This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 539.2: Every Possibility... Leads to Today.

It was of the smallest denomination.

The room filled with murmurs.

Someone stood and asked, "What is that...?"

The man continued, "A chip! It can replace currency!"

"Though it clearly resembles the credit points from the Prosperity Era, it can at least reveal supply and demand!"

Faces around the table were filled with unease.

Something didn’t feel right.

Soon, another person stood up and raised a counterpoint. "I get what you’re saying. You're trying to revive the currency system of the Prosperity Era. But even if it makes supply and demand visible, it’s still an outdated method. You haven’t proven there’s a better way!"

The person who proposed it nodded. "Exactly! And until we do find a better way, we need something that works now. We don’t have enough computing power. We don’t have enough production tools. At our current productivity levels, we’re nowhere near the Prosperity Era. Even if chips are just trash we picked up, they’re still better than what we’re using!"

The chamber broke into heated debate.

Eventually, an aged but commanding voice rang out, bringing the room slowly back to order. "Silence!"

All eyes turned to the old man who had spoken. The look in their eyes was full of reverence and trust.

He was one of the first residents of Boulder Town, a man from the Wasteland Era who had never once entered cryosleep. Over 100 years old, his experiences surpassed those of anyone present. The wrinkles on his face were like the rings of an ancient tree, each a record of history.

Even the proudest inner city dwellers instinctively lowered their eyes in his presence. No one doubted his wisdom or judgment.

Even thought he didn’t have a crown on his head, he was undoubtedly respected by everyone else.

But this time, the old man did not offer an opinion. He merely cleared his throat and solemnly raised his left hand.

"As always, let’s vote."

...

Using chips as currency passed without much resistance from the inner city residents. After all, the old system was clearly broken.

Often, what people need wasn’t the best solution, but one that actually worked.

However, a problem remained.

Credit points from the Prosperity Era would create a relatively equal, even utopian distribution of resources.

Chips, on the other hand, were different. At their core, they were traditional currency. No matter how one dressed it up or avoided the term, they still functioned like money.

And like all old-world currencies, they had one flaw. Since the mapping of supply and demand was always lagging, the distributors in the market ended up benefiting the most. That meant to say those who sliced the cake got the largest piece. Those who served the cake got a bit less. And those who baked the cake.. They usually got the least.

Currency was invented so it could serve humanity. But in the end, the purpose it served was reversed, turning people into servants of money.

Still, mindset of humanity was not entirely rigid. Various techniques have been developed to mitigate the imbalances caused by currency.

For example, by using visible or invisible methods to take the cake from the cutters before giving it to those who were truly hungry.

Whatever it was, it didn’t change the nature of currency.

Perhaps recognizing the damage it could cause, an expert from a shelter proposed, "Unrestrained chip circulation will bring new trouble, and we may not have enough time to continuously adjust them so they can always meet our needs. I fear that one day in the future, your children will treat chips as toys, which would completely overturn the original intent and purpose of their creation. So I suggest... at the very least, inner city residents must not participate in production or business operations."

"In other words, you cannot earn chips!"

A young person immediately retorted, "But we need to live too! You can’t expect us to just watch the people holding chips live well while we survive on air, right?"

"That’s a separate matter," the expert from the shelter said seriously. "You can't just give yourselves water and also hold the faucet!"

More people expressed agreement.

Although the person who came from the shelter wore a blue coat had never been a problem in Boulder Town. Everything could be discussed.

Besides, what he said wasn’t wrong.

The chips would come from them, so pretending to be dumb while scooping them back with a bucket just seemed absurd!

The eldest among them stayed silent this time.

He was too old.

He was neither an ever-adapting AI nor a strong awakener. He could not escape the curse of age.

Just as cells aged, people had to give way to new life. That was how society remained young and vibrant.

He believed his silence might be better this time.

That was because every time he spoke, people would instantly stop talking and look at him with expectant eyes.

He feared those eyes the most.

He knew deep down he wasn’t as wise as they imagined, especially as he grew older.

In the end, he said nothing at all.

The young should decide their own future, just as he once did when he chose to stay.

Only when people truly faced the consequences of their choices could they prove they weren’t just pretending to be brave.

He had already dealt with the consequences of his choices in the past. It was time for him to rest.

Honestly, they had done pretty well. Once he was gone, Fang Ming would look after them...

...

Another 10 years passed.

The old man had finally passed on. The young man who made the decision back then had become middle-aged, with the look on his face becoming a little more mature.

He no longer rushed forward blindly, but had learned how to win over and divide potential supporters.

Most importantly, he finally understood why that elder had been so beloved. It was because he held the hearts of the people!

That was a weapon stronger than any black card!

When he once again stood in the hall, he did not speak immediately but instead raised his left hand into a clenched fist.

With a passionate voice, he ignited the room’s fervor.

His fist rose like the sun as his voice climbed steadily higher.

"Friends, Boulder Town is already magnificent. We shelter over 700,000 survivors. We built the great wall, and countless people lean on it with hope in their hearts. The wealth we have created has drawn the attention of all the wasteland!"

"Our miracles are witnessed by all survivors!"

With that, he successfully captured the gazes of all the young people out there.

Some older inner city residents of her age felt uneasy about his behavior, but couldn’t quite put their finger on it.

They too were secretly proud, only they expressed it less bluntly.

The Wasteland Era had not yet fully ended, but within the great walls, they had already ended the Wasteland Era. That alone was remarkable.

They had built the wall higher than even the version the Post-War Reconstruction Committee had left them, and without anyone’s help.

They did it all themselves.

That made them far greater than the moles still hiding out in shelters for the winter.

Of course, that didn’t include the blue coats who had helped them. Those people were different, they had become part of them.

Then, the middle-aged man’s tone shifted as he continued.

"... However, despite all our miracles, we still hold only a pittance of chips, living in rooms smaller than 50 square meters. Is this the equality we want? This is not equality at all!"

"Just beyond that window, they’ve opened restaurants and bars beneath your feet! They drink and revel all day, tossing handfuls of chips into the air, letting women, men, children, and elders cheer for them, even kiss their boots! Anyone who didn’t know better might think they’re the ones who built Boulder Town!"

His voice carried a trace of hatred.

He hated those who used chips to humiliate his people, and those humiliated didn’t seem to feel any shame.

They would rather lick those boots than bow once to the real nobility among them, or offer a single word of praise.