Nils triple-checked his kit for what felt like the hundredth time. Every micro-tool was still there. Of course, it never hurt to be too certain when you where dealing with alterations on a genetic level. What had been the scientific shocker of the century had eventually given birth to his trade. Longevity Loans. It was a simple cash loan of course, human life span had been outlawed as currency shortly after scientists had figured out exactly how to calculate how many cell replications were left for a particular individual. The “new you every seven years” ended up being less or more true for some than others. However, there were no laws on the books prohibiting the use of those cell replications as collateral on a cash loan.
Nils’ employer was one of the first people who had made his living, and by proxy, life offering such high collateral loans to people. Nils, in fact, had been his loan shark for the past three centuries. It wasn’t a bad gig. Decent benefits. Great pay. You couldn’t argue with the profit sharing as it were, either. But he couldn’t shake some of the things that he had seen and done during his tenure with the company.
A particularly problematic loan jumped to his mind. The man had been a gambler. All the red flags had been raised over the course of the loan process. Even the paperwork verifying the number of ‘reps’ the asshole had left were questionable as to their authenticity. The guy looked like he didn’t have 10 years to go, let alone the 50 that would be required as collateral for the loan he was requesting. Mr. Donovan had come down personally to push it through, however, and the asshole fell behind on his payments. First just a week or two. Then a month.
Finally, Mr. Asshole defaulted. And Nils had to go on Mr. Donovans behalf to collect those 50 years worth of collateral. The terms in the paperwork that had been signed very clearly stated that the burden of debt should the ‘reps’ not be recoverable from the originating debtor of the loan would be transfered to the next of kin. Mr. Donovan even had video recording of the asshole agreeing that his next of kin would be guarantors in the event of his inability to fulfill his obligations. And what do you know, Mr. Asshole barely had 2 years left to his name according to Nils scanner. His daughter on the other hand…
Nils shuddered from nothing having to do with the brisk winter air. This debtor, Mr. Maxwell Smith, didn’t have any children. Thank god. Just a poor kid who had tried to pay his way through law school using a loan. Too bad there were too many lawyers now. Kid hadn’t gotten a job out of college and had finally fallen behind enough on his loans to drag Nils out to the slums where he lived. He briefly wondered if the kid would try to run as he walked up the steps leading to the building’s main doors. It really wouldn’t be that bad, he rationalized as he approached debtor’s door. At least the kid would be able to start collecting his social security once his remaining reps had been verified.
Apropos of: Creative Liberties with this prompt