“Oh?” he asks, again the look on his face way too innocent for Robert Maxim.
“Yeah, ‘nothing to do with me’? ‘For my safety’?”
Robert smiles. “You want to be involved in dangerous endeavors that are none of your business?”
“You talk as though you don’t know me, Mr. Maxim.”
Robert and I both look toward the dining room as the waitress approaches with our appetizers. I wait until she leaves to speak again. “What I want,” I say, picking up a piece of bread, “is for you to explain to me why you’re buying up cryptocurrency while I inhale this food.”
“Your wish is my command.” Robert picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip as I slather pâté onto the bread—briefly wondering how much it cost. “Simply put, it’s insurance,” he says.
“Insurance?” I ask, then take a bite. My eyes close in pleasure, my hunger making a meal that already would have been delicious into something divine.
“Yes. If you’re going to burn down society—as you so eloquently put it—and I’m going to help, then I need a way of staying rich.” He smiles. “Of course, I have gold as well. I’ll always have gold. And other assets I trust will weather your fire storm.”
“Obviously,” I say. “You’ll need to stay rich. What about powerful? Won’t you need a way to stay powerful?”
Robert tuts. “With money comes power, Sydney.”
“Not always. What about politicians? Many are not as rich as you but they have as much power. If society is reordered, who’s to say that those with money will stay on top?”
Robert shakes his head. “I am more powerful than most politicians—even very high-ranking ones. And it’s because they don’t have as much money as me. Money is power, Sydney.”
“What about me?” I ask.
“You have a lot of money. Not only do you share my wealth through marriage, but Dan is a brilliant investor and has multiplied your own worth many times over.”
“But that’s all in Joyful Justice coffers. I don’t have direct access to it. Wouldn’t you say that my power lies in my legend?”
Robert sits back, taking his wine glass with him. He smiles, his gaze falling into the deep red liquid. “Your legend certainly has a value. It grants you power.” He pauses, swirls the wine in his glass, then looks up at me. “And will live on after you. But, it is not solely yours.”
“What do you mean?” I ask around a bite of food.
“Your legend—reputation—is a fiction. You’re not real. Sydney Rye, Joy Humbolt,” he waves his hand at me. “Whatever alias you are traveling under, they are all fictional characters.”
Something about his words makes the food in my mouth taste stale, like cardboard. I pick up my seltzer and sip, letting the bitter bubbles clear my palate.
“The more famous you become, the more people who speak your name, the less it is yours. It becomes theirs.”
The waitress returns and clears the appetizers, leaving us with nothing but the expanse of white tablecloth and a flickering candle in its breeze-resistant glass container between us. “You’re not answering my question, Robert. Why are you buying crypto?”
“I did.” He sits forward. “As insurance. Whatever you do to the world.” He shrugs one shoulder. “However you see fit to burn it down…I will be positioned for it.”
“But isn’t that the problem?” I ask, also leaning forward, the space between us closing. “That you will always be okay and so many people aren’t…and won’t ever be.”
A whisper of a smile plays over his lips. “But Sydney, you know the world isn’t fair. That there is no justice.”
“Then what is there?” I ask.
“A game. It’s all just a game.”
“That’s easy for you to say, you’re the winner. People who are starving aren’t playing.”
“And that’s why they’re losing?”
Bile rises in my throat. “You’re an asshole.”
Robert’s grin is quick—a flash of teeth—and then it’s gone. “Very true.”
I sit back, needing space from him. “And all your money, your power. What do you do with it?”
“Buy your dog hundred-dollar steaks, among other things,” he answers before picking up his glass of wine again and taking a sip. I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, wondering if I could punch him in it or if he’d see me coming.
What would Brock do? I glance into the dining room, finding the security agent with his gaze on his phone. “Sydney,” Robert’s voice pulls me back to him. “I’m buying crypto because I believe in you. Because I believe that you have the power to change the world.”
“For the better?” I ask, my voice coming out bitter. The task I’ve set myself is far too hard. Impossible.
“The world will always be the same for me. I’m only playing a game. It can’t be good or bad, it’s just the playing field.”
“Sometimes you sound like Merl,” I say, surprised by the sentiment.
“Do I?” Robert asks, his smile amused. “That’s quite a compliment from you.”
“Just the whole, ‘It doesn’t matter what’s happening in the 3D world. The inner game is what matters’.”
Robert shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying. Out here matters very much—life cannot just be confined to ritual and meditation. I enjoy good wine,” he holds up the glass. “I love seeing an elegant dress I paid for brushing against your skin.” The mention of the dress makes me suddenly hyper aware of the ruffled sleeves fluttering in the wind, butterflying against my shoulders. “I want to take you back to our room and—”
I hold up a hand, interrupting him. “Don’t.”
