Chanda Go pored over the data. Pie charts, bar graphs, and seemingly endless sets of numbers flew past her. “At least I don’t have to be forced to pay taxes,” she muttered under her breath. The skate shop Got to Go had seen a dip in sales in the past few months. She wondered why this fact remained. There appeared to be discrepancy among the 18–34 year-old set. In the previous year’s quarter, their numbers continued to grow. Now, this dwindling effect befuddled her. In her office, she spun around on her chair and saw more computer screens with a sharp decline in engagement among all other demographics, including the coveted aforementioned crowd who just became adults and those under 35.

WIth the deadline looming to file and pay for governmental services, she knew she had to do something quickly and with efficiency. When she looked at all the traffic online as compared to the foot traffic in the stores, it felt cold and sobering. The amount of people who had visited the site dropped and total sales had slid to an abysmal amount. 

She sighed. Then, she picked up a pencil and paper. These old school elements often sparked her brain like a live wire. To just sit down and jot her ideas on yellow legal pads drove her mind to become even sharper. As lo-fi as it stood to be, it allowed her to become one with the information. One thing remained sure and positive…the sale of non-fungible tokens such as decks and the dizzying array of models they produced had actually risen. Amidst the sea of red, this black figure permitted her to breathe. 

In the same way, she wanted to be a formidable reason why this company would continue its reach. As she sketched on the notepad, she kept in mind all of the math involved. Like a calculator gone supercharged, she didn’t even use her brain chip to account for all the numbers. Instead, it was all her brain. That little sound of graphite striking against paper continued to push her beyond her limits. She wrote and wrote with the intent to figure out the problem before the whole idea collapsed. This odyssey of the mind triggered in her every calculus and trigonometry course she ever took. It stretched back to the days when she completed algebra problems in the fourth grade. 

Now, Chanda sought the prey of data and wanted to strike it down and eat it. She knew whatever the case may have been, the matter at hand kept pouncing on her. A wrestling match, she wished only that the beast be tamed by her excellent mathematical skills. Of course she had everything available to her. Synths and artificial intelligence guided her pathway any other time. What she wanted most put her in the position to change her way of life. She had earned this money, not Go. As CEO of Got to Go, she remained steadfast in her resolve to keep the money flowing. Even with the decline in sales, there had to be a way to drive more people to the stores and to increase subscriptions. Hi-tech came calling again. The socials presented a way for the woman to engage with her clients. She offered high-percentage discounts, lotteries, challenges, and the promise of other goodies if the people voted with their dollar. This enlivened Chanda. She put the pencil and pad down for a moment and took to the internet. By interacting with people, the viral effect became commonplace. When she encountered people in the digital realm, she often asked why they purchased a particular item and if they’d tell their friends about buying the apparel and equipment. Additionally, she queried whether they would buy something similar. Often, she would give out GoCoins in order to entice people to buy more and more. 

This felt to her like the late nineteenth century. There remained some earthy and yet spirited understanding of the ways of money and how it flowed. It made her not want to stop. With the government only protecting her individual rights, she possessed the power to look inside of herself and manifest the entrepreneur she always wanted to be. While it certainly didn’t present itself as a cakewalk, she could handle it. That remained the might behind the human brain. Through all the adversity, what kept the species going was tenacity, grit, will. Chanda had all of these factors combined. To take care of her responsibilities and to help out Go with his chemical dependency all registered with her. In the way she had been raised to take care of her younger siblings, so in adulthood did she care for her values. As the digital bills stacked ever higher, she knew that being a grown up far surpassed being a child. Money and sex represented two aspects of being grown. Some people called it business and pleasure but she saw them as one in the same. She loved the provocative nature of making money and the chasteness and ecstasy of the latter. 

When she whipped around the room, there was an air of confidence and excellence. Like a princess of profits, she forged new deals with restaurants and large corporations to do tie-in deals with them. It felt like she needed to vape and take a shower after every trade she performed. At the point where she knew that this last deal would possibly close, she inhaled sharply and pushed out all of the negativity and stress. She arranged for Mercier to produce a substance that remained lighter and more durable than the current decks she sold. The data never lied. The company agreed to set in motion a feasible way to make the product. Chanda found this to be a touchdown, but she didn’t celebrate in the endzone. More work had to be done. The hemorrhaging amount of sales still seemed like a burr in her shoe. 

Victories like this weren’t victories at all. They presented themselves as incremental advancements towards her ultimate goal. That consisted of taking the company public one day and injecting more funds into the account. 

A breath of life escaped from her throat. It was a gasp or a sigh. It felt genuine and allowed her to keep working. She had already gone past the eleventh hour. What she wanted most provided her with the possibility to become even more ingrained in the minutiae of businesss. Back to the pad and pencil, she sketched out her thoughts once more and continued down the road to success. Every line looked like poetry. The figures danced on the legal sheet and she made notes in the margins. The question of whether the efforts would pay off still remained. But she didn’t let that bother her. Laser focus kept her from skidding into the wall on this roller rink of entrepreneurial endeavors. 

With Go out with the Founders, Chanda had the whole house to herself. She could blare metal as she worked and classical music when she could engage with it. Bliss blessed Chanda. Her happiness said to never tire and always remain on guard for the difficult times. As they often did, the low points felt even lower and that made the highs seem more soul-nourishing than ever. Fertile soil for her mind to grow allowed her to jot down even more information. She saw the figures uptick, but she didn’t celebrate. She noticed a bit more traffic in the numbers already, but she didn’t put on disco music and dance about the mansion. Rather, she kept her head down to the pad and up towards the light that had begun to trickle through the windows. A synth brought her some coffee. She drank it black. The rich notes and slight bite encouraged her to do even more. To know what she wanted brought about a sense of wonder in her mind. Of course the money was there, but what about how the money got there? Her reddish brown skin and lucious black locks all sat wonderfully as she worked tirelessly. She blew a strand of hair into the air. After a few sips of coffee, she returned to her pad. Something seemed wrong. She went back to her brain chip. The numbers weren’t adding up on the pad and screen in her mind. Her heart rate increased. The constant thud of her major organ pattered in her chest. She rose from her seat. She wanted to scream. And this is why she didn’t celebrate minor wins. What she looked for were the major championships that added up to those small victories. 

The numbers kept dancing. She exhaled with vigor. Some of the numbers rose in real time, but there still existed a discrepancy. She sat the legal pad in her lap and looked at the data on the screen. Mismatched numbers gave her pause. That chill from recognizing reality was like ice water being thrown in her face. She sipped some more coffee. Then, she set the cup down and began to wrangle in the numbers. For all her ideas on how to make this come true, she didn’t pray to the unknown or the unknowable. She didn’t fall to her knees and supplicate to the supernatural. Nor did she rely on the stale ideals of the past in economics and finance. What she did proved remarkable. She lifted the veil of the problem and looked at it in her face. Chanda was the problem. Her own self she battled with and clawed at and tried to chew through, but to no avail. Yet. A decimal point. It all came down to a decimal point. Just like personnel from some time before who had entered in the data and left out a decimal point, a multimillion dollar spacecraft sailed out of Earth’s orbit, never to be found again. They tried with every ounce of effort to track it, but it was too far gone. Here, with Chanda, she cursed herself and became violently angry with her actions. She slammed the notepad down and mocked her own brief incompetence. A few breaths of air and some coffee allowed her to recover, however. 

In keeping with the correction, she brought about a newness to her work. Life had been preserved. It wasn’t over. The game clock kept ticking away. Chanda understood her error. When she went back and fixed it, she saw that the legal pad had almost shown her the way. Technology presented her with the rest. It gave her the opportunity to finesse the situation to her liking. She put in the decimal where it belonged. With a few strokes of a digital stylus, she could see constant growth after that. Tears welled up in her eyes as the numbers began to increase. Her territory enlarged not because of mystic revelation, but by rectifying her own mistakes and making good on the promise of rationality. 

Chanda spun around in her office chair and looked at a syringe and needle. The temptation grew but just spinning around seemed like enough of a cheer to keep going. She didn’t wish to impede the progress she had already made. This last bit of heroin had been taken from Go when he cleaned up himself. Urges to pick up and use gripped the young woman. She felt the vice like hold on her to just do a bit between her toes and not have to worry about data or figures or anything for just a while. By banishing the thought, she took to her yellow legal pad and wrote down the date and time of this last encounter with heroin. She knew it wouldn’t be her final bout with it, but that she had shrugged off the temptation to use. Exhilaration colored her spirit, she didn’t have to get high on a substance when the idea of making money came into play. This kept Chanda trained on winning even more in life with business, which was her pleasure.

Chintan Jani

Smartystan

Princess of Profits

Chanda Go pored over the data. Pie charts, bar graphs, and seemingly endless sets of numbers flew past her. “At least I don’t have to be forced to pay taxes,” she muttered under her breath. The skate shop Got to Go had seen a dip in sales in the past few months. She wondered why this fact remained. There appeared to be discrepancy among the 18–34 year-old set. In the previous year’s quarter, their numbers continued to grow. Now, this dwindling effect befuddled her. In her office, she spun around on her chair and saw more computer screens with a sharp decline in engagement among all other demographics, including the coveted aforementioned crowd who just became adults and those under 35.



Smartystan

Princess of Profits

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Smartystan

Princess of Profits

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Skyler Saunders

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The Vegetarian Vietnam Veteran Veterinarian

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