Thanks DaoistdccKzk, hxixjsgdis
And Mepheister for their power stones donations
...
There were two main goals jake had set himself to do this year.
First, discover the limit of the modules.
In his past life, Argus was just a normal AI.
No magic, nor fantasy, just technology, and it could build modules: self-contained apps that ran inside it and handled specific tasks automatically.
People coded them, Argus ran them, and they used them for whatever their purpose was.
Then came reincarnation, and Argus survived and carried over into a different world.
The AI made it through, and the modules seemed to change as well with it.
The simple module he recently had developed, would open and close his fist, as if it had developed a mind of its own.
But if he spent time developing other modules, what would the limit be, playing instruments? Sports? Maybe even control hormonal changes or the density of his bones.
Although most of it was still theory, his mind was already rushing in with countless ideas.
Of course, it would take some time to develope a proper module, maybe two or three weeks more.
The second goal was more practical: Make money.
Not to become a bilionare in one year, but at least to have some pocket money.
At first, Jake thought this would be the biggest hurdle short-term.
He was still a kid in the eyes of people, after all.
That was until he realized that people in 2002 California are incredibly quick to throw away "broken" tech because they don't understand it.
One afternoon, riding in his bike with Alan, he found a neighbor's garage sale.
Amidst the bins of old National Geographic magazines and rusted garden tools, Jake spots a Sony VAIO PCG-GRX570.
In 2002, this was a $2,500 machine, the kind of machine that could actually handle early video editing.
"It's dead, Jake," the neighbor said, waving a hand dismissively. "Spilled a Diet Coke on it. Motherboard's fried. I'm just using it to prop up this table."
"I'll give you five dollars for it," Jake said.
Alan winced. "Five dollars? Jake, that's two weeks of chocolate milk money. It's a brick."
"It's an educational opportunity, Dad," Jake countered, using the one phrase that always bypassed Alan's "cheapness" filter.
"And besides, the magnesium alloy casing alone is worth ten bucks in scrap." He whispered to his father
Alan sighed, handed over a crinkled five-dollar bill, and watched his nine-year-old carry the three-pound laptop like it was a holy relic.
"Dad, do you still have the kit tool Grandma gifted you?" Back in home, Jake asked Alan
"What kit tool?" Alan asked, perplexed at his son question.
"The one grandma gave you for your 30th birthday and told you 'Maybe with this, you can fix your life.' " Jake 'innocently' relayed his grandmother words.
"Oh, that one. Yeah, it is in the garage. " Used to his mother's words, Alan answered matter-of-factly.
Back in the garage, Jake stripped the VAIO down to its bones. To a normal person, this would be a puzzle, but for Jake, with Argus acces to the internet, he knew not only the problem but how to swiftly solve it, plus the [Soldering] module acting as high-tech robotic hand
Suddenly, the slight tremor common to a child's developing nervous system vanished.
Jake felt a strange, cool numbness creep from his shoulder down to his fingertips. It wasn't that he couldn't feel his hand; it was that his hand now had the stability of an industrial robotic arm.
He picked up the soldering iron.
To a normal human eye, the contact points on the motherboard were small to properly do it with their hands.
To Jake, assisted by Argus, it was an easy move.
Thirty minutes later, the VAIO turned on and was brought back to life.
He walked into the living room while Alan was watching the news.
He set the laptop down, hit the power button, and let's the Windows XP startup sound chime loudly
"Oh hey, look at that, you repaired it, how did you do it," said Alan, surprised at his son's skills
"It wasn't actually 'broken,' Dad. It just had a series of localized circuit failures caused by the soda residue. I used the service manual I found on an FTP server and some high-purity alcohol to bridge the connections." Jake explained to his father
"Oh, ok ... I believe you, " Alan said with a deadpan expression, not wanting to get into a 15-minute explanation of electronics by his son, again.
"Do you think any of your clients would want to buy it?" Jaked looked hopefully at his father.
Alan put his hand up to his face and started to think about his clients.
"Hmmm, I think Mr Henderson was looking to buy a new one. How much do you want to sell it for?"
"Twelve hundred bucks," jake answered
"Twelve hundred!?"
"Yeah."
"Like one 12 and two 0s." Alan seems gobsmacked at the price his son just mentioned.
"That's what twelve hundred is dad," He answered with a blank face.
"Son, you spent 5 dollars on it. Don't you think 1200 is too much?" Alan tried to reason the price with his son.
"A new one goes for over two thousand, I think I'm being fair."
"Well, if you said so, I'll see if Mr. Henderson wants it. " Alan didn't seem to believe the laptop was worth that much, but since his son said so, he was going to see if it could be sold at that price.
" Oh, also, tell him it is worth fifteen hundred dollars," Jake said as he was leaving.
"Wait, why?"
"So when he tries to lowball you at 1000, you 'meet him halfway' at 1200. It's basic business dad"
Alan wanted to ask more, but jake had already left for his soccer practice with judith.
"Alrigth, I guess I'll do that."
The next day, while jake was repairing a broken walkman in the garage, Alan came in.
"You were right, Jake!" Alan beamed, stepping over a pile of stripped wires. "I showed the Sony VAIO to Mr. Henderson, the guy with the chronic lumbar strain? He's been complaining that his office computer is slower than a snail on tranquilizers."
Jake didn't look up immediately, his hand moving with the eerie, mechanical stability Argus provided. "And?"
"1200 dollars, cash!" Alan pulled a stack of twenties from the envelope, fanning them out. "He did haggle when i told him 1500, and then when i lowered to 1200 ,he thought he was getting the deal of the century." He seemed to be beaming either pride.
"Thats great great dad, I knew you could do it"
Alan suddenly sat down on a stool, looking dazed. "I just realized... if you do this once a week, you'll be out-earning most GPs in the Valley by Christmas."
" I don't think that many people are throwing diet soda at their computers dad"
Alan hesitated, his fingers twitching over the bills. The "Harper Frugality" was warring with his pride. "Now, Jake, that's a lot of money for a nine-year-old. Maybe we should put this in your ceramic pig? Or I could 'hold onto it' for you in my savings account?"
Jake knew that once money entered Alan's "hold onto it" phase, it was effectively gone, lost to the black hole of utilities and maybe a college fund. He needed to pivot to the "High-IQ Education" angle.
"Dad, let's be logical," Jake said, his voice dropping into that calm, adult cadence that always caught Alan off guard. "If you put that money in a standard savings account, the 1.5% interest won't even keep up with inflation. You're essentially losing money every day it sits there."
Alan blinked. "Inflation? Since when do you care about the Consumer Price Index?"
"Since I realized that my college is going to be expensive. I don't want to be a burden," Jake lied smoothly, playing the 'guilt card' perfectly. "I've been reading about E-Trade. It's a new way to trade stocks online. No brokers and no high commissions, its just $9.99 a trade."
"Online stocks? That sounds like gambling, Jake. Like those dot-com kids who lost everything two years ago."
"It's only gambling if you don't have the data," Jake countered. "Think about it. We set up a Custodial Account. It's legally in your name, but I manage the 'research.' You get to oversee every move. It's like a bonding exercise a father-son journey into the world of high finance." Jake knew the moment he mentioned the father-son bonding experience, Alan was half foot in the bag.
Alan looked at the money, then at his son.
The idea of being a "Stock Market Father" appealed to his ego.
"And," Jake added, the finishing blow, "the trades are tax-deductible under certain educational provisions. We'd be saving money just by having the account."
Alan sighed, a smile tugging at his lips. "You really are a freak of nature, aren't you? Fine. We'll look into this 'E-Trade' thing. But if you lose that twelve hundred dollars on some 'Magic Bean' stock, you're mowing the lawn until you're thirty."
"Deal," Jake said, shaking Alan's hand.
As Alan walked back into the house, already practicing how he was going to tell Judith that he was "teaching Jake about the market," Jake turned back to his workbench.