Semmant by Vadim Babenko Read Free Book Online Page B

and slapdash. We squabbled a little but came to a compromise – between the real and the ephemeral, between a firm base and a foundation of air.
    Our collaboration continued for a year. I settled down in that year, as if I had reached an accord with something inside myself. The destructive impulse was replaced by a familiar thirst: to create, not to destroy; to look deeper, to get to the bottom of things. Auto-trading made it possible to escape from reality, of which I had had more than my fill. It seemed to me then: I could live my life fenced off by a set of structures and formulas, returning to the real world only occasionally for a little shred of pleasure, which no one could do without.
    For Mancini, I earned my wages in full. He found himself the owner of a dozen gadgets, each of which possessed its own style. They gained popularity and followers, passionate supporters who remained faithful even when the markets changed and the tactics that had previously worked suddenly led to huge losses. This was precisely what Lucco was hoping for, and his hopes invariably materialized into profit. As for me, I was indifferent. I had no concern for the fate of others. However, the market as such – and not just its currency sector – suddenly aroused my genuine interest.
    It unexpectedly reconciled me again with people and realities full of imperfections. I wanted to comprehend its laws – as if peering into the secrets of the world which, I felt, were still hidden from my probing eye. I sensed an unbreakable link – between the syncopes of the trading rhythms and the nervous convulsions of human souls. In the interlacing of intentions and desires, I saw the most sophisticated of patterns. The scribbling of countless charting pens, like the autographs of a terrifying force, beckoned with their own special code. It suddenly seemed to me: here it is, the abstraction of all abstractions. The transcendence of the best and the worst – of hope, futility, desperation…
    Furthermore, the disarray of the universe dominated the market space, sounded at the top of its voice, but, at the same time, it was locked in a confining cage. There it raged, but could not escape through the bars. Its territory was localized. Everyone knew its boundaries; and therefore, it – the disorder – could be subject to scrutiny from the outside. I finally had the ability to study it, dissect and classify it, break it down into its smallest components. This was my chance – if not to settle the score, then at least to challenge it to a duel.
    “Insolence!” everyone would say, but I trusted in myself and knew: I had something to depend on. I believed in my habit of brushing off simplifications. It was clear to me why so many were caught in enterprising Lucco’s net: it seemed there was nothing simpler than currency charts and diagrams. Everyone thought he really understood them well. The disorder bound up in the graphs and schemes seemed to rear its recognizable head, a visage of the chaos of nature all around us – in the clouds, in the windblown trees, in the waves of the sea. The beginners were enticed by the market’s familiar, almost tame appearance; they rushed into predictions, being mistaken about the very same thing. The illusory orderliness beckoned to them like a phantom; they wanted simplicity, smooth sailing – and that’s when they encountered a fiasco. The market punished them severely – like nature herself punished those who planned to subdue her, restrain her, force her to serve.
    As for me, I knew how this happened. How the tiniest differences in estimates and opinions would quickly lead to a non-linear explosion, to a complete reversal of outcomes, to a quick and brutal loss of money. I saw this and surmised the problem could be approached differently. The chaos did not destroy me, though it showed its strength. By the same token, it gave more strength to me. I knew I had a weapon, and I was eager to put it to use.
    Once I