The night the Rhymer went whack

32

Ground Zero had shifted about 25 degrees.

“Ahhhhhhh,” The Soundman said, smiling as he sensed Straffe’s approach. “How you feelin’ today?” He extended a welcoming hand. “Welcome back,” he continued, shaking it before gesturing for Straffe to re-enter the booth.

But Straffe paused. He had a few questions for The Soundman. Standing there speechless and hesitant, he was unsure of himself, a feeling he couldn’t ever recall having. He was always in control, always self-assured and The Soundman sensed this too.

“What’s your name young fella,” he asked, taking control. The Soundman was used to this reaction once someone had entered his booth. Both young and old, rich and poor, black or white, the reaction was always fundamentally the same.

“Straffe,” he replied but he was still out of it, still shaken from his experience.

Chuckling, The Soundman assured, “You’ll be alright, you just needed a relief.” He tilted his head to the sky, squinted in the sunlight and turned around before continuing. “This rat race can get to you, change you and you don’t even know it. All I’m doing son is just givin’ you a place to escape it all for just a few seconds or a minute. You know, get your mind right for a few. Like a reset.” He stepped back and gave Straffe a hard analyzation from top to bottom, feeling his head, face, shoulders and back. “Humph, you must be in it deep,” he affirmed. “When was the last time you took a vacation?” He asked rhetorically and didn’t wait for a response. “You gotta let it out son. Rejuvenate.” He waved his hand exampling the tall buildings around. “This place will kill you.” And Straffe began to come to, shaking his head and agreeing with this gentleman, this soothsayer standing right in front of him.

“Who are you,” Straffe finally asked, genuinely inquisitive. Now The Soundman had gone through the booth too. He had crafted it and spent a lifetime of learning and reading people. Their expressions, their desires and inner selves. He again aimed at Straffe and felt the genuineness and the true wanting of the answer. The Soundman smiled as he grabbed Straffe’s hand and, like a small child, led him to a nearby coffee shop. He ordered some tea and they just sat and talked. And became friends.

***

A few years later, as Straffe strutted down to The Soundman, his friend, with those blue tipped pinkies, his life had been forever changed. The bop in his step, the confidence in his stride wasn’t the arrogance of being a successful banker, or the richness, or the townhouse on Broadway, or the impeccable-ness of his dress, it was the future he had secured. The future he has a place in which will change the world and most importantly include his friend, for without him none of this could have taken place.

“Yessir,” The Soundman smoothed out as Straffe strolled his way. Both, with Straffe still strides away, extended their hands, anticipating a warm embrace.

“My friend,” Straffe earnestly spoke to the man who had reshaped and molded him. They embraced, longingly, before Straffe sighed deeply then stepped back. As did The Soundman, as if he forgot his purpose. He gestured and questioned, “passing through?” gliding his hand toward his booth. “This might be your last time,” he added for he knew what’s about to happen, what Straffe had been a part of these past few years.

“Of course, Clarence, of course.”

The Soundman filled the air with laughter. “You know, I always laugh when someone says my real name.”

Straffe laughed too, but just as quickly, his eyes turned serious. “It might get ugly Clarence, you sure you gonna be ok? Just stay at my place, even if it’s just through the first day. I need you to be safe,” he pleaded to his friend, but The Soundman was having none of that, his mind was secure.

“Nooo, I’m good. I’m ’a head home in a bit and catch the news. Thanks but no thanks,” he said, then just stood still. They both momentarily, enjoyed the moment.

“Here, I got something for you,” Straffe interrupted, as he stepped toward his friend and placed something in his shirt pocket. “Just in case,” he concluded, “just in case,” patting the pocket before grasping Clarence’s shoulder. “Be careful,” he added before a swarm of police officers entering his office building distracted him. “It must’ve started,” Straffe stated, almost simultaneous with when Clarence felt a change in the air.

“Yessir,” Clarence replied, head toward the sky, before turning his attention back to his friend. “Now get going. Get going and be careful. Everything’s gonna be alright,” he concluded with a light push on the back angling Straffe to hurry toward his office building.

Straffe turned back. “Be careful Clarence,” he said, causing his friend to chuckle once more, “and call me tonight and let me know you’re ok,” he shouted as he walked further away.

“Will do,” The Soundman answered, waving his friend away.

Straffe joined the swarm of police as they continued to enter his building. “Where have you been?” greeted him as his employees quickly gathered in his presence. “Are you seeing this?” one shouted as they directed him toward the television in the lobby. With many hands covering gaping mouths, they stood around focusing on the unfolding events.

“South Africa, along with eighteen other nations, have formed a more perfect union designed to benefit us and our people. We have decided to exact business transactions between us, these nineteen nations, together, and as of twelve noon eastern time, we will cease all trade activities with countries not involved in our new development,” dictated the South African President as the world looked on. As he was speaking, the global stock markets began plummeting. He wasn’t done. “And we have developed our own currency, the Diablet, meaning from this point forward, we will only accept or make a payment or any other monetary transaction in this form of currency.”

Of these nineteen countries, thirteen were African, four were European, then Canada and Mexico completed the mix. The ramifications sent shockwaves throughout the world but most of all the United States, where Straffe’s employees now stood stunned as they watched their investments tumble at a dizzying pace. They thought to withdraw their funds, what little they had left, but the blue wall of officers negated any personnel movement. The police also secured the vaults which were now being threatened by the newly penniless investors.

In a matter of moments, fights broke out as this scene was featured up and down Wall Street and most likely many banks across the U.S. Simultaneously, commotions were born in the other countries that were exempt from this new treaty agreement as well. Skirmishes broke out everywhere as financial chaos and anarchy quickly spread as the citizens from these countries poured into their banking institutions demanding immediate access to their funds.

“Disperse,” was the cry through bullhorns, and eventually tear gas flooded the streets. All within a matter of minutes. With windows being shattered by the second, disorder escalated into full effect. Trade, being the lifeblood of the world, was soon brought to its knees and re-funneled only to a specific group of nations, excluding America. That was how it was going to be. And as predicted, it was all across the world with numerous television outlets showing streets of angry citizens, many in suits and ties, hurling rocks at the policemen who were now directed to protect every bank in town. Gas prices quickly shot upward of fifty dollars per gallon, along with supermarkets being subjected to looting. The police forces were limited, overwhelmed and unprepared, resulting in the summoning of the National Guard to serve and protect.

So Straffe, being the bank president, was escorted and retreated to his office. He sat in his chair astonished at the unfolding events. Watching the world economy rapidly collapsing and catalyzing into these tumultuous events—and he knew it was coming.

***

A few years prior, he was contacted. Of the nineteen countries, most of the leaders had accounts with Straffe’s bank. In fact, he had met all of them on occasion because they were such high profile clients. During the planning of this coup, they knew their finances needed to be secure and needed to be handled by someone sworn to complete secrecy, so they called Straffe, entrusting him with not just their monies but their plans to cripple the world economy. And for years, Straffe had kept this secret. Now, presently sitting at his desk, he chuckled thinking of Clarence and how, if ten years ago they’d approached him, different things would have been.