Tevun-Krus #50

The Salesman - @krazydiamond

"The Salesman" originally appeared in Tevun-Krus #32: AtomPunk

Author's note from krazydiamond: The retro futuristic aesthetic of Atom-punk always reminded me 50 and 60's sci fi films, which heavily inspired the salesman character of this story. I pictured the whole story in my head as one glorious technicolor splash.

Note from MadMikeMarsbergen, who selected the story: Though KD first showed up with Tevun-Krus #18: Alternative History, she quickly became one of the most frequent contributors to our awesome WattZine, thus I knew I had to select one of her tales for this issue. When I first read this one and got to the twist, my thoughts were: Oh yeah, that's a favourite right there. On second reading, I enjoy this one even more. Maybe I'm weird, but I love doing another read-through and knowing the twist is there, getting a new perspective on the story as a whole.

The Salesman

by krazydiamond

There was nothing between the smooth lines of chrome housing units but dust and prairie grass. Spiff should know as he'd driven through most of the great state of Kansas in his beat-up rig, a once-sweet little T-bird. He'd upgraded and retrofitted the engine himself, disposing the gas-guzzling tank for a smooth-running fusion device. That did not stop his car from choking and sputtering on the mass amounts of dust particulates kicked up with every passing breeze, but it carried on. As did he.

The car rattled to a stop at the entrance to a U-shaped bend, a line of shiny metal units only slightly nipped by the never-ending dust. No kids outside, a given if there was sunshine, dust or not, but this was good news. His potential clientele had to be of a certain age. Spiff nabbed his sample case off the backseat and struggled to peel himself out of the vehicle. The outer plastique of his jumpsuit was thoroughly rumpled from the long drive and no amount of smoothing by his hands could fix it. Grumbling, he snatched the static wand from the glove box. It hummed to life, a short sparking rod he slowly passed over his suit that zapped the wrinkles out. Satisfied he was presentable, he turned it off and tossed the wand in the passenger seat. Spiff didn't bother to lock up. Nobody wanted a beat-up old thing, upgraded or not, the future was about the shiny and new.

Which was why his product sold so well to the right customer.

Spiff checked his grin in the side mirror. "Ready to knock 'em dead."

The first module was a dud. In the worst sense. Spiff rapped his knuckles on the front panel, fidgeting from foot to foot, the heavy case knocking against his thigh. He wondered if no one was home when a short eye-level panel slid open. Spiff found a ray gun jammed up his left nostril. A pair of bloodshot eyes peered at him through the slat, nearly engulfed by a wild, bushy set of white eyebrows.

"No soliciting," snarled the occupant.

Undeterred, he lifted his sample case in the air. "Good morning, sir, can I interest you in sampling Dr. Moxley's Anti-Aging Cream™?"

The rounded nub of the ray gun nudged further into his nostril. "Ow," he said.

"Are you daft, boy?" the occupant grumbled.

Boy? Spiff barely managed to keep a straight face. The only sort to call him "boy" were just the clients he was looking for. "Possibly. I couldn't help but notice the size of your thumb joints, sir. Dr. Moxley's Anti-Aging Cream™ also helps with that pesky joint pain with its secret patented formula."