When they weren’t taking heroin, responsibly, conditionally, and with prudence, Go and Chanda took the pill form of marijuana called THinC1. The formula had been perfected in a lab before the ideas for Smartystan had even been concocted. It didn’t require a prescription but still seemed like a drug that a doctor would administer. Chanda felt the effects of euphoria, painlessness, and even wonder. Go always experienced a bit of levity. They looked at each other intently for a few moments and then rolled back on their large bed and laughed. It wasn’t a hollow chuckle. It was an easy, gracious laugh. They thanked the professor who had championed this wonder drug that didn’t need to be baked, gummied, and of course, smoked.

“I’m thinking that we should be able to work more once we get past this initial phase of leisure,” Go said. Waves of lightness passed over him while Chanda stayed in her cocoon of self love. 

“That’s right. We do have to man the shop,” Chanda admitted. They headed over to the skateboard store and looked as professional as ever. Chanda donned flesh colored joggers and a classic rock t-shirt and boots. Go wore khakis and a t-shirt with an original hip hop group and sneakers. Go, on the way there, checked the indices of the world and noticed that some in the far east would be closing soon.

Like two pencils sharpened at the discovery of their own sobriety after about an hour, they both began their work.

Go peered at his phone. He had just made thirty million dollars in the time it took for them to ingest the synth marijuana. This was his euphoria. The elation spread throughout his frame and some of the Thingq still lingered in his body. The chemical exchange of dopamine flushed through his system and he felt the power of the day go into overdrive. Until it didn’t. He looked again at his phone and it broadcast that he had lost forty-one million dollars. Now, the effects conflicted with his consciousness. He smirked a bit. He could feel the tingling sensation in his brain still but the news stunted this feeling. 

“Jesus. I just lost six million dollars,” he told his girlfriend.

“But you’ve got billions. Don’t whimper over the fly in the buttermilk.”

“Hmmpf. Yeah, you’re right. I will have to work even smarter though. To keep myself in the black, I’m going to need to laser focus on the definite obstacles that may be ahead in these risky, tumultuous times.”

The both of them stood at the counter while a few customers trickled in like little rivulets. The merchandise showed numbers that corresponded to the market for skate gear. A gleaming purple, red, blue, and orange deck sold for $20. Brand new. Go’s prices never could go so low. He hinted at the idea of making everything under ten dollars; trucks, screws, wheels, and everything would be worth just that much or less. At this time, their heads had returned to homeostasis. Balance seemed to be the key to their relationship with drugs. They knew the discoveries and engineering behind all of these different drugs allowed for them to enjoy them rather than be dependent upon them.

Go looked at his phone again. Dread spread across his face. He just lost forty million dollars. A coolness swept through the room that intensified on the sweat beads that had already gathered on his brow. 

“Okay, I can take six but forty million? I have to do something. I’m going to the doctor,” Go mentioned. “We took all the medicine we’re going to take. I mean Dr. Strong, of course.”

Once he arrived at Dr. Strong’s house, he felt a twinge of regret. He didn’t want to seem like he had his hat in hand with the good doctor. His body language did the talking. He straightened, canted his chin, and spread his feet in a forty-five degree angle as Dr. Strong opened the door.

“Vestin, come inside, young man,” Dr. Strong intoned.

“That bad, huh…I’ve noticed in your voice you’re not jittery or nervous. You seem to have good posture. These are all signs that you’re doing the right thing. You’re letting the market dictate what it must and you are taking an active role in trying to get your money back.”

“I started up sixty mil’ yesterday. I woke up this morning to my phone and noticed the hits on my account.”

Dr. Strong looked at Go. He seemed to enjoy the father-son relationship that they shared. He looked at him with the fondness of a chess player as well. One who teaches a student of the best strategies in taking the game to the next level.

“You ought to do this if you want to be on the plus side again. You’re going to have to take all of your losses and make them seem like chump change.”

“Listen, boy. Take all of those things that have you in the red and make them wins.”

Go didn’t understand his words but did catch his tone of voice. It was like a rushing waterfall, the power and import of it all. He sought to grasp the meaning of his words.

“Do everything above board, like I know you already have. Ensure that the markets are run but don’t run you.”

Go smiled. It was a radiant smile that let Dr. Strong know that he had bonded with him for the umpteenth time. Their understanding of each other, the teacher and the student, remained so profound and truly a delight in both of their minds.

“I’m investing a hundred.” Go announced it but didn’t realize the syllables had formed and flung forth from his mouth.

Dr. Strong’s eyebrows raised. He looked around his study. He zeroed in on a book sitting on a shelf in the corner. “I’ve got a whole chapter dedicated to what you have just proposed. I know you’ve got more money than I, but I know you have just as much if not more wisdom than myself. I’ve tried to explain markets and economics for close to forty years. Actually I’ve done it. Book sales show it. I’ve done well. Hell, we happened to form a country-state for Chrissakes. Remember that?” he asked sarcastically. Breathing returned to Go’s body. 

“I can do this,” the young man admitted. 

“Invest one hundred million dollars, please.”

“Investing one hundred million dollars.”

Go raced back to the shop. Once he returned, more people had accumulated in the relatively small space. 

“I don’t know how you’re doing with the market, but we’ve been doing quite well over here, as you can see,” Chanda observed.

“I just did something that will either set us soaring to new heights, or sinking to all-time lows.”

“Shh… I don’t want all of Smartystan to hear you.”

“Nope. I thought of it all on my own. I mean, I think he may have hinted at it, but it was all my idea.”

Chanda smiled and showed her dazzling teeth. She hugged Go.

“I know you know what you’re doing,” she mentioned. 

Go felt emboldened. It was like electricity coursed through his veins and he knew what he had to do.

He studied his portfolio which was in the hundreds of millions in one account and even more millions in another. If he lost the hundred million dollars, he would be locked out from the system altogether. In the way that he first put in the initial value. While the store closed, the markets in the Wilmington Stock Exchange (WiSE) remained open. So did the cryptocurrency markets. Go dabbled in both of them. His focus remained the crypto, however. He had made his billions in this market and sought to be the first trillionaire. He continued looking at his phone. He challenged himself to stay sober long enough to see the numbers dance across the screen. He didn’t touch the synth heroin or marijuana. Instead, he made it possible for himself to be anchored in the world of markets. 

As he looked at the various time periods to invest even more money, he stayed resilient and focused solely on his skills in picking the right time to sell. In all of this Chanda popped a few THiC1 tablets she had in her purse and journeyed to the backroom of the shop. Go continued on his quest to make even more trades. He remained as sober as a traffic cop. Some sips of an energy drink and some coffee fueled him to go past the limits. He looked at the time. He had just a few more moments before he would either peak or plummet. With all that whirled around him, his sanity stayed intact and his temper stayed as even as the number two.

Cold and calculating in the best sense of those words together, he managed to hold out and not give in to the nonsense that could have awaited him on the other side. Deeper and deeper, he tunneled downward into his soul and matched his greed with his own need with excitement. His eyes grew bright and he continued at a frantic pace. Every time someone else made a trade he scoffed. By looking away from the screen and squeezing his eyes shut, he knew what to do and just kept going. He looked around the room. It was a blur of color. He looked at the phone screen, a panoply of numbers showed back at him. It came down to the last seconds of the trade. Someone put in a bid. Go rubbed the sweat from his brow on his jeans. The intensity of the moment caused him to shake slightly. As he tore through the various crypto trades, he finally came upon a wave of adrenaline and buoyed by the coffee and taurine. Another quick glance at the time permitted him the chance to continue trading. 

In his dogged pursuit of the dollar, he kept climbing and climbing the ladder of selfishness. That’s what he figured. He had not broken any noses or stabbed any throats to get to this position. Again, the black flag of the gray and white brain and the gold scales empowered him to create even more within this financial atmosphere. To build his wealth was like holding onto a grenade. He knew he possessed a great power in his hand that could be destructive, even deadly. He could lob it but if he pulled the pin at just the right time, he’d be in good standing. The moment came. The trade for him to make two hundred million dollars and a one hundred million dollar profit kicked in finally. The grenade whistled in the wind and landed. With the timing and the amount of dollars set to enter his account, the explosive detonated with him earning a windfall. 

“Yes!” Go shouted. He ran around the shop like a rabbit. His fists pumped in the air and he felt the drugs surge through him. It was a wicked mix of uppers and downers that still ran through his system. He crouched on one knee and breathed. He just simply pushed out air and drew even more into his body. His lungs pushed out the substances deeper into his bloodstream.

He rose up on two feet, both facing outboard once again at forty-five degrees. 

“Chanda! Chanda! This is excellent news!”

But Chanda was asleep. She always would take THinC1 and conk out on the sofa above the halfpipe. Go looked at her and shook his head. He shoved her shoulder until she awoke.

“We did it! I might have lost today, but I gained even more!”

Chanda seemed sober enough to say, “That’s not a good job.”

“It’s an awesome job!” Chanda exclaimed.

Chintan Jani

Smartystan

Awesome

When they weren’t taking heroin, responsibly, conditionally, and with prudence, Go and Chanda took the pill form of marijuana called THinC1. The formula had been perfected in a lab before the ideas for Smartystan had even been concocted. It didn’t require a prescription but still seemed like a drug that a doctor would administer. Chanda felt the effects of euphoria, painlessness, and even wonder. Go always experienced a bit of levity. They looked at each other intently for a few moments and then rolled back on their large bed and laughed. It wasn’t a hollow chuckle. It was an easy, gracious laugh. They thanked the professor who had championed this wonder drug that didn’t need to be baked, gummied, and of course, smoked.



Smartystan

Awesome

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Smartystan

Awesome

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