In an extreme-heat apocalypse, the outdoor temperature reaches 70°C. Everyone is huddled in shelters, waiting to die, while I’ve bound myself to the Doomsday Errand System. Order 1: Deliver ten tons of liquid nitrogen to the Southern Military District. Reward: the rank of major. Order 2: Help the richest man retrieve his family trust from a bank vault. Reward: half his assets. Order 3: Pick up an academic from the Academy of Sciences and take them to the Northwestern Base. Reward: shared access to controlled nuclear fusion technology. Later, as I casually take orders in my air-conditioned delivery van, the commander’s voice suddenly comes over the radio: “Comrade, could you... could you bring a cold Coke to the command center? We’ll trade you an intercontinental missile for it.”
