After I milk myself and distribute milk and Minnie to my worshipers, I consider: James is going to go off and defeat a broken nation to mend it back together - with a bunch of buffs from me.  I’m probably going to level again soon.  That’ll be handy, I guess, although there’s already very little I can’t simply do.  Ninth level spells don’t come online for me until sixteenth level, and those are game-changers, but… well, I’ve been fine without so far.

I check my phone… oh, hey: Family get together is good to go this Saturday.  Nice… I invite Jessica as well, via text: may as well show off my lady. Careful of the wording, I inform her that I HAVE the get together, and ask her if she'd LIKE to come. I don't want to accidentally force her, after all.

I also have an update in my email from Svanhildur Bowie of WorldHop: Paperwork is ready for signature. Nifty… ah, and he notes that they have a notary in staff, so I can drop by whenever they're open. Perfect. Although… it occurs to me there's better ways to work with my phone.

I test with my burner phone first: I quickly animate it, then order it to unlock itself… and it does. I find that I need to keep the commands simple (the phone isn't intelligent), but I can talk it through using most apps - games don't work well due to timing issues, but web browsing, word processing, email, texting, and calls function OK. Nice. I do the same for my main phone, but run into an issue when I go to put them away: Creatures go into torpor in warp storage, or they don't go in at all.

That's entirely solvable, though, as I plan to interact with them mostly via Scrying and telepathy anyway. So I open a small portal to my crafting demiplane, and store them there, after hooking up to them via Profane Gift, Greater Scrying, and Message.  It's kind of like Bluetooth with a good voice assistant, but telepathic and I get full video and audio. The only things I'll need to actually grab the phones for are pictures and games. I could probably do that with a full sized computer too, thinking about it. Hmm.

For now, though, I have my mindphone pull up a street view of the WorldHop facility, open a portal to the front door, step through, close the portal, and walk into their reception.

It's a glass door, so the receptionist at the desk sees the whole thing.  She's just kind of staring at me, mouth open.  Other than the shocked receptionist, this is a nicer reception area. There's seating, a fish tank, music playing… it's pretty relaxing. And the receptionist is well equipped too: Makeup, blond hair, tanned skin, a DD chest (no, I don't know sizes that well, but Improved Blindsight gives me enough detail to read the label on her pink cotton brasserie)... oh yes  and she has a nice workstation as well, complete with a headset.

Seeing as how she's not taking initiative and greeting me, I read her driver's license in her wallet ("Ruta Y Herrera"), and greet her:

"Hello Ms Herrera, I am here to sign some paperwork with Svanhildur Bowie. Is he in?"

The direct question seems to kick her out of her stupor, and she pits her professional mask back on, "I'll check," she pauses, "Mr. Carlson, was it? I caught your spot on Stateline News."

Ah, fame does have a benefit … "That's correct, yes."

The receptionist glances at her screen and clicks something with her mouse. My perception is high enough to hear both sides of the conversation.

"Mr. Carlson is here to sign the paperwork, are you free?"

"For him? Always. As in, if he drops by at midnight on a weekend when I'm on vacation, call my cell and wake me up. I'm betting this account is going to be THAT big. Got it? Please escort him to meeting room six, and ask Harriet to join us with her notary kit. Oh, and you did call him Mr, right?" I recognize Svanhildur's voice.

"Understood sir, right away sir, and yes sir." She hangs up, types a few things out, and looks at me, "Right this way, please."

I follow Ruta through a carpeted hallway lined with closed doors with name placards, most of which have a single person behind them at a desk; they also apparently took the time to insulate the walls, floor, and ceilings: Those offices will be quiet. Ms. Herrera is easy to follow, she has quite the rear view. The meeting rooms at the end of the hallway are done the same way.

The meeting room itself is designed for comfort. It's got what you might expect of a higher end meeting room: A presentation screen, speakers in the walls, a secretary booth, microphones at each of the seats, lots of places to plug in laptops for power and internet, and so on. But the chairs are just this side of leather recliners, all the wood paneling is mahogany, and they have a wet bar… which is stocked with liquors and wines, the youngest of which is twenty years old. There's also some light jazz playing.

I get the feeling this is going to be expensive.

Ruta Y Herrera takes her leave of me, giving me the run of the room, adding, "The bar is stocked; feel free to drink anything that strikes your fancy, it's for VIP guests like yourself," as she walks out, a pronounced sway in her hips.

Hmm. I should probably spend some quality time with Jessica soon. I'm getting easily distracted.

I don't have long to wait; Mr. Bowie shows up quite quickly, holding a stuffed file folder, a woman with an official-looking bag in tow.

I greet them, “Hello Svanhildur,” I shake his hand, and turn to do the same with the woman, “ … and you must be Harriet.  Good to meet you.” I remembered her name from listening in to the headset from across the room, of course.  And I can read her driver’s license too.

She almost frowns, but maintains her smile as she shakes my hand, "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

I chuckle, "I don't believe so, no. I am Mr. Chris Carlson, goddess of Arcana; call me Chris." I let loose her hand, "Shall we get down to business?"

Svanhildur hands me the folder, and I combine the Autohypnosis skill from the Expanded Psionic Handbook to memorize things with the Scholar's Touch spell to read the entire folder instantly, netting a perfect memory of all the documents with a touch. I set them down on the table, "So you're asking 10% of ticket sales, but covering basically all of the data processing, data storage, payment collection, and even setting things up eh? And setting the equipment up as a rental, making it tricky to cancel the contract later, even though there are exit clauses that let me get all my data back. Huh." I mull it over a bit.

My WorldHop rep nods slowly as he looks at me a little sideways, "It was easier to sell my boss on the package if he thinks there's a trap clause. But yes, that contract is for basically everything except the portals and the customer facing people on the ground, both of which you have covered. Is the ten million down a problem?"

I consider, "It doesn't specify a specific currency, so I can pay you now if you don't mind handling the exchange yourself from Arcana GP.  Here…" I use Fabricate to make a hundred pound (US pound, not troy pound) bag of gold pieces, using an identical coin design as the one I gave to John Fredrickson, "Check if that's suitable; if it is, I'll get the remainder."

Mr. Bowie shrugs, opens the bag, and takes one out, "Is this…" he trails off.

"Pure gold, yes. Even if the exchange places don't have an exchange rate for my coins, they will take it as the metal," I check my phone and run some numbers, "This bag works out to a little over $2.7 million at today's gold price, just for the weight. If it's suitable, I'll get you three more and call it good."

Svanhildur holds the coin in front of his face, and says, "... I want to say yes. But I should check with my manager…" and without taking his eyes off the coin, he walks slowly out of the room.

I watch with Improved Blindsight as he leaves the room, and shows the coin to his manager… who comes back with him at a dead run.

"Deal!" That's the first and only word out of the manager's mouth as he stands there, staring at the bag, while Svanhildur, Harriet, and I go through all the paperwork and sign things. When we’re done, he keeps staring at the bag as I make three more, lay them on the floor, and get a receipt from Harriet. He's still standing there, staring at the bag, as I get my copies of the contracts, and walk out the door of the meeting room. He's still standing there, staring at the bag, as I walk down the hall. He's still standing there, staring at the bag, as I finally walk out of Blindsight range.

Gold makes people crazy, it seems.