Which is why I’m glad to have bought a shit load of greenshoots when I could afford it. Just call me Forex Fizzy! I may not be able to buy groceries with greenshoots, but at least I can use them in the Commerce of Ideas—the only real capital. Fiat money is just paper, and these days you need a lot of paper just to buy toilet paper. Ideas may not be commodities, but they are every bit as real, and even more important. And maybe the underlying reason that American culture is imploding (just like the Twin Towers) is that ideas are systematically demeaned and devalued and derided while pseudo, superficial morals and meaningless material wealth are exalted. What a world!
Taking all this into account (Ha! ha! No pun intended—really!), I was more than a little skeptical when Kiz sent me an IM inviting me to a ‘little party’ at BloomEx in Virtual Life. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against money, but I’m certainly not absorbed with it either. I already knew all about BloomEx; that’s where the VL banks are located, as well as the VL Stock Exchange. I’d always viewed the REP as a mirror image of what took place daily on Wall Street in PL New York, or in PL Bern, or PL London. My interest in counters and traders has always been, shall we say, less than abundant; art and literature and even science fascinate me far more than games of buy and sell. But Kiz was adamant that I come with her; she said that a very auspicious event was scheduled to take place there, and that she had arranged for unique and inspiring company, and that I’d be foolish to pass up a lecture by the Keynesian Mastermind and former Fed Chairman Harlan Geltspinner, and a tête-à-tête with his arch nemesis, Daedalus Dunworthy of Radio Free America. Besides, after the interview she promised me lunch, then a night on the town in VL Las Vegas.
So off I go to BloomEx.
Whoosh…
Arriving at BloomEx, I realize I am early for my rendezvous with Kiz, so I take a seat at an outdoor café on Profit Promenade (the VL version of Wall Street) and order a cappuccino. I survey the massive edifices that line the mall, each a testament to the power of money: VL banks, brokerage firms, bourses, and mercantile exchanges. Emulations dressed in Brooks Brothers suits dance the money dance, some frantic, others smug in their success. Compared to Lit-A-Rama, this is a foreign land.
Halfway through my coffee, and none too soon, Kiz arrives. I have not seen her since our experience in New Orleans, which was, in PL time, several weeks ago. Her absence in Virtual Life, however, was pre-explained: New Orleans, post Katrina, had left her feeling emotionally drained, and Cassandra had told me that she intended to take a week or two away from VL to go on a retreat into the desert to take part in a sweat lodge ceremony with a group of friends from the Hopi Nation. Seeing her now, I have to say she appears refreshed and rejuvenated.
“Kiz, you look fantastic!”
“Thanks, Fizzy,” she says as she takes a seat. “You look wonderful, too.”
“And what a tan!” I observe.
“I thought it appropriate,” she explains. “Cassie’s been hanging out in the desert for the past two weeks, while Kiz has been dormant at the beach.”
“Which beach?” I inquire.
“Côte d’azur,” she clarifies.
“Well, you look stunning,” I confirm.
“After New Orleans, I needed a little R&R.”
“That was really something,” I agree. Looking her over, it’s not just the tan. Something is different, but I can’t quite put my finger on the change.
“So, what’s new with you?” Kiz asks.
“Same-o, same-o,” I say. “I’m hip deep in re-publishing The Last Days of Socrates.”
“Awesome!” says Kiz.
As she reaches into her bag and takes out her lipstick, I can’t help staring at her. Her emulation’s vitality is not only obvious, but also eye-catching. “You look different,” I tell her. “It’s definitely something…”
Kiz sits up very straight in her chair and pushes out her chest. “Notice anything different?” she asks.
Oh, my God! It’s her boobs! “What did you do?” I ask.
“I gave myself a boob job,” she says. “Not all at once. A little bit at a time.”
“Hollywood comes to VL,” I opine.
“Well, ever since Cassie got back from the sweat lodge, Kiz has been hanging out at the beach to earn a little squatting money. Fill my cup with greenshoots. Then I got an idea. I thought to myself, maybe if I lie out on the beach stark naked—you know, show a little emulation T&A—then I could put out a donations cup, too. Of course, the T&A had to be prime, so I did a little reconstruction job on my EM. It worked like a charm, and I’ve got a purse full of greenshoots. Look!”
Kiz opens her bag to reveal what surely must be tens of thousands of greenshoots. I am struck speechless. “What-ever!” is my incredulous response.
“Oh, Fizzy, lighten up.”
“What-ever!” is again my response.
“Well, I don’t care what anybody says, I like 'em! And the guys don’t seem to mind them either…”
“So…” I change the subject. “What’s all this about? BloomEx?”
“Wait till you see what’s about to take place here. And who we’re meeting here, too.”
“Do I really want to know?”
“Oh, yes,” says Kiz. “I think you want to know.”
Suddenly, and with no small fanfare, the emulation of the former Federal Reserve Chairman walks onto the mall and heads, briefcase in hand, for a stage that has been assembled in front of the First Bank of Virtual Life specifically for his address to VL bankers and traders. Just as Geltspinner appears in PL, Sharky Overbite is a real Rumpelstiltskin of a man, his ears as big as loving cups, his brow high and wrinkled, his hair thin and combed over, his nose large and protruding, his eyes watery and a bit weathered. But here in VL, one of his arms is missing and has been replaced with a tenor saxophone. Still, this pretentious, musical appendage notwithstanding, his clothing is impeccable—elegant and understated—a well integrated combination of Brooks Brothers and Yves St. Lauren. As Sharky climbs the stairs leading to the rostrum, the overflow crowd gathered to hear his remarks greets him with a prodigious round of applause. And a few raspberries, too… The chairman holds his hand high over his head to quiet the audience, then spreads out his papers and notes upon the lectern as he waits for the commotion to subside.
Neither Kiz nor I are inclined to leave the café to stand amongst the audience of blue bloods and jackals, because thanks to a high-powered audio system, we can hear every word from where we sit clear across the mall. As advertised, the title of the Chairman’s address is “Constructive-Deconstruction—A Means To Advancing Global Interdependence”. Constructive-Deconstruction? Now that’s a five-star oxymoron!
Just then, a gray haired guy in his late sixties or early seventies, comes riding up on a Harley and stops just in front of our café table. Somebody in the crowd shouts out, “That’s Jimbo Caruthers, the motorcycle investment guru!” A few breakaways surround the bike to hound the legendary investor for his autograph. And maybe even a VL stock tip or two!
“Hey, I don’t know anything. I’m just a simple old boy from Mississippi,” he humbly tells the small group of admirers. “I just rode in to hear what the ‘Mastermind’ has to say.”
“The Fed sold us all down the river,” says one of the signature seekers.
“Well, I tried to warn everybody,” says Caruthers. “I circled my wagons a few years ago when I saw the bubble about to burst.”
“And you were right on target, Jimbo,” says another.
“As always,” confirms a third.
“Just common sense, my friends,” says Caruthers.
“You told us to get our money out of dollars,” says yet a fourth admirer.
“I’ve got my money in commodities,” the guru reveals. “And I now live in Taiwan. I sold everything in the US a few years back—my house, my cars, all my investments—because I want my two little kids to grow up speaking Chinese. Seven eighths of all the money in the world is now on deposit in Asia. An
d it is also where most of the world’s goods are now manufactured. To me, as an investor, it’s only common sense to follow the money.”
“That’s why we’re here in Virtual Life,” says the first admirer.
“Well, I must admit that I never envisioned something like this,” says Caruthers. “Of course, Virtual Life, with the greenshoot as its currency, is nothing to scoff at either. There’s absolutely nothing unfounded about a culture coining its own money once a fiat currency has failed. So who’s to say that the greenshoot won’t become the world’s reserve currency? Of course, the question here is: Which world?” He laughs as he revs the bike’s engine for a spin around the stage where the ‘Mastermind’ is still waiting for full attention. “You’ll have to excuse me now,” Caruthers apologizes. Then he is off with a roar, skirting the perimeter of the mall and blowing the Harley’s exhaust into Sharky Overbite’s face.
As Caruthers makes his ostentatious exit, Kiz points out several other lofty figures in the crowd, each emulation representing a well-known and outspoken ‘contrarian’ in the economic battle. We see the emulation of Gerald Celente, noted futurist and investor, talking with the emulation of Peter Schiff, the CEO of Pacific Capital Management and author of the best selling book, Crash Proof. We also recognize the emulation of Wayne Paul, brother of Congressman Ron Paul the former presidential candidate, who is talking with the emulation of KRS-One, the activist, hip-hop rap artist. Yet these famous pundits somehow seem just a little conspicuous, especially considering that no one from the banking elite has bothered to show up. Apparently they want to distance themselves from the former chairman, who now haplessly, or perhaps unwittingly, plays the role of designated scapegoat, taking the brunt of the responsibility and the blame for the ever-broadening economic implosion and the resulting gangrene economy.
“I have to admit, this is pretty interesting,” I say to Kiz.
“Fizzy, money may not be your primary focus in PL, but the simple truth is that it impacts everyone’s life. Even here in VL!”
“Well,” I tell her, “its major impact on me is that I don’t have any.”
“If you think you don’t have any money now, wait till you hear what our ‘guest of honor’ has to say,” warns Kiz.
“You mean Daedalus Dunworthy?” I ask.
“Precisely!” she says. “Here he comes now!”
Dunworthy’s emulation depicts a large, broad shouldered man in his early to mid-fifties. His hairline has already receded, and his jowls wiggle as he speaks (nice touch, Daedalus). His posture reflects his fatigue as he slumps into a chair at our table. Thanking Kiz for the invitation to join us for the former Chairman’s first VL lecture, he turns to me and puts out his hand. “Happy to make your acquaintance, Fizzy Oceans,” he says. “I’m Daedalus Dunworthy of Radio Free America.”
“Happy to meet you, Mr. Dunworthy,” I return. “Welcome to Virtual Life!”
“Once a VL greeter, always a VL greeter,” jokes Kizmet.
“This is a first for me,” says Dunworthy. “Hope I don’t fuck up too bad.”
“Not to worry, Daedalus,” Kiz reassures.
“This is your world, gals. Whatever you say goes.” He takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his brow before observing, “I see that Sharky has arrived and is about to define the very meaning of economic chaos.”
“And the hordes have gathered,” I add. I don’t know exactly why, but I like this guy. He’s not handsome, nor suave, nor cultured, but something about him just seems to shout ‘No bullshit!’ And honesty is perhaps the greatest of all virtues—at least in my book (lol)!
Of course here in Virtual Life we can never really know for certain just who is clicking the keyboard to maneuver and speak for each emulation. Those with a literal perspective might question whether it’s really Harlan Geltspinner projecting himself into the virtual world as Sharky Overbite, or if it’s somebody else presuming to impersonate him? The same goes for Jimbo Caruthers. We never know for certain who is the puppeteer. What we do seem to know from our vast experience in VL is that when everyday PL people try to portray celebrities (living or dead), the representation tends to be pretty authentic. The so-called actors (or actresses) often seem to have studied every nuance. Sort of like playing Napoleon in a stage play. Writers who admittedly never met or knew Napoleon have written the script through research and extrapolation, while each actor dons a costume and says the lines written for him, even as he might add his own interpretation, all the while remaining true to the character he is portraying. That’s been going on for centuries, since the Classical Greeks, and maybe even before them. So I suppose there is nothing so very different going on here in Virtual Life, which some have called the ultimate theater. No matter who we are in PL, or where we might live, or what we do for a living, the simple truth is that we all love a little drama.
“Economic interconnectivity and interdependency has contributed positively to an increased standard of living not only in First World countries, but also for those (poor schmucks) living in the backwaters of the world,” the ‘Mastermind’ begins his speech before being overcome with feedback from the mammoth PA speakers. The low hum echoes off the edifice of the VL Stock Exchange, and then compounds itself by degrees until everyone on the mall covers his ears to muffle the din. Finally, the sound engineer corrects the problem, and the speaker begins again.
“In my (interminable) tenure as Chairman of the Federal Reserve, I have observed the principle of ‘Constructive-Deconstruction’ to actually help economies to lift themselves out of (wretched poverty), and indeed, to enable a (fresh) economic paradigm (to service) free market capitalism. Some have called this new pattern of which I speak the ‘New World Order’, where others simply acknowledge it as a wholly natural phenomenon in economic evolution.” Again the feedback builds to drown out the lecturer. And not a moment too soon, it seems, because many in the crowd seem to bristle at the commonly recognized reference to the merger of world governments.
“We’ve seen the ‘deconstruction’ part of that equation,” an emulation named Moneybags Moriarty heckles, “so when does the ‘construction’ part kick off?”
“Fuck the New World Order!” calls Patriot Paulson.
“Just give us back our money!” demands Trendsetter Tam.
“And what about our jobs?” Good-deal Gobsmacked wants to know.
“And our factories…” adds Blue Collar Bobick.
“What about our farms?” asks Feral Freddie.
“My 401K is now .401!” screams Lester Leisure.
Sharky puts up his hand to call for quiet, but it takes a full five minutes for the uninvited comments to cease. “Sour notes from an old saxophone player,” chuckles Daedalus Dunworthy as a smile spreads over his lips.
“As determined by the Bretton Woods Agreement in 1914, which established the US dollar as the world’s reserve currency, and which was sanctioned by the major economic powers of the time and signed and endorsed by President Woodrow Wilson, it is the job of the Federal Reserve Chairman and the Board of Governors to establish bank to bank interest rates, and to regulate the flow of money within the greater economy. By either increasing or diminishing liquidity into volatile economies, the Fed controls not only the flow of investment capital, but also the flow of goods and services between countries. Further, the Fed has found it useful in recent times to employ various strategies to stabilize exchange rates between the world’s currencies. No longer constrained by the gold standard—”
“Traitor!” screams a voice in the crowd.
“Thief!” calls another.
“Oligarch!” yells a third.
“No longer constrained by the gold standard…” Feedback. Feedback. Feedback…
“Every month, two hundred thousand jobs disappear!” screams yet another person in the crowd. “How are we supposed to pay our mortgages? How are we supposed to buy food?”
“This is getting ugly,” I say to Kiz and to Daedalus.
“Not near
ly as ugly as the results of Geltspinner’s policies,” says Daedalus. “In essence, the hecklers are right as rain. The media has always referred to the Fed as if it were an arm of our government, but in reality the Federal Reserve is about as ‘federal’ as Federal Express. It is actually a private banking institution controlled by the world’s wealthiest bankers and sanctioned by First World governments to further their special interests in Third World resources. It is essentially the financial arm of hegemony. Of course the spin is something much, much different. Now, the great ponzi scheme has come unraveled. The United States, Great Britain, Italy, Portugal and Spain have all defaulted on their debts. The dollar has essentially crashed, and new currencies are springing up left and right. People still have to eat, still need to purchase essential goods. Life goes on.”
“No longer constrained by the gold standard…” Feedback. Feedback. Feedback…
The Virtual Life of Fizzy Oceans Page 19