It bothers me how the currency in sci fi is always “credits”; if I wrote a sci fi story, the universal currency would be Australian dollars, even if it’s set in space, with no Australian people, or any indication that this universe ever had a place called Australia in it.
“Neurofluid?” the Guttermaster growled, “Sure, I can get you neurofluid. But it’ll cost ya.”
“How much.”
He scratched his third chin with a rusty iron finger, thinking. “Well, the going rate here on Ganymede’s a hundred aussie dollars per mill, but I’m willing to cut you ninety if you buy a full litre.”
Ganymede’s black marketeers are an honest lot, relatively speaking. A good price, but I could push it lower. I turned my nose in feigned disinterest. “That’s a pretty underwhelming discount, especially with the AUD to RMB exchange rate factored in. I got a dealer on Titan who gives it to me factory second for a flat seventy five pee em el.”
To this he grinned, revealing rows upon rows of polished, sharpened platinum. “Well, that’s all well and good, mate, but you’re not on Titan anymore.”
I don’t recall what currency Cordwainer Smith used in his books (just checked – it was credits), but the planet that produced the immortality serum stroon, and was therefore the richest in the galaxy, was populated entirely by Australian sheep ranchers.
Mooncustafer 