Water from Fiji, purified in a basin carved from black crystals, bottled and shipped away with the label ‘ONX’. Teddy took a deep draft from the bottle, feeling his stress subside as the cool liquid tumbled into his mouth.

A part of him recognized that water was water, no matter what special tricks the manufacturers alleged. The other part of himself rejoiced in the prestige of being able to afford a luxury brand. He had come into this world and made it better. What was the saying?

Ah, yes. To the victor the spoils.

Teddy thought of the day ahead and pictured a soft white haze washing over him. It would be a white haze with golden specks floating throughout. Like a cool ocean mist or the gentle warm cloud of a sauna. Today would be comfortable. He could afford to indulge himself in a few merry delights.

What form would this haze take? Wine in the hot tub? Edibles in the home theater? Back-to-back massages from the best masseuses on the west coast?

He could do all three. It would take effort, but he could do all three.

Teddy reclined his office chair, feeling a touch of anxiety. There was a chance - however small - that someone or something would need his attention today. His business all but ran itself these days, but he could still be called in for certain tasks. If this were the case, his perfect day would be ruined; his white haze dispersed.

Teddy wouldn't let that happen. He was going to have the perfect day, no matter what.

Best to get this part out of the way!

“Childe! My morning report, if you will!” Teddy said, bracing himself.

In the corner of his desk, a box-shaped speaker sat atop a fluffy white square of fabric. In a British voice - Teddy's personal preference - the box spoke, “Morning report. 7:32 AM from Chandler Briggs. Subject: New Prototype in Progress.”

“Skip,” Teddy spoke. He could listen to that one once he was relaxing.

“8:10 AM from JamesEdition.com. Subject: Merkaba.”

“Skip.” He could look at real-estate properties tomorrow.

“8:52 AM from Alyssa. Subj-,”

“Hard skip.” No.

"I am not familiar with the term 'hard skip.' Could you teach me this phrase?"

Teddy was flustered. His mind had been forcibly taken to an uncomfortable place, "N- yes. It means the same as 'hard pass.' Are you familiar with that one?"

"I am. Thank you, Teddy. I will skip the message from Alyssa."

"Yes. Good," Teddy said, nodding.

“9:00 AM from Good And You. Subject: Acquisition Offer.”

“Ski- erm... Sorry, what?” Teddy stumbled.

Childe repeated the information. It was just as surprising the second time around.

His business was a sole proprietorship, according to his accountant. It wasn't publicly traded and there was little room for expansion. In a lot of ways, it was a collection of his deepest passions, writ large and made profitable. The love child of everything he cared about. Who would want to acquire it?

The email was probably spam. Still, he was curious. Rather aimlessly, Teddy waved his hand and said, “Open.”

Childe paused its report to read the contents of the email, “We would acquire Cause and it’s assets. Specifically, we want the buildings, the clients, and the islands. We ask that you remain uninvolved in the business's activities going forward. We will give you 3.6 billion US dollars. Can we communicate about this?”

Teddy leaned against his desk, a screwed-up grin frozen on his face.

3.6 billion dollars? At the end of his last quarter, he had been valued at approximately 400 million. And he was being offered 3.6 billion?

If this was legitimate, he could buy a dozen more vacation homes. He could turn one of those homes into an art gallery. He could- he didn't even know what was possible with that kind of money. He hardly knew what to do with his current money. 3.6 billion!

Teddy dialed his accountant.

The line was busy. He would have to call back.

His arms were shaking on the armrest as a child-like excitement filled him. Like dumping the contents of his Halloween basket and selecting the tastiest treats. Like admiring his collection of holiday gifts and deciding which one to play with first. He craved this feeling; it defined him.

Teddy really couldn't wait. He needed to know if this offer was for real or not.

He tried his accountant again. Waited a minute. Waited another minute. Dialed a third time.

Busy.

Kioshi always took his calls, no matter the time of day or whether he was preoccupied. What had him so damn busy?

He knew he should wait. But the anticipation was devouring him.

I won't agree to anything. I'll just ask them a few necessary questions. No harm in that!

Teddy opened his mouth, then paused. He tried Kioshi's number again.

Busy.

Just a few questions. No commitments.

Yes. A dandy plan. He went ahead and voiced the command.

“Reply.”

♠

Teddy waded through the salt water, enjoying every inch of the narrow pool, which jutted out from the side of his newest vacation home. Every inch of wall and ceiling was made from a thick glass, giving the impression that he was outside. Teddy was going for a natural tan this summer, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with all of the small discomforts of being outdoors. This right here? This was perfect.

He swam back to the shallow end. A servant had brought him a bottle of reLax, his personal brand of champagne. A plate and three glasses were also waiting for him. Teddy uncorked the bottle, placed the cork on the plate, and then poured the amber liquid into the first glass. The first sip tasted like liquid candy. Sweet, bubbly, and smooth as water. He took another sip and looked up at the sky.

No view of the sun today. So much for that tan.

Thick clouds moved across the sky. They plumed outwards, becoming larger, heavier. A shadowy lining decorated their ridges. Droplets of rain started to fall against the glass ceiling.

“Sir, you are receiving a call from the Machine Intelligence Development Institute,” Childe informed him. The speaker was mounted on a nearby wall.

Teddy considered carefully. He didn’t have to answer. MIDI was one of the organizations which held an account with Cause, and he no longer had to bother managing Cause. He had sold it and agreed not to interfere. Bish bash bosh.

But he liked MIDI. They had given him Childe.

"Sir-,"

“Answer,” Teddy ordered, putting down the glass and leaning back in the water so that he was floating on his shoulders. Following a click that signified the call beginning, he said, “This is Teddy.”

“Mr. Lax. This is Eli,” a formal voice started, “We noticed this morning that Cause is no longer subsidizing our research, effective immediately. With respect, Mr. Lax, is there a time this week when we could sit down and discuss this decision?”

Teddy frowned. When turning over his business, he hadn’t considered that Good And You might choose to close some accounts. Still...

“Please, call me Teddy. As for the funding, I no longer own or run Cause. There is nothing I can do.”

“Ah,” came the surprised voice of Eli, “Your departure was not mentioned in the press briefing. I am sorry to have bothered you."

"Pay it no mind! You know you can still call whenever!"

A two-note laugh sounded over the speakers. It came out slightly distorted, "Yes, I know. Take care, Teddy."

“Buh-bye,” Teddy said, and Childe ended the call.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the gentle patter of rain against glass. Teddy disrupted the silence with a momentous splash, launching into a backstroke.

He tried to settle back into his laid-back state. He tried for a good while. He even finished his first glass of reLax.

But Teddy was miffed. The haze had dissipated. He came to a stop in the center of the pool, feeling ridiculous and out of place.

Once upon a time, he had gripped his passions like a scepter, pointing it at organizations that he believed were doing good for the world. Organizations like MIRI and MIDI. The younger, fresh-out-of-business-school Teddy had been an idealist, driving crowds to donate to Cause with his uplifting speeches. He would shake the hand of a promising scientist and then turn to the cameras and promise hope for the future. And the world would be better for it.

Teddy had sold all of that for 3.6 billion dollars. His life's work. And one of his favorite clients had been dropped immediately following the exchange.

A wet splat brought him back to his senses. Teddy watched as droplet after droplet fell from the glass ceiling, making tiny splashes on the tiles spanning the edge of the pool.

A crack, a leak. In his brand new home. Teddy tried to scowl, and the expression came surprisingly easily. He shook his head.

This won't do at all.

He called for his servant.

As he waited, the rain picked up and the leak became a continuous stream. Teddy swam to the shallow end and stepped out of the water, dripping everywhere until his servant arrived with the heated towels.

Teddy let the warmth consume him. Smelled the touch of mint coming off of the fabric. He took one last look at the leak before leaving the room.

Ugly. Dirty cloud water was invading his home, making love to his saltwater pool. The whole system would need to be flushed and reset. Tragic. He shook his head again.

Won't do at all.

♠

"I could maybe learn to be okay," the daughter said to the father.

“I think that’s all any of us can hope for,” said the father to the daughter.

The scene faded to black.

And the credits rolled.

Teddy adjusted his seat on the couch. Childe recognized that the movie was over and brought on the lights.

That had been - quite possibly - the best end to a film series he had ever seen. He could have cheered. He could have cried.

Instead, he felt sickly.

Teddy adjusted his seat again, unable to get comfortable. It frustrated him to an unreasonable degree, but deep down he knew what the true worriment was.

He had been asked not to interfere with Cause's business activities. That had been the only stipulation.

However, he really cared about MIDI and wanted to help them out.

It's not interference if I'm the donor. I'll toss them some chow from my own wallet.

Yes. Teddy instantly felt better about what he was doing, as well as the movie. Funny how it all worked out.

“Childe, what is the balance in my main account?”

“$3,762,001,840.02,” Childe recited.

“Call Eli from the M-I-D-I.”

“Calling...”

Teddy huffed out a sigh, then smiled to himself. Even though he had built his entire business around donations, he wasn’t used to doing this himself. He expected it would be delightful.

“Hello, this is Eli.”

“Good evening, friend,” Teddy greeted, “This is Teddy."

"Evening, Mr. Lax. Just got home from the office an hour ago. It's late, don't you think?"

"Late indeed. But I'm calling as a friend, not a business partner. Is that alright?"

After a short pause, Eli responded, "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Splendid news!" Teddy rejoiced, "So I was wondering. How much was MIDI expecting to receive this month?”

Another pause.

"Mr. Lax. Are you sure this isn't a business call? I can call you first thing tomorrow..."

Tomorrow was too late. Teddy was having a piss-poor day, and he needed to recover it. This was the path.

"Nonsense! Give me a quote. You'll thank me later."

Eli quoted a number. Teddy multiplied the number by twelve and promised to wire the money to MIDI after the call was finished.

Something in Eli's voice changed, “Ted... Teddy. That is remarkably generous and completely unexpected. I... Thank you, Teddy. You didn't have to do that."

"Believe me, I had to," Teddy said, relaxing his neck against the back of the couch, "I love you guys and what you're doing. You're very welcome."

"It goes without saying, but my colleagues and I offer you the sincerest appreciation. This will mean a lot for them.”

“Company man or not, I want to support your cause. I know that's cheesy, but I would hate to see you go unfunded. This should buy you time to find a new source for funds. And who knows? Maybe we can negotiate a deal?”

“We can certainly talk about it. You are a great man, Teddy,”

“Don’t mention it. Good night, Eli.”

"To you as well."

Childe took this as a cue to end the call, and then asked Teddy for permission to wire the money to MIDI. Teddy consented, and a beep let him know that Childe was processing the request.

He had to admit, giving the money freely felt good, sparked some of that old flame. If he continued to chase that feeling - parceling out more and more donations - where would it take him?

“Transaction failed. Insufficient funds.”

Teddy sniffed at that. He had 3.76 billion in his account, and he only needed to send them 3 million.

“Try again,” Teddy demanded.

Childe beeped. Processing.

“Transaction failed. Insufficient funds.”

“Main account balance.”

“This account is empty.”

A shock of cold horror struck Teddy, hearing that. Surely there was an error. A bad wi-fi connection. Or the bank's servers were down.

"Childe, am I well connected to the bank?"

"Your connection is excellent."

“What is the balance in my main account?”

“This account is empty.”

No. No, it was something else, then. It was possible Kioshi was moving funds around.

“Childe, what is the balance in my investment account?”

“This account is empty.”

“Childe, what is the balance in my offshore account?”

“This account is empty.”

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Damn and blast it. Had he been robbed? He needed to know his transaction history.

“Childe, call the bank.”

“Calling...”

They would tell him a funny story, and then everything would be alright. It would be, and if it wasn't, his accountant would work things out. He always did. Teddy listened to the dial tone play over the speakers, trying to find a comfortable way to sit and failing.

Two upsetting calls later, Teddy was paralyzed on the couch.

Where had it all gone? He had asked the bank. He had asked his accountant. Apparently, all of his funds had been depleted within a minute. There had been over twenty million transactions, each sending small chunks of cash to recipients all over the world. Some of the names, he recognized; most, he did not.

He could start placing calls, demanding the money be returned, but each call would only net around $200, and he would never get it all back.

In the meantime, he was broke. Actually broke, until he found a solution. Which he would.

But he would need funds in order to do anything.

He could start by liquifying some assets.

Including his new vacation home...

A shaky sob broke free of his throat. Then another, and he felt the tears streaming hot against his face.

Even if he got it all back, he had lost so much today. His money. His business. And now his brand spanking new house.

On top of that, he would have to call Eli back. Eli, who was finally starting to reciprocate feelings of friendship. Teddy loved him like a brother, loved all of the people at MIDI. Now they would go unfunded.

In the dimly lit home theatre, Teddy opened wet eyes and ordered Childe to place a call.

"You may want to check your messages before proceeding," Childe informed him.

"Why is that?" Teddy asked.

"You have 1 unread e-mail from Good And You. Received 29 seconds ago."

Good And You. The company which had acquired his business.

Suspicion eeked into Teddy's voice as he said, "Read it."

Childe read it.

The message was brief. Cryptic. And it somehow confirmed Teddy's suspicions.

"Your pockets are light. You are done shining."