New York 2140

“So listen,” Charlotte said. “I’d like to pull the trigger on this crash you outlined. Will this hurricane pop the bubble you were talking about?”

He waggled a hand. “I’ve been looking at that. Thing is, it’s a global market, and a lot of people don’t want it to pop, because they haven’t shorted it. So they’ll hold on against shocks like this. So I’m not really sure. I don’t think this is enough to do it. Of course the local index will be impacted. But the global bubble, no.”

“Well, but if you wanted to pop it? As in, by way of that householders’ strike you were talking about that time? Would this be a good time for that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think the groundwork is laid that would make it work. Although I’ve done my part, I’ll tell you that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve monetized the boys’ gold. Vlade melted it and I sold it, in increments, in various dark pools. It all got snapped up by the Indian government, it looks like to me. They’re the last goldbugs left, they really like it. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, maybe it’s because Indians like their bling so much.”

“Frankolino, spare me your horrible cultural theories. What did you do with the money?”

“I leveraged it a bit and bought a lot of put options on the IPPI.”

“Meaning?”

“I shorted the IPPI and went long on Case-Shiller, and now this hurricane has made me right. We can sell and make a killing for the boys.”

“That’s nice, but I want to pop the bubble! I want to crash the system!”

He shook his head dubiously. “Really? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be. And it’s the right moment to strike. People are mad. And if we don’t do it now, they’ll just pull the noose tighter. More austerity to pay for the reconstruction, the poor will get poorer, the rich will move elsewhere.”

He sighed. “So you want to reverse a ten-thousand-year trend, you’re saying.”

“What do you mean?”

“The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. That is like proverb one in Bartlett’s quotations. It’s the first verse of Genesis.”

“Right. Yes. Let’s reverse that.”

He began to think hard, and indicated this fact with a face that made her smile: cross-eyed, mouth pursed, forehead wrinkled vertically between the eyebrows. It reminded her of Larry, but this guy was funnier. “The spread in the indexes is a sign the markets are a bit freaked out,” he said. “There’s been a drop in all of them already, so, it wouldn’t be the best time to make the most money out of it. But on the other hand, things are shaky.”

“So it could work.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I think it would work at any time, if enough people joined a payment default.”

“Call it the strike.”

He shrugged. “Call it the Jubilee!”

She laughed. She took a big sip of her wine. “I can’t believe you can make me laugh after a day like this,” she confessed.

“Cheap drunk,” he noted.

“True. So you think it would work?”

“I just don’t know. I think it might be confusing if it happened now. People defaulting might lose whatever insurance money they were going to get, if they had some coming because of this storm. So I don’t know about the timing of it. You know—you give the financial system a heart attack right after a disaster—I don’t know, it’s a little counterintuitive. I mean who’s going to pay the insurance for rebuilding?”

“I guess government. They usually do. But let’s figure that out later.”

He looked at her with exaggerated amazement. He was a man who really looked at you when he looked. Like you were a marvel. “Well okay then! Roll the dice! Do you have all your ducks in a row with your Fed ex?”

“Fed ex?”

“Your ex who runs the Fed. I think your nickname for him should be Fed Ex, don’t you?”

“Yes, I like that.” She nodded. “He’s as primed as I can make him.”

“And your Householders’ Union?”

“It’s big enough that we can use it as a vanguard party for a mass action. And people who want some cover can join it the same moment they default.”

“A lot of people will want to have that kind of cover. Something to join, so it’s a political position, not just being in default.”

“We only need fifteen percent of the population, right?”

“That’s the theory. But more would be better.”

“Okay, but maybe we’ll get more.”

He pondered it, still regarding her with a bemused look. “Well, we’re pretty well shorted. So if you do it and it works, we won’t make the max possible, but we’ll still make a lot.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“I think the more likely possibility is that it’ll work too well.”

“What do you mean?”

“That it could crash the whole system. And if that happens, who will be left to pay me my swaps?”

“Surely it won’t be that bad.”

“We’ll find out.”

Charlotte looked at him, trying to figure out how serious he was. Very difficult. He enjoyed taking risks. So here was a big risk, a political risk. So for the most part he looked pleased. His worried expression was a put-on, or so it seemed to her. Hedging was gambling on volatility. So he was enjoying this.

“There’ll always be a bailout,” she said. “The speculators are too big to fail, too interconnected to fail. So the people in Central Park tonight are fucked, no matter how it plays out.”

He nodded. “So you’re saying we’ll get paid one way or another.”

“Or we won’t get paid no matter what. Unless we change things.”

He sighed. “I don’t know how I got caught up helping you. You are such a revolutionary.”

“Is that what it is?”

“Yes!” He stared at her hard. Then he grinned. He even started to laugh.

“What?” she demanded.

“It’s just I finally get what revolution means. It’s maximum volatility with no hedging. And it’s insider trading too! Because, since I know in advance you’re going to default your people, I can buy put options up the wazoo before the IPPI goes down! It’s totally illegal! I finally get why revolution is illegal.”

“I’m not sure that’s its main illegality,” Charlotte said.

“Joking.”

“So we’ll do it and see what happens.”

“Well, I still think you should wait, and have it more prepped than you do. Maybe wait until the storm stuff is a bit past, so that it doesn’t just get confused with an incapacity to pay. I mean you do want it to look like a choice, to make it clear that it’s a conscious strike.”

“Hmm,” Charlotte said. “That’s true.”

“You need time for the full prep anyway, right? So for now, maybe just enjoy the idea that it’s coming.” He held up his glass, now almost drained, and she raised hers and they toasted again. “To revolution!”

“To revolution.”

They polished off the wine.

He grinned again. “Part of a decent prep would be you accepting that draft and running for Congress.”

“I already did.”

“No way!”

“Way.”

“Well, that’s fair. Heck, we need more wine to toast that. I guess it’s a case of you break it you bought it. Crash the system and you have to build the next one. We’ll all insist on it.”

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