"Mr. Abel Jensen, this tool can drastically speed up your calculations. Would you like to give it a try? It's really easy to learn."
And then—
Lanen was met with a cold, flat rejection.
The morning weather was beautiful.
Golden-orange sunlight warmed the skin, and autumn leaves occasionally spiraled down along the roadside.
Young Abel had just opened his shop and was leaning comfortably into his high-backed chair, basking in the morning sun as he waited for his first customers.
The first to walk in was a black-haired youth, carrying a few flat brown paper boxes.
Abel recognized him—probably a freshman from the neighboring school. He'd visited the shop quite a few times.
But instead of browsing the merchandise, the boy headed straight toward him.
Now, Abel prided himself on his quick calculations—no one in the area could tally bills faster. His vertical arithmetic was something of a local legend.
So he stopped the youth from opening the box and shook his head confidently.
"No need. I calculate fast enough."
"Would you at least like to take a look? This is the biggest magic supply store around—lots to choose from."
Lanen left the shop feeling thoroughly deflated. As he stepped outside, he lifted his head to the sky.
He hadn't left campus in a few days, and the skyline had changed again. Not far off, a tall scaffold had risen—likely part of a street he hadn't explored. Atop the structure, a colorful sign of flashing lights read: Broccoli Theater.
A theater? Around here?
Lanen made a mental note, then steeled himself and turned toward the next shop.
"Ma'am, would you like to try my newest creation? It can greatly improve your speed at the register."
Unlike the cold reception earlier, the candy shop owner seemed genuinely interested. Lanen's confidence began to return.
"Here," he said, opening the box, "each lower bead represents one unit, and each upper bead represents five. Once you get the hang of the carry-over rules, it's simple and quick to use."
"Watch this—say we're adding 167 and 646. First we dial in 167, then add 646 and adjust the carries. Like so…"
Lanen gave a smooth demonstration.
"The result is 813," he announced. "Much faster than doing it by hand—especially during busy hours."
The shopkeeper leaned in with a serious expression.
"I'm interested. How much does it cost, young man?"
"This is handmade. One silver coin for the abacus, and one silver for the illustrated manual," Lanen replied with a price he'd long prepared.
"Alright, I'll take both—the tool and the manual."
"It's called an abacus."
"Abacus, then. And the manual. Say, aren't you going to introduce yourself?"
After chatting for a while, Lanen moved on to the next shop.
To his surprise, things went far more smoothly than expected.
The florist and the pet shop owner both patiently waited through his demonstration. Once he showcased the abacus's speed, they paid without hesitation.
He had made three test models—and so far, all three sold.
Pocketing six jingling silver coins, Lanen picked up his pace toward campus.
Time for self-study and problem sets with the gang.