Sky-High Harvests
Kieran stood on the rooftop of his current urban farm, surveying his miniature green empire. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the sea of lettuce, tomato vines, and microgreens. The gentle hum of the system's drones delivering fresh produce to clients filled the air, and he couldn't help but smile. Business was booming. CitySprout Farms was thriving. But like any overachieving protagonist in an urban farming story, Kieran wanted more.
He checked his system balance on his phone. The numbers stared back at him: $67,400 in cash and a ridiculous 2500 system points. Not bad for a guy who, not too long ago, was living off instant noodles and debating the ethics of stealing ketchup packets to spice up his meals.
The problem was that he was running out of space. His current rooftop farm could only handle so much produce, and the demand was skyrocketing. Between the restaurants, grocery stores, and Isabelle's endless requests for more microgreens, Kieran knew it was time to expand. But where?
That's when it hit him. If he couldn't expand outward, he'd expand upward.
A quick online search revealed that a surprising number of penthouses in the city were unoccupied. Apparently, not everyone was on board with the idea of paying exorbitant rent for a fancy apartment just to look down on the rest of the world. But for Kieran, these penthouses weren't luxury homes—they were potential urban farms.
He made a list of available penthouses and started making calls.
The first call went surprisingly well. The landlord was an older gentleman who clearly didn't care what Kieran planned to do with the space as long as he paid the rent on time.
"So, you're not actually living here?" the landlord asked, his voice crackling over the phone.
"Nope," Kieran said. "It'll be strictly for farming."
There was a long pause. "Farming? In a penthouse?"
"Yes, sir. It's for a business. Urban farming is the future."
The landlord sighed. "As long as you don't destroy the place, I don't care. Rent's $5,000 a month. First and last upfront."
Kieran did some quick mental math. With his daily earnings now averaging $3,000, this was manageable. He agreed to the terms and arranged to sign the lease.
The second penthouse was a harder sell.
"You want to grow vegetables in my penthouse?" the landlord asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.
"Yes, ma'am," Kieran said confidently. "It's for a legitimate business. I can even provide references."
"References?" She snorted. "You sound like a kid. How old are you?"
Kieran hesitated. "Old enough to run a successful company."
She hung up.
By the end of the day, Kieran had successfully secured leases for three penthouses. The total rent came to $15,000 a month, which was steep, but he was confident the investment would pay off. Besides, the system was practically begging him to expand.
He spent the next few days preparing the new spaces. Each penthouse presented its own unique challenges. One had a leaky skylight, which Kieran decided to turn into a makeshift rainwater collection system. Another had an eccentric neighbor who insisted on introducing herself every time she saw him.
"Hi, I'm Linda," she'd say, holding out a tray of cookies. "Welcome to the building!"
"Thanks, Linda," Kieran would reply, trying not to eat the cookies since they weren't organic.
The third penthouse had a view so stunning that Kieran found himself staring out the window instead of working. The city stretched out before him, a glittering expanse of opportunity. It was a far cry from the cramped apartment he used to live in.
Installing the vertical planters and hydroponic systems was a logistical nightmare. The system offered to handle it for 200 points per penthouse, but Kieran opted to do some of the work himself to save points. He spent hours assembling equipment, connecting irrigation lines, and nearly dropping a planter off the side of the building.
"Farmers don't usually have to deal with gravity," he muttered to himself as he tightened a bolt on one of the planters.
By the time everything was set up, Kieran was exhausted but satisfied. The new farms were operational, and the first crops were already sprouting, thanks to the system's accelerated growth settings. He stood in one of the penthouses, wiping sweat from his brow and admiring his handiwork.
"This is going to work," he said aloud, as if convincing himself.
His phone buzzed with a text from Isabelle.
"We need more microgreens. Can you double the order this week?"
Kieran grinned. This wasn't just going to work—it was going to thrive.
Word of his expansion spread quickly. Isabelle mentioned it to a friend, who happened to own a chain of vegan cafes. A grocery store manager recommended him to another store across town. Even Linda, the cookie lady, told her book club about the "young entrepreneur who's farming in penthouses."
Within a week, Kieran was fielding so many calls that he had to hire a virtual assistant to manage his schedule. The orders poured in, and the system points racked up. He upgraded his drones to carry larger loads and even unlocked a new feature that allowed him to monitor the farms remotely via a system dashboard.
One afternoon, as he was reviewing his finances, Kieran realized he was pulling in over $3,000 a day. After expenses, including the penthouse rents and equipment maintenance, he was still netting around $50,000 a month.
He decided to treat himself. Not with a fancy car or a lavish vacation—those could wait. Instead, he bought a custom pair of work boots. Comfortable, durable, and emblazoned with the CitySprout Farms logo.
As he laced them up, he couldn't help but laugh.
"Who knew farming could be so lucrative?"
That evening, Kieran stood on the rooftop of one of his new farms, watching the system drones zip through the air, delivering fresh produce to customers across the city. The lights of the skyscrapers twinkled around him, and the hum of the city filled the air.
He had come a long way from that first rooftop garden. CitySprout Farms was no longer just a quirky idea—it was a force to be reckoned with. And Kieran? He was just getting started.