The Industrialist

Chapter 32: SARS

Science Aspirants Registration Service (SARS), was an impractical building. Lance always hated the site of it. Reinforced doors, protruding large beams from the sides, plated with laminated slabs of concrete, and a military-grade locking system.

It had these impervious materials used in the base of the building but only supported two floors.

A total waste of materials.

SARS building could be construed as a bunker during the Nuclear World War. It fits the description perfectly. It had no windows, was rectangular sized, and was rigid-looking. It was elevated though from the ground but only five steps of stairs.

’It must have an underground basement or something,’ Lance thought as he strolled upon the tiled external steps, manicured by fine-formed stones.

Lance spat upon the site of it.

Impractical use of materials!

Frugality was the quality he knew best. The best quality materials fit for its use. However, the SARS building was screaming for the opposite.

If it was a human being, it is ostentatious.

The colossal doors made of reinforced steel, opened as the digital scanner on its side identified the holographic ID on his wrist.

’Lance Berkley, Scrapper 1,’ an AI’s voice emerged as his face appeared on the digital display.

’Scrapper 1 no more,’ Lance thought.

A fragrant cool air crept through the agape door as it gradually opened. Lance felt it on his shins. Despite the windowless structure, the interior was well-lighted, with counters at the far end and intimidating-looking individuals behind the metallic desks.

The Deskers, office-based staff, were all mid-classers that underwent paid education.

There were a lot of Science aspirants, though, like himself heaving the halls. Mid-classers, high-classers, and commoners alike mixed in the crowd having their own agenda.

But even with this crowd, the Mid and High-classers stood out even one would not stare at them for a long time. The jewelry, the clothes, the Unitech shades, and the oversized headphones defined their social class.

Today, he wore his signature jeans and pocketed jacket.

The site gave him the creeps, though. ’Dejavu’, Lance thought. The coolness of the airconditioned air was intensified. The fragrance too contributed to his shyness.

He saw younger ones, younger than him about twelve to fourteen years old, checking options on a digital advertisement monitor on the wide wall on the left.

"Free courses for Starters..." The digital display monitor announced in a loop. It showed the same three courses as years before his registration. Well, the onlookers were excited though.

"Don’t have much time, kid," Mari told him.

Lance placed the Cloud Archive on Mari’s open palm and Mari placed the Tab in a glass platform of the scanner beside her, so skillfully, while she turned the machine with a few touches on the touchpad and the other still typing on her holographic computer.

The scanner hummed gently and the machine turned off after a few seconds. All data in Lance’s Cloud Archive were transferred to her holographic computer.

"Lance Berkley, 16 years of Age, April 20, 2124, Steelpoint Sector, South Easter Regions of Axe Central City. Cabin 19. Confirm details."

"Yeah, correct," Lance responded without further teasing. His birthday, April 20th, struck him. He suddenly remembered that current month, September. They were nearing the December month, the coldest season ever, and the Abominants more active. He was unconcerned with the dangers beyond due to the presence of high walls unless another traitor would let an Abominant slip through underneath.

His concern majorly fell on the premise of high Abominant activity outside the walls which connotates disruption of his business logistically.

He must acquire Salt sooner before December, he thought. A deal also could be a game changer, moreover, would delay or prevent the occurrence of water shortage, especially in December.

They called it Demetrian Season.

"Checking Invention Patents – Water Dispenser Bioscanner," Mari said.

Lance only nodded. He was silenced by the thought. His Tyllrium trade probably would halt during this season. It would disrupt his momentum of gaining more units to acquire the Energy Accelerator.

’Probably it’s best to acquire the component or the salt for that matter after Demetrian,’ Lance thought. But it was not the best course of action, though. His acquisition of Energy Accelerator could wait but the provision of salts was of greater importance to prevent shortages.

As News had rampantly broadcasted, the Salt caravans mining in the North Mountains were always ambushed by the Abominants.

Any shortages in the Demetrian Season doubled its impact. The reason for which, Lance could not explain. People, mid-classers and high-classers, horde food supply a few months before Demetrian. Unfortunately for the low-lifers, if there was a shortage of any scarce resources, they had no choice but to prevail after the cold season.

"All boxes checked out," Mari said after a few minutes of checking his credentials and confirming the Currency Cards in the scanners. "Congratulations, you are a scrapper 2." She said it so uncheerfully.

"What kind of Assessor is that!" A young delightful voice appeared behind Lance.

Lance squinted at her back and the source of the voice came in sauntering fast towards the Desker. Her delightful voice matched her face. It was a girl, about his age.

Pony-tailed multi-colored hair, bright smoky eyes, heart-shaped face, and proportionate features. Her smile made Lance froze. The curt smile she paired with her smoky eyes staring at him was immensely beautiful that his Science rational wits could not fathom.

However, it was evident that she was way out of his league. She had silky clothes, layers of them, pieces of jewelry populating her neck, her wrists dangling gold, and a hoverboard on her side.

’Hoverboard,’ his stares shifted to the portable vehicle. ’These were prohibited for public use.’

"Hey, you, fellow Aspirant!" She spoke to him with her unceasing smile. Lance only had his agape jaw as he once again trapped to her blissful eyes, trying to utter a word but a simple ’hi’ never came.