Chapter 8 - Chapter 8: News Arrives

💸 If you had $400k in 1919 America, what would you invest in first?

🎒 If you could smuggle one modern invention into this timeline using Chaos Space, what would it be?

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The next day, George didn't manually dispel his Multiple Shadow Clones. Instead, he had the clones stationed in the school and forest attack each other, causing them to disperse naturally. This decision was partly because two of his clones were still out searching for specific targets. Fortunately, the Shadow Clone technique came with an innate property—when a clone is significantly damaged, it vanishes on its own.

However, this time, George noticed something unusual. Until now, all his clones had been dismissed directly by his own will. This was the first time he had clones eliminate each other. When eleven clones vanished all at once, George was hit with a sensation that was entirely different from the usual memory transfer. It wasn't knowledge—it was raw, instinctual. The kind of sensation that claws its way out of your chest. For a brief moment, it felt like being struck by eleven deaths at once.

There is a terror that exists only between life and death—and George had just tasted a drop of it. It took him a while to compose himself. Anyone who suddenly absorbed the experience of being killed eleven times simultaneously would probably need a moment to breathe. And George, despite the Chaos Pearl's transformations, was still human. This wasn't just chakra or information—it was trauma. From that moment on, George decided that all future clones would be released through this method to build his mental resilience.

Five days later, around noon, George was taking a nap when one of the messages reached him. It wasn't through chakra sensing or clone-summoning—it was memory, transmitted by death. One of the clones had been dispersed, and with its final moment, it delivered a rush of insight. It was the one he had sent to Wilmington. George sat up slowly, eyes still half-lidded from sleep, and whispered, "I will remember you." It was part jest, part tribute. But inside, he felt a twinge of emotion. That clone had shown him something the others hadn't—it had died to deliver a vision of the outside world.

In the memory flash, George saw a kind of prosperity. From Memphis to Wilmington, cities were evolving. Towering buildings had started to rise above the streets, women in heavy makeup strode confidently along sidewalks, and automobiles zipped through traffic. In George's recollections of history, this was the beginning of the great economic boom in the United States—a golden opportunity he couldn't afford to miss. He had arrived at the cusp of a technological and societal explosion. And now, the stage was set.

The clone in Wilmington had completed its mission. It had found the company George was searching for: DuPont. Established in 1802, DuPont had grown into a powerhouse in research-based industries. By the late 19th and early 20th centuries, it was the biggest name in gunpowder, and by 1811 had already become the largest gunpowder manufacturer in America. But its evolution was even more interesting. After the death of its then-president, Eugene DuPont, in 1902, the company underwent sweeping changes. His three grandsons bought out the rest of the family and began reshaping the firm, founding the Eastern Laboratory—one of the first industrial research centers in the United States. By 1904, they had begun expanding into non-explosive sectors such as varnishes and consumer products. In George's past life, this company's 2020 revenue had exceeded two hundred billion dollars annually, with profits in the billions.

As George processed all this, another wave of memory suddenly crashed into him—the second clone had completed its mission. This one had found the Westinghouse Company. George's heart skipped a beat as he focused his mind, ready to absorb the second set of results. Westinghouse had once been a dominant force in energy, transportation, aerospace, and military innovation. Though it had eventually gone bankrupt in his past world, its golden age had been marked by vast influence and industrial success. It was founded in 1886 by George Westinghouse and became a Fortune 500 entity with yearly revenues exceeding ten billion dollars. Its technology had reached across all five continents, with its products installed in homes, offices, factories, and government buildings alike.

Finding both DuPont and Westinghouse should have felt like a victory, but instead, George was filled with a new kind of frustration. He had found the meat, but had no spoon. These companies were giants. And he had... four hundred thousand dollars in the bank. Enough to live, sure. But in comparison to the giants? Nothing. Like trying to buy a mountain with a sack of coins.

Still, the opportunity was there. These two companies were now on his radar, and all he had to do was wait. Because, according to the historical timeline from his previous life, a financial crisis would erupt in the United States in August of this year, one that would last until the end of 1921. A two-year economic meltdown caused by post-war imbalances and the collapse of external demand. During that crisis, production would nosedive. Industrial output would drop by 25 percent. Machinery, coal, and steel would decline by about 70 percent. Agriculture would be devastated—prices of major crops plummeting by as much as 70 percent. Unemployment would spike to over 23 percent. This was why George had rushed to sell the farm, finding excuses to offload it before the storm arrived.

And the crisis wouldn't end cleanly. While other industries would slowly recover, agriculture would be left behind. Its prices would never bounce back. George knew that, and he had no intention of clinging to a dying industry. He was moving his chips to the other side of the board—industries that would rise.

Beyond DuPont and Westinghouse, George also had his eyes on two other companies: Coca-Cola and PepsiCo. In this era, their valuations were just three million dollars each—peanuts, considering the empires they would become. These four corporations—DuPont, Westinghouse, Coca-Cola, and Pepsi—were George's chosen targets. He didn't need to own them entirely. Even holding a small share would give him generational wealth.

Having gathered the data he needed, George temporarily shelved further action on them. Right now, he had two priorities: finishing his novel and preparing for university admission.

About ten days before the upcoming exam, George informed Elly, their housekeeper, that they would be leaving soon. He paid her an extra month's salary and politely dismissed her. George and Ryan began packing for their departure. They would not be coming back.

The house and the farm had already been sold. Ryan only needed one suitcase. George packed two—one small and one large. The small one carried his clothes. The larger one held relics of his parents: his mother's violin, his father's war trophy firearms, family photographs, and keepsakes. There were too many items to take along, so George told Ryan they'd temporarily store them at the school. Later, once they settled at the university, a teacher could help ship them over.

In truth, George had quietly placed all the important belongings into his Chaos Space once they reached the school. No one saw it. No one needed to.

He made a final trip to the cemetery to say goodbye to the graves of his parents. After that, he and Ryan handed over the house keys to the new owner and walked down the familiar path with their luggage in hand.

Standing at the threshold, George turned back and looked at the house where he'd spent more than a decade of his life. Ryan patted him gently on the shoulder and said, "Home is where the people are, George. You've got to go out and find it."

George nodded and replied quietly, "I know. But one day, I'll buy it back."

He wasn't lying. He hadn't wanted to sell it at all. But the looming economic storm made the burden unbearable. It was a hard choice, not a willing one.

They boarded the rented car. George leaned against the window, watching the landscape fade as the vehicle sped toward the future. In his mind, he told himself: This is only the beginning. I will succeed.

Ryan sat quietly beside him, watching the boy-turned-man, and said nothing. There was no need.

The school's graduation party meant nothing to George. He wasn't close to his classmates. The only reason he had participated in school activities at all was to earn performance points. Now that he had what he needed, he told the school he would be preparing for his exam and left ahead of schedule.

The car ride took over three hours to reach Memphis. Knowing the location of thSATst center, George checked into a nearby hotel. After lunch, they returned to their room to rest. Riding in a car for more than three hours in this era wasn't a comfortable experience.

The next morning, George and Ryan had breakfast at the hotel, then asked the hotel to arrange a car. George intended to explore the city and observe its rhythm—its details, its gaps, its wealth, and its flaws.

The car they were assigned had a white driver. After getting in, George curiously examined the interior. The farm had owned a truck, but he was never allowed to drive it for fun. And now it had been sold along with everything else.

This was his first time truly riding in a private car. Cars of this era looked elegant from the outside, their interiors adorned with wood. George watched as the driver turned a crank to start the engine—a process more suited to tractors than luxury.

The sight was both amusing and revealing. George recalled how, by 1927, rechargeable car batteries would replace cranks, ushering in the era of one-button start. Ironically, that early "one-button start" was purely for ignition—car keys were still only for unlocking doors. Germans, ever meticulous, added ignition locks later, leading to the modern car key.

George knew that the key invention here was the rechargeable battery, and he was determined to find out who held the patent.

He also noticed another design flaw in the car. The seats lacked pillows, and the backrests reached only shoulder height, leaving the head unsupported. George smiled. T h, i s to was an opportunity. A profitable one.

There wasn't much more to see in the car, so George leaned back and enjoyed the ride. He might have liked automobiles, but he had no interest in ever driving one that required hand-cranking.

That day, they toured the city, bought several newspapers, and returned to the hotel after dinner. Instead of retiring alone, George asked Ryan to join him in his room.

He handed Ryan a few tasks. First, gather information on all major car brands in the United States, including their production and market size. Second, investigate who held the patent for rechargeable batteries. And third, compile a list of newspapers with nationwide reach.

In the following days, Ryan became a frequent visitor to car dealerships, newspaper offices, and government buildings in Memphis. Meanwhile, George remained in the room, reading, writing, and waiting for the next moment to strike.

— End of Chapter 8 —

Thinking of starting a Patreon with early access—how many advance chapters would you want per tier?Also, what did you think of George's move into real-world industries?