The Drogen's Law

Orientation (Edwin)

Edwin absent-mindedly picked a cookie-shaped snack from the stall and shoved it into his mouth. It was crunchy and spicy rather than sweet and crunchy, which was a pleasant surprise.

“Edwin? Doesn’t this remind you of all the bass and parties back at Vancorg Tribe?” Chris said between a mouthful of snacks Edwin had no name for.

Edwin grunted. He wouldn’t know, would he?—he had never engaged in them. He eyed the room. There were too many people packed in the same room. It was claustrophobic.

Instead of the strangers, Edwin focused on his friends for comfort. Sigmund was busy gorging himself with every strange snack he saw. He was acting like a street urchin dropped in a feast. Jimmy stood behind him like a bodyguard ready to protect him—silent as ever.

Rina was shaking hands with yet another stranger. They had just arrived at the tribe and the woman was already making deals and developing hordes of connection. What was the big deal, anyway? Were scripters really that valuable? Edwin di