to getting carried away in sudden bouts of enthusiasm as he is likely to put down a multi-billion dollar investment like a spoiled child bored with a toy. Interested in war and politics "for the fun parts."]
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(text-colour:#f00)[''You, Special Envoy from the High Command of the United Outer Worlds Forces''
A simple rancher who joined an armed uprising as a young man, you've worked your way up to the position of special envoy, charged with meeting power-brokers and raising funds for the revolution across the galaxy.]
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<img src="https://i.imgur.com/IW42ThS.png"; width="200" height="150" alt="You" >
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(text-colour:green)[[[Click here to continue.->Arrival]]]''Acknowledgements
''
This game was made possible thanks to the help of Ana Luz Manzano and Emilio Padulo.
I also want to thank Isaac Asimov and my late cat, Federico.
(text-colour:green)[[[Press here to continue->Cast]]]