"An eye for an iPhone. A tooth for a Bluetooth. Not everything costs an arm or a leg. We also accept BTC, LTC and Steem."
That was the sign out front of Edmund's technology store. People didn't know just how serious he was about that sign. His store was located down the side corner of a small street near the midsts of a busy, central part of the city of Manhattan, New York.
Behind the glass-paned shelving inside, there were gadgets of all kinds. From old and new cameras, to the latest personal computers, Bluetooth headphones, solar-powered speakers, a variety of smartphones, high beam pocket lasers, multifunctional Swiss Army knives with retractable lighters, keychain accessories with LED lights, and glasses, pens and pencils with spy gear audio and video recorders in them.
Edmund's ghostly, pale skin, wire-thin glasses, and pitch black, stringy, greasy hair gave him a ghoulish and strange appearance. He greeted every customer with direct eye contact and a cunning smile, but he was always looking for that particular customer who would want to do business on a more discreet level. He loved it when they didn't think too deeply or try too hard to read between the lines. He always wrote and spoke in a very literal sense, but to the general population, it usually struck them as crude humor or sarcasm.
All business was risky as he would say, so why not the black organ trade?
Why not the whole package?
Edmund wouldn't leave anything on a person to waste. He thought of it like recycling, and he would be indirectly responsible for saving and improving lives.
One man's body leaves another man's severed.
He loved how it almost rhymed with the "trash, treasure" old saying.
Each successful deal brought in so much revenue to sustain his tech shop, it was just impossible to refuse the demand and supply.
No one ever talked about the transactions that were made in the downstairs basement beneath the store facility.
Some say, fully-abled, healthy people would walk in with distress and financial problems, and after two to three days, they would reappear from the back door stairway and leave the store as casually as they could, avoiding unwanted attention.
Sometimes they would be seen tucking away a small, white envelope full of cash, but something from them would always be missing...
They always came out with brand new clothes and many times, with cleanly wrapped plaster casts and bandages around their arms, legs, and at the ends of their wrists where their hands used to be prior to the initial agreements.
It all depended on what was expendable to the clientele. Once the contract was signed, there was no backing out, especially when the anesthesia took effect and you were strapped to the hospital bed in one of the rooms below.
There was no such thing as a returning customer after two or three visits. You could only give away so many "optional" limbs and organs before risking your life.
When Edmund used his standard protocol, he would ask every customer before acquiring their signature, "Are you sure you want to go through with this? I need your full commitment."
Their most common answer would be, "it's fine, really. I don't need it. I barely use it anyway. Let's just get it over with. I'm ready."
Edmund always thought logically about their nonchalant and careless reply. I guess when you're paralyzed from the waist down, sometimes it's easier to let go of the dead weight. Feet were hard to come by, especially healthy ones. Edmund gave an extra incentive of 15% cash for those rare commodities.
Most people didn't risk their eyesight, hearing, smelling or ability to speak, even though those were highly sought after items as well with very rewarding payouts. Private third party inquirers were always requesting Edmund about these specialties for their burn victim clients, who were understandably unwilling to show their appearance in public.
If he could help them with what they needed he would, this was his true passion, and he was great at it!
Sometimes people reported local Mafia and regional Crimelords negotiating with Edmund during after store hours about the next shipment and availability of "articles."
Something about "5 wounded men of mine", "a trade off gone bad", and "here's a list of what we need" would be overheard through the ventilation system from the alleyway leading to the downstairs basement beneath the store.
One of Edmund's favorite phrases was "I could always use a lending hand, but it's never free is it? Everything costs something."
Edmund thought people gave the black market trade such a bad reputation, but he was a professional in every aspect.
Smooth transactions, clean cut deals, and his area downstairs was always spotless and clean after every operation with the help of two privately hired surgeons from a special hospital two miles down. If only people knew the demand for body parts on the never ending waiting lists at the hospitals. So many transplants, so little material, so little time...
If you are ever in Manhattan, and need a bargain, be sure to check out Edmund's technology shop and don't be afraid to inquire about his special deals. Every offer is tailor made to your expectations and each business ordeal is a delicate procedure.
Edmund himself is a registered organ donor, and he believes we should all help our fellow men and women right? Stay in good health and until next time, don't ever knock a man's respectable way of making a living, even the gravediggers, and funeral directors must receive acknowledgement in their profession of choice.
In the words of Edmund, "No matter what you choose to do in life, do it with passion, persistence, and privacy. Certain knowledge isn't for everyone. Sometimes it is only revealed when you need it the most."
After staring at his bank account balance online, he was frustrated at the glaring red numbers reminding him of his debt. He opened up a new tab and typed away. Browsing through the Google search results on his smartphone, Terrance finally came across "Ed's Tech Shop." It was 5pm, on a Friday and he had only 1 more hour before the store closed. He screenshotted the contact information for future reference and headed out his university dorm quickly with his Gary Fisher bicycle.
He sped through the Manhattan traffic, daring to test his reflex skills when a taxi, bus or company vehicle cut him off, as people were off work, heading home during rush hour. The wind blew through his straight, short brown hair, and the sun gleamed off his serious face and hazel eyes.
He was determined to find out if the rumors he had heard on school campus were true. He definitely didn't believe the amount of money involved. How could someone receive over 10,000$ cash from just one visit? He used every shortcut possible.
Being a bicyclist for over 10 years and a Manhattan native, he made it to Ed's Tech Shop in half the time estimated from the journey calculated with his GPS phone app. With 35 minutes to spare, he locked his bike with two official locks on a nearby bike rack and walked towards the front entrance down the side corner of the alley. It was still fairly sunlit, but overcasting clouds were beginning to settle in up above.
Terrance stared at the sign out front of the store for a long minute. "An eye for an iPhone. A tooth for a Bluetooth. Not everything costs an arm or a leg. We also accept BTC, LTC and Steem." He read the sign slowly over twice in his head and continued forward, pushing the door open.
Edmund locked eyes with Terrance.
Oh, another healthy, young man... Edmund thought. He loved it when his customers took care of their bodies.
"Hello. Welcome." Edmund said with a strange smirk.
"Hey, thanks." Terrance said quickly, he was still catching his breath.
As Terrance glanced around, he was surprised by how normal and neatly organized the store was.
"Anything I can assist you with? Are you looking for something in particular?" Edmund asked patiently.
"I'm just browsing right now, I'll let you know if I need your help. Thanks though." Terrance just wanted to take a closer look around. He didn't want to make a fool of himself if he was wrong.
"Take your time. You have plenty to spare. I'm never in a rush to close exactly on schedule." Edmund put an extra emphasis on the phrase "plenty to spare."
Edmund could sense the young man's desperation, that he needed something badly from him.
It was only a matter of time before he opened up, both ways...
- To be continued -
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