THE HEAVY DECEMBER SNOW COVERED THE city’s serrated roofline in a thick, powdery blanket. The canals froze over, serving as a skating rink in the day and dance floor at night. The continued decline of Afterlife Dollars brought considerable cheer to Theo. At one point, it plummeted to nearly a quarter of its pre-November value before a late rally saw it settle at a third. Then came Christmas, and the market was closed for nine days.
The break couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time, as Theo was afraid the festive cheer and the optimism of a fresh year would arrest the downward momentum.
On New Year’s Eve, he went to a party at a friend’s house in a converted warehouse in Java-eiland. When the clock struck midnight, he stood outside on the deck, hands tucked deep in his coat pockets. The roar of the patio heater behind him was drowned out by a chorus of drunken voices counting down.
“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5 …”
On zero, the sky above the harbor glowed with a shower of colorful sparks, as if someone were trying to weld together a broken heaven. It was the same fireworks, year after year. But this time, he was sober, having not touched a drop of alcohol since the shenanigans at the Halloween party. He still couldn’t believe how his life had changed because of that night. Unemployed and drifting, without another job in sight. What was 2012 going to bring? For him? For Afterlife Dollars?
He braved the assault of drunken hugs and sloppy kisses, then left to go home. The following Monday, the day the markets reopened, he woke up with a slight sense of unease. One that was reinforced by a few things happening in quick succession: A stray snowball smacking him in the side of his face when jogging through Vondelpark. The smoking toaster setting off the fire alarm. His laptop crashing inexplicably. None of them were a big deal individually, but their serial occurrence made the whole seem greater than the sum of the parts, contributing to a vague sense of foreshadowing.
The markets in Asia and Europe got off to a fairly innocuous start. Trading volumes for Afterlife Dollars remained low. The exchange rate fluctuated mildly, evening out after gentle up-and downswings, leading him to surmise that investors were testing the waters.
The holding pattern continued through January. Then one day in February, he was startled by a sudden surge. The exchange rate nearly quintupled in an hour before steadying. By the end of the month, it had pretty much regained the lost ground from December.
Theo frowned at the array of numbers on the computer screen. Red at the beginning of the year, they were now green. The graph resembled a stalagmite. A sharp spike he couldn’t account for.
The reason for this became apparent the following week when he was walking past a tram stop on Leidsestraat. A poster glowing in the twilight caught his attention. The headline, red type set against a white background, read:
“The End of the World Doesn’t Have to Be the End of Your World.”
He leaned closer to read the copy.
“According to the Mayans, the world’s going to end on December 21, 2012. Who knows if that’s really going to happen, but wouldn’t it be smart to be prepared? End-of-the-World Package includes a bonus ten thousand Afterlife Dollars, plus an authentic replica of a Mayan calendar. While supplies last.”
Theo hissed. So this was what was propelling Afterlife Dollars sales. A demand fueled by an apocryphal end-of-the-world story.
He brought it up at the next group meeting in Mara’s kitchen.
“Afterlife Dollar investments are regaining momentum. We need to act quickly before it gets away from us,” he declared, hoping the grave tone would galvanize the group into action.
“I’ve got an idea. Let’s buy some IBM shares.” It was Viktor, the mountain man, dressed in a sweatshirt that looked untouched by a washing machine.
Theo ignored the taunt and turned to Mara.
“What about the petition we sent to The Hague?”
“I got a letter from the ministry saying the matter has been passed on to the relevant department for consideration.”
“A polite fuck-you.”
Mara nodded.
Theo sighed. “I have a suggestion. Slightly controversial. How about a petition to get the pope to denounce Afterlife Dollars?”
“Great. Now we’re jumping in bed with a bunch of kiddy-fiddlers.” The comment, predictably, came from Viktor.
“The pope has over a billion followers. A word from him can jeopardize Bank of Eternity’s operations in many countries, with the potential to trigger panic amongst investors. It’s pure strategy,” Theo explained, hoping the rest of the room would see merit in the proposal. But all he got by way of response was blank faces. A far cry from the starstruck group who’d hung on his every word months before.
“I have to agree with Viktor,” Mara said. “We can’t associate with an organization that burned people at the stake, ignored the Holocaust and forgives pedophiles. Not good for our image.”
“What’re you going to suggest next? Tobacco companies? Arms dealers?” Viktor remarked, twisting the knife.
“Fuck you,” Theo thundered, finally pushed over the edge. “How about coming up with constructive ideas instead of undermining everyone else?”
Viktor rose. “You want to take this outside?” he said, rolling up his sleeves.
Mara thumped the table. “For God’s sake, what’s wrong with you two? We should be fighting our enemies. Not each other.”
Her eyes slid between the two men, a sharp glare. Viktor snorted and sat down. Theo breathed to slow his running heart.
“Next on the agenda. Fundraising,” Mara announced.
After the meeting concluded, Theo drew her to one side for a private word.
“What’s wrong with you?” She scowled at him.
“What’s wrong with him?” He gestured to Viktor. “He’s never liked me from day one. You should’ve backed me there.”
“Why should I have backed you?”
“Because we need to stop the damn thing before it’s too late.”
Mara scoffed, “Look at you.”
“What about me?”
“You’re obsessed. You’re missing the woods for the trees.”
He laughed scornfully. “What woods? What trees? Of course I’m obsessed.” Afterlife Dollars had cost him his job. Damned if he was going to let it get away from him.
“Get a grip,” Mara hissed, and left him to join the rest of the group. He stormed out of the flat.
Back at home, he went up to his study and sat down to write a script. A couple of hours later, he was in the kitchen, facing the camera in his Grim Reaper outfit. A costume that was getting more wear than he’d ever imagined.
“Hi there. I’m back to talk about my favorite subject. Afterlife Dollars. Yes, I know, I’ve got a one-track mind.
“I saw a poster from Bank of Eternity the other day, something about some end-of-the-world package. Really cracked me up. What is it with you people and your fondness for Armageddon and apocalypses? It’s like you’re craving this grand finale, a Super Bowl to finish it off.
“Let me tell you something: seven billion dying at once, a logistical nightmare … I mean, I can barely cope with the current volume of eight a minute. Besides, what am I going to do when there’s none of you around? Pick mushrooms? Knit sweaters? So you see, you can bring out the nukes, kill each other in the name of religion or some other ideology, try to destroy the planet, but I have a strong motive for keeping you here. Without you, I become redundant.
“The world’s not going to end on December 21. The Mayans simply ran out of space on the calendar.
“Now go on and enjoy your life before I come for you.”