As Jeremiah stepped closer, the QTM flickered to life with a soft chime. Light spilled from the machine's polished surface as a screen shimmered above the central console — a vivid, floating hologram rather than the crisp, System-blue window he was used to.

——————❇——————

Please choose display mode.

Display mode may be changed at any time in the kiosk settings.

[Holographic Display]

[HUD Link]

[Psionic VR]

——————❇——————

Jeremiah paused, considering his options. The last two sounded convenient for privacy, but he doubted most locals would have HUD implants, and he had no idea what "Psionic VR" even entailed. He wanted to experience what the average customer would see — the way someone from the Outskirts, used to battered terminals and clunky tech, might first interact with the machine.

He pressed the holographic option. Instantly, the screen refreshed, a new prompt spilling across the projection.

——————❇——————

New user detected. Would you like to create an account?

[Yes]

[No]

——————❇——————

He blinked. Create an account? It made sense, he realized. Without System access, customers would need some way to store their marks, track exchanges, maybe even cash out. Jeremiah tapped [Yes].

Again, the display cleared, revealing another brief message:

——————❇——————

Engaging Privacy Shield.

——————❇——————

With a barely audible hum, a translucent shimmer expanded from the QTM, settling into a bubble around Jeremiah and the kiosk. The air inside felt charged — just a faint, static tingle on his skin. Looking out, he found the world transformed: the rest of the shop warped and fractured, as if seen through colored glass tiles, blurry and abstract. Whatever was happening inside this little pocket was now his alone.

He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting a curious Billy or Mero to peer in. Instead, the shop's interior remained muted, silent, and distant.

Turning back, he read the latest prompt:

——————❇——————

Please select the account setup method.

[Manual Entry]

[Link Existing Account – See Applicable Bank and Financial Institutes]

[Mental Scan]

——————❇——————

Jeremiah let out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. Out here, most folks guarded their privacy like it was gold. Linking a bank account was a hard sell, even if nearly everyone had one — at least, somewhere. As for a mental scan… why was that even an option? It wasn't like Psionics or the Dream in general had a poor reputation. The etiquette and culture around Dreamer gifts had evolved around consent, trust, and strict boundaries. At least on Nexus.

He selected [Manual Entry], defaulting to the most familiar, least intrusive option. The following screen was, thankfully, straightforward. No invasive questions, just the kind of basic info any local bank might require: identifiers, a brief bioscan, and a signature. Nothing unusual, nothing that would scare off the Outskirts crowd. Jeremiah filled in the fields, watching his reflection flicker in the polished alloy of the QTM, already imagining the kind of regulars this little miracle of a machine might one day draw through his doors.

——————❇——————

Welcome to the QTM located at [The Mystical Menagerie]

[Balance]

[Deposit]

[Withdraw]

[Exchange]

[Appraisal]

[Help]

——————❇——————

Jeremiah paused, taking in the lineup of sleek buttons. The first three looked familiar enough, just like any ATM menu in Central or the Outskirts. But it was the last two that held his attention.

"Exchange and Appraisal… Exchange what?" he murmured under his breath. He knew he could tap [Help] and get a breakdown, but something in him wanted to see it play out in real-time, to learn by doing.

He hesitated for only a moment, then reached out and tapped [Exchange].

The holographic menu rippled, the welcome message scattering like water disturbed by a stone. In its place, a new interface blossomed: elegant, layered, pulsing with shifting color. Endless rows of currency names flickered across the display, each bracketed by animated graphs. Some currencies Jeremiah recognized instantly — Nexus Credits, Union Marks, Guild Scrip — while others felt like the punchlines to inside jokes between alien bankers. Some glowed with familiar planetary icons, others with swirling runes or even animated mascots.

Thousands more scrolled beneath: barter credits, mining vouchers, magical promissory notes, and even tokens from distant colony worlds. At a glance, it was a riot of symbols and numbers — each one alive, each pulsing with its own rhythm.

He let his gaze wander, curiosity mounting with every line he scrolled past. Exchange rates blinked and updated in real-time. Some currencies seemed almost boring in their stability. Others were a frenzied dance, the value jumping and plunging second by second. Each currency, he realized, told a story: a kingdom in crisis, a boomtown on another planet, a trade guild pushing some new artifact as collateral.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Jeremiah blinked, soaking in the spectacle. Just as he wondered how anyone could possibly keep up, a sleek sidebar unfurled at the screen's edge, unprompted.

——————❇——————

Tip: All rates are set and enforced by the System's central exchange, ensuring fair value based on current local and interstellar markets. Hover for details, tap for transaction history, or select any currency to initiate an instant transfer.

——————❇——————

He let out a low whistle. "This thing could probably keep a whole team of accountants busy for weeks," he muttered, unable to help a grudging note of admiration.

Even something nagged him.

"Mero," Jeremiah called, not doubting for one second the fairy guide could hear him, even behind the privacy shield. Sure enough, the next moment, Mero had appeared over his shoulder, his arms folded and a cheeky smile playing across his lips as he hovered there.

"What's up, kid? Get lost in the numbers?" Mero teased, hovering closer. "Word of advice: Forex is for the lucky or the stupid. Try to play the market and you'll only end up burned."

Jeremiah shook his head. "No, not that. Something else is bugging me."

"Oh?" Mero lifted a brow, his expression sharp with interest.

Jeremiah turned back to the swirling array of screens. "You've already hinted there's more going on behind the scenes of the System than you can say…" His gaze lingered on the endless scroll of currencies, the pulsing graphs, the living market. "But all of this—" he gestured at the glowing display, "—this feels like something way beyond a handful of people, or even companies, working for the System."

Mero's grin widened, sly and bright.

"It's almost like…" Jeremiah hesitated, feeling the idea take shape. "It's almost like the System is trying to standardize Quantum Marks. Like there's already a whole economy built around them."

Mero laughed, clapping Jeremiah on the shoulder with a light touch. "More than that. I told ya before, that the System Store was one of the first things Sarah set up in the System. And let me tell ya — some very powerful entities, with a real interest in your sister's work, have gone to a lot of trouble to make sure Quantum Marks aren't just recognized, but positioned to become the new universal baseline for trade."

Jeremiah stared, jaw slack as the implications settled in. "What? That's… impossible. No one's managed a universal standard before. There's just too much difference in value, between species, between worlds — even between trading guilds!"

There had been attempts, of course. Every digital credit or barter token that had tried to bridge the gaps between the Core and the outer worlds. Some worked for a while, but none ever truly lasted. Even Nexus Credits, backed by the Core Worlds, weren't accepted everywhere — especially not on the fringes.

Mero smirked, eyes twinkling. "You're right. It's never been done before. But all those other attempts? They weren't backed by raw potential."

Jeremiah froze, letting the fairy's words sink in. Backed by raw potential. "Marks aren't just currency," he said slowly. "They're quantified potential…"

Mero nodded, looking as proud as a parent on graduation day. "And potential's valuable to everyone, no matter who or what they are. Anyone can use marks, as long as they have System access."

A slow smile crept across Jeremiah's face as he worked through the logic, piece by piece. "So the System's whole economy is about trading potential. And anyone — anyone at all — can use potential."

"Now you're getting it, kid! The System's economy is the trade of possibility. And everyone needs that, sooner or later."

Jeremiah's awed expression slipped into a frown.

"There's one thing I don't get. I thought you said I was the first System user. How can there already be a working economy?"

"Ah!" Mero lifted a finger, his eyes twinkling. "Now, I don't believe I ever said that, exactly."

Jeremiah opened his mouth to protest but paused. No… Mero had never directly called him the first user.

He had definitely implied it though, Jeremiah thought, his annoyance flickering beneath the surface.

Likely reading his expression, Mero spoke up. "If you want a better way to put it: you're the first user of the full System. The way it was meant to work, with all the pieces finally in place."

He folded his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. "But bits and pieces of the subsystems have been running for a while now. Missions, achievements, and plenty more. Some things you won't even get to see with your Iteration. There are a handful of people out there, scattered across Reliquum, who've had access to one piece or another for several years now."

"Like the shop," Jeremiah said.

Mero nodded. "Exactly. The Shop's the only part that's truly universal so far. Right now, the System's tailoring your access, but if you prove yourself trustworthy, eventually you'll be able to spend marks on… anything."

Mero shrugged. "Or at least, that's the plan."

The weight of Mero's revelation settled on Jeremiah's chest, as heavy and unyielding as stone. He stood at the threshold of something far bigger than a single shop, bigger even than Nexus itself. The scope of it was dizzying — almost too much to grasp.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, drawing in a steadying breath. "One step at a time, Jeremiah," he murmured. "Focus on what you can actually control."

Cosmic economies and whatever world-spanning schemes Sarah had gotten herself tangled in could wait. For now, he had to focus on his shop. On today, on what was in front of him.

He flicked his attention back to the QTM's menu. He exited the dizzying array of currency exchange screens, letting the flood of numbers dissolve from view. After a heartbeat's hesitation, he tapped [Appraisal] instead.

A clear chime rang from the QTM. A disk of soft, white light shimmered into being on the kiosk's surface, illuminating a recessed platform.

——————❇——————

Please place any item to be appraised onto the disk.

——————❇——————

Jeremiah gazed down at the disk, brow furrowed. In that quiet moment, he realized he'd overlooked something important.

"Do I even have anything worth selling?" He glanced around at the battered chairs and threadbare couches, the scavenged tables slumped against the walls.

A thread of doubt began to tug at him. Had he made a mistake with the QTM? What use was access to a universal market if he had nothing of value to offer?

He let out a frustrated breath, shoulders tense.

Mero, perched atop the QTM, let out a dismissive snort. "Who says you've got nothing, kid?"

Jeremiah blinked. "What do you mean? I'm hardly sitting on a treasure trove here."

Mero waved at the clutter of mismatched furniture and broken shelves crowding the room. "You've got all that. The old stuff from the Maddock building. Maybe it's seen better days — but to the System, even junk has potential."

Jeremiah looked again at the jumble of worn, wobbly pieces, seeing them with fresh eyes. He'd meant to haul them to the dump or leave them for scavengers. But if the QTM could extract even a sliver of value…

He rolled his shoulders, tension giving way to something lighter. "Well. If I'm going to build something new, might as well let the past pay its way."

Mero grinned, eyes twinkling. "That's the spirit!"

With the beginnings of a smile, Jeremiah started dragging one of the battered chairs toward the glowing disk.

——————————————————

A short while later, the front room of the Mystical Menagerie looked emptier than it had since Jeremiah first stepped through the door. He worked in a focused, steady silence, hauling each battered chair, splintered table, and wobble-legged stool to the QTM's softly glowing disk. To his surprise, every piece — no matter how awkward or oversized — began to ripple and contract as it neared the platform, compressing itself to fit without a hint of resistance. Even the old steel shelving and the sagging armchair with stuffing leaking from the side shrank into neat, manageable shapes before vanishing in a shimmer of light.

By the time Jeremiah rolled the last crooked end table onto the disk, his shoulders burned with effort, sweat prickled along his brow, and a fine layer of dust coated his hands. Still, he couldn't help but smile at the newly cleared, wide-open space.

It might look empty now, but his mind's eye was filled with what it would soon become.

He paused to check the QTM's balance window, and his heart gave a relieved little leap — his account had climbed just past what he needed to finish outfitting the shop, if only by a slim margin. Not much to spare, but enough.

He glanced at Mero, who lounged atop the kiosk with his hands behind his head, watching the proceedings with obvious satisfaction.

"Why was all that junk worth so much?" Jeremiah asked, brushing dust from his palms. "I figured I'd be lucky to get pocket change for the lot."

Mero grinned, wings flickering. "First, you hauled over a lot more than you think. Quantity counts, especially when half of Central tosses their scraps without a second thought." He ticked points off on his fingers. "Second, you had a couple of hidden gems — old Maddock antiques, original fixtures from the bakery next door. That kind of thing has value to the right buyer, or the right Iteration."

He winked. "And third? The QTM doesn't just care about what things fetch on the open market. It weighs the effort — the sweat, the choices, the history that brought it all here. Even junk has value when it's part of what you've earned. Call it potential repaid."

Jeremiah let that sink in, a quiet pride blooming in his chest. He nodded, exhaling slowly.

"Well, here goes nothing," he said. With a thought, he reopened the System store, loading his carefully curated cart — new shelves, practical seating, a few warm light fixtures, and all the little things he'd chosen before to make the place feel like home.

He clicked finalize, and with that simple act, the future of the Mystical Menagerie took its first true shape.

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