Shopping
This was the ramshackle edge of District N, the part of town that no longer had any hope of ever being improved or rebuilt. It was likely because nobody with any kind of wealth or power would choose to live right next to the slums of District B. Not that I was surprised, though. Even the human body doesn't distribute blood evenly to all its extremities.
No matter how many times I visited this shop, however, I could never remember how to get there. As usual, I had no idea where I was. I just never developed the habit of remembering superfluous information. Even an eight-year-old child understands that the memory capacity of the human brain is finite.
In this day and age, when life-spans are getting longer and longer, knowing how not to commit information to memory is of utmost importance. As long as we know how to manage what we choose to remember, we will be just fine.
I followed Alice's directions as I moved through District N. The streets were dusty and disorderly, yet overflowing with energy. You could say that a person can sense the aura of the lives of all the people around them… Or you might say that it was an aura of chaos and disorder. In this part of town, people still bought and sold things directly as opposed to online. In fact, it was flourishing. All around, the sounds of people hawking their wares could be heard over the conversations of the crowd.
If one were to stop, or show even a hint of curiosity in the wrong direction, the salesmen would be on him like ants on sugar. I could feel my legs beginning to tire, but I forced myself to continue following Alice's directions through the streets.
Finally, I came to the entrance of Dolz Shop and let myself relax a bit. It had quieted down considerably, the tumult of the main road losing its intensity like a tennis ball that had bounced off a few surfaces and was just about out of energy. Alice alerted me that my body temperature had risen slightly, but that was nothing to be concerned about.
I reached forward to grab the door of the shop. No motion sensors here, so I had to give it a good shove to push it open.
"Welcome! Oh, hello there! Long time no see!" The shopkeeper's voice rang out like a door chime the moment I set foot in the shop.
I didn't see him accessing his customer database. A business that looked to be doing this well had to have a fairly large clientele… Could he really remember every person who walks into his store? I found that a little hard to believe.
"I'm out of ketchup," I explained.
"What exceptional timing! It's your lucky day! I just received a shipment of the best ketchup around!" he exclaimed. Definitely a sales pitch.
"You say the same thing every time I come in here," I replied with a sarcastic smile.
"That's because you always have such perfect timing!" the shopkeeper responded.
"So what would you have said if I had come in yesterday?" I asked.
"Why, the same thing, of course! I receive a new shipment of the best ketchup there is every day!"
"Ah. So it's not what you say, it's how you say it that helps you sell your products, huh?" I asked teasingly.
"Nobody can sue me for false advertising that way," he replied flatly.
We both laughed at that.
Sometimes I wondered about his chronological age. His body looked to be well into its 50s, but appearances don't reflect a person's actual age these days ? a person can choose to be as young or as old as they like.
The real way to tell someone's age is to pay attention to their involuntary speech patterns, mannerisms and sense of humor. Subconscious cues built by personal experience are very difficult to eliminate. Just like the smell of kimchi escapes even the most tightly sealed container, there are a thousand clues to a person's age in their body language and speech patterns… If you know what to look for.
"Well, which one'll it be, then?" asked the shopkeeper, carefully stroking his well-groomed mustache. As he did, all the items on display slid to the back of the shelves, and an entire row of ketchup bottles crept forward to present themselves alongside the one brand already in view.
Ketchup, ketchup, and more ketchup.
How could we, as a species, possibly have created this many different kinds of ketchup? I was both amazed and disgusted at the thought. My devices need only a single OS to run just fine, but it seems that a unique flavor of ketchup must be created to suit the tastes of people from every part of the world. Perhaps finding an interest and devoting time to pursuing it is just part of the human condition.
"There is something I've been meaning to ask you for a while now," I said.
"Oh? And what might that be?" asked the shopkeeper.
"Do you taste test every variety of ketchup that you sell here?" I asked.
"Of course I do!" he answered enthusiastically. "As a businessman, I must be well-informed about what I am selling! I have to use my own good judgement to decide what I stock in my own store. I couldn't care less about what's trending and what's not! Let the EMS worry about all that nonsense!"
The EMS, short for "Exact Marketing System." This system accounts for more than 90% of the world's automated trade. Using past market data and industry trends, the EMS can make an extremely accurate educated guess about what will sell at any given time.
The actual calculations are not terribly complex, but the sheer quantity of minute data simultaneously analyzed by the system makes its predictions meticulously correct.
Without this system, most companies would not even be able to create a production plan in today's economy: they would almost certainly either overproduce and flood the market or cause a shortage by not producing enough product.
"If that's true, you must know all there is to know about ketchup," I reasoned.
"No no no. I'm still not a master yet," he replied. "That path is a long and difficult one. So long, in fact, that I still cannot see the end."
I chuckled at that, causing the shopkeeper to raise his eyebrows at me.
"Do you think I meant that to be a joke?" he asked defensively.
"No, of course not," I replied hastily. "I was just thinking that if you're serious, I'd be less than a beginner."
"You certainly would be. Although I don't believe you fully understand what that means."
"Would you care to explain, then?"
"To put it simply," he began, "you can only recognize the fact that you were once a beginner after you progress to the intermediate level. The same goes for intermediates as well. Only after they breach the advanced wall can they fully grasp what it meant to be an intermediate. "
"Take the number 10, for example. From his perspective, the number 100 is impossibly large. However, over time, that number will slowly increase. Only after he reaches 98, 99, 100, and then 101, can he see the next wall of 1000 and understand it. When he finally reaches that wall and looks back at the number 10, all he will see is a tiny bug."
"So you're trying to tell me that I'm still just a bug," I said.
"You don't have to make it sound so negative," replied the shopkeeper. "I'm still a bug myself. I just happen to be a little bigger than you, that's all."
"Are you saying that there is always a bigger bug?" I asked.
"You could put it that way. Personally, I prefer to think that there is always room for improvement. I believe a famous scientist once said the exact same thing! Anyone who is content to stop at 100 probably lacks the ability to even imagine a height like 1000."
As I nodded along to the shopkeeper's words, I was studying the ketchup bottles on the shelf. Many of the labels were indeed unfamiliar. I couldn't say whether the shopkeeper was only at 100 or if he'd already reached 1000, but he chose all of these using a skill which I could not yet understand. That is probably also the reason why such an eccentric man as this could run a successful business in such a hard to reach location as this.
"I'll go with this one today," I said, reaching for a bottle with an illustration of a long-eared rabbit on the front.
"Not a bad choice," said the shopkeeper praisingly. "I just recently got that one in and that happens to be the last bottle."
"When you order ketchup, how many bottles do you usually purchase at once?" I asked suspiciously.
"Trade secret. Although I'm willing to bet you would be able to figure it out," he answered through a wide grin.
As he did, I realized he was right. He must buy only one and then observe how the customers react. By ordering small amounts, he can prevent heavy losses. Then, if something does sell well, he can slowly increase the number he orders. That also means that anyone who buys a relatively new product here will have "good timing." I'll even bet his special shelves are a way of preventing customers from seeing the number of any given item in stock.
The shopkeeper placed the bottle of ketchup into a small bag as I pulled out my handheld to pay.
"How's business?" he asked, handing me the bag. "Things going well recently?"
"I can't complain," I responded. "I think something big is going to happen pretty soon, though."
"Sensing a big payoff, is that it?"
"You want in?" I offered. "I would give you a discount on commission."
"No, don't you worry about me. Running this shop is all the risk I need. I don't think I could handle any more than that."
"Even if I could guarantee that you'll make a profit?"
"Nothing in this world is certain, especially when it comes to money. That is one thing I understand very well."
Pulling the shop door open, I stepped back outside. As I did, the alarm Alice had set to notify me it was time to finish shopping went off. It turned out that Alice's analysis of the data was spot on. Letting the bag hang by one hand, I set off down the street to the City Carrier route, once again following Alice's directions.