It’s official. As of today, science fiction is officially incapable of being remotely as weird as the present. Don’t even get me started on the future.
Sell is a recent graduate from Nanjing University. At 24, he’s a manager for Vpgamesell, a large SWG Chinese farming center that wholesales to popular resellers. He started off by selling gil in Final Fantasy XI, but his farming days are over. He’s moved up to manager status, helping with marketing and delivery. His many farmers work 10-hour rotations and are paid $121 a month. Sell gets $180 a month and works closer to 14 hours a day because he lives at the office, which is a fairly common practice at farming centersï¿½if you lose your job, you also lose your home. Sell negotiates with resellers online to determine the amount of credits they promise to purchase from Vpgamesell. While chatting with me, he’s messaging five different people and making contracts for 5 million credits for each server per day.
Gothic novels. That’s the ticket. Or…maybe…Magic-realist cozies! Religious chick-lit! Woman-and-child-in-danger technothrillers! [Here the legible portion of the manuscript ends. Forensic analysis of the last scrawled lines is pending.]