Elias was a constructor. He didn’t build houses; he crafted complex gear systems—mechanisms that, once set in motion, performed tasks autonomously and incorruptibly. It was precision work. He knew that a single flaw in the gears could bring the entire system to a standstill. That was why he took his time. His small stall on the outskirts of town was a place of quiet, visited only by those who understood the value of mechanics.
But the world around him was getting faster. One day, an emissary from the "Central Exchange" appeared. He wore a vest of shimmering thread and held a checklist in his hand.
"Elias," he shouted, checking his pocket watch frantically. "Your system is good, but it’s invisible. Anyone not listed at the Central Exchange doesn't exist. If you want people to believe in your construction, you have to go where the light burns brightest."
Elias countered, "My system is still in testing. It doesn't need spectators; it needs users who understand it."
The emissary waved him off. "Users come later. First, you need movement. If nothing moves, your project is dead. We have specialists who take care of that movement."
The Spectacle of Artificial Motion
Elias gave in and rented a spot at the Exchange. The fee was exorbitant, but the emissary promised him "Gold Status."
As soon as Elias moved in, the "Organizers" began their work. They were men so swift that their movements were only perceivable as shadows. They bought Elias’s gears on the left side of the stall and sold them back on the right side in the same instant. They juggled prices, shouted numbers into the crowd, and created a cloud of dust and frantic energy.
From a distance, it looked as though Elias’s stall was besieged by a massive crowd. The "volume" of trade was gigantic.
"Do you see?" the Exchange emissary shouted to Elias, pocketing a small coin as a fee for every trade. "Everyone is talking about you! Your value is rising!"
Elias watched the crowd. Many people were there, but they weren't looking at the gears at all. They only stared at the price tags, which the shadow-men adjusted upwards every minute. Whenever someone actually tried to take a gear home to install it in their machine, they were pushed aside by the shadow-men. Real usage interfered with the flow of rapid trading.
When the Dust Settles
The problem was: the shadow-men didn't work for free. Elias had to pay them from his own reserves. He gave them more and more of his painstakingly constructed components just to keep the dance alive.
One evening, his supply was exhausted. Elias could no longer afford to compensate the shadow-men.
That night, the inevitable happened: the shadow-men vanished as suddenly as they had arrived. They packed up their signs and moved on to the next stall that had just opened at the Exchange.
The next morning, Elias’s stall was deserted. The dust settled. The people who had stared greedily at the price tags the day before now only saw a lonely man with a few complicated gears. Since there were no more shadow-men frantically buying and selling, the people thought the project was broken.
"Yesterday this place was buzzing," a passerby muttered disappointedly. "Today, no one cares. It must be worthless."
Within hours, Elias’s work lost all meaning in the eyes of the crowd—not because the gears had gotten worse, but because the noise had stopped.
The Foundation in the Shadows
Elias packed his tools. He felt exhausted. The Exchange operator had profited from every single sham transaction, while Elias had sacrificed his substance to feed an illusion of success.
He returned to his workshop on the edge of town.
Weeks later, there was a knock at the door. It was an engineer leading a large construction project. "Elias," she said. "I saw you at the big market. I ignored the noise, but I grabbed one of your gears when the shadow-men weren't looking. I tested it. It’s the only one that can withstand the pressure of my machine."
Elias looked at her. "The market says my project failed because there is no more movement there."
The engineer smiled wearily. "The market doesn't know how to build. It only knows how to trade. I don't need movement on a sign. I need a gear system that runs when all the town criers have long since gone to sleep."
Elias understood. Visibility on the big square had been like a bright firework: it lit up the sky for a moment, but it left only ashes behind. True demand didn't come from drumming, but from the slow growth of trust in functionality.
Where would you sell your product – and when?