Coffee (2 page)

Etty
knew that the man behind the special computer display worked around
the clock, but when Knut scheduled her appointment at 12:30am, she
had to laugh.

“I
don’t see anything strange, there are blips all over the
place.” Knut enjoyed playing boyishly confused in front of
Etty. Knut was known to receive calls from all over the College
system and from top Government researchers who wanted to share in
his uncanny analytical abilities. No less than twenty published
papers on Statistics and Game Theory showed him as the principal
author. Knut had his run of the place, and he knew it.

“Bring
up prices by the minute for this day here,” Etty demanded as
she pointed at one of the price peaks.

Within
seconds, the screen changed, revealing a ragged line etched across,
peaking distinctly between 10:30 and 11am. “Look at that.
That’s one hell of a run up in price.”

“Yea.
Let’s see, that’s about a 3% rise in fifteen minutes.
Let me run a quick query to see how many times that’s happened
in the last decade.” Knut typed faster than anyone Etty knew.
And these weren’t long comfortable sentences. The database
commands spilled out on the video display as if the computer were
printing them itself.

“If
you ever need a few extra bucks, you could type circles around the
secretarial pool.” Beyond the small talk, Etty was anxious.
She needed a breakthrough on her dissertation - something that would
really grab attention, maybe even be accepted by the Trustees for
publication. Market manipulation! If this were true, she might
uncover a plot to defraud the markets. Three percent changes were
huge, and especially lucrative to anyone who could anticipate them
in advance. Buy just before - sell just after. What a profit for
fifteen minutes! The coffee exchange moved billions of dollars of
goods a day. Three percent of billions is many millions. To the
discoverer would come world recognition. No fantasy pleased her
more.

Knut’s
voice shook her back. “Well well, Miss Bishop, lookee here.”
Knut’s binocular viewer had to be pivoted to the side for
Etty to get a full view of the screen. “It’s happened
once a year for the last three. They stand out like beacons. It
does look rather organized for such an efficient market.”

“Check
out Sugar and Cocoa. They have similar peak production cycles.”
Again, the sound of astoundingly rapid key tapping filled the
cramped computer room.

“Nope.
Not the same way. There are some opening bids with three percent
changes from the prior close, but they stuck for days, weeks. These
‘Etty bumps’ fade fast. See here - back to nearly the
opening price in what, an hour?”

“Can
you pull up the actual trades? Can you see the names of the people
behind them?”

“No,
‘fraid not. The Exchange itself may be able to give us that,
but the University databases and Internet only go so far.”

“I
need some confidence limits. Can you generate some stats on the
probability of this happening randomly?”

“Sure,
easy. The chance it is random will be pretty small. But, that
doesn’t mean someone caused it on purpose. Could be some
agricultural thing, or something to do with information releases,”
Knut mused.

“I
need those limits by tomorrow morning. I’ll present an
abstract to the Department head and see if he’ll let me spend
some money on more research.”

“Whoa
girl. Tomorrow morning? That’ll cost you.”

“Sure,
Knut. You know damn well you’ll be finished with it by the
time I hit the stairwell.”

“Expertise
doesn’t come cheap. It’s not how fast, but how well.”

“O.K.
then, what do you propose, Mr. Olafson?”

Knut’s
eyesight allowed him to see only the brightest lights, and even they
appeared as weak spots. The binoculars brought ten characters at a
time to his eyes, filling his field of vision with large bright
block letters. But the handicap heightened his ability to imagine.
He could see perfectly Etty’s coy smile in his mind view.

He
had asked a co-worker what she looked like, after Etty’s first
visit. Knut hung on every word, painting a clear picture. Not
tall, shapely hips and medium chest, and a face to die for with
slightly plump lips, gorgeous dark eyes, and skin as smooth as
vanilla pudding. Her jet black hair hung straight and long down her
back. He had to fill in some of the gaps, but there she stood
before him in every detail.

“A
drink. You must join me in a drink. I’ll mix them right
here.”

“Here?”

Knut
pointed over his head. Etty noticed the upper cabinet with a
combination lock dial under the latch. “Oh, I get it, the
important personal file.” She could use a little relaxer to
end her outrageous day. “Oh hell - sure. What’s the
combination - I’ll open it.”

“Sorry.
No can tell. We really do have important papers in there. In
fact, given the potential volatility of your little research work,
that’s where I’ll store yours.”

Knut
stood, feeling his way to the cabinet. Even if Etty had tried to
record the code as he turned the raised-numbered combination knob,
his nimble fingers would have made it impossible. “Ah, here.
My file on attitude adjustment.” Knut pulled down a bottle of
Schmirnoff Vodka, placed it behind him on the desk, and found two
simple water glasses.

“What
do you mean, potentially volatile?” Etty asked, while
wondering how he planned to serve the vodka.

“You
wouldn’t want anyone stealing your dissertation, would you?”
Actually, Knut had bigger concerns. He agreed the price behavior
was odd. But, there could be any number of legitimate explanations.
This was, after all, a world market with growers and producers from
every corner of the globe. If Etty jumped too quickly on a market
manipulation theory, industry experts might make kids play of it.
She, the College, and even he could suffer. On the other hand, if
she happened to be right, then she could be dealing with some nasty
players. He decided to do a little research on his own. Besides,
he liked her, and helping her might give him a chance to get to know
her better.

Knut
filled the glasses to a healthy half full mark. “There.
Skol.”

“That’s
it? Just straight Vodka, no ice? Whiskey maybe, Scotch, Brandy,
but Vodka?”

“Try
it. You’ll be surprised.” Knut drained his glass.
“Ahhhh.” He refilled, took one small sip, and laid the
glass on the Formica shelf.

Etty
sipped and scowled, but then held the glass close to her face while
the flavor struck. After a tiny nod, she quickly tipped back her
head to swallow the full amount.

“Interesting.
Can’t say I’ll give away my Glenlevit, but it’s
not bad.”

They
rearranged themselves in the cramped space among the monitors and
computers to get comfortable with their drinks.

“So,
Etty, what’s with the two middle initials? V.E.?”

“Why,
have you been looking through my files? I don’t use the
middle initials except in formal documents.”

“Guilty.
You were born in Nashua, New Hampshire. You’re thirty, you
hold a BS from Amherst College, and a Masters from Middlebury - am I
right?”

“Wonderful.
I suppose you saw my application, too with all that bullshit about
running a multi-national corporation.”

“Multi-national?
No, they don’t type applications into the student databases,
just some key facts. I’m sorry, I suppose I should be more
tactful. But, you’d be amazed what information I can get from
my little pulpit.”

“If
you figure out how to change grades, let me know.” Etty
poured another half glass, and began taking larger sips.

“Even
if I could, there’s no place to go with you. This is your 6th
trimester, and you have all 4.0’s - that’s
A Pluses
.
And the courses! We’re not talking cake-walk classes either.”

Etty
blushed a little, but let herself smile knowing Knut could not see
her expression. “Well, thanks.” Another sip. Knut
refilled his.

Knut
continued, “So tell me about your application. Are you
interested in world domination, or just a little multi-billion
dollar a year company?”

“I
wrote about ten pages on it, actually. I did it partly to stand out
in the crowd. I heard they like to accept people with specific, not
general goals at Dartmouth. Although I think that is a bit naive, I
gave them what they wanted. President of a multi-national
corporation, specializing in trade of goods around the world,
headquartered in Europe.”

“Partly
to stand out, but partly because you really want it?”

“I
suppose. Sure. Why not?” She tipped back the glass for
another large swallow. “You know, Mr. Database, your facts
are a little wrong. I was not born in Nashua, if you care. I was
born in Germany with the last name Von Enes. My mother tried to
bring me here as a baby, but died of influenza or something during
the voyage across the ocean. I gather she didn’t have much
money.”

“That’s
the V.E., then, Von Enes?”

“Yup.
I was put up for adoption through New York Immigration, and taken by
a family in Nashua. Thirty years ago, they kept almost no
information on adopted emigrants. I know my birth date, former last
name, and Essen, Germany as birthplace. My new parents named me
Harriet Bishop after a family member, but as a small tribute, they
kept the initials.”

“So
you know nothing about your real family?”

“Nothing.
I’ve tried finding out, too. A lone baby arrives with dead
mother at Ellis Island. There are no records.”

“That’s
a sad story.” Knut poured for both glasses.

“I
can’t complain, I’ve had a good life with good parents.”
Etty noticed that he did not look when he poured, but filled each to
the brim without spilling. “How do you do that? Pour the vodka
so well?”

“I
heard you put it down. That told me where it was, and I knew by
sound that it was empty.”

Etty
felt flushed from the alcohol. “The only thing I have from my
mother is this watch.” She reached out her hand, and then
remembered he couldn’t see. “Here.” She touched
his hand and pulled it to her wrist.

“Big!
Feels more like your father’s. This the original leather
band?”

“I
doubt it, but the watch itself is Dutch, from the thirties. I love
it. If this watch ever stopped, something would stop in me too.”

“Must
be big on your wrist.”

The
binoculars from Knut’s special viewing equipment faced her
like two huge eyes at the end of a stalk neck. Etty fluidly changed
the subject. “How’s this stuff work, anyway?”

“I
call it ‘Mantis’, ‘cause it looks like a Praying
Mantis head.”

“That’s the bug that eats her date after sex. Great.”
Etty kicked herself for bringing up sex, hoping Knut would not
pick up the cue. She could tell Knut liked her, and noticed a
slight change in his breathing when he touched her wrist.

Knut
let it slide. “It’s actually two things, a monitor and
a microscope. Let me show you.” He twisted it around as far
as possible so the eye pieces were a little closer to her, but she
still had to get up and lean toward Knut to press her eyes against
it. Knut shuddered as he picked up a subtle scent from Etty, a soap
and skin smell. He could hear the air passing over her lips and
teeth as she breathed only a few inches away.

Knut
flicked the mode button to
Monitor
, and large bright letters
appeared across the high contrast field of vision. “Wow.
Bright. I’ll bet that gives you a headache.”

“It’s
not bright at all to me, in fact it’s rather dim.”

“What’s
the microscope part?”

Knut
opened his mouth in front of the view side so it pointed down his
throat, and switched to
Microscope
. “Christ!”
She backed her head away, laughing. “Microscope. I get it.”

Knut
rarely dated. His consuming work kept him from the social circuits.
But his excruciating schedule also veiled an insecurity. Most
considered him mildly handsome, with his soft features and tender
yet witty style. He could tell women liked him, but he feared
rejection more than he desired intimacy. But recently, he vowed to
change all that. A full professor at a top Ivy League college, it
was time to be more bold with women. ‘What’s she going
to do, push me down the stairs?’ Knut chuckled to himself.

He
slugged down a mouthful, and after a short pause, “Etty. How
about a favor?”

Etty
looked around the apparatus into his glazed eyes. “What?”

“Can
I look at your face?”

She
smiled again, getting increasingly giddy from the Vodka. “With
this thing? Why, so you can see my blackheads?”

“No,
really.” By his calm expression, Etty realized he was quite
serious. Knut was a nice man, a very intelligent and interesting
man, whom Etty found rather attractive. But she had no interest in
any kind of relationship - her work was far more important. Still,
there was something oddly appealing to her about this, a blind man
pouring over her face with a large machine to see every crevice.

“Well,
O.K., but I’m telling you right now, we’re stopping
above the neck.” Knut pivoted the binoculars back the other
way, and Etty positioned herself in front of them. “Do I move
around, or do you?”

“Just
relax, stay put,” he said with his eyes pressed firmly into
place, and his voice slightly distorted by the bulky gear.

He
started with her eyes. The light made her squint at first, but she
willed them open wide, having resigned herself to give him a full
show. The tight quarters forced her knees up against his. Knut
felt the touch with keen sensitivity.

He
moved up to her hairline, over the top to see wisps of straight
black hair. Then along the top of her forehead to a widow’s
peak point, around to the other side to her smallish delicate ears.
Across the middle of her face, over the high reddened cheeks, perked
up mostly because she could not wipe the wide smile off her face.
Then her nose. “Ugly nose,” she had to interject,
giggling. Knut said nothing. Then her mouth. For a second, she
opened her mouth wide as he had done, producing a grunt laugh from
Knut, but then she returned to smiling.