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“Only maybe about it is you needing to find out what else it works with.” “Huh, yeah, well I guess.” “Don’t guess. Know. You don’t have to decide yet, there’s paperwork, lots of stuff to clear up. We’re due some time off. The cash will take time to wind its way through to us, so we’re out of it for a while. When we’ve got that, we can go back, gear up and get out there again. Build that stake and…” “And?” “And we trust you, know you. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.” 02:00 - the night like a blanket, making sleep impossible. Turning over what Don had said. Grind or glory. That’s what it came down to. Brash rolled over in bed, lifted his Oliver Peoples spectacles from the night stand, slipped them on and dialled. “Pebbles?” “Uh, what. Yeah. Who is…? Oh, Brash.” “I’m in.” “In what? Bed? Oh, I see. Great. Fine. See you, uh, soon.” Grind or glory? Put it that way and the decision was easy. Pebbles met Brash in the echoing atrium of the NBH Tower. It was empty but for a reception desk carved of blood red alabaster that looked like an altar. “Hey.” “Hi,” said Brash. “Okay,” said Pebbles. “This morning you’ve got orientation and induction. Formalities really, demanded by the trolls in compliance. You’ll need to see the wizards in IT, gnomes in HR and giants in legal, too. Once you’re done, ping me and I’ll introduce you to everyone, and you can get going.” “Get going?” “Sure, we’re always busy. Chances are you’ll be raiding a few times a day now.” “Really? I’m used to once, twice a week.” “Well, this is the big league and we’ve got lots of customers who need a second yacht. Lots of moolah to generate.” Pebbles shook again and Brash felt data buzz across. He slipped on his Oliver Peoples spectacles. Four coloured lines were at his feet leading to different lifts. Red was for compliance, blue for IT, green for HR, and purple for legal. Brash spent a few dizzying hours trekking round the giant building, shaking hands, ticking off tasks and building up his reputation with different factions and departments. By the time he got to legal he was tired and irritated by the endless meetings, Q&A sessions and roleplay exercises. Stepping inside the huge conference room where he was due to meet legal he saw why they were called giants. All of them were tall enough to play in the NBA. Brash shook seven hands and every time he did, a name popped into view over their head. The last one was Larry, a black guy with grey hair by his temples. “Another one,” he said. “The last today. Okay. So, I’m sure the others have said this already but this really is the most important session of the day. This is where we impress upon you what you have signed up for. To be honest, and I’m a lawyer so you know how much that hurts, we own you. Pretty much.” “I figured…” “But, only as long as you produce.” “Produce?” “Cash. Do well. Raid like a champ.” “Consider that impressed upon me.” Brash turned to leave, then stopped. “Why ’another one’?” “Let’s just say we’ve seen your sort before.” “Several times today, in fact,” said one of the other giants. “My sort?” “Let me guess.” He looked Brash up and down. “College boy. Played a little ball, GPA was low but scores on the games were good, needing money, ’cos you got no career, you go raiding, you make a little cash, dress a little better, feel a little flash. Then NBH comes along, you like the clothes, love the money and before you know it…” “I’m standing here having my history dissected.” “You are indeed.” “You look like you’ve pounded a few courts in your time.” “Well, I have,” said Larry, “but the difference is I pounded the law books more, which means I’ve got a career past thirty and you’re being set up for a fall. Like so many others.” “I might surprise them.” “You might, but most don’t. Where did you come from?” “Raid or Dead. Don Smiles, Maggi Powers and Pallab…” “Don Smiles? Smilodon? Sabre Tooth? You walked away from Sabre Tooth? The man’s a legend.” “He is?” “Sure. For killing a guy. On the trading floor.” “What?” “Well, he didn’t stab him or anything. Just took the guy to the edge, wouldn’t let up. Hammered him with deal after deal after deal. Bang, bang, bang. The guy, Hector Cardenas, couldn’t take it and dropped dead. Massive heart attack, right there and then.” “I didn’t know that was him.” “Really? And you left him behind. Like you say though, you could still surprise them. At least you’ve got big hands. They might still keep you on.” “Why?” “You can hold more cups of coffee. Now, git. You’re done.” Brash left. His spectacles buzzed. “Brash? Pebbles. You done?” “So I’m told.” “Come on down and meet the guys. Oh, and on your way grab some coffees for us all. Big boy like you should be able to manage it. We’re on six.” Brash sized up the other NBH traders as Pebbles gave a peptalk just after lunch. He felt obvious in his black Tim Hamilton suit - even though it was this season’s must have. The traders were sleek in bespoke Canali, Aquascutum, Tom Ford, Steed and even, fercrissakes, Brioni - though it was only a tie. He didn’t want to think how much everyone else had dropped on their wardrobe. When only the new hires were left, Pebbles approached, showing a smile from the last day of the sale. “Okay,” Pebbles said. “This is your first day so we’ll take it easy. You’ll be working alone, hitting targets of opportunity you’ll get from the priests in OR back in the tower. It can descend into a bit of a brawl but that’s what we like. Okay? Okay. Let’s get to it.” Brash’s stomach fluttered when he stepped onto the trading floor - it was a long time since he’d soloed anything. He fired up the spectacles and let the HUD settle in. “CMCSK.” “What?” “CMCSK.” “CMCSK?” A task ticket popped up on the HUD. “Oh, Comcast. Okay.” A glowing arrow on the HUD showed Brash where to go. When he reached the spot where the Comcast specialists were found there was no-one around. He skirted the raiding groups, looked away from the bulls, bears and other wandering monsters and queued up the bow. He stalked the room, figuring out how to use the NBH add-ons to track his quarry through the thicket of other traders. They were here, somewhere. Twice, he flicked a finger to loose the shot only to see the name go grey before it hit. Then he got one, just beat out two others dealers including one he recognised from NBH. He sealed the deal, filed the paperwork and then yelped as he saw he had five task tickets queued up - the top one for INTC pulsed an angry orange. He headed off, pushing through clumps of traders looking for anyone dealing INTC. The specialists were close to their usual patrol point and he found a seller close by with a good spread too. Not too pricey at all. The next three left him sweaty and frustrated as all were stocks held by only rares. He got one by ambushing the guy exiting the men’s room, managed some neat bow work to snag another from under the nose of a woman who looked fabulous in Prada but screeched like a harpy when she realised what he’d done. The third was a real quest, no-one was holding the stock at the right price and he spent time off the floor to find someone that knew someone who could help. The fourth task degenerated into a melee. He joined a pack chasing one seller who did everything to avoid selling. Once cornered he gave in and Brash got one of the few chunks of stock being offered - though the price was wretched. Five was a massacre. Suddenly GOOG was hot and Brash fought hard to get anything, let alone at a decent price. With the queue empty he took a break and headed for Barliman’s coffee shop. A message popped up while he waited for his espresso. The six deals had unlocked an achievement. Complete 194 more and he’d get a discount on a consultation with a junior stylist at the in-house tailor. “Whoop-de-doo,” he muttered. Brash lifted his espresso to take a sip but was jostled by the next guy along. He sucked hot coffee off his fingers and frowned as the man turned. “Sorry, was that me?” “Yeah.” “Not much to waste with a haste potion. Hey, you’re one of the new hires that grabbed that deal from me earlier. Right?” “Right, I am.” “Neat work. How’s it going?” “Slow.” “Really? Way I remember it the first few weeks were intense. Nothing but deal, deal, deal, deal, deal.” “Well, yeah. But the progress in the company, grinding up that corporate ladder. That’s going slow.” “No way round that though. You have to do your time in the trenches so you notice how fresh the air is when you climb out. Just the way it works.” “Maybe.” “No maybe about it, well, not much.” “I could challenge someone to a duel.” “A boss fight? Yeah, right. I’m not gonna take that bet.” “Your sympathy is almost overwhelming.” “Hey, no offence but all the mods they pack? I’ve been here nine months and I can’t get near them. They’d wipe the floor with a noob like you.” “I’ve got some tricks…” “Tricks, schmicks. Anyone worth fighting will have a credit line like a boa. No way a preemie like you could take them.” “No? Watch and learn.” Brash set down his cup. He walked back towards the trading floor, tapping out the challenge on the back of his hand. He strolled round the edge of the pit until he spotted his target. He issued the challenge and then spammed it across all the channels. A flapping duel flag appeared over Brash’s head. Another popped into place over Artur Haas. He didn’t react until Pebbles tugged his sleeve, whispered and pointed. Artur turned, glanced up, glanced down at Brash and smiled like a viper. Brash stepped onto the trading floor and advanced on Artur through a rustling crowd of traders turning to watch. Murmurs and whispers ran around the room. “Ladies first,” Artur said. “You choose the stock.” Brash glanced down and tapped out a phone number, hoping his nerves would not make him fumble. It rang then Don said: “Brash?” “I’ve made my decision.” He looked up and stared deep into Artur’s glowing blue eyes. “EDF.” “Hah! Like last time?” Don said. “Yes, but give me a moment,” Brash said. Artur took off his jacket and handed it to Pebbles. He beckoned. “Your move.” Brash stepped up as a cartoon pylon with 475 beneath it appeared on his HUD. He grinned as icons for buyers and sellers settled in near it. No hunting here. Everyone was coming to him. On his buddy list the lights for Don, Maggi and Pal glowed green. “Let’s go,” Brash said. He grunted as the deals began to flow. Slow at first then faster and faster. The mechanics were simple. Find a buyer, pass it to your opponent, find a seller for what they wanted, pass it back. Queue up enough deals and you could step back and watch them flounder as they tried to settle the deals or run out of cash if they took it all on themselves. Stack ’em high, bleed ’em dry was how most traders put it. Artur set a staggering pace. In moments the price climbed past 500. Brash wished he’d taken off his jacket as the deals rolled on. He glanced at the credit bar which jumped back and forth like something clutching for breath. But he was still in the game. 520. Brash grinned and outpaced Artur, letting Maggi and Pal handle the settlement and Don siphon through the clients and traders. As fast as they faded Don found more. From where Brash did not know. All he had to do was juggle the deals coming in and those going out. 538. Artur kicked it up a gear and Brash, just, matched him. The green line was ebbing away, falling further back every time. Buying this close to the edge would take some fiscal wizardry if this was going to work. Then the line surged, leapt and stayed high. “Everyone wants a piece of Artur,” Don said in Brash’s ear. Brash laughed, wondered and went for it. He kicked up the pace and settled in, feeling the deals flow through him, passing them to Artur then taking them back, buying and selling. He found a rhythm and stayed with it. Artur was quick but the price climbed and climbed with Brash still in touch. 600. 620. “Where are you getting this from?” Artur shouted. On it went. Artur trying to get ahead but Brash finding buyers and passing them back. Deal for deal. Brash felt at one with the market, he opened up and let it play through him. As the stock price passed 660 and who knew how many trades Brash held up his hands, stepped back, and said: “I resign.” Artur screeched. “Get back here. We’ve got deals to cover, you can’t leave me to mop…” “I can and will. I just wanted my money back,” Brash said. “For me and my friends.” Artur made to come after him then stepped back, hands flying, trying to handle all the deals still hanging in the air. Brash turned and walked away, through the crowd that parted to let him go, across the floor and out the tall brass doors. The reputation counter kicked up four, five, seven points. In the piazza he stood for a moment in the sun, breathing deep, steeping in the warm glow. He raised a hand and across the way, at the usual table, his friends returned the salute. Glory every time. |
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