[ WP ] You are a con artist that travels back in time to a gullible era so that you can sell money tree seeds .

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 `` STEP RIGHT UP FOLKS. COME ONE COME ALL. BE THE FIRST TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS AMAZING OFFER.'' 
 
 The man was in perfect costume. He wore a thin black suit, under which was a loose dress shirt and authentic leather belt, patterned after the style of the American frontier. His Stockman hat was also black, with a dusty white ribbon encircling the place where the brim met the bond. He and his horse and cart were adequately dust-blown, as though they had traveled through the Nevada desert for a full three days. The cart was a solid red cedar wagon kiosk, with rusty ( yet sturdy ) black iron wheels. Inside the were the basic living amenities of life in the year 1849, as well as the man's rather... unscrupulous wares. 
 
 Painted in red upon the cart were the words `` Isaac Smithson's Miracle Gold.'' 
 
 `` STEP RIGHT UP.'' 
 
 One of the men standing outside the saloon took a draw of warm beer. He then ambled on into the road and approached Isaac Smithson, who was proclaiming his sale from a standing position upon his horse. 
 
 `` What'r ye sellin'?'' 
 
 `` Miracles, sir.'' Isaac Smithson jumped down from atop his horse, grasping his hat in his hands. 
 
 The man laughed. Flecks of spittle entered his beard. `` Yer a loon. I like ya.'' He extended his arm in greeting. `` Name's Ford. Tom Ford.'' 
 
 Isaac Smithson grabbed Tom's hand and gave a very warm, practiced shake. `` A pleasure, sir. Truly a pleasure.'' He glanced at the shaded deck of the bar. `` How would you and your friends like to view a miracle?'' 
 
 `` Jeddy!'' Tom turned to the men. `` Tell the folk in there to stick their heads out a second. New salesman in town.'' 
 
 Jeddy did so. In three minutes a small crowd of twenty-three people were gathered around Isaac Smithson's horse. The children tugged at the horse's mane, and a particularly brave girl attempted to climb into the saddle. 
 
 `` Now then,'' said Isaac Smithson, surveying the group. `` Pardon my saying so, but this is an awfully small group.'' He caught a nod from the town sheriff, and turned to face him. `` The men are away, I presume? Out in California?'' 
 
 `` Sure as can be, Mister.'' Sheriff Dan tugged at his goatee. It was itchy. `` Maybe fifty men out since the rush started. Hard times here.'' 
 
 `` Well, sir, I wish they might have waited.'' Isaac Smithson began opening the cart. `` Why, they would n't have to work a day in their lives once I was through here.'' 
 
 `` What do you mean by that?'' asked the barmaid. 
 
 Isaac Smithson smiled. Placing his Stockman back upon his head, he opened the partition and lifted out a single potted plant. 
 
 `` Behold!'' *Pause for effect, just like you practiced... * `` The MONEY TREE.'' 
 *** 
 Isaac Smithson, known to the future as Robert Heimgall, remembered the time when gold first became a renewable resource. It had been the most wild week for news reporters the world over. Genetic advances allowed for inorganic material to grow from organic plant life, thus revolutionizing modern technology. Homegrown circuitry was what truly brought the world into the twenty-second century. 
 
 Of course, it was very easy to tell organic gold from inorganic gold, and the market for true gold was revitalized almost instantaneously. Economists surmised that, even though true gold was flooding the investment market, it rose in value purely out of consumer conformity. They also surmised that this trend might lead to a gold market crash sometime in 2167. 
 
 Robert did n't care. He decided he would take advantage of the Chronological History Summarization Initiative's offer of `` Half-off an Time-Authentic Wild West Tour! ^ ( *Prices may vary. Visit our website for details. Sponsored by Pandora Research Incorporated. * )'' to make a quick buck off the gullible townsfolk, and trade the unseedable tree for real gold. And so far, it was all going according to plan. 
 *** 
 Isaac Smithson briefly cradled the gold tree in his hands before setting it on the ground. The tree, which used to be a small oak, was the size of a bouquet of large poinsettias. Shimmering on every leaf was a powdering of fresh organic gold, and the trunk was splintered full of gold thorns. 
 
 `` Now you might never believe it if I did n't show you,'' said Isaac Smithson humbly. `` But here it is. Proof that money really does grow on trees!'' 
 
 Isaac Smithson waited for laughter, but there was none. He attributed this to shock, and decided to move on. He deftly wove a tale of a time spent walking along the banks of the American River, far ( yet not too far ) from his boyhood home of Sacramento. Tired and hungry from a severe lack of provisions, when he first came upon the great tree, he'd believed he was hallucinating. Isaac Smithson was sure to add that the American government had tried to silence him, and had dug up the entire tree to have scientists conduct experiments on it in the North. But he'd hidden a single gold fruit inside the confines of his trusty Stockman, and a packet of seeds in his pouch, and made his way east, spreading the Good News of gold prosperity. 
 
 `` Now it's only been three months, but this tree has already grown a full two feet high. It'll be ripe in a year, and then you'll be picking gold fruit off the ground for a month straight. This ai n't some edible new fruit, it's true gold. You can melt it down and sell it off, and not the best of Forty-Niners would be able to tell the difference.'' Isaac Smithson took his leather pouch from the inside of the cart, and removed a handful of gold-painted popcorn kernels. `` Now do n't all grab at once. I'm willing to sell cheap, so long as Uncle Sam gets what's coming to him.'' 
 
 Isaac Smithson waited. 
 
 `` You must think we're jenn-you-wine idjits.'' 
 
 Isaac Smithson faltered. His smile faded quickly, and he took his Stockman down from his head. 
 
 `` Your pardon?'' 
 
 Old Jeddy pushed a finger into Isaac Smithson's chest, then pointed down to the tree, which was photosynthesizing and growing new gold even as he spoke. `` Ah know a good graftin' job when Ah see one. Ah've worked land my whole life, and ev'ry buddy knows ai n't no gold grow on trees. Not now, not in ever.'' 
 
 The crowd began to disperse. Isaac Smithson panicked. `` It is real! Look, I'll break off a whole branch!'' He leaned down and began furiously tugging at the largest bough. 
 
 The sheriff stood menancingly over Isaac Smithson. `` Boy, you had better calm yourself. You're lucky they did n't run you out on a rail.'' He dropped to a knee to look Isaac Smithson in the eye. `` Times are hard here. These kind folk will be wanting to save their money for Honest Jeffrey Silex when he comes to town later today.'' 
 
 As Isaac Smithson collapsed from the strain of pulling at the golden oak, Sheriff Dan turned his eye to the road out of town. `` He may be a darkey, but that man makes the best snake oil this side of the river.''
