The single most effective way to improve your business is to have it associated with a Samurai. It’s called the Samurai Touch: any business will have a huge boost in sales by even the thinnest link to a Samurai.

  As a case study, look at Okalala Creamery. A no-name Mom and Pop Ice Cream shop in a don’t-blink town in the Texas panhandle became a multimillion-credit company overnight. It is now dominating the ice cream market all over North America. And all that is due to having an employee become a Samurai, even though she quit the next day.

  --Business weekly, 2053

  ***

  I insisted the vulnerability in the Model Four existed, confused why Barry was being so aggressive in his rejection. He had always been willing to listen to new ideas in the past. I realized that I’d used the vulnerability automatically, and several others too. But I was dead certain it was there, and I traced back where that confidence came from.

  “Hunh, I hadn’t even looked at that yet.” I muttered to myself, then answered his question. “I also purchased some training on alien physiology. I guess that’s where it came from. You can trust it: it’s Samurai tech. Speaking of which, my AI offered to update the software and make it more realistic. Beyond the vulnerabilities, there’s a software limiter on the aliens, making them slower than reality. We could make that into a switchable setting or a purchasable hard mode.”

  My boss blinked at me a couple of times until something seemed to click. “AI? You’ve become a Samurai.” His tone turned hard, almost accusing. “That’s what you were doing yesterday when I called?”

  “I thought you knew? It was on the news last night. One minute I’m driving down MLK, the next I’m hunting aliens under the new Powell’s Books building.”

  A pair of twenty-somethings passed by, reminding Barry that we stood in a public area. He made a follow-me type of motion with his head and led the way to his office. Once he was safely behind his large desk with the door closed, he looked at me. “Why are you here then? Shouldn’t you be off hunting aliens?”

  “I still have to pay the rent. And there aren’t any incursions right now, so…” I shrugged. “I might as well work and train when I can.”

  He grunted. “Are you looking to use us as an outlet for selling weapons? We’ve never been in the collectible market and don’t have many customers that it would appeal to.”

  “No. That still takes points, which I don’t have a lot of. I don’t see why I can’t keep on training people, which helps them stay alive and ready for when the antithesis come. What will having a Samurai on staff do for memberships?”

  He nodded. Anything related to a Samurai was instantly popular. Having me work here would certainly increase the membership and number of contracts overnight. “How do you imagine this will work? You’ll have to run off for incursions from time to time, right?”

  “Probably. I don’t know how long I’ll need off or when. Or even if I’ll be able to keep working here, to be honest. And I have some ideas for how to make money as a Samurai, but that’ll take time to set up. Move me to a part-time-friendly position for now. Shifting me back to secondary instructor will keep any unexpected absences from leaving you hanging like yesterday. I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

  He waved off my apology. “It gave Joel a chance to step up and show if he was ready for full instructor. Which he was, fortunately.

  “So we strap you on the side of the schedule as ‘And Marcus, if he’s available,’” he said, and stared at a random wall for a minute. “That might work. You’ll have to work the front some.” I winced as he continued, “I know you don’t like it, but the only way this will work is if you bring in extra income to pay for what amounts to a new position. Having you out front will give more people time with a Samurai.”

  “I’ll try to let you know ahead of time when I’m not available.”

  “You know that I’m going to use your name for advertising, right?”

  “We should draw up a contract for that. But I figured it was a given.”

  “Alright, you have class with Obsidian Shield in ten minutes. Try not to let them get too distracted. The last thing we need is people showing off for the Samurai and getting hurt. I want you to jump all over the first one to do that. After the class, we’ll see where to stick you. We’ll muddle through until the weekend, and I can use the time to jigger the schedule and let people know.”

  As an instructor for Threat Dynamics, I spent at least half my time teaching classes to various groups. This could cover nearly anything combat-related except hand-to-hand and sniper-level ranges. From the government’s Basic Safety Standard certification classes to live fire exercises in one of our shoot houses. Courses could be limited to an individual PMC or a mix of several companies and paying individuals. Since Barry firmly believed in the learning power of experience, most classes ended up with some time on the shooting range under the eye of the instructors.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  When my class with the PMC of the week finished, I reported to the front entrance. Along with renting the various ranges, Threat Dynamics had a small gun shop and attached café. The café, fortunately, was subcontracted out to a local chain, so I didn’t have anything to do with that. However, I occasionally did work the counter of the gun shop.

  Camilia, director of marketing and sales, hated to have me in her domain because I was the one thing she hated most: an honest salesman.

  Despite many classes and countless pay scale adjustments, I continually failed to convince customers to purchase guns with unnecessary bits and bobs or memberships that were more expensive than they really needed. Need a training gun? Sure! Here’s the most basic and simple-to-use option. Yes, you could get that Slaughterfest 2000 with laser bomb sights and sixteen shooting modes, which you will never use in the range or in the field. Or you could use those credits for practice ammo and actually hit a barnside in less than six shots.

  Needless to say, after I gained my instructor credentials, she tried her level best to keep me away from her precious customers.

  But Barry wanted his Samurai visible. and the front store was the only place open to the public. Due to having the café, we even had people come in who were not into firearms. Having me in the front would amount to free advertising. Frankly, it quickly turned into a shitshow.

  Somehow, word quickly passed around, and hordes of random people flooded in just to see, or be seen with, a local Samurai. I did my best to guide people to making purchases, but it rarely worked. How was I to make a sale with some fangirl who only wanted the vibe of being with a celebrity? “I’m here to drop my brother off and hadn’t planned on coming in until I heard you were here. Is it exciting being a Samurai?” a blonde in high heels asked.

  I tried not to notice as she leaned forward to show more cleavage. “I hardly know yet. Yesterday was pretty intense and mostly scary. But I haven’t seen enough to know what a more normal day is like.” I looked down the counter at Jesse, pleading with my eyes for help. The bastard simply shook his head and turned away.

  Instead, a young man rescued me by pushing in beside the blonde. He shoved a small book towards me. “Can I get your autograph? Make it out to Gale.”

  I looked at the book, stunned. Only famous people signed autographs. Folks that had done something or who had famous families. People that the world knew about. “Uh, isn’t that old school? I thought selfies had replaced autographs.” I asked, vying for time.

  “Photos can be faked,” he said. “A paper with ink and the impression—that’s not something you can whip up on a laptop. Printers can’t make the indentation that a pen makes, and there aren’t many ways to fake that. An autograph is authentifiable proof that you and I really met.” The pen he thrust at me was an older ballpoint, with blue ink and a colored cap to match.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I signed the page, only remembering to use my Samurai name at the last second. On a whim, I added the number 1 below my name, since it was the first I’d ever signed.

  That started a rush of other people asking for my autograph, using whatever they found handy. One person even bought a pistol so that she’d have the paper receipt for me to sign. I continued to number the signatures but drew the line at the blonde coming back and presenting her chest for the signature. “I don’t have a pen that will work on skin,” I lied. The pen that I’d bought from Corie would write on anything, but I felt that the request was too much.

  --Are you sure? It’s only a couple points to make it an instant permanent tattoo. I bet she’d love to have you take her somewhere private and sign her.

  I ignored Corie’s teasing while the next person presented a larger book. Before I could accept it, Corie interrupted me.

  --Don’t sign that.

  At her warning, I looked at the book a second time. It was noticeably thicker than any other had been, and the pages seemed stiffer. The crowd “oohed” as my visor changed color from cycling it to reading the millimeter radar. The reflections on the metal inside revealed several layers of electronics packed into the “book.”

  I set down my pen and shook my hand for a minute. “That’s enough autographs for now. I need a break.” The man who presented the book looked affronted, and several that had pushed in behind him looked disappointed.

  “Come on! Just one more,” the man said. I shook my head in time with my hand.

  Just then, a string of text messages came in from Kaitlyn:

  Kaitlyn: People showing you doing autographs, blowing up the chats.

  K: Numbering your autographs? Brilliant.

  K: But don’t do too many.

  K: Also, several viewers expressed concern about corpos slipping you a scanner.

  Me: Scanner?

  K: Apparently it’s a tablet that will scan how you do the signature so they can make fakes.

  K: Protect your brand.

  M: Thanks!

  The hidden electronics suddenly made sense. I gave the man a scathing look, then grabbed the book and scribbled on it using the pen in an icepick grip. “No Scanners!” After showing the text to the crowd, I shoved it back at the man and told him to leave.

  Eventually, Camilia kicked me out and sent me off to the shooting ranges. I felt fully overwhelmed by that time and thanked her for getting me out of there. “I’ll talk with Barry. This was fun, but we need more organization if we’re doing this a lot.” She said. “Maybe put up some barricades, or, I don’t know, assign you a bodyguard?”

  I shrugged, fairly sure that Barry already had several ideas. Between them, they’d have a plan started before I came in tomorrow.