Floozman: First Episode
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Part 8: On the Road to Mulhouse
part 1 of 3 |
“With a scandalous abundance, he brings deliverance”
Fred Looseman used to be the head risk assessor at World Wide Credit Corporation and the chairman of the Anti-Money Laundering Commission. Now he works as an automated teller machine repairman.
Sometimes he hears voices, and sometimes what he hears moves him to tears. His bank account overflows with the money of deliverance, and he becomes a financial super-hero: Floozman.
The banker has gathered important decision-makers in a comfortable room of the town hall. He has dressed simply, in order to convey a sense of action. Sitting at his left, ready to address the most technical questions, are the young Doctor Johann Georg Faust and his assistant Wagner, who is dreaming of a lamp that would print diagrams on the wall coverings.
[People sequence begins]
A lot of persons have come who are very much in the public eye: the Elector Prince of Saxony, draped in his marten mantle; the Duke of Brunswick; the Bailiff of Mulhausen with two handsome greyhounds; the Sheriff of Greater Nottingham, dressed in a superb travel suit of studded leather, which is said to have been designed by Leonardo da Vinci; the Knight of Unheimliche, who has not left behind Mireille, his enchanted sword (everyone remembers that the feasts given for his dubbing, at the court of Francis the 1st, cost more than five hundred billion ducats); the administrator of the Steinbach mines; Madame, very much in love; and the Archbishop of Magdeburg, back from Rome.
[People sequence ends]
As he takes the floor, he resolutely concentrates on the theatre of his future business in order to overcome his qualms: Soliman’s palace and to the farther towards the Orient, the Maharaja’s court. I may have already accumulated the largest capital in the world, he thinks before he starts:
“The end of times is nigh, so we are told. The countryside is o’erturn’d by ruinous disorders. A new prophet is heralding the reign of the spirit. A number of cities have abolished serfdom and ceased paying tithes. I know that some of ye are engaging troops in a battle not far from here. And ye know what war costs, especially if taxes are not coming in.” He marks a pause.
The light beams transpiercing the stained glass windows vanish as high clouds pass by. “What shall we do then, my gracious lords? Shall we remain idle in wait of bankruptcy, search the sky and follow the course of events? Shall we remain blind to the heaped risks? Where is the spirit of enterprise with which the almighty has endowed us? Where are our free will and bravery? Have we not already crushed the idols and robbed the pagan gods of their fire? What is the true meaning of this end time? Will it really occur, and will it be complete? And even if it were to happen...” he continues, exceeding himself, “ought ye not to get rid of it?”
“Thou goest too far, Bart,” the Archbishop breaks in. “If someone reports thy words to the Pope, thy goose is cooked.”
“Tut, tut, my lord. We are all attached to the world’s stability and to the smooth running of business. There is nothing in scripture, nor in science, that forbids us to defend ourselves. Here, I am the hereditary director of Banca Nella Figa, a very ancient house, fairly administered. I propose thee to join me and build up an intelligent treasure, capable not only of resisting crisis but also and above all of retaining its value until the last minute of the last day — nay, beyond! Yea, beyond!
“For in the end, what know we really of apocalypse? How long will it last? Will it really be irreversible? Who will actually have the power to buy and sell? Let us resist, your lordships, these terrible disorders, as much as ye have the will to do so. Mayhap the Almighty will heed the efforts of the honest, accountable men of this world and will hold back his hand.”
“I’d rather thou beist the one to say that.”
“Thou worryest us,” says the prince. “Thy castle never sleeps. At every hour of night and day thy hooded riders are seen flying like shadows in all directions. The peasants are terrified. They report all sorts of miracles. They accuse thee of witchcraft. If this is the idea thou givest them of wealth, no wonder they’re joining the rebels.”
Bartholomew runs his eye over the audience:
“The treasure does its job as long as it serves as an intermediary with the divine hierarchies. I am unruffled by the manifestations of its power. On the contrary, if the end of times is near, we should congratulate ourselves on having such a device. Master Faustus’ assistant will hand you a copy of the contract. You may subscribe to as many shares as you wish...”
The sheriff looks at his notes:
“We don’t quite understand the composition of the fund. It would fain comprise numerous relics. We must know the details in order to direct our prayers properly. Besides, thou has repurchased a great number of indulgences whereas some of us reprove this arrangement, which benefits Rome exclusively. This is a problem...”
“The securitization of absolution creates holiness for all the stakeholders,” erupts the Archbishop “when done by serious persons. The bonds we issue increase redemption efficiency and enable its diffusion on an unprecedented scale. Ye must constantly innovate to fight the Evil One and lift man out the state of sin. Such is our responsibility!”
The banker turns to them with a gleam of gratitude in his eyes. He will be in a position to address the sheriff’s objection and at the same time take back control of the meeting.
“Thou wilt find the fund’s composition and the management policy in an appendix. I must tell ye that we shall not offer any other product. A diversification would alter the risk profile. Thou takest it or leavest it, my gracious lord. Please note nevertheless that if the indulgences were issued by the archdiocese, they now constitute part of La Figa’s assets. Finally, for every contract signed this day, La Figa offers a pack of twenty-five antique toothpicks fashioned by an ancestor of mine from a very particular fig tree. It was, dear ladies and lords, the miraculous withered fig tree mentioned in the Gospels!”
“Ay, knowest thou why I shall not sign?” says the knight, pounding his fist on the table. “Dost thou know?!”
“’Tis thy liberty...”
“The treasure hath evaded thy control! Thy wife hath taken the coffers and the books. She hath run away with the thieves. She was at Saverne, she is at Scherwiller. This is where the battle will take place, and I decide this instant to bring them my sword! For a thousand years the Kingdom on earth!”
Thereupon, the Knight splits the table in two and leaves the room without anyone’s paying him any attention...
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Copyright © 2005 by
Bertrand Cayzac
Dépôt S.A.C.D. 174 627
