Part One: The Day the Markets stood still…   

Published at M.Stow11.Wordpress.com  

1. She.    

‘It is like living in a rabbit hutch’ She often said emphatically and metaphorically, and He replied with a shrug, nothing to say in reply. It was; and it would take long enough to pay for. Four rooms. Eight-floors up, eight flights of long turning concrete rubbish chute and stairs, and fire escape, for when the elevators did not  function anyway, which was often and took days sometimes to repair.  A balcony open passageway at the front looking over the street below, now starting to become busy with traffic. They had lived with his parents for a time, and then after they were married, in a small rented flat in The City, before they needed to afford   

somewhere to live together, and to bring-up their two small children.   

Both saved, and with some financial help from a relative (deceased) they had managed to get this place. When the housing market was ‘buoyant’, and mortgages easy to get. The Home was bought with a loan, a promissory note, deposited and co-lateraled together with their combined lives and the home itself. They were

afloat.  

            Both worked to pay-off the loan, which although it was supposed to re-duce each year did not seem ever to keep up with pay and prices. The loan would anyway be paid-off many times over if they were ever to pay off the debt.   

             If this place was ever to become their own owned nothing to pay-back; then, if they managed to keep paying-off the loan for the ‘Shelter from the Storm’ as they called Home.   

            That they did not actuarily now own, and may not ever, actually own, lose-lose. To sell-back at Market Price, the difference between the paid-back buying-price and selling-price, and of which they would have lost completely to The Bank…

The Mortgage Company.    

Their Home-Mortgage rent no(t)()-insurance their assured-pension against dire-poverty and homelessness.     

No social-recourse and be homeless, to parents and over-crowding again, or with friends similarly fixed, sofa-surfing their home, such as-it-was de-faulted, re-possessed. A two-bedroom apartment, she thought of: kitchen, lounge, shower-bathroom toilet and tiny balcony onto the world below, between them and the sky above. Each day, each month, and each successive year into the unthinkable future; two-thirds of two-lifetimes at least, two-thirds every month of what they were both paid-in wages-for-work earned. 

She did the household accounts, and she knew.   

The Home. The Loan. Would have been paid for several times over by the time if ever it became theirs and The Childrens’; and perhaps even their Grandchildrens’ by the time the shared-property many-floored building was un-inhabitable, de-molished land let-again, built-on freehold not-leasehold extended for-bonus payment un-earned…re-build in the new style, in a traditional place, or otherwise breaking into farmland and ocean beyond.  

              But that is the nature of the human animal, is it no? To do over, and be done-over to again and again she thought: want more and more, for less and less and in the quiet mind wandering moment of pillared door, a room, a table, a bed let go and a bed sheet left behind ready to be buried with perhaps as they did in the olden- times shrouded as now by thin curtains pulled-back.   

Each-Day: like a two-step forward and quick-step fox trot later backwards one-step…   

Home and Away worked to pay-off the loan on the house and to pay for and cook food, with bills and extras, clothes, and nights-out occasionally.   

              Maybe once a month, or not at all.     

Then He had been laid-off work at The Bakery.    

Three-day-week and three day’s wages.   

The Home mortgage was re-negotiated and they continued struggling to pay-off the loan and other loans, credited and directly debited debt from what they both earned together.    

There was never an issue of who would earn more, and be the main breadwinner, they both earned more or less the same low wages as most the people who worked and they would do the most caring, of each other, and the children: the unpaid responsibilities shared around the home, and in the world of work.    

Shopping and holidays and other friends and family out there. All indebted, or in credit day2day week to week, month to next month, years, minute-by-minute.    

They were equal, without even having to think about it or confront societies and others’ false expectations of gender and families. They were equal in debt and credit, and supported each other’s frail and fragile egos with a natural equanimity respectful and loving…   

Each contributing their best and differently, in-differently to make the whole, whole.   

It’s not all doom and gloom She did often think, and he tried not to think on it.

The homily homely claustrophobia only had to be relieved by going out. To the cinema, to a bar or restaurant. But that was not very often de-finitely now there were children as well.    

Sel-dom. did extras make their mark, clothes bought carefully a piece at a time, re-placement rather than extravagance. The cupboards filled with groceries and emptied by the time the next weeks shopping is needed and the next

week’s earnings…already spent.   

              *

She was awake, first this morning, and she got up from the bed on which he still lay awake but not yet awake enough to leave its’ nigh-time warmth. She went through to the next room. The bedroom led across the narrow-passage to the living room, which led directly to the tiny gallery kitchen and balcony on one side and door to the front room, on the other side balcony corridor and more doors along. Except it wasn’t the front-room, exactly; only, unlike the ‘front-room’ of her childhood playing on the street and door directly to the rugged ragged matted smell of cooking from the stone wall white-washed country kitchen.  

             Upstairs two bed-rooms and on the gallery landing for the children and a closet room to flush away with a basin of water from the kitchen sink-tap and toilet-well into the slurry sump, where you could hear it ‘slurry’ all the way down, filtered to spray on fields all around; and then back downstairs to replace the water from the kitchen-tap and outside clean-well.    

Pumped-up from the well, refilling the fired china clay bowl for washing and zinc-metal bucket, ready for the next use.    

Log grabbing toughened steel plasma-cutters hydraulic-ram chassis panel welded together. Expertly put-together giant wheels axle brake.    

Pumping-oil to cool the engines’ turbo diesel s-carbed grapple telescopic arms the claw car-crusher  mattress-shredder then the skid-board tracking carbon-fibre e-road automobiles solar panels settled wind farming blades and wave-machines generating heat&power and swimming in clean-air&water:    

> Low-No: installation& maintenance#

<Cost yr/yr.  

Apparently, free.   

At her first childhood home, bed-time children first, then the adults. Rats nested runs, beetles and cockroaches were kept away by the domesticated cats and dogs that shared the yard and house with horses at the local stables for the carts and filed machinery; to ride, at week-end day-off, and many Holy Days. Each week, several times into the market town for food supplies, and the children’s treats. Their whole world a Living Market Place, of Work Trust and Play.     

Now, great enclosed parked superstores and supermarkets and factory outlet warehouse.

Where goods are now transported she thought of: to&fro and by foot and horses’ hoofs carried and motor vehicle, train and massive tanker and container-ship electric like cutting through the air or the hydrogen&helium of outer-space a one-metre flight through nothingness 

baited   

> One-click: Low-No-cost subscription no-way out… 

< N/nnn…paid-up…again&again.   

From the docks and airport, at the city harbour hub humming away, remote yet directing everyday life, everywhere.    

Exorbitant-Political    

Business-Trips   

Media-control:

Holiday Passengers, and Freight Cargo.    

The affordable flight, to get-away from-it-all: a change; a charge necessary move, once in a while, and not at-all. 

Every year; but, to visit family here and there and elsewhere, or else you’d go stir-crazy.     

Do a night-time flit, flip! leave the rent, the mortgage, un-paid.    

Only, to otherwise keep on fighting for the bargains: cheap-est with-in budget, to get through to the Next-day and the day-after-that.   

When debts and fines could not be paid, the debt collector.    

Bailiffs, The-Auctioneer: selling- off of the personal possessions; sometimes, on the Global Markets;   

and then sold-out: the personal; and, T.V. public…    

The laptop computer on-sleep and awakened, opened, placed on the table, booted-up and She blogged  

instantaneously her-thoughts: 

#We all need a roof over our heads…and to: put Food on the Table! without any other word or contextual continuity that did not remain obvious to this early morning.   

Everyone, and anyone in the same and similar circumstances getting the same hastily tapped-out.  

Messages excluding, those without tablet, home or food; and those with patently far too-much.    

Those who had an Administration to do that for them and her-thought continued in the context of the mindful moment and that which we all have to pay extortionately for over and again even when the food is  eaten and the crap washed away there remains a nasty stain, a nasty taste.   

             Original wages sweated over day upon day, and loans ever in negative equity to who?   

Them!   

              Income-Tax&Corporation-Tax paid/un-paid through government-deal(s):    

Extortionate debt-interest credit-profit and volatile prices, losses on last-accounts records ever higher BINGO! and pay…ex-terminating…prices collapsed…looking up, and down again now, not in dejection, but circumspection against ever apparent possible failure, with desperate optimism, toward un-realistic perfectionism.   

Only mechanized buffer-traffic building-up as soon as into a busy rush-hour congestion be-low…   Cars and buses, bicycles, motorbike and motorized delivery truck from here, only another view. From   

two-sides; and every side… the bedrooms along the passage corridor, the sleeping children slept, earlier peeked into soundless in beautiful dream or dreamless seemingly startling worrying death-checked for breathing.   

Crossing from night into daytime TV remotely automatically turned on, confirmation, that   

life goes on…

                *

The living-room she entered bore all the chatter and the silence of one who listens. Still and safe, cosy and secure. The other rooms took over the emotions and needs: sleep and food, love and silly serious and abated arguments.

The central room, the central chamber, looked on and awaited eventual, almost inevitable, but never certain re-conciliation, and rest. Indulged-in social-(e) vents, noisy chatter and quiet evenings indoors. The furniture was adequate and filled the room. Table, chairs, television, a drawer and shelved cabinet standing against a wall, displaying various special icons; plastic flowers family photographs in frames, a portrait of a film star, or a print of a famous oil painting.   

Ornaments, statuettes, figures of worship and of novelty. The furniture, the infrastructure, from the livelihoods and eventually the roof over our heads…’in over our heads’ heard as if originally spoken.  

There were unopened envelopes and cajoling leaflet advertisement:   

Kill your debts! Die debts!     

she thought of letters and bills for payment, propped up behind a ticking clock. There was a picture postcard from someone-else’s holiday forming a picturesque frontage to hide the stack of demands for reply and payment which lay beyond.   

She-drewback the curtains and looked out of the window across the balcony, with its unflowering plants growing in flower-pots. There was a real still rising mistiness outside from the early morning warming; 

and she gazed over an area where many lived, and it seemed to her, this morning, where they too just only lived-out their lives: day to day, week to week, minute-to-minute…   

They too thought to-themselves as she looked-out onto the dawn of a gradually opening new day that the world must have always been this way.    

2. They.    

They had stayed together and with two little ones, one of each, girl and boy by the time they’re both about to be in school, they could not risk another to bring up, and the cost of it. They only hoped they would hold on to their jobs and they worked hard. Difficult hours, and some days-off. When the rota’s didn’t workout for childcare, family or neighbours, parents now friends of the children’s nursey and school friends who lived conveniently nearby, the social network from the cradle to nursery school to work to death to grave.    

They had met when things were starting to get a bit tight, to get difficult again. Meaning the situation for most working families, for those looking for work and those in work things had not got any better; any easier, really. During the so-called Good-Times and both parents were needed in credit and debt, to work to keep the family going. Voluntary social-networks anti-social became all the more significant, to reciprocal SharedCare and   

Circles of Support. With child and adult inter-action social and meaningful Shared-Lives. They had both kept their jobs in more or less ‘essential services’ although

not 

without the job-cuts, asset-cuts longer the hours never-the-less, ever the less, ever the more, when things got difficult all a-round. When the Bakery Factory where He and Family lived&worked, went on three-days week, and pay to match. He, had more time to be with the children, and helped the same with her awkward shiftwork at the garment factory, and later She at the hospital, for the Children, then training there, working there. he had done some building work on the odd-days, to fill-in. She had done some shop-work and garment-making before all the ‘Shop Jobs’ Retail’, were filled,

and not-hiring. Not selling either. Queen of Queues at the cash-tills to no-one at the field-tills home-farm filed for bankruptcy. They had moved to his folks in The City then: suburbs really, inner-urban, something-likethat.   

His mother had worked at The Old Mill and got her a job there; and then Him at The Bakers’ Factory, at the top of the road. When and where, the area they had moved to with Family and friendly neighbours nearby already there: People, their people…   

They had moved-in together; and had kids.    

Social response to industrial tech-revolution generational confuse price/cost value to shareholders, themselves, pensions&Insurances lies broken-trust rent/profit free from well-being gross domestic product&notproduct money…   

HOME. Income2spend from the public/private capital banks channelling opportunities liberal physiocrats benevolent zillionaires…   

Steady. Family Equity Capital Communally taken as given and worked harder for more, less hard for less, but none less than the Universal Domestic Income.    

His father’s family had been transient, transitory migrant millers, horses, wheat and grain, before that, gypsies, owned business.    

Machinery, finding digging the wells, water, oil from the oil swamp, brick building and tarmac road, growing taking fruits and nuts from the side of vegetable and allotment gardens.    

Did well. Moving around farm to farm, funnily enough she thought like Business-People nowadays do…  Looking across the roads, below, leading to The City. To: The Airport to visit: Sales-People: to the Re-tail  

Outlets. Biggest Shops in the World: BSW in other words: Big Business Commuting by-airplane as They might, if They could  afford to. To: go on Holiday. Abroad. They, to meet Clients Meetings’ here and there and everywhere. Cities all   over, to do deals on a massive Global-Scale, then worth millions, now worth billions and trillions quadrillions of whatever the currency.    

Sometimes-dealing, unevenly, unbalanced, in the local and World currencies themselves exponentially   they marked an inverse ever increasing and decreasing rate of ex-change. 

               They took on a Shop Franchise Family-Bank loan to rent and stock and share.   

In the past when the work dried-up, landfill fertiliser, phosphate-polluted arsenic-poisoned wells and rivers and seas and Oceans…    

His Gypsy ‘family ‘moved along’ as they were constantly told.    

Or, stayed with their stores. Shares of the crops of the fields, and water, natural and free from the

Clean-air and water-well waited, weighted looking- for different and more labour Corporate-City: farms&factoryies time&motion…  

               *     

She thought of them, then her own family. Out of work, they always found something. Fed themselves from great-gardens and small-farmyards. When the work was finished, they moved on. When the Great-  

Corporate moved-in, took over, sold-off Master-Slavery Corporate-style servant-salaried first month free wage- worker weekly, daily, hourly by the minute: along the roads and waterways, they, her family, had a farm in the  countryside for a while, and the parents, lived there. Hers. Through the Industrial now Techno-Future: The Soul  of The City commute only tumultuous-Towns and vicious-Villages. Across the River, across the tram tracks,  and railway, by the station. The Heart of the City 

Just beyond The ROAD&RAIL AIR ALL PORTS signage. 

Warehouse&Financial-Quarter  

Settling-in. The-City. Walled and castellated.    

Transport and Trade-hub thronged and His parents self-employed en-thron(ed.) their own bosses;   

contractors, worked-out on the Building Sites of Towering Sky-Scrapers lining: 

The River and lit-up, from the Sun 

Oceanic flag-sails in the wind.    

Her-Family. Employed, not their own boss.    

Both, as themselves, on some land, renting, from they pay. Then, they… He and She eventually, buying:   

Home-Owners, now. Investors in their own future, and their children’s children, and their’s owned, in-return.   

Like: The Home-property itself, capable of being, and being dis-owned.   

Not strictly-speaking   

Legal&General traditional owned anyway.    

#But, for the Mortgage Home Owners Corporations and Companies, and now indebted to sums   

monthly.   

             The-Bank(s). Building and Maintenance Trades. Education, Social-Care and Good-Health first…   taxied to meetings and desks. School, HomeWork. Out-and-Out working: Home-Owners and Private and   

Publicly Rented-Sector: Community Housing-Association(s) and: under-val(u)(ed.):  Gig-Machiner(y): Market- Economy: #1%. To: 9%. To: 90% self-Employed advertising tax-paying costs and prices up and down  depending on what side of the Power-Play had been Won.   

Every second milli-second playing in relation(s) to each other…   

Dead.    

Next. FCUK.    

Call…  

Soon the television was blaring as usual in the morning. In the main room that was empty again for the moment, and beyond where she was now dressing hurriedly, and he was brushing his hair frantically.    

There was the noise of children getting washed and dressed, with incessant commentary and conversation to each other, and any other, or just to themselves.   

To each other a one-way argument. Older to younger incited over some triviality, shouted back in frustration. At that point the only-game-in-town, and to be fought-out until one of them is crying, and the other shouting-the-odds; before calm is brought.   

Evens by one or other parent, supervising, managing, supposedly, to each-other, at least while they all got ready for work, school and pre-school nursery. The sound of the kettle screaming on the kitchen cooker; and television advertisements conveying to deaf ears, and blind eyes, but perhaps receptive memory:   

‘The Best in the World’; Or:   

Longer-lasting’ or whatever the dubious selling point perhaps to be unconsciously recalled later that day, at the supermarket.   

At present they seemed to be of no avail, both rushed to get the children to school, and themselves out to work. To earn the pay that would pay the prices at the Super-Market later that day:   

‘Where is my shirt?’ he called:    

‘Where you last put it!’ she retorted as She entered the living room. She found her shoes under a chair and stopped in front of the television. The networked advertisements ended and the programme returned to the main story of the day:   

‘Today there is no money to pay share dividends, or to buy shares with…’    

She flicked a channel and got:   

‘Group and individual share prices have collapsed or become so high that they have become worthless…’   

‘Confidence has collapsed, debt un-diminished…’  

‘Price increases have been blamed. Increases in pay and pensions have been blamed. Increases in  

Business-Bank Personal-Investment interest-rates and maximizing profit-levels at any cost, have been blam(ed.)   Each of these, has pushed share prices ever upwards. As cost and share prices and shop prices overtake the customers’ ability to pay and the ability to pay pushes prices-up, and costs pushes pay-down…’  

‘Not pay-up&prices down then?’   

             <             >Profit margins narrowed              > Man-Date. Re-captured only by increases in:    

‘EARNINGS!’ 

‘Income…’ 

‘Earned.’ 

‘Cost-Price…’  

‘Exactly.’  

Reading-screen: Interest rates on banking and other loans, have pushed share prices up even further on costs and  price…’ and a view passed across the screen to locked Factory-Gates and closed down Hospital corridor(s0)…    

De-fence: Air: Ports and Sea and Land-Borders: closed to traffic or trade. It did not seem too bad, or even unusual: the Television Experts and announcers liked to make a big deal out of anything She thought: it was their jobs after all. The pictures shifting shift(ed.) to City Office-Buildings.   

Steeled glass to the very Sky! that only a few were being allowed into; and then to the squares and circuses around Town and City Centres. All over the globe, all the streets and roads and highways leading there.   

A TV reporter turned away from the camera, and let the scene, somewhere else: could be anywhere else, speak for itself. In the kitchen radio-reports followed from the stock-markets around the world:   

‘Tokyo Nikkei Shanghai Shenzhen Hang Seng Bangkok: Dubai-Delhi: Bombay: Carib. Africa-  

Saudi-UAE: Israel and Egyptian Stock Exchanges…’  

‘RTS Moscow Deutche Frankfurt Cape-Town London…  and

Canada Stock Exchanges: New York Wall Street and Rio…’  

‘Iran-Dubai: Trading-Port for Oil&Money: Defensive-position(s): Buenos Aires to Lima…’   

‘China to Venezuela and Bolivia.’ 

‘Bots-Wana to Brazil: JSE Securities Nairobi and Nigerian, and Sydney…   

Stock-Exchanges…’ as she went to look for tea-bags. He got the cups out and put some bread under the grill 

to toast.  

            As the cups were emptied and the door was opened to go-out: The Stock-Market Reports were interrupted by the radio-announcer:   

              ‘We have heard in the last few minutes that The International Conference of Governments and World Banks meeting in Geneva are to make statements, at midday mean-time, on the current state of financial affairs across the globe. The Economic Crises’ around the world…’  

They stopped and looked at each other as they heard the announcement:   

‘What will they come up with this time I wonder?’ 

She asked aloud to him and to the radio speaker and as she went to the bathroom door:   

‘Come on you two!’ to the children, and to him in the same breath:   

‘What time are you finishing today?’   

‘On Lates!’ his reply; with a shrug, noticed, as she said:   

‘I’ll have to clock off early then, get a re-placement:’ and She thought another opportunity to sack-me, but if school finishes before work what are we supposed to do?   

‘I’m taking them in, anyway!’ he called.   

‘I know!’, she replied:    

‘We will have to go to the SuperMarket tonight.’ added knowingly: a reluctant necessity when it came  

to it:  

‘Or tomorrow anyway…’ as she kissed him on the lips, quickly, tantalizingly, knowingly this weekly and often daily shopping trip is what they did all this for.    

Along with the mortgage-rent and love of their family and children smiling he went out of the door, onto the communal hallway:   

‘Another financial crisis!’   

He called out, with more than a note of sarcasm, which did not need any reply, other than a disinterested:   

‘Is there?’    

She went back inside the living room, and went to turn the television off, as the announcement of the impending declaration from government leaders and world banks were being repeated:    

‘Won’t make any difference!’   

She shouted over the noise of the 

TeleVision:   

‘…never does!’   

#She left the house soon afterwards.   

3. He.    

He took the stairs with the children, two-at-a-time one in a pushchair, the other just learning to walk, and they headed-off together for The HERE&NOW Corner Shop.   

Turning at the top of the road, pushing the baby buggy uphill, the as if unmade pavement now, in disrepair.  

Showing, the lack of maintenance through the good times, as well as the now financial recession, austerityies desperate times. Telling The Walker as He and She said to each other in jest the children laughed at that…Child no-longer holding on to the buggy called-out to:   

‘Hold on to the buggy’ answering the constant questions:    

‘What is this?’, and: ‘What is that?’ at the same time and having to say:    

‘Be careful!’ every second, and:   

‘Stop! making me have to say:   

‘Be Careful’ every second!’  and they giggling together, at what, he knew not what.   

Not even imagining a time when he and She would not be going to work, and the-children to school and nursery, then keeping them in Our-Dotage: going to pick-up the fallen. 

Walking running-off child grabbing the perambulator again, and continued walking hand-in-hand on at the road:   

‘Do Not Walk!’ pictured then:  

‘Do Not Run!’   

The walking-child only hearing the last-word as usual:   

‘Run!’ to the other-sibling: 

‘Walk!’ and the-other wondering what all the shouting was about, and running:   

‘Stop! at the edge!’ hearing all the words this time: more thoughtfully the-elder:   

‘O.K?’ then:   

‘Walk. O.K.!’ trying out these new words heard from them and at school.   

‘Walk. Stop!’ and stopping in the middle of the pedestrian pavement.   

To get collided into and rolling on the ground giggling in the middle of the road! getting-up and running-off laughing, looking backwards,   

‘STOP!’   at the corner, turning into the next junction:   

‘Stop! at the Road! Kerb. Pav(e)ment…pedestrian…Path.’ 

He catching up, pushing the pushchair ahead, the walker hanging-on, over the kerb and into the road.  

Looking both ways, and then both ways again.  

Then back again, one last way this time: too quickly…going to Run! the way the traffic was headed, moving slowly, one car stopped, busy with traffic and pedestrians a polite hand to let them across, to a wave returned.   

Watching-out, for all three; and to the oncoming-traffic split by traffic-lights commanding:  

Stop, Start, or   

Pause…to the other side to the other safety-kerb:   

‘Walk!’  

Children chasing on ahead to HERE&NOW Corner Shop.  

The ‘little-one’ in the buggy trying to get out to follow, shouting, and pointing with one, then both indexfingers, toward the road:   

‘Taxi!’ swivelling around almost falling-out.   

Pointing, ahead:   

‘Taxi-Bus!’ the other returning, giggling:   

‘A Taxi!’ correcting POSHish country teacherly-voice, and then it seemed as if they passed the: 

‘Shop!’ pleading verbally and non-verbally tugging and whining for sugary sweets:   

‘The-HERE&NOW!!’ the other:   

‘Helicopter!’ shouted-heat camera-singing and pointing and swiveling around again: 

‘Sweets!’ categorically usually not until they came home from school and nursery.    

Even then only some days, and if they had been good at school or nursery. But always worth a try…. pointing jumping up-and-down, on the buggy the other falling-out of buckles unbuckled by the older one:  

‘As long as you two be-have yourselves today, and they’re not too-bad for your teeth, and you clean your teeth!’ they knew that.    

Giggling both, all the more, at some reference only they knew.   

To the words, the noises, and the tone of voice, the bedtime:   

‘Clean your teeth!’ pause:   

Properly!!’ The older-one repeated, and they went into more fits of giggles into the Newsagentcomegrocers and confectionary shop and sometime tobacco cigarette and Alcohol&Tobacco FAGS&MAGS. licensed off-licence. FOOD&FUEL. Where He, and She, and They stopped each morning, for bread, or a newspaper. On the way to Nursery&School, when it was His turn, always the possibility of both half-mythical and real: after-school sweets maybe as well.  

As they crashed through the door the older one getting deliberately, or so it seemed in the way of the socalled by the sarcastic sardonic caustic almost-Elder ‘Baby-Buggy’ bragging  asserting rights over the other smaller and weaker and re-leased both leaning-up at the shop-counter not un- usually; but, always pre-dictably in the morning rush-hours with so many other things to think about the only– thought un-able to think about anything-else:    

Children! Shopping tonight? outloud: 

‘Children! Shopping tonight! Newspaper? Teeth-rotting Sweeties?’ The buggy almost tipped over in the  raucous, the older one falling over the younger, strapped-in, before strained at the straps, snapping painfully- back.   

Letting out an ear-piercing yell. The Older-One: still giggling, until the younger stood lashed-out as only younger siblings know how too and the older one let out a Yell! then a Scream! apparently exaggerated explication of pain from both now and claims of un-fairness (I)d(i)ot! StooooooopPID! etc.   

‘Come-on you’re the Older One, you should know better! Do you have to have to fight and argue over everything! No sweets!’ and then he knew, as soon as He said that that he was A Beaten Man.   

A yet louder exclamation set-up.  

While the younger looking on in glee, quieted and puzzled, twisted turned looking upwards to The  

Father; for some resolution to the questioning plea and fell out of the buggy, unbuckled:   

‘Me a’ well?’   

Looking up from the floor, the older standing and going to stamp on the younger, smiling sweetly now, the other sprawled on the floor as if felled:   

‘Smiling Assassin!’   

He called-out from the front of the shop, in reference to the older child, and to   

The Shopkeeper who was stacking shelves from remaining stock.  

He, holding-up the regular National-Newspaper, the Shopkeeper called:   

‘Blind-Assassin(s):’ looking at the newspaper on the counter-pane:   

‘Botched. Act-of-Terror!’ pointing to the front-page of one of the ’paper-rags display(ed.):  

BOTCHED ACT OF TERROR! and   

State-sponsored. And 

Qaeda ’Ban The-Markets…    

‘I know.’ nudging toward the TV screen playing silently with caption banner date/time/place: 

‘You may as well keep that…’ to the loose-change coins being handed over the counter:  

‘…it will be like one of those Free-Ones!’ hearing, and not listened-to until later scanning the headline:              

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL!  the money left on the shop-counter chuckling when the remark-   

realised:   

‘No, I got it!’ minding:  

The-Children who were not fighting but pretending to steal, sweets, not knowing any better yet, knowing better; laughing, and looking obvious.   

The Shopkeeper bagged and handed over most of what it was they-wanted, pointed at with shrill voices  

still:   

‘There you are, for later…your Dads’ change!’ the customary-sweet as a-counter-gift now in-change sometimes anyway for a small note passed across the counter.  

From the Father and then the Shopkeeper to them and then him:   

Daddy keep sweets…for later.’   

The Children looking pleased, and anxious-also, that they too might have to ‘keep-it-for-later’ with only the then-conditional:   

‘And only if you are Good To-Day All Day.’   

The emotional and ethical merged into puzzlement. Sweets given to the father-patiently waiting to get away to nursery, school, and work. Again consternation, put-on, by the older child, to the younger. Pouting, dropped lower-lip. Acting-out, pretending, face pulling puzzled-at and copied by the younger. Both suddenly laughing at this, and between themselves at something they did not really know what it was to be Good or: All-

Day, or To-Day; how, or what, it was, to attain this; understood, one of sOh-many, s0-many, different-way(s)…   

4. The Banker and The Clerk.    

The investment merchant-Banker sat-back and glanced across at the administrative accounts’-Clerk, sat-in the opposite seat, a fixed-table between travelling on this same-train same-time, same-carriage. For the-Clerk the same-seat, if that or any other was to be had amongst the everyday commuters seated and a few standings; today, usually crammed-in each weekday, early-morning into The-City.   

For the-Banker, this day too-early for the usual-reservation. With, or today without, waiter-served breakfast, or a free-morning newspaper. Only those freely given-away and piled-up in the station forecourt to be taken-away that had to be paid-for anyway by publicising the latest model and version, and most reasonablyies priced.  

Like copies of The Big Issue sold-on by Homeless-people in Metropolis’ around the world: no such thing as a free-lunch the-Banker reasoned.   

First-Class: The Financial-Newspaper paid-for anyway by The Railway Company: Public-Private Infra- 

Intra Structur(ed.):ticket-seated and breakfasted comfortably with:    

The-Financial Newspaper at massively dis-counted market-rate cost-price freely as-advertising encouraging in-someway paid-for, and for: returns…on-credit.   

The Newspaper could be easily afforded, anyway. Today’s loss-leader, tomorrow’s winner paid-for upfront from the station kiosk, day upon day. The Newspapers Times In-Corporate-Investment: at-least knowingly borrowed-on:perma-Credit: Merit: StaffCost(s): paid-off and on continuing steady-sales to be recouped; shorted: Shorting bets on wall st etc stocks doesn’t matter whate currency against currency cost-price selling change: 35:00 change :43 etc. supply-demand delivery  daily and long-termwork- investment…achieved…pay-back:   

Today, The Newspaper not given-away with the extortionately and exclusively permissive over-priced pass-paid for this day into the City’ Stock-Exchanges and Financial-Markets.  

Staff-costs (some) and paper&inks (some,one) red-top commie or capitalist broad-sheet side-issues to distract worked-well.  

Included free advert-magazine as affecting the World, obviously.  

The Annual-Executive rail-ticket and newspapers paid-for, whether used, read(ed.), or-not.    

This day the first train out and apparently between all carriages only Standard-class available.    

A single First-class carriage was filled-up quickly by anyone who had a ticket and conceivably some who did-not: there were no-tickets being checked or paid-for apparently the barriers left-open and inviting all- comers…  

For the-Banker, for another-time that morning, something mildly, now-seconded, and markedly unusual. The earlier, when the radio alarm-clock had switched-on routinely with the early-morning fishing, farming, road, and rail conditions.  

Airline and shipping delays, arrivals, and departures, and speculative forecasts: weather-reports, from around the world.  

Local, and global, political-economic and media-news: with the previous-nights’ closing market-prices from around The World…there had been developments overnight, that needed attending-to.   

From the emptying platform, the-Banker and the-Clerk boarded the train together more or less equal.  

The-Clerk with a Free-Advertising Newspaper and Headphones, plugged-in to a mobile Media-Centre. TheBanker with a bought-copy of The Financial-Newspaper from the trains’ limited half-empty double-decker, food and drinks re-freshments’ trolley.    

Having taken the first seat-available in the nearest Standard-Class compartment coupled with a foulstench reeking drain-leaking latrine literally retching between the brown and grey-green patterned-seats along the narrow aisleway, the-Banker waving the newspaper ahead as if to clear-the-air.    

Un-wavering when shunted across by the next-passenger inline, to the only vacant window-seat glanced across-to and sedentarily leaned-forward across the table between them and asked of the-Clerk, already sat downopposite:   

‘So, what do you make of it all, then?’ in the customary easy clear voice of one-born with the interrogative confidence of swift appraisal.   

As in-stantly as-if mysteriously-accusatory…as if with some felt need for validation-tested violentvalediction, justification, testimony, guilt?   

Even before any evidential fact, or fiction?    

With a self and other-deceiving finality, justifying, with instant-conviction…but of who? By whom?  Despite the original opening-question, it seemed as if with no real right-of-reply. The initial conversationalquestion asked as if intended-not to be replied-to or any other-mindedly mitigating circumstances or any answer-at all, particularly, or generally, listened-to.   

Or so the younger-Clerk surprised to be spoken-to then considered: perhaps like a nature-nurture kind   

of thing? Possibly a-Plebeian enquiry? Selected-standard flagged with no-probation the-Clerk decided: more likely a command, to make something of IT, and to-be-taken-notice-of.   

Notice-given of anyway dis-regarding of the possibly-paranoid maniacal rhetorical-answer awaited, or  

not, by either, or Both, regardless of the-Other: The subtler-Inquisitor? The Quicker to-the- Draw?

BanditQueen? The original-recipients by-assumption looking-up from a streaming mobile smart-phone camera and videogames-console: USB-4slot-machine…game: WarFair4.com downloading… 

                 Botched Act-of-Terror!    

PER (personal electronic reader)/de-pocketed-information-recorded singularly removing the ear-phone microphone-socketed-lead off-line searching for the source of the mildly-irritating openly questive-words’ spoken re-corded electron positron negative neutral proton-core still as directly-to, or so it seemed to the-Clerk, in almost immediate reply:    

‘Don’t know what to make of, what?’ then:   

‘Senseless.’ as to The-Banker as to The Newspaper  headline shaken-out, the whole carriage could now view.  

The-Banker sat-back purposefully, purportedly, and provocatively, to-unfold The Financial-

Newspaper with the headline outermost, upper-most:    

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL! and seen again that photograph taking up the whole of the rest of the grey-top printed front-page remaindered, pictured in the minds’ eye…  

Now, turned inside-out and with a-staring squeezed blink of the eyes, fumbled as if in a freak storm, a blown umbrella, quickly folded-away.   

To the-Clerk: hung-out to dry: having seen earlier the front-page photograph, and one-liner top- headed:  

WORLD MARKETS IN TURMOIL!  

re-conceived on-line connected…down-loaded and  up-dating second-to-second in a milli-second.  Minute-tominute mobile-version uploading freely…with- advertising:optional: Freeview choice feeskipping…   

The-Clerk looking-down and into the-same recently concealed picture, and slowly re-storing from browsing-history as accurately acutely as-depicted. As verifiably veritably un-faked up-dated…un-tampered with: mobile cell-phone-photographed syndicated and World-Wide-Web: networked-scene: as at the end of the previous day: the-City: stocks and bonds’ markets as then as now: seen news-printed and pictured from the evening before: a litter-strewn as old ticker-tape across The Investment Merchant Bank Trading-Room floor.    Forsaken, and an unforgiving-blankly waiting-screen strap-line banded:   

Markets Closed. Markets Closed. Markets Closed…the single-slogan as about to go up or down was not possible to tell diagonally from one corner of the screen to the other perhaps tangentially-to slip-backwards flickering erratically across continuously stuttering…across perhaps, another:   

Markets Closed.   

Only-slightly blurred from the-top aloft above, or below, the perfect: the-normal midway (i)deally positioned not at the-extreme outer-fielded or even ever truly evenly-centred: but as inside-out and now, as

flickering-stilled.   

As then, as now: as if no-longer exciting or existent now, as if no-longer exc(i)(t)(ed.) as of now, and then, no-longer anymore. Un-changing ex-change…in-flexibility flexibility(y)ies…  

Ever more exchanged until stopped perfectly still in its tracks, nowhere at all.   

Except: now, there: only as stop-framed time-up: bleeped…    

Cinematographically stilled, to be recorded, and repeated any movement as any-moment only impendent…  In the-cloud…independently that bold bland statement on-hold nonetheless-memorific-ally fuzzily held inabeyance:   

Markets Closed…shimmering-pixelated grid-table mapping diagrammatic…a flickering…    A coming-together. As a vertiginous horizontally remote-geometrically sited as a new dawn held rising, over the Worlds’-Edge. The-Cityscape-skylinedi-verting…   

             >Banking-details…scans scams threateningly un-throated un-declared-bribery and corruption and fraud on-consultancy political lobbyist and management-only commission-contracts government ministers hostaged hi-jacking debt-ransoming-deals projected de-regulation founded confidence unfounded de-evidenced peculiarly…self-supply chain financing de-mand(ed.) goods&stocks on the Stock-Market:L    

Optimism, pessimistically keeping quiet: the-private/public purse: tax-dodging as if this would be enough to boost-real confidence on-fixed and unfixed fiddling violins screeching burning-figures re-vealed:               

> Weaknesses:… Strengths and:… sub-titling screen-fantasy theme: distinctive emblematic  

Corporate-Creations: owning dis-owning any-real identity or real-personality patched-together bufferzone: video-text typeset: cast-role freely-played-ambiguously between Good-and-Evil.    

Between:    

‘O.K.’ and not too-bad least-worst:   

‘One lowest common de-nominator:’ 

‘…on-price…’  and another and downright-incorrectly dis-honestly and  non-rightly irresponsibly: sealing: stealing  

The-Deal: Generic-key:  Designer-rip-off: online re=peat  pre-scription: proscription un-fair in-clination pre-judice one-pergroup(ed.) not-set 

Dialogued-Speech:   

Options: with-structure and series arcade-style deviation from the normal…  too  complex-to-  

#control if at all cutting-edge cut: …  

             >To: the Cit(y)ies: How We Live: 50-50 countryside more or less where and between each-other: with people we look like who we think looks like ourselves. We ghettoize whether in the City or Countryside families living close or close to close to until they, we feel less, or more, than 20-25% we feel un-comfortable, threatened or angry.  

              <Then, we move, or we move, anyway, somewhere with a higher perceived proportion, as ourselves. 

Through the wall(s): the closest neighbour family and friendship(s) solar-sailing and re-turning daily  

Community-Street: weekly, monthly, and for years on-end for: Many Millennia on the Globe. Between the Sun  and Moon: Lunar drawing-onto   Land and into the Skies. Dinosaurus  

Birds and:   

‘Green-Blue-Oceanic.’ 

‘Space-Red: Sea-Monster! Technological and Fiscal ex-pan(s)(i)on…’   

‘Printing-Money…’ screen-pixelated:   

‘Stamping-Feet!’ 

‘Perhaps, bringing the-City down!’ 

The-Country?’  

‘Whole-Continent(s): spread like amoeba  bacteria cytoplasm lichen on the surface…into the air and spacebreathing-Glaciers below:    

‘Iced-up Market(s)…’  

‘Warming-warning…’ 

‘Melting-away’ 

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