What's this, in the bag?

Chapter 1: The Bag

She wasn’t sure what it was. It looked prehistoric, crumpled, and faded. She could tell it had once been a sort of green color, but couldn’t make out what the markings were. There was a lot of it in the bag, though.

She decided to keep it.

It seemed harmless enough. After all, it wasn’t sharp, heavy, or alive. Maybe someone would know what it was and she could trade for it. She picked up the bag and continued to walk toward where her campsite was.

As her black boots snapped twigs and crushed leaves beneath her, she began to think about how she could learn more about the contents of the new mystery bag. She would summon her mentor, The Prof, and see what he thought of her new discovery.

Soon, she could see the orb of her tent glowing in the distance. The force field created by the tiny yellow box she had placed on the sand would keep out bugs, rain, and all of nature’s harshness as she camped out on the beach for the night. As she tapped the box to signal that she was in for the night and the tent should close until she tapped it again, she looked in her backpack for the Little Black Book and pens she had bought at the antique store to record her thoughts, dreams and important notes.

A lot had changed since humans mostly recorded things by hand, she thought, but there was still something about putting pen to...what did they used to call it? Paper?

She glanced over at the bag one more time. “That’s what it feels like!” she thought to herself, “it’s a bag full of paper.” She couldn’t imagine why anyone would have carried around a bag full of colored paper in such a nice bag. Or why anyone would bother to color paper at all.

“Summon: The Prof” she said out loud, to no one in particular. The airwaves picked up her signal and soon, a miniature, glowing version of her most trusted advisor appeared in the tent.

“It’s late” he groaned

“Sorry to wake you” she said, with a sly smile. “I’ve got to show you something”.

She reached over to grab the black duffle by it’s strap, and dragged it over, placing it on her lap.

She unzipped it and tilted it toward the computerized version of The Prof. “Do you know what it is?”

“Bring it closer” The Prof requested.

She reached in and grabbed a bunch of the mystery paper that had been tied together with a piece of rubber. She held it up closer to The Prof’s hologram.

“Hmmm,” The Prof examined it closely “It looks like what humans used to use to purchase items. It used to be very valuable.”

“Don’t get too excited” The Prof stated warningly, noticing the way her eyebrows raised when he explained how it used to be a prized possession, “Humans haven’t used it for a thousand years. It’s worthless now”.

“Why was it worth so much before?” She asked. She couldn’t imagine why paper could have been valuable.

“Because” The Prof stated matter of factly. “Humans said it was.”

With that knowing statement, The Prof was gone.

She looked at the bag and shook her head. Then recorded what The Prof had told her in her Black Book.

“Humans thought it was valuable” she wrote. Then she turned in for the night.

Chapter 2: The Money

She tapped the yellow box one more time to disable her tent and packed the small square into her backpack. The sun was just rising, so it was time to walk back to the mainland. She loved being by the ocean and surviving off of what nature had to offer; like writing, she thought, this human instinct still hadn’t changed.

She glanced at the black duffle bag that contained the green paper and considered leaving it--what good could it do her now?

“Well” she thought to herself, “maybe it would at least be a cool thing to show everyone”. She picked it up and decided to bring it with her back to the mainland.

Once she reached The Compound where everyone she knew stayed, she immediately jumped in the shower, leaving her belongings, along with the black duffle bag, on her bed. She walked out to find Her Friend sitting on the bed, looking intently at the bag.

“Hey, is this ‘money’?” Her Friend drew air quotes around the last word.

“I’m not sure what it’s called,” she replied. “The Prof said it used to be worth something, though.”

“It’s called money,” Her Friend said. “I remember seeing it, in the old videos. You know, from the ‘apps’?” There were those air quotes again.

“Oh yea” She replied, disinterested.

“This is seriously a cool find. Money used to rule the world!” Her Friend exclaimed.

“Look, I’m going to Ask,” Her Friend said, getting more and more excited as She grew less and less enthused. “Ask: What is this bag full of?” Her Friend said out loud, looking directly at the bag. Again, the airwaves picked up her signal and scanned the room for the object her eyes were on.

“That is a bag full of money. Twenty thousand dollars to be exact. Would you like to know more?” The computerized voice replied.

“No, that’s okay” Her Friend said as she jumped up. “You don’t think this is cool? Twenty thousand of anything is a lot--this was probably a huge amount of money!”

“Did you really just waste an Ask on that? It’s nothing now!” She said, exasperated. “Here, if you think it’s so interesting, take it.” She handed the bag to Her Friend

“Are you serious?” Her Friend asked, her eyes getting big

“Yes. I have no use for a bag of old paper” she replied frankly.

“Okay” Her Friend said, a little dejected. “Thank you”. She picked up the bag and walked towards the door, imagining all of the things that this now valueless bag of paper had once meant.

As she walked through the long hallways of The Compound, Her Friend recalled being taught how humans used to have to purchase the things they needed. This amount of money probably meant that someone was able to buy the necessities they needed to live! She could understand why someone would think it was worthless now, but it might have been everything to someone a thousand years ago.

When she returned to her room, Her Friend pulled out her own Little Black Book and began writing. She imagined all of the things someone might have done with the twenty thousand dollars. Maybe they were able to buy food, shelter or clothes. Or maybe this was enough for a plane. Maybe this is how much one of those “phones” people used to record all of those old videos had cost.

“This doesn’t seem worthless at all” she wrote.

When Her Friend woke up the duffle bag and all of the money in it was gone.

Chapter 3: The Exchange

The Prof stared down at the black duffle bag full of green paper he had snatched from Her Friend. He couldn’t just let it sit in a room and collect dust.

He had told his young mentee about the value of money, but he hadn’t mentioned the power.

He hadn’t told the old stories of war being waged, or lives being changed or destroyed because they either had enough of this green piece of paper, or they didn’t. It was hard to imagine a world like that.

But The Prof had lived a long, bland life, and was not content with how the world was now either. With everything provided by the computerized systems, and everyone able to get what they wanted simply by speaking the words and Asking, it was hardly an exciting life for him. It seemed that while artificial intelligence hadn’t taken over the world and done away with humans, as people from the era the money was from once feared, it still controlled it.

When he first held the bag in his hands and snuck out of Her Friend’s room, he wondered what he was doing. “This is crazy” he thought. “It will be just as worthless in my hands as it was in hers.”

Now, though, as he stared down at the unzipped carrier, he had another thought. The contents of the bag was only powerful once because of humans--and he was human too.

“Hindsight is 20-20” he thought to himself, recalling an old adage he had heard growing up. He wouldn’t let money wreak havoc on this world like it had in the past. Besides, he figured, everyone could just Ask and get whatever they wanted--what good would money be anyway? He would just show how it could be used to acquire extra things. Things that could break the monotony of what civilization had become.

He pondered the possibilities of where he should begin. Maybe he should start passing it out, so other people could purchase things along with him. Or maybe he should keep it all, so he could have the most. He also had to remember he shouldn’t get caught with it, since it was stolen.

Just then, one of his other mentees knocked on the door to his room.

“Hey Prof” He said cheerfully.

“Hey!” The Prof replied innocently. “How can I help, today?”

“Well, I had a few questions about some things I found camping yesterday and….”

While He was talking, The Prof couldn’t help but think of the money.

“Wait” The Prof interrupted. “I am getting older and I am tired. I cannot give my best advice or aide until I am given something that will make me want to continue helping everyone in the compound”

He looked shocked.

“But Prof” he said, astonished “What could we possibly give you that you could not get by simply Asking?”

“It is not about material items” The Prof replied “It is about the feeling. I am no longer excited by the work I do.”

“Could I Ask for something for you?” He inquired, trying his best to reason with The Prof.

“No, no” The Prof said, looking down dejectedly. “But I did recently come into this money.” He gestured toward the bag.

“Money?” He replied incredulously. “You mean what people used to use to get things instead of Asking?”.

“Yes” The Prof nodded. “I know it’s worthless now, but it used to be so valuable to humans. Maybe we could figure out why”.

“I want you to take this bag and make sure you don’t tell anyone it came from me--that would defeat the purpose. But, spread the word that you need this in order to come see me.” The Prof gave the directions carefully to his young friend.

He agreed.

The Prof took out his cherished Little Black Book, the one that had been passed down to him by his grandfather, and recorded what he thought was the start of an innocent journey that would end shortly.

“We’ll see what happens now that the money is loose” he wrote “I’m sure it will be forgotten soon.”

Chapter 4: The Shift

He was still confused by his conversation by The Prof, but he did what he was told. He came across a few people in The Compound who he knew saw The Prof regularly, gave them a stack of money, and told them to give it to The Prof if they wanted to see him. When they asked why, he quickly deflected the question. Most just shrugged and said okay.

Word spread quickly at The Compound that The Prof was only speaking to those who were able to hand him what was apparently called “money”. Those who did not have it could not believe they were not able to speak to The Prof. They didn’t know who to go to for counsel. They only got a certain number of Asks per month, so as not to overload the system.

One week after He went to visit The Prof, the residents of The Compound were bartering with each other to get a hold of some money. People were offering everything from small trinkets to luxury items they had Asked for in exchange for a few dollars. The Prof was quietly impressed with the change he had unleashed on The Compound.

By the end of the month, unbeknownst to the people of The Compound, The Prof had received all of the money he had given away that day back. There was no more available, but people continued to search.

The Prof had never felt like this before in his life. In fact, at first, he couldn’t even identify the feeling. Writing a journal entry in his Little Black Book, he identified the feeling as “power”.

Knowing he could make the people of The Compound behave differently simply by giving away pieces of old, crumpled paper gave the old man the rush he had been chasing his entire life. He also saw that he was wrong--the money would not soon be forgotten.

In fact, people would continue to come to him and try to give him their most cherished items when they didn’t have any money. The Prof would refuse, give another protege The Money to hand out, and watch the cycle happen again.

Everytime the money was redistributed, the people of The Compound got more and more desperate to get their hands on it before others did. The value went up, and people began giving up things they needed in order to get their hands on it first. Eventually, people were not just trading unneeded luxury items for money to see The Prof, but exchanging their food, medicine, and other necessities for the once mysterious green paper.

Every month or so, all of the money would be back in The Prof’s hands, and every month he would give it to a different person to pass out again. This continued for years, and one day, She came to see The Prof.

“I know what you did” She said pointedly.

The Prof didn’t even look up from his stand at the back of the room “How much money do you have?” He asked.

“I am not here for your counsel” She said, her voice raising slightly

This finally caught The Prof’s attention. “I do not see people without payment anymore.” He said.

“Well, I do not have payment for you.” She began. “We all trusted you. How could you do this?”

“I do not know what you mean” The Prof was ready to end the conversation.

“Do you know what it’s been like out there, since you stole that bag?” She yelled.

Finally The Prof was paying attention. People knew he had stolen the bag?

“I do not know--”

“Don’t insult my intelligence” She interrupted. “You are the only other person besides Friend who knew about the money, and suddenly, you are the only person who people use it for.”

“Do you know what it’s been like out there since you’ve started this? People are giving away things they need just to get some money. They are stealing. Some people are going without food!” She was near tears. “I would never have come to you if I knew what you would do.”

The Prof was unaffected, only concerned with the fact someone knew his secret.

“What are you going to do with the information you have?” He said with the slightest hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I have been telling everyone in The Compound. They won’t listen. They are just worried about how they will get some money.” She felt defeated. “You need to keep the money when you get it all back again. Maybe when it’s gone, things will return to how they are supposed to be.”

The Prof tried to imagine the world without money and barely could. He only remembered how his life had felt meaningless. He wouldn’t go back.

“I don’t think I can do that” The Prof said flatly. “It’s too late now, anyway. People will not forget.”

She thought for a moment and asked herself why she had ever looked up to The Prof was a wise counselor. She recalled it was because he had so often been right--and she had the sinking feeling he was going to be right about this, too.