good.
“We’d hoped to find out what her building says happened,” Lev said.
“I hadn’t,” Ash said, “rumor having it that it doesn’t.”
“Doesn’t what?” Netherton asked.
“Say,” said Ash. “Or know.”
“How could her building not know?” Netherton asked.
“In the sense that this house doesn’t know,” said Lev. “That can also be arranged on a temporary basis, but it requires . . .” He made a small, quick, multifingered, pianist-like, iconically Russian gesture: klept, but of some degree not to be spoken of.
“I see,” said Netherton, who didn’t.
“We’re going to need capital, in the stub,” said Ash. “Ossian is reaching the end of what he can improvise. If you wish to maintain a presence—”
“Not a presence,” said Lev. “It’s mine.”
“Not exclusively,” said Ash. “Our visitors didn’t hesitate to book themselves an assassination, on coming through the door. If they outcapitalize us, we’ll be helpless. Your family’s quants, however . . .” Netherton decided that she’d donned the felt suit before attempting to convince Lev to allow his family’s financial modules access to the stub. He looked at Lev. It was not, he decided, going to be easy.
“Ossian,” Lev said, “can optimize manipulation of virtual currencies in their online games. He’s working on it.”
“If our visitors were to buy a politician,” said Ash, “or the head of an American federal agency, we’d find ourselves playing catch-up. And possibly losing.”
“I’m not interested in creating a mess more baroque than the onethey’re historically in,” said Lev. “That’s what happens, with too much interference. As it is, I’ve let Wilf talk me into letting someone use polts like some ludicrous form of artisanal AI.”
“Best get used to it, Lev.” Ash almost never used his name. “Someone else has access. It stands to reason that whoever it is is better connected than we are, since we’ve absolutely no idea how to get into anyone else’s stub.”
“Can’t you,” asked Netherton, “just jump forward and see what happens? Look in on them a year later, then correct for that?”
“No,” said Ash. “That’s time travel. This is real. When we sent our first e-mail to their Panama, we entered into a fixed ratio of duration with their continuum: one to one. A given interval in the stub is the same interval here, from first instant of contact. We can no more know their future than we can know our own, except to assume that it ultimately isn’t going to be history as we know it. And, no, we don’t know why. It’s simply the way the server works, as far as we know.”
“The idea of bringing in family resources,” said Lev, “is anathema.”
“My middle name,” Ash was unable to resist pointing out.
“I know that,” said Lev.
“I suppose,” Netherton said to Lev, putting his empty cup down on its saucer, “that it’s been one of a very few places in your life where there’ve been none. Family resources.”
“Exactly.”
“In that case,” Ash said, “plan B.”
“Which is?” Lev asked.
“We feed a combination of historical, social, and market data to freelance quants, plus information we obtain in the stub, and they game us a share of the economy there. They won’t grind as finely, as powerfully, as quickly, as your family’s finance operation, but it may be enough. And you’ll have to pay them. Here, with real money.”
“Do it,” said Lev.
“Formal notice, then,” she said, “that my first recommendation wasuse of your family’s quants. These children at the LSE are bright, but they aren’t that.”
“Children?” asked Netherton.
“If we find ourselves undercapitalized,” Ash said to Lev, “you won’t be able to blame me.”
Netherton decided then that really she’d wanted Lev to do what he’d just agreed to, which surprised him. He hadn’t thought of her as that effectively manipulative. Probably it had been
“We’d hoped to find out what her building says happened,” Lev said.
“I hadn’t,” Ash said, “rumor having it that it doesn’t.”
“Doesn’t what?” Netherton asked.
“Say,” said Ash. “Or know.”
“How could her building not know?” Netherton asked.
“In the sense that this house doesn’t know,” said Lev. “That can also be arranged on a temporary basis, but it requires . . .” He made a small, quick, multifingered, pianist-like, iconically Russian gesture: klept, but of some degree not to be spoken of.
“I see,” said Netherton, who didn’t.
“We’re going to need capital, in the stub,” said Ash. “Ossian is reaching the end of what he can improvise. If you wish to maintain a presence—”
“Not a presence,” said Lev. “It’s mine.”
“Not exclusively,” said Ash. “Our visitors didn’t hesitate to book themselves an assassination, on coming through the door. If they outcapitalize us, we’ll be helpless. Your family’s quants, however . . .” Netherton decided that she’d donned the felt suit before attempting to convince Lev to allow his family’s financial modules access to the stub. He looked at Lev. It was not, he decided, going to be easy.
“Ossian,” Lev said, “can optimize manipulation of virtual currencies in their online games. He’s working on it.”
“If our visitors were to buy a politician,” said Ash, “or the head of an American federal agency, we’d find ourselves playing catch-up. And possibly losing.”
“I’m not interested in creating a mess more baroque than the onethey’re historically in,” said Lev. “That’s what happens, with too much interference. As it is, I’ve let Wilf talk me into letting someone use polts like some ludicrous form of artisanal AI.”
“Best get used to it, Lev.” Ash almost never used his name. “Someone else has access. It stands to reason that whoever it is is better connected than we are, since we’ve absolutely no idea how to get into anyone else’s stub.”
“Can’t you,” asked Netherton, “just jump forward and see what happens? Look in on them a year later, then correct for that?”
“No,” said Ash. “That’s time travel. This is real. When we sent our first e-mail to their Panama, we entered into a fixed ratio of duration with their continuum: one to one. A given interval in the stub is the same interval here, from first instant of contact. We can no more know their future than we can know our own, except to assume that it ultimately isn’t going to be history as we know it. And, no, we don’t know why. It’s simply the way the server works, as far as we know.”
“The idea of bringing in family resources,” said Lev, “is anathema.”
“My middle name,” Ash was unable to resist pointing out.
“I know that,” said Lev.
“I suppose,” Netherton said to Lev, putting his empty cup down on its saucer, “that it’s been one of a very few places in your life where there’ve been none. Family resources.”
“Exactly.”
“In that case,” Ash said, “plan B.”
“Which is?” Lev asked.
“We feed a combination of historical, social, and market data to freelance quants, plus information we obtain in the stub, and they game us a share of the economy there. They won’t grind as finely, as powerfully, as quickly, as your family’s finance operation, but it may be enough. And you’ll have to pay them. Here, with real money.”
“Do it,” said Lev.
“Formal notice, then,” she said, “that my first recommendation wasuse of your family’s quants. These children at the LSE are bright, but they aren’t that.”
“Children?” asked Netherton.
“If we find ourselves undercapitalized,” Ash said to Lev, “you won’t be able to blame me.”
Netherton decided then that really she’d wanted Lev to do what he’d just agreed to, which surprised him. He hadn’t thought of her as that effectively manipulative. Probably it had been
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