The Industrialist

"Nice shades, buddy!" Grebert praised.

Lance sat on a metallic chair behind a tempered circular top glass table of Grebert’s office. The scent inside the facility where the waste water was exposed in the confines of metallic and concrete walls, was appalling that one could die of a chronic disease.

The WWMD personnel had their gas masks on, industrial-grade, as they operated aerobic and anaerobic tanks for water pollutant digestion stages.

But the offices, with stark and sophisticated interior design, immensely contradicted what was outside. Some of the office staff, especially the section supervisors were mid-classers. It was evident in the white-clad uniforms and jewelry they wore.

Grebert, mid-thirties, with cheeky features, and a mesomorphic body type, trained his fingertips towards the samples that lay on top of his top glass office table.

"Fine grade, the smoothness of the material and the consistency of its color says its a month or so usage life," Lance said.

"You know your materials, kiddo!" Grebert said. "Where did you get these? You don’t have access to the Tier 2 scrap yard yet, aren’t you?"

"Not yet, Mister," Lance replied. "I acquired this from a friend who had access to the source. And the source was beyond the grasp of common scrappers."

"Really? Can you acquire more?" Grebert asked. He typed his fingers against the glass top glass of his table.

"Your consumption?"

"According to my records," Grebert inspected the holographic dashboard that appeared on the glass surface of his table. "I have to replace Tyllrium strands, a total of 30 pieces. Are you good for it?"

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"I am just curious, why aren’t you buying at MFs in Steam?" Lance referred to the Metal Factories in Steamhaven District.

"Budget, those top execs!" Grebert cursed. "These Tyllriums cost me much more if I buy from the MFs. 20% of my consumption was traded from Scrappers Tier 2. But’s not enough. Scums, I say!"

Lance was a scrapper Tier 1 and was only serving scrap metals for Grebert. Scrappers Tier 2 had access to a Tier 2 scrap yard where uncommon-level materials were dumped for disassembly.

"How much are the Scrappers charging you for one piece?" Lance asked.

Grebert halted his reply for a few seconds of awkward stares. Lance knew that Grebert would tell him a fake price for the negotiating party would decrease his trade price in mind. Judging from the samples, Lance could market them for 80 units each.

"65 units, lad. It’s a high price for a trade," Grebert snorted. "In MFs, I am buying at 160 a piece."

"C’mon, Mister Grebert," Lance responded. He anticipated this kind of negotiation but he knew that the price was too low. "These are fine grade uncommon levels. You know you can’t price that low. Besides, these Tyllrium are way better than the Tier 2’s are offering you."

"How would you know?"

"The Tier 2 scrap yard only had these scrapped Tyllrium because of its factory defect. A rejection manufacturing rate of 10% especially since these are manufactured manually, and human error factor, I would say that these 10% rejections will fall in the scrap yards of Tier 2 to 4."

It was only his assumption. But he knew that this hypothesis was beyond Grebert’s knowledge. Grebert only handled WWMDs for all his career and never had a mentor for operating Factories as Lance had.

His father once had a taste of controlling a factory in Bay City and had mentored him about the manufacturing operations.

"What makes your Tyllrium better than theirs?" Grebert was daubed with an astonished expression.

"I know that the rejected Tylls have only 50% expected shelf life, but what I am offering you is better than these rejections. See the smoothness and the consistency of metal forging, there are no noticeable dents."

"How do you know all this, kid?" Grebert surrendered and laid his back against his office chair. "You are just a teenager for Science’s sake!"

Lance only smiled at that.

"You know me, Mister Grebert," Lance responded. "I only deal with quality materials and my pricing is based solely on that. I trade goods that can satisfy the customers. And I would say to you that I am good for your 30 pieces replacement for a short period."

"So, how much are you charging this kind of Tylls?"

"90 units," Lance negotiated at a price more than he anticipated and tested Grebert’s negotiation skills.

"Woah. That’s a bit high, kiddo!" Grebert smiled and shook his head.

"Look at the samples closely, Mister," Lance suggested. "It would give more than 50% of expected life. I would say around close to 80% judging by the quality and the usage life. This deal will give you better than the scrappers are offering you."

"Why is that?"

"Do the math," Lance had calculated the comparison in his head. "For a simpler comparison, their 5 Tylls is equivalent to my 3 Tylls based on life expectancy. 5 Tylls would cost yah 330 units while my 3 Tylls would only cost yah 270 units. That’s way below your current consumption, Mister."

"What the? You can even do that mathematical comparison? Who are you, kiddo? Where do you come from? And why are you only at Scrapper Tier 1 with that kind of knowledge."

"Well, you wait for my promotions, Mister Grebert. I am on my way to Tier 2."

Grebert smiled. He squinted at the dashboards that reflected on his glass table. His fingers were tapping against the tempered glass surface.

"75 units each." Grebert negotiated.

"90 units," Lance responded, with firm tonality.

"80 units," Grebert laughed.

"90 units and final," Lance retorted. His body turned towards the opposite side as if heading to the exit to retract the negotiation.

"OK, it’s a done deal. Give me my 30 pieces for two months," Grebert extended his hand for a handshake. Handshaking these days still was gesture used for a gentleman’s agreement for both parties.

"Deal!" Lance shook Greberts hand hard.

He knew that Grebert would take the 90 units per piece deal. Grebert disclosed a trade secret that Lance knew how to leverage from it. Grebert was ordering from the MFs for 160 units a piece and with his budget constraint and delay in fulfilling production targets, Lance assessed that he had the upper hand.

"To clean water!" Lance teased.

Lance held one secret of Science. The WWMDs across Axe Central City were recycling wastewater to its potability state. Tyllriums were used as UV-emitting materials forged by different uncommon metals to cleanse water from microbial contaminations.

Removing metallic contaminants was one way of cleaning water but with equal importance, cleansing it with microbes would satisfy the consumers, Commoners, and higher status alike, and greatly contribute to its palpability.

Lance knew the significance of the deal. Top Executives of these private corporations had budget constraints due to a worse economy, short-changing their services to the masses.

With 40% dirty water due to the lack of Tyllrium filtration, there was also a 40% shortage of water supply to the citizens. If this predicament persists, citizens will rage to a state of emergency because of the lack of potable water.

And who would take the fall?

Grebert of WWMD Facility 2.

"What else do you need, Mister Grebert?" Lance fished upon the need. He had leverage for the supply of uncommon, rare, and masterwork-level materials and electronic components.

"Do you have salt, kid?" Grebert asked after releasing a great sigh.