Freelance On The Galactic Tunnel Network by E. Foner (best beach reads of all time TXT) 📗

surveys during the long ride back up to orbit. Can anybody guess the most frequent answer to the question about their biggest disappointment after visiting?”

“Air quality,” somebody shouted.

“Lack of anatomically correct public restrooms,” a wit suggested.

“Crime?” asked one of Fanny’s family who was standing behind Hildy.

“All of your answers appeared with some frequency, but the number one complaint was the retail environment,” Hildy told them. “Other than the occasional street vendor, the lack of outdoor markets in popular tourist areas is what bothered the aliens most. Many of them said that they would have spent more creds on souvenirs and handicrafts if they’d had the opportunity, but retail stores on Earth are designed for human shoppers and human sensibilities.”

“So you want us to travel to Earth to sell local products to aliens?” a trader asked incredulously.

“The first part of the initiative is to fund visiting-trader positions for those of you who are willing to mentor locals in presenting their merchandise and doing business with aliens,” Hildy explained. “We’ll cover your expenses plus a stipend, and of course, any profits you earn trading on your own account remain yours.”

“Talk is cheap,” somebody called out. “Where is EarthCent getting the money?”

“They’re cleaning up on the All Species Cookbook,” another trader in the crowd informed the skeptic. “I just came from Union Station and they can’t keep up with the demand. I have two thousand hardcover copies of the Frunge edition if anybody wants to talk business.”

“The second part of the initiative, which all of you can take part in even if you have no intention of ever visiting Earth, is telling people about it,” Hildy continued. “EarthCent ambassadors are in the process of negotiating deals with the leading travel agencies from all of the tunnel network species. As soon as those agreements are in place, you’ll be able to promote low-cost package tours with the Twenty-Second Century Bazaar branding.”

“Why would we cut our own throats by sending business to Earth?” an older trader demanded.

“Commission,” Hildy responded. “The details have yet to be finalized, but we’re hoping to be able to pay five percent of the total value of the tour package as a finder’s fee.”

“Why?” the same trader asked suspiciously.

“Because advertising is expensive. You don’t want to know what twenty-six seconds of commercial time during the broadcast of a Grenouthian documentary costs. And who’s in a better position than yourselves to recognize prospects who might be willing to travel to Earth for some shopping? Given the cost and the time commitment required, we’re talking about a tiny percentage of your customer base, so you won’t be competing with yourselves.”

“How is it going to work, the commission thing?” another of Fanny’s offspring asked. “Do we have to show up at the travel agency with the prospect?”

“We’ve licensed a system of unique discount codes from the Drazens,” Hildy explained. “It’s all handled through your mini-registers, the Stryx take a small percentage. After you sign up at any EarthCent embassy or consulate, your programmable cred will be added to our existing payroll system and you’ll be supplied with Drazen coupon blanks. When you have a prospect, you’ll enter a null tourism sale into your mini-register which will produce a unique code. Copy that code into the coupon blank, which offers a ten percent discount on the travel package.”

“And the commission gets paid to my programmable cred?”

 “The travel agencies will remit the code to EarthCent for reimbursement, and the next time you slot your programmable cred into your own mini-register, you’ll be paid. If you want to pre-register so we can get an idea of the demand for the coupon blanks, I can take names now.”

  With that statement, the line for pancakes split like a river that had suddenly discovered a new channel, and half of the people already seated at picnic tables also queued up to supply their contact information for Hildy to enter into her tab.

“Well, that’s something,” Larry commented to Georgia. “It’s probably worth signing up for, but I’ll wait until the next time I’m on a Stryx station and do it at the embassy.”

“EarthCent must be making even more on the cookbook than I thought,” she replied. “Did I tell you my name is in the credits?”

“Miss, uh, reporter,” a familiar voice said behind her, and she turned to find Daryl with a woman of around the same age. “This is Kobby. Tell her what you just told me,” he instructed his companion.

“I was visiting Earth for the first time last month, and I was approached by a person liquidating a museum collection,” Kobby began. “I don’t deal in shady goods, I know too many traders who have lost their shirts that way, but this woman had been a curator and she had all of the documentation.”

“Do you mind if I record this?” Georgia asked, pulling her reporter’s tab from her belt pouch.

“Yes, I mean, no, I don’t mind. I want you to publish this. The museum was in a small city, and the curator explained that they had consolidated their collection with another museum in a better location, and she was tasked with selling the leftovers to raise operating cash. I keep most of my money in merchandise, but the deal was so good that I went to the closest MORE branch office. Their reps had introduced themselves to me on Echo Station just a few months earlier, and even though I wasn’t interested in a cash-out refi or Advantage, I kept their contact info.”

“So you did a mortgage refi and couldn’t keep up with the payments?”

“It’s worse than that,” Daryl put in. “Tell her, Kobby.”

“I bought two full sets of armor and spent the rest on swords and other old weapons since I know that the aliens will buy any of that stuff at a premium. I received all of the paperwork