The revelation hits me with a sudden clarity, dredging up memories from past lives. The lorries, flamboyantly decorated and laden with supplies, bear a striking resemblance to those I've encountered in previous existences. In those lifetimes, such vehicles were operated by various powerful entities—military remnants, conglomerates, or affluent individuals who had managed to salvage or hoard resources amidst the chaos.
These groups, or 'traders' as they were sometimes known, travel between settlements and city centres, peddling their wares in exchange for essential supplies or gold. Their belief that normalcy will one day return makes gold a valuable commodity to them, a bet on the future's stability and prosperity.
With this recognition, the situation takes on a new dimension. If these traders are indeed what they seem, their appearance could signify both opportunity and risk. On one hand, they might provide us with much-needed information. On the other, their presence could attract unwelcome attention or exacerbate local tensions, drawing us into conflicts or power struggles we've strived to avoid.
"Joon-ho," I start, my voice low, trying to weave clarity out of the complex tapestry of my past memories and present realisations. "These lorries, the way they're decorated, the goods they're carrying—it's not the first time I've seen this. In my past lives, these were the hallmarks of traders."
Joon-ho's eyebrows knit together in bafflement. "Traders? You mean, like merchants?"
"Yes, exactly," I reply. "But not just any merchants. These were organised groups—military remnants, conglomerates, even wealthy individuals who had managed to amass resources during the collapse. They travel between what remains of cities and settlements, trading not just for supplies but for gold."
"Gold?" Joon-ho echoes, his confusion deepening. "Why gold, in a world like this?"
"They believe, or perhaps hope, that the world will one day recover—that gold will regain its value as a stable currency when society is rebuilt. Trading with them could be beneficial, but it also carries risks. They draw attention, Joon-ho. They could change the balance of power in an area, attract the wrong kind of attention."
Joon-ho's gaze drifts away for a moment, absorbing the implications. "So, what you're saying is... these traders, they're not just here for benign commerce. They could be a magnet for conflict, a catalyst for change in the local dynamics."
"Exactly," I affirm, pleased he understands the gravity of the situation. "While they might offer us an opportunity to acquire valuable resources or information, engaging with them could also entangle us in larger struggles. We need to tread carefully, assess their movements, and understand their intentions before we make any decisions."
I pause, considering our next move. "We should observe their transactions in the town centre, see how they operate and who they deal with. It's crucial we understand their intentions and their standing in this new world order. But let's keep our distance—our priority is to gather information without revealing our presence or our interest."
Joon-ho nods, his expression one of understanding mixed with resolve.
As I watch the unpredictable interplay of light and darkness, my thoughts drift to a previous life—a memory so vivid that it momentarily eclipses the harsh reality of my current existence.
Back then, the world was already a shattered remnant of its former self, but among the ruins, some sought to reclaim a semblance of the past's glory. The traders I remember were part of a military remnant, a disciplined and resourceful faction that had not only survived the initial chaos but had thrived in the post-apocalyptic landscape of South Korea.
Their convoys of heavily armoured lorries, more like mobile fortresses than mere vehicles, traversed the scarred countryside. They were a common sight, their presence a reminder of the lingering vestiges of order in a world that had largely succumbed to disorder. Over time, they managed to establish a sprawling, fortified shelter, a kingdom of sorts, where they hoarded supplies, traded with desperate survivors, and enforced their rule with an iron fist.
But their success was a double-edged sword. As their wealth and influence grew, so too did the envy and greed of those around them. Other survivor groups, driven by desperation and desire, launched relentless attacks against the military remnant's stronghold. And within its walls, the very resources that were meant to ensure survival became a breeding ground for conflict and strife.
The memory of their downfall is etched deeply in my mind: the flames rising against the night sky, the clamour of battle, the relentless spread of infection within their crowded sanctuary. In their hubris, they had believed themselves invincible, but they were merely mortal, as vulnerable to the caprices of fate as any of us.
As I return to the present, the echo of those distant events resonates with a poignant warning. I find myself wondering about the traders we have just seen. Who are they? Are they remnants of the military, conglomerates, or perhaps a new power that has risen from the ashes? Will they repeat the same mistakes, or have they learned from the failures of the past?
These questions loom large in my mind, a tangled web of possibilities and uncertainties. Yet, amidst this introspection, a resolve begins to crystallise. We must understand these traders, discern their intentions, and anticipate the impact they may have on our fragile equilibrium. The lessons of the past, the echoes of my previous lives, must guide us as we navigate the treacherous waters of this new reality.
***
As dawn breaks, casting a pale light over the desolate landscape, I gather my gear, feeling the weight of the decision to venture into the town centre. Joon-ho joins me, his face set in a determined expression, understanding the risks and the necessity of our mission.
"We need to keep a low profile," I advise, adjusting the straps on my backpack. "Our goal is to observe, gather information, and avoid any engagement unless absolutely necessary."
Joon-ho nods in agreement, checking the ammunition in his weapon and securing it within his coat. "I've got the drone set up for a quick launch if we need a better view," he says, patting the small, compact device secured in his pack. "But I'll keep it grounded unless we're sure it's safe to fly."
We set out, the familiar yet ever-unsettling silence of the abandoned streets enveloping us as we make our way toward the town centre. The journey is tense, every shadow and noise a potential threat, but we proceed with caution, utilising our knowledge of the area to avoid open spaces and remain unseen.
Upon reaching the outskirts of the town centre, we find a vantage point in a partially collapsed building. Its upper floors provide a clear view of the main square, where the traders have set up their operation. From here, we can see the flamboyantly decorated lorries parked in formation, their sides open to reveal crates of supplies, weapons, and various items of value.
People start to gather, drawn by the promise of trade and the rare opportunity to acquire goods that have become luxuries in this shattered world. The traders, clad in military-style gear but with a flair that speaks of their unique identity, conduct their business with an air of authority and confidence.