Episode 110 — The Golden Deadlock (Part 1)

For three days and three nights, my brain’s CPU had been redlining as I hammered out the "Social Security Patch." My memory ended with the final period being typed into the last line of code before my consciousness performed a mandatory shutdown.

Slowly, my vision returned, like a low-resolution monitor struggling to boot up. My eyelids were heavy. Every joint in my body screamed, feeling like a pile of scrap metal that had rusted into place after being left in a chair for far too long.

"…Ah, Zect. You’re awake."

Right next to my recliner, Gustav was peering down at me with a look that was more like a prayer than a greeting. His expression held none of the dignity of a Lord, but rather the raw concern of a young man worried about his friend’s safety. In the background, Argo was staring intensely at the massive pile of calculation notes I’d left behind, his fingers snapping in the air as he performed a mental verification of my math.

"…Morning, Gustav. How long was I offline?"

"Only a few hours. I was starting to worry if you were still breathing."

I downed the remains of a lukewarm Cola in one go. The sugar hit my nervous system, finally reconnecting the circuits and clearing the fog in my mind. With a shaky hand, I pointed to the memo on the table—the one where Gustav had written his "ideal": Distribute factory profits equally to all citizens.

"…We need to talk about that. About why your ‘ultimate act of benevolence’ is actually a toxic virus that will physically destroy this country."

"I’ve been thinking about it the entire time you were asleep, Zect. But I still don't understand. The Gara-Mon Factory creates wealth. Instead of offering that wealth to the Lord or letting merchants monopolize it, we share it equally with the people. …Is there any act more righteous or beautiful? Why is it forbidden?"

Gustav’s voice held a note of genuine pain. It was the unadulterated sense of justice of someone who sees hungry people, sees a surplus of gold in his hands, and can’t fathom why converting that wealth into bread for his citizens would be wrong.

(And that’s the problem. That ‘righteousness’ is the most dangerous thing of all. A ‘benevolent command’ from an admin who doesn’t understand the system specs is the fastest way to turn the entire environment into a wasteland.)

"Meow. (I really wish I could show you your death-warmed-over face in a mirror right now. You’re really going to keep lecturing him in that state?)"

"…Quiet, Tama. I’m in the middle of a critical debug. …Listen, Gustav. You’re making a fundamental error. You’re confusing ‘increasing the numbers’ with ‘actual prosperity’."

I leaned my recliner back up slightly and picked up a bread basket from the table.

"…Where I came from, there was a mysterious god called ‘Economic Growth.’ All the adults in the country would obsess over the nation’s production capacity, celebrating or mourning based on what percentage it rose compared to the previous year. …But do you know what those numbers actually were? They were just values on a display."

"…Values?"

"Yeah. You can fake numbers all you want. If you print money like crazy and force people to consume, the country looks rich on the surface. But look at what happens to the people’s lives behind those numbers. …Prices skyrocket, working hours increase, and everyone ends up in a living hell where they have to run constantly just to maintain the digits. It’s like blowing up a balloon that has nothing inside. And you’re trying to force-install that ‘void’ into Felsen."

I took a loaf of bread from the basket and placed it in front of Gustav.

"Felsen doesn't have a Central Bank—an institution that regulates the flow of currency. Therefore, profit distribution directly results in an ‘increase in the money supply.’ Are you with me so far?"

"Yes, that is the reality of Felsen."

"Then let's play a logic game. Suppose there are only ten thousand loaves of bread available in all of Felsen. Money is only used to buy bread. Now, let’s say the total amount of money circulating in the market is one hundred thousand silver coins. …In this case, the market value of one loaf of bread is logically ten silver coins, right?"

"…Yes. If it is only used for bread, the math is simple," Argo answered calmly.

"Okay. Now, Gustav hits the ‘Distribute Profit’ command. You dump factory wealth into the market and spike the total money supply to one million silver coins. …But here’s the catch: the number of bakers, the wheat harvest—none of that increases tenfold overnight. …Now, what happens to the price of one loaf of bread?"

Gustav’s expression froze.

"…The amount of bread stays at ten thousand, but the money becomes ten times greater. …So, one loaf of bread becomes… one hundred silver coins?"

"Exactly. That’s ‘Inflation’—the dilution of currency value. The citizens have more gold coins in their pockets, but what they could buy for one coin yesterday now costs ten. …You haven’t increased the amount of bread in their stomachs; you’ve just added zeros to their wallets. …Tell me, where is the ‘beautiful salvation’ in that?"

I tore off a piece of bread and began munching on it loudly.

"But it gets worse. The supply process dies. …Think about it. If the state hands out money for doing nothing, who’s going to get covered in flour and bake bread at dawn? Who’s going to toil in the mud to farm the wheat? …The moment the bakers decide they ‘don’t need to work anymore’ and close their shops, the number of loaves in the market drops from ten thousand to one thousand. Meanwhile, there’s a mountain of money. …At that point, money is just a pile of dirty metal. No one will sell to you; you can't buy anything. …That, Gustav, is a full-scale ‘System Crash.’ The total dissolution of a nation."

Gustav was speechless, staring at his own hands. The gold coins he had wanted to press into his people’s palms now looked like flames that would incinerate the very foundation of their lives.

"…You’re saying my benevolence was a poison that would rob them of their livelihoods and turn Felsen to ash…? Then why?! Why are we building this factory that generates massive wealth?! If I cannot give it to my people, what am I supposed to protect?!"

Gustav’s cry echoed hollowly against the study walls. As if waiting for that moment of despair, I pulled over the ‘True Specifications’ I had prepared.

"That’s why we don’t use an unstable protocol like ‘money.’ We’re going to apply a direct patch at a much lower level. …Gustav, your job isn't to hand out liquid cash. Your job is to use the system infrastructure to squash the root-cause bug that makes them hoard coin in the first place—the legacy error called ‘Anxiety’."

At my words, a faint light returned to Gustav’s eyes, which had been clouded by despair. From here, it was time to explain a true ‘National Architecture’—one that overcame the failures of the modern world.

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