Trader's Hand - 2

A mini story by S.E.Estes
Part 1 | 2 | 3

Trader's Hand Day was worse than ever and Verl determined it would be his last. It wasn't only the pompous speeches preaching guild dogma or the hypocritical holiness, he had changed and it all became more than he could tolerate. It was a safe, ordered world but the price was freedom. Rules and a slavish adherence to the word of the guilds had made them mindless. That night, at the Act of the Hand, he was leaving. Everyone's eyes would be on the play, anxiously awaiting The Naming when The Trader would be chosen from among the top grossing traders, and Verl's absence wouldn't be noticed until the end when they enact The Removal where The Trader's hand would be removed. They didn't actually remove anyone's hand, it was more a spiritual thing, but when they reached The World they would do it in earnest. No one knew why they would do something so gruesome and that was the supposed purpose of Trader's Hand Day and all the boring, mindless speeches. Remembrance Week was to remind everyone that one day a world was going to be found where they could live and trade with the universe in freedom. History says their people left their home in search of that free world centuries ago. Trader's Hand Day was to remember what was going to be done the day they landed, cutting off The Trader's Hand. No one unerstood it but their whole society centered around it. On The Day all the speeches were about The Act, every guild had their own interpretation, which eventually spun off into sermons on guild dogma. Trade was their religion in actuality, except on Remembrance Week no one really thought about The World or The Hand, guild rules filled their lives. Guild law was word from the gods as devoted as its followers were to it, no one considered that the ultimate end of the law was to enrich the Guild Boards. It was the Boards that made and enforced the laws, they were the high priests of Trade. The sad thing to Verl was that few people saw it that way, they either kept their thoughts hidden or lived on Level Nine. He wasn't going to hide anymore.

Level Nine was a rough, exciting place and the thought of leaving his family behind was far from his mind. There were no laws there, trade was truly free. Traders bought and sold what they wanted, when they wanted, with anyone they wanted and at the end of the day they kept all their profits. On his third night there the excitement ended. He'd made a few good trades and was heading to the place he'd found to sleep. He turned down a corridor and saw the lights ahead were out so he turned to find another route. Two people were coming up behind him with intent in their steps so he turned around to try the corridor and a chance to run if he needed to. Out of the darkness ahead stepped three people with blasters, Verl had seen the vids, he was being robbed. He was smart enough to cooperate and went to his place empty-handed. That morning three people were waiting for him, one he recognized from the robbery. "I hear you got robbed last night." one said, Verl saw no point in denying it. "How about if I tell you that I can make sure that never happens again?" he asked, Verl had seen this in the vids, too, "How much?" he asked. "Forty percent." Verl thought that was high and said so, "Most get fifty." he was told. Verl tried to bargain him down but he only said, "Better than keeping nothing." and the look in his eye made Verl remember the blasters. He took the deal, a few days later Verl began to learn that violence was the main trade on Level Nine.

No one bothered Verl but when he saw three robbery-shakedowns in one day he understood the life of Level Nine and was disillusioned. He didn't leave his world and come there for the kind of life they lived. It wasn't free trade, everyone paid or they got killed. Verl wanted to leave but had nowhere to go, the world below Level Nine was lost to him, his quest for freedom had seen to that. He stayed in his room most of the time, unwilling to see that world of violence. He could have gotten used to the shakedowns, the beatings given to the uncooperative but the killings of the foolish or for control of an area made him ill. The first time he saw someone die he didn't know how he got to his room, he lay in fevered dreams for days. The second time was even worse and when he did come to himself he didn't leave. He only came out to trade for food and rent and when he paid his percentage and took care of his needs he went back to his mat. He would have lived out a short life like that if the Explorers hadn't come.