For much of Uji’s early economic life, quartz was not an idea but a gemstone. Before digitisation, quartz existed as physical gemstone wealth, mined from the island of Uji and circulated privately between families, institutions, and colonial markets. Nevertheless, quartz have always been a key signifier of Uji’s most precious commodity — status.
Not too much is known to Korainians about early economic life on Uji — though school textbooks assure the uncivilised barter economy was swiftly traded in for currency as The Mainland Settlement began dominating the sloped isle.
Back when quartz were actual purplish gemstones, quartz functioned as a tangible asset. Due to luck or Universal fortune, some lineage families — most notably the Gorton family — amassed and controlled enormous private reserves, exerting influence over trade, housing, and colonial liquidity without ever appearing on a ledger.
Market fixing was common in those times, and skittish quartz hoarders grew conscious of their wealth; leading them to literally solidify their status by embedding quartz into their property walls, sewing them into garments, and sealing quartz beneath floorboard. Expectedly, such a system soon bred instability.
Betting houses thrived unchecked. Entire tribes rose and fell depending on which families chose to release — or withhold — quartz at any given time. The Government, having no reliable way to measure the economy it claimed to govern, soon realised something had to give.
Under Chief Wen, the Government introduced what would become one of the most radical reforms in Ujian history: The Quartz Depository Law of 188 AL.
The law mandated that all physical quartz be deposited within the Government-run Quartz Depository by Day 88 of 190 AL, the final day of the cycle.
After that date:
Digitisation was not a single invention, but a convergence of tech.
Lei Electronics: The Palm-scanner System | Lei Electronics introduced biometric palm scanners, creating a unified identity-to-account system. Every Mainlander was automatically issued a Depository Account on their 11th birth-day, their palm becoming both key and signature. From the Government’s perspective, it was perfect. From the perspective of a widely Government-skeptical population, it was cause for concern.
Tassan Electronics: The Quartz Disc | Tassan Electronics took a different approach. They developed quartz discs — physical digital wallets that stored digital quartz without requiring biometric identification. Each disc carried a unique engraved pattern, readable by scanners in the same way a palm print would be.
Together, these systems allowed the economy to transition without collapse — while quietly shifting power away from lineage families and firmly into Government hands.
At its simplest, a quartz disc is a disposable physical wallet that:
Early on, quartz discs gained popularity in The Lowest Lower Regions (The Pits), where mistrust of The Mainland Government ran the deepest. By the Modern Era (such as the cycle 267 AL at the start of In The Water), palm scanning is the norm. Nevertheless, quartz discs never disappeared. They became essential for a… selective crowd.
City-born Children | Korainians under 11 cycles do not have Depository Accounts, but many City parents give children quartz discs as allowances or gifts. Outside the City, this practice is often viewed with confusion. In the Upper Region, it’s fantastically practical.
Lower Region & The Pits | In the Lower Region — particularly The Pits — quartz discs are preferred. Deep mistrust of The Government means many residents store savings exclusively on discs, leading to a persistent problem with disc theft. You’ll often also find quartz discs thrown into a winners pool at Lower Region betting houses.
Upper Region Adults | Discs are commonly used for:
If you’re well-off and well-to-do Korainian caught carrying a quartz disc, it will be noted. And yes, Korainians will gossip.
The same technology that made quartz discs possible also opened the door to security discs. Security discs use engraved groove patterns like quartz discs. They sit on palm scanners in place of a hand, granting access rather than funds. Their designs are institution-specific — a crucial security feature.
For example, Intimacy Inns and Betting Houses use security discs instead of biometric access. No names, no palm records, no worries.
A Common Scenario
A Korainian wishing to remain discreet might:
City East discs are recognisable by a violet hue with labyrinth-style engraving, whereas City West favours a monochromatic, minimalist design. To the untrained eye, they’re just discs. To a regular patron, they tell secrets. In Uji, if you know what to look for, you can often tell where someone has been… without a word exchanged.
Korainians don’t say money — they talk quartz. Discreetly, for the most part.
Outward discussion of cost is widely considered uncouth, particularly among older Korainians where specific amounts are swapped out for vague mentions of funds. However before discretion kicks in, there is the occasional flex among young Korainians.
Someone with a lot of quartz is said to have boatloads. Bars and clubs keep open bills for regulars. A spendy city-born Korainian might be gossiped about — “He’s got discs…” for example, would imply impulsive and questionable spending habits.
In the Lower Region (particularly The Pits) a naive Korainian spotted to be carrying multiple quartz discs is said to have heavy pockets. A displaced quartz disc is referred to as sunk quartz; while slow accumulation is referred to as stacking.
A Korainian suspected of dishonesty is said to be tipping the water weights — a reference to marketplace scales balanced with pails of water, where even a small adjustment can skew the price. And when a Korainian is short on quartz, they’ll almost never say it outright. They’ll likely mumble they’re “running low on funds” and leave it at that.
As we’ve established, Mainland Korainians are automatically issued a Quartz Depository Account at 11 cycles old. (For colony-born Korainians who arrive in The Mainland for their 15th birth-day, accounts must be opened at The City Korai Depository).
Between 11 and 15 cycles, parents may begin setting up automatic allowances. These are configured either at The Quartz Depository or through a depository kiosk, allowing a fixed portion of a parent’s wages to be redirected directly into a child’s account each time funds are received.
Parents can also choose to lock these funds for a defined period. Locked funds are known as a trust. Most Korainians, regardless of region, grow up expecting some form of birth-day trust; savings earmarked for a child’s 15th cycle, the recognised age of maturity on Uji (which Nykia is reminded of in Chapter Three of In The Water). These trusts are intended to cover incidentals and the sudden freedom that comes with new-adulthood.
The scale varies widely:
As noted by Nykia in Chapter One of In The Water; by the Modern Era, social mobility on Uji is notoriously constrained. Vocations are inherited, apprenticeships are fiercely competitive, and advancement through university is limited. Outside of finding a generous soulmate, opportunities to “move up” are rare.
For Government roles and most white-collar professions, payment is issued every eight days (referred to as an eight). These positions (administrative posts, research roles, institutional work, and Upper Region offices) favour long-term placement. By contrast, informal labour such as market workers, port hands and contractors are often paid daily at the close of each shift.
Regardless of role, wages are deposited directly into a Korainian’s Depository Account. Payment must be accepted: the recipient places their hand on a palm scanner to receive the transfer. Korainians can check their balance at Information Boxes in the Mid and Upper Regions, The Quartz Depository in City Korai, or its quick-deposit kiosks throughout The Mainland.
Once funds enter an account, however, they are no longer entirely under the account holder’s control. The Quartz Depository automatically deduct any agreed fines, taxes, repayments, or standing obligations the moment wages are received.
While the Government Quartz Depository holds, verifies, and records funds — it does not lend. There is however, as always, a loophole. On Uji, all borrowing is private, conducted Korainian to Korainian. Sometimes lending deals take place in a fancy office, other times over dinner; but every time, the funds are provided on a quartz disc and are secured through collateral, favours, or future earnings.
For many Korainians, particularly those from the Lower Region, lending (and betting) is one of the few paths to building influence, liquidity, and long-term wealth. In the Upper Region, one success story is the Leifssan Household whose lending prowess is infamous… and for a fair few, begrudged.
So what do Korainians buy with their quartz? Whatever enables them to participate in life.
Although… some are much more enabled than others.
Take housing. In the Modern Era, Ujian homes are rarely purchased outright. During the First and Second Waves of Confirmation, most viable land and property was claimed, built upon, and distributed. By 267 AL at the start of In The Water and Second Testimony, houses are mostly inherited. Renovation is common; expansion is not. Outside of the Colonies (the last truly underdeveloped territories) there is simply nowhere left to grow. Colony settlers are acutely aware of this, and often concerned by The Government’s interest in their arable land.
The same logic applies to transport. Most Korainians don’t own vehicles. Carriages are typically rented per journey like taxis. Personal transport ownership is rare outside of work necessity. Fishers, Market-traders, and farmland workers may own a wagon, sometimes paired with a mule or horse if fortune allows. In the Upper Region, horses are more visible — but even then, ownership is usually a leasing arrangement. A handful of long-established families control the majority of horses on Uji, renting them out much like property.
So what do Korainians buy?
Mostly: clothes, food, and experiences.
Truly, entertainment is where quartz flow freely. An evening out is rarely just one stop. A Korainian will want to know which bar you’re starting at, where you’re eating, which Aqua Club comes next, whether there’s a betting house involved, and what’s planned for next eight. Tickets to orchestral performances (such as The Harp Collective) sports showcases at The University, pop-up events, seasonal restaurants and performances are all common spending priorities.
Daily purchases add up too. Korainians spend small amounts constantly: on transport, on tea before work, on accessing Information Boxes to check the weather, search records, or look up contacts.
Electronics — radios, radial programming boxes — are bought sparingly and usually on pay-as-you-earn, purchased gradually through automatic wage deductions rather than lump sums.
And then there’s gifting…
Gifting is deeply normalised on Uji. Flowers, candles, adornments, small personal items (men and women alike) are everyday gestures of courtesy and affection. Which is key, if you ever hope to find a high-quality Soulmate.
In regards to the Korainian exchange rate — Korainians don’t think in pennies.
There is no equivalent to loose change, small coins, or fractional fussing. The smallest meaningful unit of value is a quart. What might register as ten pence, ten cents, or a handful of coins back on earth is simply rounded up on Korai Uji.
For those attempting a rough conversion:
Think of 1 quart as roughly equivalent to 10p or 10 cents.
By that measure, you can imagine 4,000 quartz as somewhere around £400 or $400.
Want to know how that works in practice? In Testimony 3 of Second Testimony, the narrator takes a beautiful yet capricious city-born new-woman on a date — that casually spends 3,889 quartz on break-fast. Even by City standards, that is slightly excessive. But then again, on Uji, you aren’t city-born if you don’t have a open bill somewhere…