Conversation · Sawed-off Street Light

He watches you attach the sign to the street light using the sticky tack he put on the back of it. "There you go. Beautiful job."

He hands you the sign then watches you attach it to the street light using the sticky tack he put on the back. "There you go. Beautiful job."

"It'll have to do for now."

(Take it.)

He hands you the cardboard and you notice there's something written on it. "Stick this to the light and people will know that it's yours."

(Search for something you can defend yourself with.)

The lieutenant catches your movements and meets your eyes with a look of confusion.

You tense up as the pawnshop owner uprights himself back into view. There isn't a gun in his hands -- or anywhere else on him. Instead, he holds out a piece of cardboard. "Here we go."

He's trying to cut you with its sharp edge!

He's really not. Just take it off him.

"Careful where you point that thing. It's sharp!"

"I assure you it's not." He runs a finger along its edge. "See? Not a scratch. Now, please, take it and stick it on the street light. That way people will know it's yours."

"Phew." (Relax.) "I thought you were grabbing a gun."

"Oh, nothing like that." He is completely unfazed by your statement. "Just this sign that declares you the owner of the street light. Stick it on and people will know that it's yours."

(Ready your hands on your pistol.)

"Hey! Where'd you go?"

"I want my shares back then."

"But... why? It's a perfectly wonderful light. Besides," he points to the sign on his booth, "there are no returns or exchanges for items purchased in this shop."

"How does it feel to be a shareholder?"

"Yeah, good. But I won't be holding onto these shares for long." He gives you a false grin. "I've got to pay those debts off."

"Yeah, good. But I won't be holding onto these shares for long." He gives you a false grin.

"Got some big purchases planned, have you?"

"Let's just say there's some long overdue business I've got to deal with."

"Nothing like a good business deal to loosen the joints, is there?" (Rotate your shoulders.)

He doesn't quite catch your meaning. "Oh... sure." He tries to mimic your rotational action but just ends up shrugging.

"How does a twentieth sound to you?"

"Hm, that's a reasonable offer." He raises a curled finger to his chin, looking as thoughtful as he can.

This is all for show. He's already made his mind up.

The pose! The power! Yessssss, drag this part out and reel in your audience, darling. See if they will crack under the suspense.

"Alright, you have a deal. The street light is all yours." His shoulders relax as if a load has been lifted off them. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"I can't go higher than a few shares."

He gulps. "That's... not enough."

"Take it or leave it. Makes no odds to me."

"Forget it, then. I'll get more for the light in cash. Unless you want to reconsider?"

"Look, I was told that these shares will double in value in five years' time."

"But I want to sell them now." He tilts his head slightly to consider this new information.

Or has another light shining on the ceiling caught his eye? It's hard to tell.

"Alright, alright. That'll have to do." His shoulders relax slightly. "The street light is all yours."

"I need time to mull this over." (Go back.)

"Of course, officer." There's a tiny hint of distress in his voice. "It's your decision."

"Let's talk about this trade then, if you're happy with shares?" (Start hustling.)

"More than happy. Like I said, I value the street light at 700 reál. You decide how many of your shares that gets me."

As little as possible. We only sell shares if we're getting something of more value for them. Shares are premium goods. THINK BIG BUSINESS!

He has an idea of what he wants but he's not giving it away. Sign of a veteran dealer -- able to withstand negotiations over minuscule amounts for days or even weeks.

A twentieth of your shares is a sensible offer. Very divisible as far as numbers go.

Some extra shares would go a long way to helping him out of debt. He deserves a break.

Something lifted in him when he saw those shares. He needs as many as possible -- even if he won't admit it.

"More than happy. I value the street light at 700 reál. You decide how many of your shares that gets me."

There's nothing else you need to know about the light. [Leave.]

"Is that a street light?"

"Yes, officer. As you can see, it's in perfect working order."

His manner is casual, but his speech is careful, measured. He wants you to know that he has nothing to hide.

"How much for the street light?"

"Seven hundred reál. A bargain, I dare say."

A bargain?! No, it's not! He's trying to sweet-talk you into buying trash!

"Even taking into account the risk of obtaining the light, that seems a bit steep...."

"There's also the matter of rewiring. But the most important transformation is the light's placement among ordinary indoor fixtures, which has adjusted its morphological field. The light became suitable for use inside the home just a few days ago."

"Are you out of your mind? There's one just like that on every corner!"

"The light has undergone three transformations, and every transformation, large or small, has a price tag." He rests his elbows on the counter and brings his face closer to the glass.

The light has been removed and rewired -- that's two transformations. But what about the third?