Goldscript: The Infinite Ledger

Chapter 4: Crisis Capitalism..



[Access Granted: Emotional Mapping, Target Recognition, Passive Field Reaping (Dormant)]

Darren stood and Stretched. His limbs ached like he'd aged ten years overnight.

He opened the fridge. Still empty.

Pulled out his phone.

Scrolled.

Bank balance: $1,379.91

His thumb hovered over the screen.

Then he locked the phone and dropped it back on the counter.

"…Okay, food....."

***

He got dressed slowly—jeans, jacket, cracked boots, and stepped outside for the first time in maybe twenty four hours.

The sun was out, weak and grey above the city. He walked down the block with his hands deep in his pockets, eyes scanning faces.

The world hadn't changed.

But he definitely had.

Just then he noticed it.

Not a voice. Not a ping.

Just a… layer. Like a faint filter placed over reality. Words appearing above people's heads again.

[Target: Male, 42]

Emotion: Exhaustion | Bitterness

Yield Estimate: Low | Harvest Field: Inactive

A man in a suit lay against a lamppost, reading a rejection letter on his phone.

Next:

[Target: Female, 19]

Emotion: Nervousness | Hope

Yield Estimate: Minimal | Harvest Field: Inactive

She smiled nervously at someone in a café window. Her hand kept adjusting her hair.

Then:

[Target: Female, 60]

Emotion: Grief | Suppressed]

Yield Estimate: Moderate | Field Strength: Building…]

The woman held a wrinkled tissue and a box of old photographs. She was waiting at a bus stop alone.

***

Darren slowed to a stop.

The words faded when he blinked, but they always returned. Lingering.

This wasn't normal.

This was... profiling people's feelings. Like emotional price tags.

He didn't know if he wanted to puke or take notes.

Then the system spoke. Not aloud, but in clean, mechanical text that scrolled across his vision like a stock ticker from hell.

[System Protocol Tip: Emotional Mapping Activated]

You may now monitor nearby emotional states and yield estimates.

Field Reaping remains dormant until external catalyst is provided.

Darren scratched his jaw.

"Field reaping," he muttered. "So you want me to what? Start a cult? Stage a breakup? Poke someone until they cry?"

Silence.

"Well, just checking."

He continued walking, trying not to stare at anyone for too long. But the temptation was already curling at the edge of his thoughts. What did panic pay? Or rage? What if he pushed someone? Hurt someone? Flirted and left? Lied and watched them spiral?

He shook his head. "Nope. Not doing that."

A pause.

Then a sigh.

"Well…Yet."

Half a block down, a fight broke out.

Two men in an alleyway—shouting, shoving. The younger one looked frantic, holding his stomach. The older one had blood on his knuckles.

People turned to look, but no one moved to help.

Darren froze, heart pounding, not out of fear, but from the sudden glow in the air.

[High Emotional Field Detected]

Category: Violence | Desperation | Betrayal

Passive Reap Zone: Active (15%)

Yield Pending: $0.57… $0.83… $1.19…

WARNING: Host has not unlocked Passive Collection. Approaching without Catalyst may trigger error.

He took a step forward.

The text brightened, like the system was readying something.

But then one of the men pulled a knife.

Darren stepped back. Fast.

The numbers flickered.

The glow faded.

The world went quiet again.

He stood there in the crowd breathing fast, hand trembling in his pocket. Not from fear of the knife.

But from the realization of what he had almost done.

He didn't move to stop the fight.

He'd moved to get closer.

"…Jesus Christ," he whispered. "The hell is wrong with you?"

He wiped his hands on his jacket and turned around, walking fast in the opposite direction.

***

Back in his apartment, the door closed behind him like a vault sealing off the world.

He didn't check the system again.

Didn't need to.

He already had an idea the answer would be.

Because in life the economy of pain always wants more.

Then he remembered why he went out in the first —food, but now he was already too exhausted to go out again.

"Later, I guess."

***

[THE STORE - FEW HOURS LATER]

The corner store bell jingled when Darren pushed the door open.

He flinched a little. Not really at the sound, more at the normalcy of it.

Neon lights. Stale air. A kid arguing with his mom about candy near the soda fridge. The cashier scrolling on her phone like time owed her something.

Normal.

Ordinary.

Darren walked slowly down the aisles. He didn't know what he was doing here exactly. He had food on his mind, sure, but something in him just wanted to move. Wanted to be around people, even if only to prove he still could.

His eyes flicked automatically above people's heads.

The system text was fainter now. Almost like the system was giving him space.

Or the illusion of it.

He grabbed a cheap microwave meal, a loaf of bread, and a box of cereal. A bottle of water. It was a pitiful haul, but for the first time in weeks, he didn't check the price.

He walked to the counter.

The cashier looked up briefly.

"That it?"

"Yeah," Darren answered, fishing his card from his pocket.

It was the same card that had humiliated him few days ago. Declined in public. Loud beep. Staring eyes.

Now it cleared instantly.

PURCHASE: $17.23 — APPROVED

ACCOUNT: $1,362.68

Darren watched the number shrink. It hurt a little.

Not because he lost money.

But, maybe because he knew exactly what he'd spent.

He walked out into the street with the bag in one hand, the weight heavier than it should've been.

He hadn't told himself the truth yet.

But he knew it:

He had bought food with his mother's memory.

***

Back home, he ate in silence. Eyes unfocused. Fork moving on autopilot.

Every bite tasted… fine. It filled the void.

But he couldn't stop thinking..

Would she have wanted this? Would she have forgiven him?

He didn't remember what her voice sounded like when she said his name. Didn't remember the way she hugged him. Or the smell of her shampoo.

He'd given it up.

And yet…

He was full.

And alive.

And maybe—for the first time in years—not afraid of tomorrow.

The system didn't interrupt. It let him sit with the guilt.

Which somehow made it worse.

Then...

He pulled out a notebook and began writing. Trying to understand the system. Test it. Categorize it. Put a shape to the monstrous thing he was now part of.

Emotions = currency

Stronger the feeling, higher the yield

Physical pain doesn't count

Passive fields are real

External emotion harvest is locked unless… "catalyst"?

He circled that word twice.

Catalyst.

What did that mean?

Was he supposed to push people?

Break them?

Or… help them? Then feed off the aftermath?

His eyes narrowed.

There had to be a way to use this without becoming a villain.

Right?

He stood and walked to his window and looked out over the street. The city moved like a machine below—people hurrying, arguing, laughing, sighing.

He stared at a man in a wrinkled suit yelling into his phone.

[Emotion: Frustration | Yield Estimate: $1.03]

Then at a girl sitting alone on a bench with tear filled eyeliner.

[Emotion: Rejection | Yield Estimate: $3.92]

Then a mother carrying a sleeping toddler, shoulders sagging from exhaustion.

[Emotion: Devotion | Yield Estimate: Ineligible (Protected)]

Darren stopped.

Protected?

Before he could process it, the text faded.

He turned from the window.

"Nope," he said aloud. "Not going there."

But he could.

Hell, he might.

The system didn't ask him to be cruel.

It just benefited when he was.

And that was almost worse.


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