The difference between an ordinary person and the rich lay in their attitude toward money.
Dan considered ten million pounds as an enormous, almost inexhaustible sum. With that kind of money, he wouldn't do anything except spend it.
Richard, on the other hand, was going to turn big money into huge money. But in that case, there would be no way to avoid risk. He intended to invest with enormous risk—even taking his foresight into account—but he was also planning to make an immense profit. After all, he knew very well how much companies that developed functional artificial intelligence would eventually be worth. But, unfortunately, the time traveler could not remember the names of those companies, because by the time AI was fully developed, they had long since been bought out by corporate giants such as Intel, AMD, Nvidia, Huawei, and the like. Moreover, it was often the case that five to seven corporations owned shares in a single research company.
About half an hour later, a stocky man with short, dark hair streaked with gray entered the office. He had a bulldog face and was slightly stooped. His black three-piece suit was complemented by a wide-brimmed hat. Upon entering, the man removed his hat and introduced himself:
"Scott Potter. Are you Richie?"
"Oh, Mr. Potter," Richard said warmly. "It's good to see you. Yes, I'm Richie. I was just waiting for you. Please, have a seat."
Scott unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair.
He was wearing a shirt and vest, but Richie noticed the absence of a tie. In addition, the top button of his shirt was undone, which suggested that Scott was not accustomed to being among businessmen, where such liberties were acceptable only among friends or in informal settings.
Scott sat down in the visitor's chair and stared intently at the boy.
"Hmm… So you're the one Gerald asked me to keep an eye on…"
"You could say that, Mr. Potter. But I'm more hopeful about your professional skills when it comes to serving my business."
"Really?" Mr. Potter's voice was full of irony. "And what can I do for you, kid?"
Richie pulled open the top drawer of the desk, took out a folder, and handed it to the detective.
Mr. Potter opened the folder and began examining its contents with curiosity.
"A lot of names. What do you want me to do?"
He looked up from the papers, studying the boy expectantly.
"Mr. Potter, all these people are engineers, programmers, and enthusiastic inventors who could go into business. I need to find the right individuals among those with the same last names and learn as much as I can about them—so that I can persuade them to work with me and invest in their ventures."
"I understand, kid," Mr. Potter chuckled and grinned. "I don't know where you got these names, but I'll do my part. I'll find whoever I can who fits the criteria you listed. In six months, you'll have complete information—and some compromising material—on most of the people on the list. But don't count on anything too nasty. That's a different price, and I won't take it on."
"Mr. Potter, it's enough for me if you confirm that these people exist, obtain their contact details, and figure out how to hook them and get them to cooperate. Nothing more."
"Well, kid," Scott said as he stood up, took his jacket, and draped it over his left arm, bent at the elbow, "you're pretty serious for your age. I promised Gerald I'd help you, so don't worry—you'll have the data on your desk. See you, boy!"
Scott left the office, and Richard needed some time to recover after the visitor's departure. Mr. Potter proved difficult to communicate with and spoke to Richie as if he were a child—as though he were the boss and was doing him a favor simply by being there. At the same time, it was clear that the man took his assignment seriously.
Potter, Richie thought once he was alone. Something familiar… I've heard that name somewhere before—maybe in a past life… Hmm… No, I don't remember. Although it's a fairly common surname in England, so there's nothing strange about it. Still, something's spinning in my head: either there was a famous actor with that surname in the past—which has now become my present—or some other kind of celebrity.
***
Investments would undoubtedly bring profits in the future. But Richard wanted to make "quick money." He needed cash he could spend on himself.
The transmigrator had not yet begun investing in stocks, so he was free to dispose of part—or even all—of his available capital to earn money.
Richie began recalling various ways to make money and realized that the ideal solution would be to produce something small and inexpensive that could be sold at a substantial markup.
After much deliberation, Richard had a brainwave—promotional collectibles! A cheap trinket that would always be in demand. Let it be a trendy product that might last on the market for a year, God willing—but one that could still generate solid profits.
Richie immediately sketched out designs for various collectible plastic charms—elastic plastic strips with a fastening hole on one end and a small round knob on the other, decorated with funny little faces.
The next morning, Richie arrived at the office and called Dan Silver.
Mr. Silver entered his young boss's office expecting trouble. His face carried the weary resignation of a man forced to work under a child.
"Good morning, sir," Dan said.
"Mr. Silver, please have a seat."
Dan sat down in the visitor's chair, bracing himself for anything, or so he thought.
"So, Mr. Silver, we need to patent this."
Richie handed him a folder containing drawings of plastic charms.
"A product made of flexible, durable plastic called a 'Skrepysh.'"
"Uh…" Dan stammered, clearly unprepared for this. "But I'm in investments."
"Exactly, Mr. Silver. Preciesly," Richard's face lit up with a smile, marred by the gap of a missing tooth. "That's why you're here. This is our 'innovative' product. Your job is to patent it. Then you must find suppliers who can manufacture a large batch of Skrepyshes cheaply and with good quality. Next, you'll contact major corporations and offer them advertising in the form of Skrepyshes printed with their product names. Be sure to write to Pepsi, Coca-Cola, and Sprite. Don't forget Nestlé and other large companies. Ask for one dollar for each Skrepysh bearing their brand name."
(End of Chapter)
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