Arcane

The crowd swarmed outside of the Diamante Bank in Wilmington, Delaware. A woman with a red down coat circled holding a sign reading, “I WANT MY MONEY.” She shouted the phrase that became a raucous refrain. As the people stomped outside the windows of the sixty story building, the executives looked both rested and pensive.

Bank COO Kennth Walsh looked at his eighty thousand dollar watch. He was forty-one.

“It’s the Fed,” he said. He was a fit man with brown skin and braids. He had played football as quarterback in college and still projected a mind for ‘reading the defense.’

CEO Talana Chris responded, with, “You point out the obvious once again, Kenny.” She had long flowing locks that matched her cinnamon skin. Her thirty-eight years held within them enough pleasure and pain that paved the way to this stately position. Her tall stature of five feet eleven inches towered over even Walsh’s five feet and ten inches.

The shouts could not be heard at the top of the building where the c-suite convened.

“It’s the regulators and controllers. The goddamn bureaucrats kick up dust and try to control our business. They don’t know an overweight stock from an overweight woman. Then they look at us like we’re pariahs,” Walsh said.

The executives looked at each other. Senior Vice President Vivica Densen looked at all of them. She had light skin that looked like the flesh of a coconut. She stood at five feet six inches. Her thirty-two years brought with her insight and empathy. “They actually believe that this is capitalism. This is anything but. This is a haven for regulators.”

Talana lifted her head. She looked at her fellow executives. “All choir folks. What we need to do is touch the souls of the congregants.”

Walsh threw his thumb back like he was hitchhiking and pointed to the window. “Those congregants. Some of them are just as bad as a controller.”

“I agree,” Vivica announced. “The fiscal literacy has got to be somewhere around a third grade reading level in America.”

“Let’s check our facts on that one,” Talana said. “What is the best way we can relate to the patrons of this bank that trade with us?”

Walsh and Vivica gazed at each other with an expectant look.

“We have to educate. In short bursts we can go on the media and reassure people that we’re for the free market system,” Vivica replied.

“I think people are too stupid to know finance. What did it take us, eight years to get the knowledge to do what we do? We can’t just use a sound bite to get across the idea that a bank run does not bode well for individuals. Especially those of this bank.”

Talana circled like a puma mother guarding her cubs. “I can sympathize with you, Ken. But at the same time, people can surprise you with their knowledge and experience. Too many examples of people who occupy my title have to show nothing but their high school diploma as their highest level of education.”

“This is true,” Walsh conceded. The three of them shared a small chuckle. Then it was back to the bank run.

“Things like this only happen at the pen of some politician who feels like he or she is entitled to throttle our business practices. The grand irony of it all is that they want to fix what they messed up in the first place.”

“Vivica,” Talana spoke.

“Yes, Talana?”

“I want you to go down there.”

“Is that such a good idea?” Walsh asked.

“It is,” Talana retorted. She turned to Vivica again. “Go down there and tell those people that their money is secure and that the insured deposit from the government will shield them up to a quarter of a million dollars immediately. Anything over that is going to be a few days. Maybe weeks.”

Vivica, of course, didn't do this. She summoned an intern to go down there and explain in no unclear tone that their money will be available in good time. Goddard Weems, a recent graduate of New Sweden University in Wilmington as well, was light skinned too and had a slight frame. Weems passed out flyers which described the situation in full, clear language. Once he got out to distribute the letters, he saw that the group had swelled to about fifty people. They took the pages and read a bit and threw it over their shoulders or just tossed them to the ground. When Weems saw this, he sighed. He took the elevator up to the c-suite and explained what happened.

Vivica was right on it. “Alright, that was old school. We have to use newer tactics. We’ll send a message to all of our associates and customers’ devices. It will be simple, straight-forward language that doesn’t demean but should enlighten.”

Talana shook her head from side to side like she was stretching her neck. “That’s a solid plan. I’m with it.” Weems pulled out his tablet. He entered the addresses of all the clients of Diamante Bank and sent out messages like flocks of doves. In an instant, vibrations and ringtones alerted the demonstrators of the news about their financial institution. The gestures weren’t pretty. They looked at their phones and attempted with full-throated pleas for their money. Again, the corner office did not permit the sound of the people down below.

“They just want their money,” Talana said. “We would offer them the luxury of holding onto their funds if––”

“If they knew what we were talking about.”

“Ken! You demean the very people that allow our kids to go to private school and drive Gouldings. No, most people don’t have the acumen to untangle the arcane pecuniary instruments that we grapple with everyday. That doesn’t mean they’re not biochemists, metaverse designers, and even CEOs of companies. We must remember that.”

Weems tried to slowly back out of the room. “Stay here! You need to hear this, Weems!” Walsh roared. Weems didn’t budge. “I’m just pointing out the fact that we should be able to take on the responsibility of our positions without a fuss. We should be able to hold our roles as financiers to be wise, courteous, and somehow leave room to be cutthroat.”

“I don’t think you can reclaim the term cutthroat. In its metaphorical sense, it's still pretty brutal,” Vivica detailed.

“Whatever the case, we’ve had a run. It’s not good news and the money that we’re supposed to deliver to our clients is in the hands of regulators. Once we get the government out of the way of business, we will begin to see a groundswell of fiscal knowledge and wisdom. No one thinks that the bureaucrat is the root cause of our problems. They look at the bank. I want to say private but we’re really public, private partnerships. Too much oversight by the government has led us here.”

“That’s why I say that we should just allow them to get their money and as they open their account on their phones, we should show the faces of the men and women of the State who caused all of this,” Walsh replied.

The room seemed cold and the way the occupants sat seemed distant. The lighting remained sharp and covered the desk and the chairs.

The message sent to the shareholders went down to the checking and savings account holders. As they opened up the notification, sure enough, plastered on the screen were the regulators and controllers that distorted the markets in the first place.