Two hundred and thirty-one taka.
Yesterday's count. But when Rudo woke this morning, that number wasn't the first thing that came to him.
The first thing was a question: What do I invest in today?
Following the System's instruction, he straightened his spine, closed his eyes, slowed his breathing. He searched for that point at the center of his chest â€" the faint warmth from yesterday.
It was still there. Not diminished by a hair. Not grown either.
He sat for half an hour. Nothing changed that the eye could see. But he didn't stop â€" this kind of thing doesn't change in a single day, and for what doesn't change in a single day, showing up every day is the only way through.
When he finally opened his eyes, he recorded a single line in his mental ledger: Day one. Visible result â€" zero. Effort â€" not zero.
---
Then he reorganized yesterday's information, this time as a balance sheet.
Four abilities. The System had said: subdue, upgrade, borrow power, transform.
At first they'd seemed equally important. Thought through properly, it was clear they weren't parallel â€" they were sequential. To upgrade, he'd first need to subdue. To borrow power, he'd first need to subdue. To transform, he'd likely need to subdue the most â€" the most powerful of all.
Every road led to the same place.
Subdue. That was the first investment. Everything else would stand on top of it.
Something else crystallized, too. His market schemes â€" selling the painting, the burger trick â€" each one was a one-time transaction. Work once, done. But if an Alien was subdued, that wasn't a one-time gain. It would be there every day, useful every day, and most importantly â€" it would grow on its own, if he gave it time.
One-time profit versus compounding profit. That distinction couldn't be learned in a marketplace. The System had taught it to him.
Invest in what compounds. That was the intelligent move.
---
But before any investment, terms had to be set. Jumping in blind was foolishness.
He laid down three conditions.
First â€" it had to be weak. Weak enough that failure wouldn't cost him his life.
Second â€" it had to be something nobody wanted. What everyone wants has competition around it, surveillance, questions. What nobody wants requires no permission to take.
Third â€" it couldn't be completely worthless. Nothing is built from nothing. There had to be some capacity, however small, that could be built upon later.
With those three conditions fixed in his mind, he went out. On the way he bought a little bread from a stall â€" ten taka, not for himself.
---
Today he didn't search inside the market. He searched the edges â€" where the broken buildings clustered, where rubbish gathered, where he himself lived.
Because that was where unwanted things collected. Human or Alien alike.
After about an hour of walking, something caught his eye. Beside a crumbling wall, small, curled into itself â€" a body. Its color was a pale green, close to grey. One side was thinner than it should have been, as though something inside had dried up and collapsed. Six slender limbs, two of them perfectly still.
When Rudo approached, it didn't move. Only its eyes â€" if they were eyes â€" shifted slightly in his direction.
People walked past on the lane nearby. Nobody looked. This Alien was no threat, no opportunity. The Star Union wouldn't touch it â€" a body this diminished had nothing to extract. It couldn't be sold, couldn't be put to work, couldn't frighten anyone.
So no one saw it.
---
Rudo stood at a distance for a while.
A thought arrived that he couldn't quite push away: ten days ago, he had been exactly this. Unseen. Unwanted. Worthless.
That thought stopped him for a moment.
Then he asked himself â€" is this pause helping me decide, or getting in the way?
The answer was clear. Getting in the way.
Similarity wasn't a reason to change course. If anything, the opposite â€" he knew what it felt like to be worthless, which meant he also knew that the path out of worthlessness opened with someone's decision, someone's investment. Someone had given him that chance â€" an Alien, freely, through the dark thing it had left behind.
Today he would do the same, from the other side.
He ran the numbers once more. Worst case: ten taka of bread wasted, one afternoon lost. Best case: an asset that compounds daily.
There was no comparison. There was no reason not to.
He walked forward.
---
He crouched down at a small distance. Moving in too fast would frighten even a weakened creature, and a frightened creature becomes unpredictable â€" and unpredictable things can't be invested in.
He set a piece of bread on the ground. Didn't toss it â€" just placed it. Left the rest to the creature's own decision.
For a long time, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, one thin limb moved toward the food. Drew it a little closer. Then the piece was gone â€" how it was consumed, he couldn't quite make out.
He placed another piece.
A question rose in his mind, directed straight at the System.
Is this weak enough?
Weak enough. But remember â€" your own capacity is limited too. Full subdual isn't possible yet. What's possible is a seed bond â€" a connection like a single thread, not full ownership.
How do I do it?
Remember the point in your chest?
I do.
You'll need to give a part of it. Not all â€" giving everything you have will hollow you out, and hollow is dangerous. Just a part.
---
Rudo paused.
That point was his only real accumulation â€" yesterday's effort, this morning's half hour. It was still barely anything. But it was everything he had.
To give a part of it was to put a fraction of all he owned at risk.
But he'd already run that calculation.
Do it.
The System didn't explain how in words â€" it showed him a sensation, the way it had shown him the sensation of analysis that very first time.
Rudo turned his attention to the point in his chest. This time he didn't draw outward â€" he pulled inward, trying to draw a thin thread out from within himself and extend it toward the creature sitting before him.
The first attempt failed. The thread dissolved before it could form.
The second made it partway, then stopped.
On the third â€" a faint contact. The creature's body shivered, just slightly. Its eyes, those strange eyes, turned directly toward him for the first time.
A thread formed. Thin, barely there â€" but formed.
The point in his chest felt smaller, as though something had left it. In exchange, a new sensation arrived â€" not distant, but very close, as though the edge of the creature's existence had crossed into the border of his own awareness.
This is the seed bond, said the System. Incomplete. But a beginning.
---
Rudo sat for a while longer, trying to understand the new feeling.
The creature had shifted slightly toward him. It had closed the distance on its own.
The thought of giving it a name surfaced, briefly.
He let it go.
A name meant a relationship. A relationship meant emotion. Emotion meant hesitation before decisions. For now, this was an asset â€" his first asset, the first entry on the ledger. If the ledger grew long, naming each one would make the accounting impossible.
Later, when the time came, there would be names. Not now.
He tallied it once more: he had spent a fraction of a point and formed one seed bond. If he kept cultivating it, it would grow. However small this creature's own power was, it was now entered on his side of the ledger.
Zero to one.
How one became two â€" that was the next question.
---
As he stood to leave, something caught his attention.
At the mouth of the lane, a man was standing â€" not far off, looking in his direction. Ordinary clothes, but something in the way he stood was different. Not the way a passerby stands. The way someone stands when they aren't just walking â€" when they're watching.
Rudo didn't look away quickly. He rose at a natural pace, turned without glancing at the creature, and began walking in the other direction.
Once the man was out of his line of sight, he turned his head to check.
No one there.
Could be coincidence. Could be not.
He filed it away â€" on a separate list in his mind. The suspicion list.
Has someone noticed?
Possibly. In this world, those who work with power can sense it moving in others, even from a distance. Today was the first time you moved it. If someone felt it, there's nothing strange in that.
Danger?
Can't say yet. But caution would be wise.
Walking back, Rudo thought: one asset created today, and perhaps one pair of eyes. Gain and risk arrive together. That much he'd already learned.
---
Before sleep, he reviewed the day's numbers one final time.
One seed bond. One possible observer. Two hundred and twenty-one taka remaining.
Today's entry in the ledger of profit and loss was legible: gain â€" significant. Loss â€" minor. Risk â€" uncertain.
That uncertainty would be his companion from here on. Every gain would bring a new question. Every question would demand a new calculation.
Those who can't keep the count don't get far on this road.
Rudo keeps the count.
---