Conversation · Savoir Faire

Hey, money-mouth. Eendracht. The impeccable hustler-provider of the seventh generation. It's showtime with Savvy!

Not today, thanks. [Discard thought.]

Oh, so now it's Savvy? What's up, buddy?

What's up? I'm worried about what's down, broke boy. I'm talking about your severe lack of money.

I know all about money.

No, you don't! You just keep muttering about your 'economic self-interest' and not doing anything about it. Yeah, I heard you back there. What the hell was that?!

I was asleep.

Exactly. Not making money when you're asleep, are you? If you wanna be rich you better work until your fingers bleed. You can sleep when you die.

(Your pecs dance.) No more sleep it is. A frazzled ride through eternity without pause. Hissing pistons pushed to the extreme.

Listen, if you really want to make it in the big leagues, you need to re-conceptualize your entire portfolio. Collecting tare and moaning about taxes is not going to cut it.

You need to become a MILLIONAIRE. Now, how do you become a MILLIONAIRE?

I could pitch another project to this Mega Rich Light-Bending Guy in the container?

We're getting somewhere. But what project? And what's the ROI?

I could sell Kim's motorcar, like I sold his spinners?

And then what? Join the ranks of blue-collar criminals?

I assume begging rich ladies on boats is not the correct answer.

It should be the other way around. Old mitred money showing up at your doorstep, begging for a slice of cake.

Really, that's it? That's all I have to say? Why aren't you guys helping me out?

Those guys? They're all financially illiterate. Only Savvy here knows how to dazzle and embezzle money out of investors' pockets with the acrobatic prowess of a four-time gold medallist in the Samaran Gymnastic Summer Games.

The ancient Samaran tribes used carved rhodochrosite to represent their wealth. The bigger the boulder, the more money they had. In case you needed to know.

Money is only one form of capital, human relations are another. You're focusing on the wrong things.

You could force a coin inside you? Any hole will do. Not many more definitive tests of a man's mettle than the fortune yawn.

Alright, I give up -- I have no idea how to make millions.

Of course you don't. You've never even been close to a sum with more than three zeros. Let's face it, you've been on a years-long losing streak...

But Savvy's got your back. Savvy's going to book you a charter flight with eighty birds of prey on board, to a land where the streets are paved with krugerrands and fixed-income securities. You'll try again, but this time with money. You'll win her back.

Are you in?

Wait, win whom back?

The spirit of ultraliberalism. Your charm, your spin, your winning hand.

Something about this doesn't sit right...

Stop grumbling, it's time to move. Are you in or are you out?

Actually I'm good on the money front. [Opt out.]

Suit yourself and your middle-class ways -- Savvy doesn't need you, Savvy's got his own entourage.

Alright, then. Show me the millions. (Opt in.)

Attaboy, welcome to the final grind! Here we operate with money on a much higher level than the ordinary citizen, we feed it back into the machine. Stop saving, start spending -- become a patron...

Let's start by getting you into the lucrative art market to diversify your assets and increase your ROI. Speaking of which, know any artists?

Perfect, all you have to do is pretend to have taste. This will be your weapon when swindling artists for their overpriced 'work'.

Interesting. Are we speaking of visual art or something more conceptual?

Somewhere in La Delta, numbers flip and whirl on the giant split-flap boards of the stock exchange, marking gains the size of Kemi SR's entire economy. Radiocomputers hum below to the tune of gambling.

Cindy seems the type.

You're right. She has the poise of a struggling artist. Very tangible. You can feel the poverty on her. Plus, she has paint.

Go and support her like the state never could. Everyone must know that you're a big fucking shark around here!

Artists, artists... I'm an artist myself.

Once we've brought in the millions you can be a tree log for all I care, but first we've got to work on increasing your net worth.

Hold on, I thought we'd be getting into the stock market?

Do you see any stock markets in Martinaise? No? That's because for those living in the outskirts, the market is nothing. Just ghost numbers flicking through time. A spectral sport they're not invited to play.

No, you need something real, something you can hold on to with all your claws and teeth.

Good thing I've been preparing for this with my Actual Art Degree.

Don't be silly, the art market isn't about art, it's about gate-keeping, speculative bidding, and showboating.

Wait, so we're looking for a painting?

Stop thinking of it that way. It's not a 'painting', it's a 'highly collectible and irreproducible asset'. So, know any local artists with assets to sell?

What is this, the turn of the century? The world's moved beyond paintings. You want something experimental -- intramuscular puppetry, hyperrealistic vapour-porn, meditation opera...

Don't listen to this fool. It's not about the artists, it's about the buyers. You can't hang 'vapour-porn' in the foyer of your chalet.

What about the speedfreaks' anodic dance music?

Music is a pet project, not a viable business scheme. Let's return to it once you've set up your estate.

Cuno? Cuno is an artist.

He's also twelve. We don't want to attract the attention of tax collectors by dabbling in unnecessary child-labour.

He does have potential... defying authority, thinking outside the box...

That child's a common delinquent, not an artist. He probably can't even hold a paint brush.

No one comes to mind.

By all accounts this place should be swarming with artist-types. It's just a matter of time until you meet one. Look for squats and cheap rentals, we might even chance upon a political artivist here.