THE EXCHANGE Dez walked into the Exchange and let his eyes adjust to the lights. Electronic tote boards flashed at him from every wall. If he was going to do it, it had to be today. The 30-day note on the apartment was about to run out, and if that happened, his family would be forced into the street. Hed seen it happen to others, other families. Once you were out, there was no getting back in. He checked the totes again. Hands, where were hands? There it was. Right hand, male, 35-40 years of age. 700 credits. It had been under six all week. Dez raised his hand, his left, and shouted, SELLING! Right hand! Selling, male right hand! 38 years old! 700 credits! Buyers swarmed him, each waving credit slips like plumage. He felt as if he were wading through a flock of flamingos. The numbers on the tote began climbing, paused at 720, then began to drop again. Dez grabbed a slip from one of the brokers. The man shouted in his face, 716, I bid 716! His breath smelled of sour bread. Dez grabbed the slip. Deal! he said. At his word, the crowd of brokers dispersed. The broker pressed a small device against Dezs eye. First time? he said. Dont worry its just a scan. For Verilize. Verilize was the company that sanctioned all transactions at the exchange. Come with me, said the broker, Ill have someone show you to surgery. Dez followed the broker to a set of doors at the far end of the Exchange floor. Somewhere behind them, through the murmur of voices, Dez heard a man yell, SELLING! Right leg, male, age 27 years! as a swarm of brokers fell upon him.
Posted on: Tue, 15 Oct 2013 18:49:50 +0000
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