jumped without a jump drive

[rockeye_stonetoe]

Nick, in a full environment suit like any sensible person would wear in untamed wilderness, is overseeing a small swarm of robots harvesting various useful plantlife from the uninhabited parts of a sparsely settled planet, when something suddenly comes tearing through the undergrowth towards him and it's not showing up on scanners-

He raises his hand-phaser, notices it has a mirror for a face and hesitates a little too long. And then he is in a clearing, cut off from his ship and 'bots, with all available sources of data telling him he just went through a jump.

What.

Comments

[rockeye_stonetoe]

"Then I will stop bothering you. In my world copying books is incredibly easy, easier than a printing press, even. So intellectual property- er, ownership of ideas, is taken very seriously. I thought it best to ask."

[segreant]

"We don't own the Winter Light's ideas. We just follow them."

[rockeye_stonetoe]

"I'll be sure not to change the precepts, then. How are the radios treating you?"

[segreant]

"We've given them out to the mayors of towns too far to easily send runners. So far all we've gotten is two false alarms and a lone zombie, but it's still better to know about those sooner than later."

[rockeye_stonetoe]

"Indeed. Fare well."

Back to town. He can put up with obnoxiousness. He'll pay the obnoxious person the same as the moneylender's grandson and teach her things alongside actual work, with the warning that if she is careless or steals anything she is out.

[alicornucopia]

She is not careless and doesn't steal anything, she just keeps winding up in interpersonal conflicts with the other employees.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

...After a while of this, Nick starts giving her jobs that don't involve much cooperation.

The printing press is completed, and hardback copies of the Precepts of the Winter Light, that almanac, and the Morning Sword are sold at three copper each.

[alicornucopia]

And some of them are purchased, although mediocre literacy rates and low levels of liquid capital mean it's not all that many that fast.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

Modernizing a country is harder than he thought. But that's alright, the printing press can go in a corner for now.

He hires more people. The best of his old hires get raises and assigned to teach the new ones things, including literacy. The big generator comes online and he starts selling candleless lights more cheaply, with access to the generator being a mere two copper per month. Radios and music-recording and music-playing machines are sold. Vats of polyester are brewed and spun with cotton into a comfy blended fabric that he tries to sell to tailors. He has a team of five scout and map the surrounding wilderness with a crude-by-his-standards scanner, looking for metal deposits.

[alicornucopia]

The theater person who took the first batch of electric lights takes a music-recorder and starts selling recordings. Someone else buys a recorder and some recordings and sells recordings of the recordings, which annoys the theater owner so grievously that they have to take it to arbitration. Arbitration rules that no punishment will be leveled against the music pirate. The theater owner responds by declining to sell further recordings and simply holds "listens" of recorded shows at a discounted rate relative to live performance.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

Nick does not get involved in this dispute.

And his six month loan term is coming due soon, so he'd better stop spending capital on things. When the metal scouts fail to find any particularly good deposits for two weeks he recalls them and stops expanding his staff and just sells the things he already has.

[alicornucopia]

Polyester is pretty cheap and becomes popular among the poor, and among those so rich that they can accentuate it with obviously expensive things and not risk being mistaken for poor people. People of reasonable means and uncertain status mostly steer clear. Lights become increasingly popular, although a lot of people conservatively just put one light in one room of their house. Radios are distributed (less rapidly than paladins on flying creatures could ferry them around) and used to communicate between towns; this winds up serving partly as a replacement for their ineffectual postal system and partly as early storm warning. The theater person starts playing the first halves of recorded plays and songs over the radio; people who want to hear the rest have to attend a listen.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

Two days before the official repayment date of his loan, he goes to talk to the moneylender. Of the 32 gold and a bit he owes after interest, he has 29 ready. He reports that his businesses are steadily profiting, and asks for a few days' extension on the repayment of the other 3 gold.

[alicornucopia]

She'll give him a few days, although not without squinting at him.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

"I will have your gold." He hands over 29 gold now, at any rate.

He runs his stocks of materials low and gives some of his staff a few days off over their objections to make up the last three gold, and adds a silver to the moneylender's payment for her trouble.

When he's back in money he sends the metal-scouts out again, hoping to find a nice vein of titanium, iron, or at least coal.

[alicornucopia]

Out they go. One of them finds some coal in the mountains after enough tromping around in the cold.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

The cold-trompers get a break and are replaced with two other teams travelling further and further away. Coal is good, but he needs iron as well to really get going on the kind of industry that will eventually lead to spaceships.

[alicornucopia]

He could just buy some iron the next time traders come through - there's a lull between the times when it might snow and when it already has, when it's impractical to use sledges and when it risks getting you caught in a snowdrift if you use carts, but it'll snow soon. He could even radio someone far away about his demand for iron. (This is pointed out by his obnoxious staffperson.)

[rockeye_stonetoe]

He explains that the amount he can buy from traders is not enough for what he has in mind. He needs a proper mine, or at least a long-term deal with someone who has one.

But it's still a good suggestion, so he starts asking around via radio for someone with lots of iron to sell.

[alicornucopia]

Someone promises a cartload when the snow's on the ground, sooner if he wants to pay enough to cover possible lost days due to early snow.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

That's not nearly enough. But he'll take it anyway. The metal-scouts are just going to have to keep scouting for metal, hopefully he'll find some in the ground eventually. He goes about claiming or buying the land where the coal vein is.

Sometime between then and the first snow, one of his electricity customers electrocutes herself after cutting through the wires' insulation. Nick defends himself to law enforcement and arbitrators, talking about his warnings not to mess with the wires.

But that night he has terrible nightmares. Fires caused by electrical faults, explosions in the power plant, one of his employees screaming, his arm mangled under the bloody letters of the printing press...

The next night it's more of the same. Armies using the locomotives he was planning on building, nuclear technology in the hands of some unstable king. After that are dreams of being trapped forever, growing old and decrepit and dying of some sort of preventable cancer at the young age of 70. Dreams of his parents, laughing at how he fled from home but ended up stuck in one place anyway how pathetic.

Doxepine doesn't help. He's in a very, very bad mood by the end of the week.

[alicornucopia]

His staff find some iron! Isn't that nice? It's a long way away and a bit tricky to get at but it's plenty.

[rockeye_stonetoe]

Horray. Now he can start drafting plans for a steel mill. He'll need another loan.

Why won't these damn nightmares stop?! He's done nothing wrong, he's been careful, he's improving these people's lives by all accounts. Ugh.

He stops supervising his staff so closely and no longer comes out with new products. He runs out of doxepine. The nightmares stop, but the depressed, paranoid, angry voices in his head don't. He snaps at people who try to talk to him. He grumbles and delays when someone reports a problem with their devices or lights.

[alicornucopia]

The staff pick up the slack as best they can.

(It's only a matter of time before a little kid wants to see what's inside the wires -)

Obnoxious employee starts compiling radio news and printing it up for people who don't have their own radios.

(He's never going home, he's stuck with these ignorant primitives until his untimely death -)

The cartload of iron he ordered shows up.

(He might not even last to seventy, he could catch something from these filthy uneducated people at any moment and die, alone, while he slaughters a few million of the locals by electrical proxy -)

[rockeye_stonetoe]

He locks himself in his room for most of a week and watches movies from his cranial computer it'll break eventually, there aren't any proper surgeons here you'll never fix it, sliding coins under the door when his employees complain they haven't been paid. When he does come out, he kicks the business back into more or less the proper shape and makes slow, slow progress on coal-to-oil conversion and combustion engines the greedy primitives will just use them as war machines.

It's only when he happens to hear of a zombie attack on a neighboring village when he remembers that dark things exist. And one of the dark things that exist are woke shadows.

He scans himself with every still-operational sensor he owns.