Chapter 363: A Mentor with Compassion
Perhaps wanting to make a good impression on his new boss, or to prove his own worth, Lime’s attitude shifted without him even realizing it.
“Radio technology is currently one of the most widely applied cutting-edge fields. Many people are researching it,” he said, tilting his head. Nearly every invention around them had some connection to radio.
People believed radio could change the world, and it had. They trusted it would continue to improve things.
“I don’t know much about it myself, but this inventor hopes to raise at least ten thousand through selling these small yellow shares to fund his research. If you’re interested in the technology or the person, I suggest contacting him directly.”
The small yellow shares Lime was selling carried a 75% premium. In other words, if Lynch bought them, he’d pay nearly double compared to dealing directly with the inventor—about ten thousand more.
Lime wanted to prove his value. Lynch gave him hope with a few simple words, making Lime feel the era was reaching out to him.
He wasn’t a naïve fresh graduate. He understood his worth lay in creating value for Lynch—that was his first contribution.
“May I see those yellow shares?” Lynch asked.
Lime was momentarily stunned but quickly recovered. “Of course, Mr. Lynch.”
He opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of cheaply printed yellow stock certificates. To save costs, the brokerage used low-quality paper and no anti-counterfeiting measures. If they used better materials, they might even lose money.
Not all shares sold out; some never sold at all. To shift risk and keep their jobs, brokers like Lime sometimes had to buy unsold shares themselves with their own money.
It sounded incredible, but it happened daily. For brokerage firms, scamming fundraisers, naïve investors, or even their own salespeople made no difference.
As long as company money landed in the company’s pocket, nothing else mattered.
If Lime failed to sell all his shares by month’s end, he faced unemployment or had to buy them himself.
This was Lynch’s first time handling these shares. Holding them felt like holding cheap poster paper, fragile and easily damaged.
“They look fragile,” Lynch said, shaking one. It crackled unnaturally.
Lime smiled awkwardly. “We never care what happens after they sell.”
“How many have you sold?” Lynch asked.
“Only one hundred shares so far,” Lime admitted sheepishly. The rest were still here.
One hundred shares earned him five Sol—a monthly income of over a thousand was just a sales tactic.
Lynch nodded without blame. “One hundred shares, no big deal. Now, take me to meet the inventor. Maybe we’ll have a pleasant talk.”
Soon they arrived at a booth wrapping up a display. A man in his late thirties was packing his equipment, looking angry.
Noticing their approach, he glanced briefly but kept packing.
“You seem pretty angry,” Lynch teased with a smile.
The inventor snapped, glaring at Lynch. “If someone called your invention a pile of dog crap, you’d be angry too.”
“If you want to laugh at me, I won’t hesitate to punch you!” His voice drew attention as he pointed toward the exit. “Get lost. Disappear from my sight!”
Lime quickly pulled the inventor aside and spoke quietly. About a minute later, the inventor returned, embarrassed, apologizing for his outburst.
“Sorry, Mr. Lynch, I didn’t recognize you, and….” He trailed off awkwardly; apologies were an art he hadn’t mastered.
“No need. I understand. Now, do you have time to talk about your inventions?”
“Of course, yes, Mr. Lynch!”
During their conversation, the inventor explained his work.
Radio technology was widely abused, especially private stations, prompting the federation to restrict radio frequencies and power to prevent interference with official use.
Most frequencies were occupied by official or registered commercial stations, causing overcrowding in the remaining bands.
The inventor himself suffered from constant signal interference, ruining his plan to profit from a personal radio station.
Possibly out of revenge or other reasons, he studied radio location technology and successfully reported several unhealthy private stations.
He wondered if he could use radio location to find larger devices—like war machines.
So he started inventing, believing his ideas had value. If applied to military systems, they would bring him great wealth.
He sold his house, divorced his wife, and moved to the mountains, where radio interference was less, allowing better experiments.
Eventually, he ran out of money.
He sold everything for twelve hundred Sol—his last hope.
“Using multiple receivers, we continuously assess signal time differences to pinpoint accurate direction and distance,” he proudly explained.
Lynch didn’t immediately respond but asked, “I don’t know much about this, but here’s a question. Your method relies on targets emitting signals. What if the target maintains radio silence and emits nothing? How would you locate it?”
The inventor froze, his long unkempt beard making him look ridiculous.
Lynch’s question exposed the flaw in his research: it only worked if the target actively broadcasted signals.
He had never considered radio silence. Now faced with this practical problem, he had no solution—no ideas at all.
After several minutes, the inventor became visibly dejected. Shaking his head, he said, “Sorry, Mr. Lynch, I don’t know what to do. I failed.”
“They’re right. My invention is worthless.”
He divorced, sold his house, and lived like a hermit in the mountains for his inventions. Yet, one sentence from Lynch made him completely deny all his past efforts, pushing him to the edge of collapse.
At that moment, Lynch suddenly said, “I will buy all the shares you authorized the brokerage to issue.”
The inventor was stunned again and quickly said, “You don’t need to pity me, Mr. Lynch. My invention is worthless!”
“Then let it have value!” Lynch said, pulling out a checkbook, writing a sum, and handing it to Lime. “I never disappoint those who believe in me and choose to work with me.”
“Take your share, complete your last task at your current company with the best results, leave clean, and then come find me. You have my card.”
Without waiting for Lime’s response, Lynch turned to the inventor. “Your research isn’t entirely useless. At least, we’ve figured out part of it.”
“Do you know bats?”
“Ask a biologist how they hunt. You’ll get new ideas for your research. I believe you can do it. This is my first investment in you.”
Watching the two moved men, Lynch felt deeply that this era was truly wonderful.
His motive wasn’t purely to buy loyalty—though that was part of it—but more to avoid future troubles.
The shares issued by the inventor’s brokerage were legally binding. There was a contract between him and the brokerage, with each yellow share representing part ownership.
Before the inventor’s work truly gained value, these shares were worthless. But once it did, those shares could become a major problem.
Buying them wouldn’t cost much, but the potential losses to Lynch could far exceed that amount.
Strictly speaking, buying these shares meant Lynch paid about ten thousand to the brokerage, with the rest going as investment to the inventor and commission to Lime.
Spending this money was absolutely worth it.