The Apocalypse Exchange: I Can Trade Anything

Chapter 3: There's Always Someone Who Doesn't See It Coming

After backing out of the mailbox, Ryan opened the Exchange module.

A quick scroll showed row after row of everyday survival gear, all priced in points.

Then he spotted a magnifying glass icon in the corner a search bar.

He typed:

"Freezer."

Not quite what he wanted. He tried again.

"Biological cryo-chamber."

"Still not it..."

"Hibernation quick-freeze pod."

"Carbon-based organisms may be flash-frozen and safely revived after standard thawing. Requires Exchange Tier 6. Cost: 600 Survival Points."

"Any notes on it? ...Requires an external power source to operate."

He searched again external power source, hibernation pod and pulled up the pricing.

"Damn, a full year of freezing runs 30 points. So a decade would be 300 points. That's... actually not insane."

He scoffed at himself. "Not insane he says, when he can't afford it anyway."

Still, no harm in window shopping. He pulled the listing back up and noticed a smaller line of text underneath.

"WARNING: Hibernation pod integrity must be maintained at all times during use. Unauthorized activation or tampering voids any guarantee of successful revival."

"...Yeah. Useless. Completely useless."

His little daydream popped instantly. He'd been hoping to find some miracle setup freeze for ten, twenty years, wake up, and just cash out on accumulated interest. Dead end.

Deflated, he backed out of the Exchange and checked the Bank module instead. His eyes went wide.

"Wait 15 Survival Points?"

"A sign-up bonus?"

"That's a pretty stingy welcome gift."

Then another thought hit him. His real-world savings had been just over $1.5 million.

If the conversion rate was roughly 100,000-to-1... that tracked almost exactly.

"Come on, it was $1.58 million. Round up and that should've been at least 16 points."

The complaint was mostly just adrenaline talking the giddy arrogance of someone who'd just discovered they had a cheat code.

Points in hand, Ryan reopened the Exchange. Whatever happened, he needed to actually spend something partly to shake off the frustration of having currency he couldn't use, and partly because he wanted to see how exchanged items would even show up in his hands.

Shopping with actual purchasing power felt entirely different from window browsing.

He settled on four items fast:

Nutrient Formula Oral supplement providing a full day's essential nutrients, gradually improving physical condition over time. 1 point.

Combat Suit Moderate defense rating. Effective against piercing damage. 5 points.

Handgun Includes two 17-round magazines and a suppressor. 5 points total.

Straight Sword, Carbon Steel 2 points.

He'd weighed these carefully. Sure, flashier gear existed in the catalog but the price tags matched the hype.

The suit and the gun were pure self-preservation. If staying in the apartment stopped being an option, they'd be non-negotiable.

"Alright nutrient formula first, just to test it. Then the gun and the blade."

The moment he confirmed, the items registered as purchased. A package icon blinked twice at the bottom of the screen.

His balance dropped to 7 points.

He mentally reached for the package icon, and sure enough, the interface shifted to an inventory screen.

A second later, just by thinking about it, the item materialized directly in his hand.

The nutrient formula was small barely a mouthful. He tossed it back; it tasted like watered-down lemonade. No dramatic surge of energy, no glow, nothing cinematic. He just rolled his stiff shoulders and felt marginally looser.

Next he turned his attention to the knife and the gun.

The combat suit was simple enough just put it on. The weapons were another matter entirely.

The handgun, especially. Ryan's entire firearms experience consisted of plastic toys as a kid. Without practice, he wouldn't even manage to flip the safety off in an emergency.

Over the following three days, he stuck to ramen and sausage for meals. He knew the nutrient formula was a strict upgrade with zero downsides but he wanted to hit 50 banked points first, so he could start living off the interest instead of burning through principal.

During those three days, he got a real feel for his new ability especially the Search function, which turned out to be just as valuable as everything else combined.

It worked like a search engine, surfacing exactly the knowledge he needed. A hundred ways to prepare instant noodles. Proper technique for rigging a snare trap.

Out of curiosity, he searched: how to survive the apocalypse.

The top result: eliminate the self-sacrificing do-gooder within yourself first.

Ryan nodded along, dead serious.

He glanced at his balance 10 points saved then at his dwindling food supply, and figured the internet had a point.

It was enough. Ten points banked, and his food stash could easily cover the runway to 50.

Ryan's dead dream flickered back to life.

Save. Earn interest. Retire and never look back.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Right as he was picturing that future, his door took another hit harder this time.

"This is the one. Guy lives alone, and he's got at least a few cases of ramen and sausage stashed in there."

"A few cases?"

"Yeah. My wife saw it herself."

Ryan checked the peephole. A small crowd had gathered outside his door none of them from his floor.

But standing among them, unmistakably, was the husband from across the hall.

"Ha! So much for 'kill the saint first,' huh? Guess that includes you, buddy!"

Ryan had never killed a person in his life. Right now, though, the idea didn't sound unreasonable.

"You son of a bitch I gave your family a whole box three days ago! Did everyone in your house grow a second stomach? You burned through it that fast?"

"Bullshit, when'd you ever give me a box?"

"Man, he handed me five packs. Three days, five people do the math."

The one they were calling Big Brother let out a cold laugh.

"Hey, neighbor. That door's not going to hold forever."

"You should just open it."

"I'll handle the split myself. Doesn't matter how much you've got stockpiled everybody gets a cut."

"Or we break it down, and then you get nothing at all."

"You're actually serious about this?"

"Ha. This is survival of the fittest, pal. What choice do you honestly have besides trusting me?"

"There's always a choice. I'd rather chuck every last can down to the street myself than hand it to you."

"Sure go ahead and explain that decision to whatever's waiting for you down there."

"Tch. Nice bluff. You won't actually do it."

"Break it down. Keep going!”