‘Yeah, how bad was Australia?’ said Sam, who relished the opportunity to pay out on an Australian sports team.
‘You have no idea, Sam. Australia was sandbagging. They were so good for so long that they’ve had to lower their standards in order to make the rest of the world competitive,’ fired back Jacob, trying to justify Australia’s miserable loss to the West Indies in a recent one-day test series.
‘Australia’s been sandbagging for years then, if that’s the case,’ replied Sam smugly.
‘Whatever mate, no other team has won as many world cups as us.’
‘No other team has had a losing streak last for fifteen T20’s,’ said Sam, with a smirk.
‘Mate, you need to pull your head in. It’s not like England has done anything in the last five years,’ said Jacob, not letting-up.
‘There is honour in our consistency,’ replied Sam.
‘Not when it’s consistently shit,’ said Finn, joining in.
‘Alright, come on, let’s get on with it girls,’ Sam shot back.
‘Yeah, come on, I’m getting cold,’ said Jacob.
Jack looked disgusted. ‘I’m getting cold, it’s so chilly,’ he said in his best girlie voice, mocking Jacob.
‘Right, come on boys, what are we going to do?’ said Finn, keen to get moving now.
‘Ten 50s to start with,’ said Jack, who usually set the agenda for the swims.
‘Let’s do it,’ said Finn.
‘On the zero,’ said Jack referring to the clock.
Jack pushed off at the zero mark, Finn followed 5 seconds later. Stretching each arm forward in turn and dragging it back until his hand brushed the side of his thigh. Straining to drag his body through the water, Finn focused his mind on catching Jack. By the fifth sprint, they were all beginning to tire and Finn finally caught Jack.
After the sprints they were all breathless but in good spirits. Wearily hauling themselves out of the water, sleek as seals, they headed for the showers, talking and joking. Once changed into his ‘trader’s uniform’, a $5000 Ermenegildo Zegna suit that fitted his athletic 6’5” frame immaculately, Finn walked up to his black 4x4 Jeep Hybrid.
‘Office, please,’ he said clearly as he settled into his seat. The Jeep’s sophisticated radar and mapping software meant that Finn could catch up on the stock market as he drove to the city. He was aiming to be at the office by 8 am. The Jeep navigated itself smoothly through the congested CBD, to the carpark beneath the sleek glass-and-metal skyscraper where Finn worked. Pulling into his car park right by the elevator, Finn always got a bit of satisfaction from how his Jeep stood out compared to all the electric Porsches and Jags. As he stepped out of his car, he ran into a colleague walking towards the elevator. He could never remember this guy’s name — was it Tim or Tom?
‘How’s the wunderkind doing this morning, eh?’ Tim or Tom asked Finn, punching him in the arm with forced jocularity.
Finn smiled politely and nodded, keeping his responses to a minimum throughout the elevator ride, breathing a sigh of relief when they finally arrived at their floor. Tim or Tom was exactly the stereotypical ‘trader’ that he despised and avoided at all costs. Except for Chris, one of his best friends he’d known since school, he didn’t spend any social time with his work colleagues. Though Chris did come from the finance world, they had a history and, for Finn, having a history meant he could look beyond the superficial — though it didn’t stop him from regularly taunting Chris about his image-driven consumer tendencies.
Finn strode into his office, past the bullpen where most of the other traders sat. His office had floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the harbour, but one detail distracted from its executive finishes: a framed poster that hung behind his desk with ‘Gamer of the Century’ emblazoned on it in retro characters. Chris had given it to him a few years back, when Finn’s ascent had become complete and he’d moved into this office. It was their in-joke — privately, Finn had confessed to Chris that trading seemed like nothing more to him than a video game — one he’d mastered with disturbing ease. It had all been so easy for him that he had a hard time taking it seriously. But he wasn’t going to turn down the wads of money that his employers were eager to throw at him for his ‘skills’.
Later that day, Finn took a break and went downstairs to see Chris. Coming out of the stairwell, Finn looked across the cavernous floor with row upon row of long white desks seating hundreds of people. Spotting Chris leaning back repeatedly throwing a small stress ball in the air, Finn called out, ‘Hard at work?’ as he wandered up to his friend’s desk.
‘Mate, this is the engine room of the company down here, we analysts keep this place humming,’ said Chris, defending himself.
‘Uh huh,’ said Finn, sitting on Chris’s desk. ‘You girls just keep doing those pretty reports and let the real men make the tough calls upstairs.’
‘Whatever. Now, what’s happening this Thursday? We hitting the clubs?’
‘Damn right, mate, I’m ready to unleash,’ replied Finn.
‘Nice, I’ll make sure the others are…’
A loud cry interrupted Chris. It came from somewhere on the floor and abruptly stopped all conversations, people turning to see what was going on. There was a commotion at the other end of the office. A man stood up and yelled out to the rest of the floor, ‘China’s invading Australia!’
Finn looked at Chris quizzically. ‘What the fuck?’
‘I’ll get online, let’s see what’s going on,’ said Chris, hitting his keyboard. ‘Chinese Invade Australia,’ mumbled Chris as he typed the words into the Newsbot window. Instantly a front page of news appeared on the screen, all to do with the invasion. Live international commercial news feeds, social media feeds and government feeds filled the screen.
Finn’s mouth dropped as he leant into the screen. ‘Look at the volume of traffic, click on that article there,’ he instructed Chris.
It seemed to take an eternity for the page to load.
‘Come fucking on,’ said Chris, impatiently staring at the screen.
Finally the page loaded and Finn read aloud from the screen. ‘At this stage the government is not releasing any further details of the Chinese flotilla in the Gulf except to say that the military has been placed on full alert and diplomats are in communication with the Chinese Government, trying to resolve the situation.’
‘We’re going to war with China?’ said Chris incredulously.
‘Mate, I think China is bringing a war to us,’ replied Finn, still staring at the screen. ‘Oh fuck,’ said Finn, his eyes widening. Turning from Chris’s desk he began quickly walking back to the stairs. As the enormity of what he just read sunk in, he began to run. Reaching his office he was in full sprint. Pulling up at his terminal he accessed his trading program. The buzz on the trading floor outside his office seemed no different to how he had left it. Had no one heard yet?
‘Sell everything now. Sell, sell!’ he screamed to the floor as he started hitting his keyboard.
People stood up to see the maniac who had clearly lost his mind.
‘Australia is being invaded by the Chinese. Off-load as much as you can!’
Frantically, Finn smashed at his computer, selling everything he had in his portfolios. If he was lucky, he might get rid of some of the stocks before the market collapsed, which he knew with certainty that it would upon everyone hearing the news.
His heart pounding, all he could think about was beating the market and minimising his losses. With three screens surrounding him, he looked at the one displaying the key market indicators. ‘Fuck!’ he cursed as he saw the real-time numbers and charts all head south.
‘Too late, it’s already happening,’ he muttered as he looked up to see that the rest of the floor had caught on. There was yelling and cursing in all directions.