03-04-2019, 04:52 PM
Leonard Whyte CBE looked out over the Seattle skyline view from the Space Needle. A sly grin was on his face as he stood on the spot where, on a clear day like this, one can see Mt. Rainer; obscured by the mountains surrounding Seattle from any vantage except that one. A single step any direction, and it was gone again.
He held the prototype of the Whyte 6000 smartphone, and ran his fingers through his short, gray hair, smiling expectantly at it. It would be two months before it was available to the public. A stock ticker scrolled along the bottom of the screen. His grin turned to a smile when it rang. He answered immediately and strolled over to a bench for the conversation.
"Twenty-six minutes, Miss Parker. Brava." He said, his unscrambled voice confirming the Yorkshire accent that education and money hadn't been able to completely beat out of him. "And may I say what a delight it was to meet Ms. Delvecchio in person. Don't worry, I wouldn't dare put a scratch on a national treasure like San Finzione's own Tina Fey."
"I should've known to start looking at tech moguls first, Leonard," Contessa Helena de San Finzione's voice said on the other end of the line, obviously on speaker. "Your love of hiding behind it should have made it obvious in hindsight."
"One woman's hiding is another man's protective barrier, Miss Parker."
"Ok, you know what?" She responded. "I know you thought the 'Miss Helen Parker' thing would get to me because the past is clearly an issue for you, so you thought it would be for me, too. I called you on that. And I get that when someone has you pegged, you can't give them the satisfaction of acknowledgment. You'd committed to the 'Dredging Up My Past' bit, so you had to keep going with it. But now that I know who you are, Leonard, I gotta ask: Do you still feel the need to keep it up, or do I start calling you Lenny? Fine name for a Yorkie, but what kind of name is Lenny for an Oxford Man?"
He paused a moment before answering.
"Very well, Contessa. Civility is very important. I apologize for that. So, how'd ya figure me out, Mrs. de San Finzione?"
"Whyte Telecom," she answered. "Are you new to this whole 'criminal mastermind' thing, Leonard? Cause I'm willing to give you a few months, let you go try to blow up the Eiffel Tower or blackmail the UN with your weather machine; you know, get a feel for it. Then we can pick things up right back where we left off."
"Figured it'd go unnoticed, I admit. Whyte Telecom is where I made my first billion, and decided that there are plenty of billionaires, and you, yourself, are probably one of the world's first trillionaires, so let's shoot for quadrillionaire, shall we? Whyte Phones the brand of choice for crack dealers and terrorists the world over." Whyte chuckled. "They said I created eighteen tons of waste when I shrank the size of the SIM card by half a millimeter for the Whyte 3000. And I'm guessing by the laughter and your jovial mood, that you're in the company of Troy and Julie Equals, correct? Hullo."
"Leonard says hi, guys." She said to someone on her end. There was an "Eat a dick, Leonard" in Julie's voice in the distance on her end before Helena resumed. "Yeah, I told them all about you, Leonard."
"Oh, is that the artist Julie Equals?" Leonard asked. "I've purchased a couple of Julie Equals originals since we last talked, Contessa."
"You can return those at any time for a full refund." Julie said, approaching the phone now. "I don't want YOUR money or MY work hanging anywhere YOU can see it. Whatever you paid for my stuff, my husband and I will get by without it."
"Oh, I know you will, Mrs. Equals. Mr. Equals is no slouch in the money department. If anyone looks closely enough at the public financials of a small, quiet, out-of-the-way corporation called Trans-Universal Exports, which... REALLY, Mr. Equals? But what a track record they have! It's as if they know market trends before they happen. Buying low, but short of rock bottom; and selling high, but well before the bubble bursts. Always quits while he's ahead, satisfied to turn one dollar into eight; when he knows he could be making ten or more by riding the wave. But who cares about the guy who got out at EIGHT, right? Who even notices that he doing that all day, every day? Here an eight, there an eight, everywhere an eight-eight. Not necessarily eight, mind you, but it does add up quickly, doesn't it? Everyone talks about Midas, but who ever heard of a King with a Bronze Touch? Who even notices that he's got so many Bronze Medals that his beautiful wife could melt them down and recreate the Colossus of Rhodes with his face?"
The women all looked at Troy. He looked at Helen's phone, silently. He knew why they were looking at him too, but didn't say anything. He often employed his Greek heritage in his lessons about Doing What They Do responsibly. One of them was an Olympic Medal analogy that wasn't that far off from Whyte's, but with enough of a difference that he could have come up with it on his own. The look on Julie's face said that she was now contemplating making a Colossus with Troy's face.
He held the prototype of the Whyte 6000 smartphone, and ran his fingers through his short, gray hair, smiling expectantly at it. It would be two months before it was available to the public. A stock ticker scrolled along the bottom of the screen. His grin turned to a smile when it rang. He answered immediately and strolled over to a bench for the conversation.
"Twenty-six minutes, Miss Parker. Brava." He said, his unscrambled voice confirming the Yorkshire accent that education and money hadn't been able to completely beat out of him. "And may I say what a delight it was to meet Ms. Delvecchio in person. Don't worry, I wouldn't dare put a scratch on a national treasure like San Finzione's own Tina Fey."
"I should've known to start looking at tech moguls first, Leonard," Contessa Helena de San Finzione's voice said on the other end of the line, obviously on speaker. "Your love of hiding behind it should have made it obvious in hindsight."
"One woman's hiding is another man's protective barrier, Miss Parker."
"Ok, you know what?" She responded. "I know you thought the 'Miss Helen Parker' thing would get to me because the past is clearly an issue for you, so you thought it would be for me, too. I called you on that. And I get that when someone has you pegged, you can't give them the satisfaction of acknowledgment. You'd committed to the 'Dredging Up My Past' bit, so you had to keep going with it. But now that I know who you are, Leonard, I gotta ask: Do you still feel the need to keep it up, or do I start calling you Lenny? Fine name for a Yorkie, but what kind of name is Lenny for an Oxford Man?"
He paused a moment before answering.
"Very well, Contessa. Civility is very important. I apologize for that. So, how'd ya figure me out, Mrs. de San Finzione?"
"Whyte Telecom," she answered. "Are you new to this whole 'criminal mastermind' thing, Leonard? Cause I'm willing to give you a few months, let you go try to blow up the Eiffel Tower or blackmail the UN with your weather machine; you know, get a feel for it. Then we can pick things up right back where we left off."
"Figured it'd go unnoticed, I admit. Whyte Telecom is where I made my first billion, and decided that there are plenty of billionaires, and you, yourself, are probably one of the world's first trillionaires, so let's shoot for quadrillionaire, shall we? Whyte Phones the brand of choice for crack dealers and terrorists the world over." Whyte chuckled. "They said I created eighteen tons of waste when I shrank the size of the SIM card by half a millimeter for the Whyte 3000. And I'm guessing by the laughter and your jovial mood, that you're in the company of Troy and Julie Equals, correct? Hullo."
"Leonard says hi, guys." She said to someone on her end. There was an "Eat a dick, Leonard" in Julie's voice in the distance on her end before Helena resumed. "Yeah, I told them all about you, Leonard."
"Oh, is that the artist Julie Equals?" Leonard asked. "I've purchased a couple of Julie Equals originals since we last talked, Contessa."
"You can return those at any time for a full refund." Julie said, approaching the phone now. "I don't want YOUR money or MY work hanging anywhere YOU can see it. Whatever you paid for my stuff, my husband and I will get by without it."
"Oh, I know you will, Mrs. Equals. Mr. Equals is no slouch in the money department. If anyone looks closely enough at the public financials of a small, quiet, out-of-the-way corporation called Trans-Universal Exports, which... REALLY, Mr. Equals? But what a track record they have! It's as if they know market trends before they happen. Buying low, but short of rock bottom; and selling high, but well before the bubble bursts. Always quits while he's ahead, satisfied to turn one dollar into eight; when he knows he could be making ten or more by riding the wave. But who cares about the guy who got out at EIGHT, right? Who even notices that he doing that all day, every day? Here an eight, there an eight, everywhere an eight-eight. Not necessarily eight, mind you, but it does add up quickly, doesn't it? Everyone talks about Midas, but who ever heard of a King with a Bronze Touch? Who even notices that he's got so many Bronze Medals that his beautiful wife could melt them down and recreate the Colossus of Rhodes with his face?"
The women all looked at Troy. He looked at Helen's phone, silently. He knew why they were looking at him too, but didn't say anything. He often employed his Greek heritage in his lessons about Doing What They Do responsibly. One of them was an Olympic Medal analogy that wasn't that far off from Whyte's, but with enough of a difference that he could have come up with it on his own. The look on Julie's face said that she was now contemplating making a Colossus with Troy's face.
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)