Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Calorie Credits and the Mechanical Mantle
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Currency requires a few specific conditions.
When making currency from metals like gold or silver, the money itself holds intrinsic value. But paper money doesn't.
The physical worth of a bill is just a scrap of paper with no value whatsoever. It's the credit of the issuing nation that guarantees its worth.
Just like how the United States backed the dollar's value by tying it to oil prices, something has to vouch for its value. Calorie Credits do that through energy.
Bring Credits to the Lushaka Kingdom, and they'll unconditionally exchange them for the equivalent amount of energy.
It's actually closer to a commodity standard than a pure credit-based economy.
The key difference is that, unlike the time the U.S. panicked over a gold shortage relative to dollars, organic matter will never run scarce.
A shortage of organic matter would basically mean the Lushaka Kingdom has collapsed.
And if the Lushaka Kingdom falls? That's not my problem.
Anyway, Calorie Credits are paper money too. But the raw material comes from the World Tree, genetically engineered down to the DNA level.
For example, a 10,000-Credit bill contains genes at the DNA level that I can distinguish as exactly 10,000 Credits.
These identifier genes serve no function whatsoever, so they're wasteful and mildly harmful to the plant. But since it'll be processed into bills right away, I didn't bother.
The World Tree's tough fibers ensure durability.
Of course, it still has paper's limitations and would burn brightly if set on fire. But its toughness is incomparable to regular bills. After all, it's the same plant used for spaceship hulls.
Produce this gene-embedded World Tree paper to spec, ship it to the Deneb Federation, and have them print the agreed-upon designs on top. Done.
There are countermeasures against counterfeits too.
Bring the bills to the Lushaka Kingdom, and I can verify their authenticity. Fakes won't match me, so it's immediately obvious.
I have no eyes, ears, or nose to observe my surroundings, but the fact that it's me doesn't change, so I can check on the spot.
As a last resort, I could scan with psionic waves. But if waves start emanating from the money, it'd be suspicious, so I'd avoid it.
I gave up on catching perfect visual replicas. In the space age, how do you block all the ways to copy appearances? There are boundlessly many methods beyond my imagination.
If some nation develops gene manipulation good enough to copy it down to the DNA level, I'll deal with it then. For now, only I can do this.
Verifying at the gene level is too costly and time-consuming for anyone else, so we'll set up a few counterfeit detection offices in each nation. I can tell at a glance.
Pretend to inspect dramatically, then reveal I've figured it out.
Gene manipulation is Lushaka Kingdom-level tech, so we handle that. Printing rotates among the adopting nations.
Issuing rights go to the manufacturing nation. Having some perk like that might stoke their greed, right?
I'm plenty satisfied just assigning proper value to organic matter and spreading me across the universe.
Economics isn't my thing. We Lushaka citizens don't sweat stuff like the Great Depression. If it crashes, we die. Whatever.
Once Credits take root as currency starting from the Federation, I'll be the galaxy's undisputed richest entity. Most problems solvable with money. A fine future indeed.
I tried luring the Deneb Federation, the Committee, the Amphibian Cooperative, and the Varisa Space Company with some perks.
Cheap access to the bestseller Treegalaon, no more exchange hassles—who'd pass up a deal like that?
Surprisingly, the frogs reported they're considering it positively. Their own currency won't last long in the galactic era anyway.
With five nations trading, Varisa will hop on naturally too.
Settling Credits in should be smooth sailing without much effort.
Reports kept coming in from my high-ranking autonomous agents.
Mostly routine stuff I skimmed over.
Then, after a long while, a genuine anomaly report from the Solar Star System's governor, Farmvis.
"Queen. There's something strange on Solar-03."
Checking out Solar-03—Earth—it was definitely anomalous, no question.
There was a backstory to discovering this "strange thing."
Trade expanded beyond Deneb factions like Varisa Space Company and the Amphibian Cooperative to other powers, diversifying our goods.
Minerals we'd mined in small quantities got included. Without dedicated mining organisms before, we were limited.
But victory in the World Tree war advanced the entire legion's genes a step, improving mining capabilities too.
I ordered probes into deeper mining on our planets and left it at that.
Money favors abundance, so maximize trade goods.
If it works, great. If not, oh well.
Minerals aren't our kingdom's main resource or top export, so low expectations.
Farmvis, following orders, kept evolving mining specialists and dug away. Orders are orders.
Digging past the surface and upper mantle into the lower mantle, they found this.
Earth's lower mantle wasn't magma or rock. It was a functioning machine.
Clank— Clank—
Farmvis's view clearly showed steel. Massive steel plates on an incomprehensible scale, shifting endlessly with irregular clanks.
As if mimicking mantle fluidity, the plates moved ceaselessly, grinding out noise.
Observations via seismic waves and such from the surface matched textbook knowledge.
Standing directly on the steel plates yields the same: fluid solid, magma rock, all normal.
Yet what my eyes see—and the cold texture underfoot—screams steel.
Is it even steel? The mining behemoths used to breach the mantle couldn't dent it. Definitely a material beyond the legion's current tech.
Clank— Clank—
Ignoring the legion's frantic probes, the metallic mantle operated indifferently.
A colossal mechanism hidden deep in a planet spewing heat lethal to ordinary organisms.
No way this is some mundane civilization's doing.
Not Deneb, Varisa, Amphibian Coop—these interstellar nations couldn't mine that deep. Not economically viable anyway.
Lushaka only tried because Farmvis judged it worth a shot autonomously, wasting organic matter freely.
Profit-driven nations face tech hurdles first.
And above all, the scale is absurd.
Swap out the planet's mantle for machinery without surface issues?
Not the Earth natives, obviously. Must be some hyper-advanced force before the legion reached Earth.
Or installed eons ago, letting the surface recover fully.
Months of detailed surveys revealed...
The machine mantle covered about 2% of Earth's mantle area.
Visible from orbit: bigger than China, smaller than Russia. Absurd size.
Couldn't reach the outer core yet, so depth unknown.
The machine jammed seismic and radio waves entirely. Psionic waves useless for surveys.
Durability-wise, the knight order's Alhamra light lasers could "damage" it.
More like singe it red than real harm.
And even lasered nonstop, the machine ignored it, chugging along. No clue what its motions achieve.
Right now, no matter how much I zap or blast, it shrugs everything off.
Seemed not worth tangling with—some power beyond Lushaka's league—so I considered burying it and moving on.
Then the machine reacted.
Clankclankclankclankclank
Clankclankclankclankclank
The core assembled into geometric forms with a racket, soon opening a hole—an entrance, clearly.
Inside, circular steel tubes formed stair-like steps, beckoning entry.