I'm a Profiteer in Cold War Germany

Werner sat in his cramped apartment, a piece of paper covered with various arrows and numbers spread out on the table.

This was the "Ration Ticket Circulation Chart" he had designed—in the planned economy of East Germany, ration coupons of various colors were the real hard currency.

Meat tickets were red, bread coupons were brown, and sugar tickets were white. In many situations, the ordinary East German Mark was less useful than these little slips of paper.

[DING! System Prompt: Analysis of ration tickets detected.]

[Current Environment: In a planned economy, ration tickets have independent value in circulation.]

[Alert: The price of sugar will experience a major fluctuation. It is advised to monitor policy changes.]

Werner frowned.

’Here we go again... these vague prompts...’

’What does "major fluctuation" even mean? A price hike or a drop? The system claimed to have a price prediction function, but it never specified whether prices would rise or fall. All it ever gave was vague information.’

’However, since the system mentioned policy changes, this fluctuation was probably related to a government decision. In a system like East Germany’s, political factors were behind any change in commodity prices. A single document from the Party could cause a certain commodity to go from abundant to scarce.’

He needed more information.

Werner put down his pencil, got up, and walked to the window.

The few pedestrians on the street below were bundled up in thick overcoats, their faces looking pale in the cold wind.

This winter was exceptionally cold. A cold snap a few days prior had wreaked havoc across all of Northern Germany, and the newspapers were calling it "the worst freeze in fifty years."

Werner pulled his overcoat tighter and headed downstairs to find Old Mueller.

The retired steelworker was well-connected; if there were any rumblings at the factory, he was always the first to know.

"Old Mueller, any word from the neighbors lately?" Werner asked, offering him a cigarette. "I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off."

Old Mueller took the cigarette, squinting as he sized Werner up. "What are you fishing for, son?"

"Nothing important. Just wondering if there’ll be any changes to the rations."

"Hmph." Old Mueller lit the cigarette and took a deep drag. "My son works at the Grain Bureau. He came home the other day looking pretty grim. Said the inventory reports are giving the higher-ups a real headache."

’Inventory is tight!’ Werner’s heart leaped, but he kept his expression casual. "Oh? What kind of inventory?"

"What else could it be? The stuff us common folk can’t live without." Old Mueller lowered his voice. "My son says the higher-ups are meeting to ’adjust ration standards.’ You know what ’adjust’ means..."

Werner understood, of course.

In times like these, "adjustment" never meant an increase. It only ever meant a reduction.

After leaving Old Mueller, Werner had his first lead.

But this alone wasn’t enough. He needed more evidence to confirm his theory.

Out on the street, the wind was bone-chilling.

Werner pulled his collar tighter and headed for the train station. It was a place where loose lips and wagging tongues made it easy to pick up all sorts of gossip.

The waiting hall of the train station was thick with smoke and crammed with people waiting for their trains.

Werner found a corner to sit in, straining his ears to listen to the surrounding conversations.

"...This damned weather. My whole patch of sugar beets is completely ruined..."

Werner was instantly on alert. The man speaking was middle-aged, dressed in a gray work jacket. His hands were calloused; he was likely a member of an agricultural cooperative.

"What happened?" the person next to him asked.

"What else? That damned freeze! The temperature plummeted below zero overnight. I hadn’t had a chance to harvest my sugar beets, and all the leaves froze black," the farmer said, his face a mask of worry. "The harvest will be cut in half, at the very least."

"How are things over on your end?"

"About the same. It’s the same story all over northern Brandenburg. There’s bound to be a massive drop in the sugar beet yield."

Werner silently filed this away.

’Sugar beets are the primary raw material for sugar production. What did a fifty percent drop in yield mean? A tight sugar supply. That was the second lead!’

He lingered at the train station a while longer, hearing more of the same complaints. It seemed the effects of the cold snap were even more severe than he had anticipated.

After leaving the train station, Werner made his way to a café in the city center. Government officials often frequented the place, making it a good spot for gathering high-level intelligence.

He found a seat by the window, ordered a cup of ersatz coffee, and paid attention to the surrounding conversations as he sipped it.

"...The Cubans are getting more and more difficult to deal with these days..."

The comment made Werner turn his head. The man who had spoken was middle-aged and wore a wool overcoat.

"Difficult in what way?" the man across from him asked.

"We used to pay them in East German Marks, and they were fine with it. Not anymore. Now, they’re insisting on hard currency," the middle-aged man said, shaking his head. "West German Marks, US Dollars, Pound Sterling... basically, anything but our money."

"Then what about the sugar? Don’t we import huge amounts of cane sugar from Cuba every year?"

"What else can we do? Our foreign exchange reserves are limited, and importing industrial raw materials takes priority. As for sugar..." He shrugged. "We’ll have to rely on domestic production."

Werner was secretly delighted. ’The third lead, secured!’

Cuba was one of the world’s main exporters of cane sugar, and East Germany imported large amounts from them every year to supplement its domestic supply.

’Now Cuba was demanding hard currency, and East Germany’s foreign reserves were tight. What did that mean? Sugar imports would have to be reduced!’ 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

’Domestic sugar beet production is down, and imported cane sugar will be reduced. The total sugar supply is bound to plummet.’

Werner lifted his coffee cup, his mind racing through the calculations.

All that was missing now was the final piece of the puzzle—policy direction.

He rose, left the café, and headed straight for the City Hall building. The propaganda display cases there often revealed which way the political winds were blowing.

The display cases were plastered with all sorts of slogans and posters. Werner examined them closely and, just as he’d expected, found the key piece of information.

A huge poster occupied the most prominent spot: "For the Prosperity of the German Democratic Republic!"

Below it, a line of smaller text read: "The working class, united as one, will build socialism and surpass West Germany!"

Beside it was another poster: "Learn from the advanced experience of the Soviet Union! Develop heavy industry and build a prosperous German Democratic Republic!"

Werner shook his head to himself as he read.

’These slogans explained everything. The government’s focus was entirely on heavy industry; they couldn’t care less about consumer goods. When resources were limited, a "non-essential" item like sugar would certainly be sacrificed.’

The final piece of the puzzle slotted into place.

Werner turned to leave, a complete chain of logic already formed in his mind:

The sugar beet harvest has failed, which will impede imports; policy is skewed toward heavy industry, so the sugar supply is guaranteed to be tight; therefore, ration cuts are a foregone conclusion, which means—the Black Market price is about to skyrocket!

But that wasn’t all. Recalling the conversation in the café, Werner added another deduction: ’Since even Cuba is demanding hard currency, it means the entire socialist bloc is tight on foreign exchange. As the Soviet Union’s "little brother," East Germany’s situation could only be worse.’

With problems at home and abroad, it would be a miracle if the price of sugar didn’t soar.

The question now was, since a rise in the price of sugar was a foregone conclusion, what was his next move?

The answer was simple: buy up sugar tickets now, before the price takes off!