The Merchant

A piece of flash fiction.

Between the urban musk of ozone, piss, and aging grime, and the constant bustle in the streets, Kinner Valpash knew it was going to be a busy market day. Or at least he hoped. That wasn’t unusual for the last weekend of the month, but lately, people had been more demanding, bordering on mean.

Then again, when someone bought an Old Earth relic just to find out it wasn’t exactly real… well… that could play a part in it. Kinner chuckled to himself as he unpacked his cart of wares and placed them on the shelves within his booth.

He pulled out a stack of digital video discs and laid a few of them face up.

Top Gun
Terminator 2: Judgment Day
The Last Action Hero
Avatar
Parappa the Rappa

Old Earth loved its entertainment — that much was obvious. Things must’ve been bad if so many people escaped into fantasy instead of facing whatever was actually going on. To the average Reacher, though, these discs were “historical documents.” Of course, no one could actually view them. The tech was too crude, too old, and no one cared enough to learn how it worked.

He reached under the cart, pulled out a box, and opened it. Translucent orange cylinders with white caps filled it. Inside each bottle were a handful of various tablets. Kinner had found these while cleaning out a storage facility last year and it had made him laugh. People used to eat these to stabilize their mood or keep their bodies from making a quick exit to the bathroom. No need for that anymore in The Reach. The government had universal healthcare and even went a step further, providing a medchip to each person when they were born. With that, they could monitor your health, prescribe medication, and let you know if you needed to come in for a checkup. Kinner wasn’t a fan of the constant monitoring, but there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. You remove it, you die.

He placed the pills onto a shelf marked “Ancient Mood Stabilizers — Genupharm XL (probably)” and continued rummaging through whatever he had left.

Once everything was set, he turned his Open sign on. It crackled with electricity before settling into a low, almost unnoticeable hum. The market square was officially open for the day.

Even with heavy foot traffic, not too many folks seemed interested in what he had to offer. Some stopped to pick up a sneaker, checked the price, then set it back down and moved on. A couple of people showed interest in the lighters, but when they found out they needed to supply their own butane, they passed.

A young human boy approached and immediately picked up the handheld video game system, its translucent purple shell showing off the circuitry inside.

“That’s a game. Want to try it out?” Kinner looked up at the boy’s guardian as they caught up. Their long nose swayed gently. D’jurra were among the friendliest humanoids in the Reaches, and this one gave the boy a pat on the head with their long fingers.

“Just for a minute, Lief. We need to get back to your parents,” they said. Their voice was feminine and faintly muffled.

Kinner turned the game on and passed it to the boy. Then he turned to the D’jurra and asked, “Looking for anything in particular, or just passing time?”

They lifted a bag of groceries. “Just picking up a few things for Lief’s dinner. It’s his birthday, and he requested fried calamari and peanut butter sandwiches.”

Kinner raised his eyebrows. “That’s a rare combo. Expensive palette,” he said, glancing at the boy who was now focused on stomping turtles and mushrooms.

“How old are you today, Liam?”

The boy didn’t answer — just sighed in frustration as his character died on-screen.

“He’s nine,” Oro said. “He doesn’t usually eat like this. It’s a birthday exception. Although—” She leaned in slightly, shielding her mouth from the boy. “His parents can afford it.”

Kinner nodded. “Gotcha. Well, I know you’re short on time. Want me to wrap the game system, or did you have your eye on something else?”

Oro smiled politely. “I don’t have authorization to buy that for him using my employer’s funds, but I’d be happy to purchase that one with my own.” They pointed to a timepiece with a bright orange wristband and a scuffed face.

“It requires a charger, which I don’t have, unfortunately.”

“That’s fine,” Oro said. “I like the color. I’d love to wear it.” They extended her palm to reveal their embedded payment chip.

Kinner tapped his own palm and waved it over theirs. His eyes glowed green for an instant, theirs red, as the transfer went through.

“Give me just a minute and I’ll get this wrapped up for you.”

He turned and froze. A little human girl was standing behind his booth. He may have jumped slightly.

“Oh. Hello,” he said, bending down, peering around a stack of boxes to get closer to her level.

“Looking for something? Where’s your guardian, little one?”

The girl said nothing. She lifted a long object wrapped in a scarf.

“Oh, I can’t buy anything from children. Where is your guardian? If they’re around, I’d be happy to take a look.”

“Yours,” she said, holding it toward him. Her eyes didn’t blink.

He chuckled. “No, I can’t take that, dear. I need to know where it came from.”

“Yours,” she said again.

Kinner glanced back toward Liam and his guardian. They both smiled in his direction. He raised one finger — just a moment — and turned back.

The girl was gone. She wasn’t walking away from him and he didn’t see her slipping into the crowd. She was just gone.

But the object was still there, resting on the table exactly where she had been. The scarf still wrapped tightly around it. The paracord tied in a clean loop like a gift.

He blinked, then stepped closer, scanning the crowd instinctively.
No sign of her. No trace.

“Sir? We need to get going. Is there an issue with the timepiece?”

He grabbed the watch, wrapped it in brown paper, and tied it with twine. “No trouble at all. Someone dropped off an item I wasn’t expecting. Here you go.”

He handed the package over and gave Liam a quick pat on the head. “Happy birthday, kid.”

The guardian smiled and took Liam by the hand. “Thank you, Mister,” the little boy called as they made their way into the crowded sidewalk traffic.

Kinner turned back to the wrapped object. It wasn’t the first time someone had left something behind. But never a kid. And never like this. This didn’t feel right.

The scarf smelled faintly of woodsmoke. Or was that just his nerves?

He grabbed his scissors and snipped the paracord, slowly unwrapping it.

It was an arm. A chrome arm with no hand. It looked like it could be worn. But what could it do?