The morning air in Manhattan carried the sharp bite of winter, mixed with the familiar smell of exhaust fumes and hot dog stands that seemed to define New York no matter what decade you found yourself in. William stood at the window of his suite at the Plaza Hotel, looking out. The weather was chilly and grey. He looked down at the streets below, still bustling despite the snow and slush covering anything. The view was both familiar and strange – familiar because New York never really changed its rhythm, strange because so many of New York's defining "features" were just not there anymore.
Many people who heard "New York" immediately pictured endless rows of skyscrapers overlooking the bay. What they didn't realize was that this concrete jungle existed mainly in Manhattan and a few surrounding areas. Step into Queens, Brooklyn, or Greenwich, and those steel towers gave way to beautiful red brick buildings, tree-lined streets, and neighborhoods that felt more like small towns than part of America's largest city.
In 1961, the skyline looked noticeably different from what William remembered. The MetLife Building was still under construction and very close to topping out. Although it was called The PANAM Building this time around. The Twin Towers were currently nothing more than plans. Plans which had reached a stalemate with the New York Mayor's office – political wrangling that would continue for years before ground was ever broken. Many of the other iconic glass and steel buildings like the Bank of America Building, One Penn Tower, One Worldwide Plaza, and countless others that William remembered from his previous life in 2024 simply didn't exist yet. It gave the New York skyline or to be exact the Manhattan skyline a very empty feeling.
But oddly enough, despite all these architectural differences, 1961 New York felt remarkably similar to the New York of 2024. More culturally rather than physically.
Rats the size of house cats still scurried through subway tunnels and dark alleys, bold and unafraid of the humans around. The endless rush of people walking with purpose – or at least the appearance of purpose – continued unchanged through the decades. Tourists still wandered the streets, though there were hardly any Chinese or Indians among them. Around Christmas time in his previous life, the city would fill with visitors from places like China and India, but that wave of Asian tourism was still decades away. The faces he saw now were predominantly European and American, with the occasional traveller from South America or the Middle East.
The people, though – the people were exactly the same across all timelines. Always in a rush, always self-absorbed, always focused on their own small worlds with laser intensity. A person could collapse on the sidewalk from a heart attack, and nine out of ten New Yorkers would step around them without breaking stride, perhaps glancing back once before continuing their urgent march to nowhere in particular. William wasn't sure if this was a habit born of self-preservation – a psychological defence mechanism against the overwhelming humanity of several million souls crammed into a few square miles – or just something deeper embedded in the city's DNA. It was one of the various reasons he never felt comfortable in New York for extended periods. The city was simultaneously too much and too little – too much stimulation, too much noise, too much ambition, yet too little genuine human connection, too little peace, too little time to simply breathe.
Having finished his breakfast of black coffee and toast with a side of eggs, William walked to the main entrance of the Plaza Hotel. He had covered himself in a woollen coat and hat. The morning doorman tipped his cap respectfully, and just beyond the brass doors, the valet was already waiting with his car, keys in hand and a professional smile on his young face.
But before William could slide into the driver's seat, the young man cleared his throat nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Excuse me, sir?"
William looked at him properly for what might have been the first time since he'd arrived at the hotel. The valet was a red-headed boy, definitely not older than twenty-one, with a face that still carried traces of teenage awkwardness. A few sparse whiskers dotted his chin, miles away from becoming a proper moustache. He wore the full valet uniform – dark cap, white gloves, brass-buttoned jacket, the whole ensemble that marked him as part of the Plaza's service staff – and looked incredibly embarrassed about whatever he wanted to ask.
"What is it?" William asked, not unkindly though, his tone more curious than annoyed.
"Could you... could you tell me what kind of car this is?" The boy pointed at William's vehicle with genuine curiosity, his eyes lighting up as they traced the sleek lines of the automobile.
William grinned, appreciating the young man's obvious passion for automotive engineering. "It's a prototype. Only one in existence. Doesn't exactly have a name yet."
"Why do you ask?"
"It's beautiful," the boy said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality as he gazed at the car like other young men might look at a beautiful woman. "And amazing to drive. I've never felt anything like it."
"True enough. You liked it?"
"Loved it," he said, searching for the right words to express what he'd experienced. "It's different from anything I've ever driven. Very powerful, but also... refined. Like it knows exactly what it wants to do."
"Yes, it is." William agreed, pleased by the perceptive observation. The car was indeed special – a turbocharged V8 engine housed in a body incredibly similar to what would become the 2005 Porsche Boxster, though no one in 1961 would recognize that reference. It was essentially a race car designed to look like a road car or a grand tourer, combining incredible beauty with monstrous performance capabilities. The engineering was miles different from anything currently on the road, incorporating design principles and technologies that wouldn't become mainstream for decades. Of course, William had been forced to make certain modifications to make it road legal according to 1961 standards, but that didn't mean it wasn't an eye-catching superstar that turned heads wherever it went.
"Will you release this to the public?" the boy asked hopefully, his voice carrying the weight of dreams and aspirations.
"Release?"
"Yes, like... make it available for people to buy. I mean, public, sir."
William considered this question, "I'm not sure yet." And that was completely true. The car had been an absolute pain to design and build, requiring custom parts, special materials and composites, and engineering solutions that pushed the boundaries of what was possible in 1961. The car had been a concept to show his father, hence he had gone all in. He had cut no corners and in fact over engineered the car. Even in the current Zephyr car they had compromised on several places. It was a question of cost and functionality. Maybe few years down the line he could release the perfect car without worrying about recouping his costs.
Anyway, In the end the cost of production would be astronomical, and the market for such a vehicle was questionable at best.
"Oh, okay..." The disappointment in the boy's voice was obvious, like a deflating balloon. Then, with sudden determination that reminded William of a golden retriever, he added, "When you do decide to make them, I'll be the first one to buy it. I don't care how much it costs or how long I have to save."
William grinned and glanced at the name badge pinned to the boy's uniform jacket. "Well, I'll be waiting for you then, Edwards." Suddenly thinking of something he handed Edwards his business card. It was a very simple white card and incredible to touch. On it in golden ink was embossed, " William Harrows. Harrow Motors." along with his office number. The office number routed to his secretary office.
"Call me when you buy." he said grinning before climbing in his car.
He quickly revved and drove off toward Greenwich, leaving the young valet with big dreams. William could appreciate that kind of dream. It was always necessary to have a goal in life, something to strive for and work toward. It could be big or small, mundane or exceptional, but having a goal helped people move forward through life's inevitable challenges. And having someone consider your automotive creation as an aspirational goal was possibly one of the best compliments a car designer could ever receive.
The drive through Manhattan and toward Greenwich gave William time to think about the meeting ahead. It had been a long time since he had come to New York and met the team. He preferred a hands off approach especially on things that he didn't understand. And finance was absolutely among those.
As William navigated the familiar streets, he found himself noticing details that his future knowledge made him feel both absurd and amused. The cars around him were massive by 2024 standards – great steel beasts with chrome bumpers and tail fins. Cars which were incredibly impressive to look at but definitely inefficient to drive. Gas was cheap, environmental concerns were non-existent, and American automotive design prioritized style and power over everything else.
The advertising billboards he passed told the story of 1961 America – Lucky Strike cigarettes promising satisfaction, Coca-Cola claiming to be "the pause that refreshes," and Chevrolet boasting about their latest models.
He passed construction sites where new office buildings were rising, each one reaching a little higher than the last as New York continued its endless vertical expansion. The workers he glimpsed were almost entirely white men, the construction industry still decades away from Hispanics and blacks dominating it. Women in the business district wore conservative dresses and carried small purses, their role in the professional world still largely limited to secretarial and support positions.
Very soon he reached his destination in Greenwich, a neighborhood that managed to feel both cosmopolitan and intimate, where tree-lined streets hosted cafes and small businesses that served the local community.
Today's meeting was scheduled at Café Reggio rather than their office. It was supposedly one of the oldest surviving coffee shops in New York and apparently the first place in America to serve cappuccino to customers. William had never been there before, but there was no harm in trying something new. Besides, he preferred to stay hidden from the newer employees of his firm. The three founding members were more than enough to know him personally – too many people knowing his face would complicate the carefully constructed anonymity he'd worked to maintain. Although he was not sure how much it helped. Any money invested in the firm was routed through multiple accounts and shell corporations. The idea was to give an appearance of multiple shareholders / investors. He was still not sure how well it was working.
The café was small and cozy in the way that only small establishments could achieve. Wooden chairs, worn smooth by decades of use, surrounded tiny tables both inside the warm interior and on the sidewalk outside where hardy New Yorkers braved the December chill for their coffee fix. One wall was dominated by a coffee bar featuring an antique espresso machine that looked like it belonged in a museum but somehow still produced perfect coffee with mechanical precision. Glass cases displayed an assortment of breads, pastries, and cakes that served as edible companions to their famous coffee, filling the air with the mingled aromas of fresh baking and roasted beans.
The afternoon light filtering through the large windows gave everything a golden cast, and the buzz of conversation created the kind of atmospheric background noise that made private discussions possible while still feeling connected to the larger world outside.
William entered and immediately spotted the people he was looking for.
In the corner, at what was normally the smallest table in the shop, they had pushed two tables together to accommodate their group. All three men were dressed in dark suits – the uniform of so called "professionals" which had become synonymous with traders and executives – and were huddled close together, speaking in the low voices.
"Hello," William said, approaching their makeshift conference table "Is this seat taken?"
"Yes, it is—" one of them started to say automatically before looking up and recognizing who was speaking.
"William!" The exclamation came from all three men simultaneously, their faces lighting up with genuine pleasure and surprise. One of them immediately got up and shook William's hand.
"We were waiting for you." he said with a slight flattering smile.
"I hope I am not late?" William asked.
"No! No!...We were early." clarified one of the mean who was still seated.,
"So," William asked with a grin that acknowledged the small comedy of their reaction, "is this seat taken?"
"No, no, please sit down," they said, almost in unison, quickly rearranging papers and coffee cups to make room for him at their impromptu boardroom.
The three men were Harry, Tim, and Rupert – the three individuals William had recruited to carry out his trading. Each had come to him for different reasons, but all had proven themselves invaluable in ways that continued to surprise him.
Harry had previously worked at JP Morgan as a Senior Trader, earning a very lucrative salary that most men his age would have envied. But despite the money and prestige, he had found himself completely burnt out by the relentless pressure. The daily targets, the office politics, the casual deception that seemed to permeate every aspect of Wall Street culture – everything had combined to drain his enthusiasm for the work he'd once loved. It hadn't taken much convincing to get him to jump ship when William approached him. With Harry came the JP Morgan way of working, modern trading methods, and some valuable contacts in very important places throughout the financial world.
Tim and Rupert had been new hires who had answered William's recruitment advertisement in the local newspaper. With their qualifications and obvious intelligence, they would have shone at more prestigious firms like Goldman Sachs or Morgan Stanley. Hence, even now, four years later, William was still not entirely sure why they had decided to come and join his unknown startup. It wasn't like he had been "someone" of importance when he had started the firm – no reputation, no track record, no famous name to attract talent. He had nothing to offer except freedom from corporate bureaucracy and the opportunity to build something new. Maybe that what had attracted them? Or it could be the very lucrative salary he was offering? William hoped it was the former.
Harry had evolved into their chief strategist. Thanks to his work experience at JP Morgan and probably his own natural talents, he could understand market movements and investor sentiment better than most seasoned professionals. He analysed broader economic trends, identified emerging opportunities, and made the key recommendations about where to deploy their capital. His background gave him credibility with banks and other financial institutions, while also familiarity in using rather deceptive tactics while trading. He was the one who along with Liz had prepared the complex structure of shell companies, phantom and off shore accounts.
Tim had become their lead analyst, the numbers man who could dive deep into individual companies and industries. He was brilliant with quantitative analysis, not just in a mathematical sense but more importantly in recognizing patterns and trends that others missed. He could take Harry's broad strategic recommendations and transform them into specific, actionable investment plans with detailed risk assessments and projected returns. If Harry identified the opportunities, Tim was the person who figured out exactly how to capitalize on them.
Rupert had found his niche as the operational manager, the person who kept everything running smoothly day to day. He was a competent analyst and adequate strategist, but his real talent lay in handling people and ensuring that all the moving parts of their growing organization worked together effectively. As they'd expanded from three people to over twenty employees, Rupert had become indispensable in managing workflow, coordinating between different teams, at the same time ensuring that their team remained mostly anonymous or at least passed under scrutiny.
"So," William said, settling into his chair and accepting the cup of coffee Tim pushed toward him – strong, black, and perfectly prepared, "what's the update?"
"Your investments are performing very well," Harry began, his voice carrying the satisfaction of someone who had made the right calls at the right times. "We made a killing by investing in Texas Instruments, just as you suggested we should. And our strategy with shorts and longs has been paying off beautifully across multiple sectors."
For those unfamiliar with these investment terms, a "short" position was when an investor borrowed stocks from a broker and sold them immediately on the open market, promising to return the same number of shares by a predetermined date. During this period, the investor hoped and expected that the stock price would fall significantly. Once it dropped, they could purchase the stocks at the lower market price and return them to the broker, keeping the difference between the original selling price and the reduced purchase price as profit. It was essentially betting against a company's success. A "long" position was much simpler and more traditional – buying stock and owning it outright, hoping its value would rise over time as the company grew and prospered.
"But we have a problem," Tim said, glancing at his partners with the kind of concern that suggested they'd discussed this issue at length before William's arrival.
"You see," Rupert began, leaning forward across the small table, "prior to this expansion of our operations, we were playing with one or two million dollars in total assets. Even with leverage from borrowed funds, we were still a small fish in a very big pond. Our trades didn't attract attention, and we could move in and out of positions without affecting market prices. But forty million dollars? With leverage, that's almost eighty million in total buying power. That's not a small fish anymore."
"No," Tim interjected with emphasis, "that's a bloody whale."
"Exactly – a whale," Harry continued, picking up Tim's aquatic analogy, "And when whales move in the ocean, they create waves that affect everything around them. Other sea creatures notice when a whale changes direction."
"So?" William asked, not immediately seeing the full implications of the problem they were describing.
Harry looked at his partners with mild exasperation before turning back to William, clearly preparing to explain something he thought should have been obvious. "Forty million dollars is huge money in this market, William. When we place large short contracts – especially when we place multiple large short contracts in related sectors – people notice. Other investors and brokers see what we're doing and start following our lead, assuming we know something they don't. We've only used half the fund so far, and already we're seeing significant copycat behavior throughout the market. If this trend continues, the market might fall before our expected date, or it might fall much more dramatically than our projections anticipated."
William immediately understood the issue, and it was more complex than he'd initially realized. It was like a domino effect in reverse, but with unpredictable amplification. One investor sees a large short position and thinks, "These guys must have inside information or must know something." So they start shorting the same stocks or similar positions. Other investors notice multiple players shorting the same sectors and assume there's important information they're missing, so they join in with their own short positions. Before long, you have hundreds of investors all betting against the same stocks and sectors, and their collective action causes the very market crash they were betting on – but potentially much earlier and more severely than anyone had predicted.
This was the kind of market manipulation that happened not through conspiracy or coordination, but through the natural herd behaviour of financial markets. William realized that his knowledge of future events had given him an unfair advantage, but he hadn't fully considered how using that advantage at scale could distort the very future he was trying to profit from.
In his previous life, William had been far from an investment expert. He'd been the type of middle-class professional who put his money in diversified mutual funds rather than trying to pick individual stocks. The only stocks he'd ever owned directly were Apple – because he was genuinely a fan of Steve Jobs and believed in the company's innovative potential – and later Tesla, which he'd received as part of his compensation package during the few years he'd worked there as an engineer. This level of market manipulation and its unintended consequences was entirely new territory for him, despite his theoretical knowledge of how markets worked.
"So, what do we do?" William asked, seeking their professional opinion.
"That depends on what you want to achieve," Harry replied thoughtfully, his tone suggesting he'd been wrestling with this question for some time.
"We can keep going with the current strategy, but it adds a significant layer of unpredictability to our projections. It could go very well for us, or it could go very badly. The risk-reward calculation has changed substantially."
Tim nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "With so many people shorting the same positions we've identified, the market could crash deeper than we expected, which would mean substantially bigger profits for everyone involved. But on the other hand, if too many institutional investors start following this pattern, the SEC or the Federal Reserve might step in with emergency measures. Government intervention would be a complete mess for everyone involved, potentially including criminal investigations if they decide someone was manipulating markets."
"What do you three think we should do?" William asked.
Harry spoke first, "I think we can continue with our current strategy, but we need to be much more careful about timing and positioning. It'll be riskier than our original projections suggested, but we're using agents, dummy corporations, and shell companies for all our major transactions. We should be reasonably safe from direct regulatory scrutiny. My strong recommendation would be to prepare for an early exit strategy. Leave the market as soon as we hit reasonable profits instead of waiting for maximum returns. We'll make less money in absolute terms, but it'll be much safer from a legal and financial perspective."
William nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. In his previous life, he'd seen too many people – individuals and major corporations – fall due to simple greed. Companies and investors who could have walked away as clear winners but stayed too long at the table, always reaching for just a little more profit, and ended up losing everything when markets turned against them or regulators stepped in. He had absolutely no intention of becoming another cautionary tale that future business school students would study as an example of how greed destroys good judgment.
"Agreed," he said firmly, his decision made. "Prepare for early exit all our major positions. I'd rather earn fifty percent of the expected profit and sleep well at night than risk everything we've built for a few extra percentage points."
The team happily nodded agreeing with his decision.
With the immediate concerns about their current investment strategy addressed, the conversation naturally shifted to the broader picture of their growing firm. Over four years, it had expanded enormously beyond William's initial expectations, and now it was high time to make strategic decisions about how to proceed. Not because William wanted it, but rather the team was expecting more clarity on their future. Whether to continue operating at their current scale, expand aggressively, or evolve into something entirely different – these were necessary decisions that couldn't be postponed much longer.
"Let me give you the complete picture," Tim said, pulling out a leather portfolio filled with documents, financial statements, and organizational charts. "Four years ago, we were three guys working in a single rented room with your initial investment of a million dollars. Today, we're managing total assets worth over forty – five million dollars, and we have twenty-three full-time employees spread across multiple departments."
"Twenty-four as of yesterday," Rupert corrected with a slight smile. "We hired another senior analyst who came to us from Merrill Lynch. She's brilliant with commodity futures."
"The growth has been remarkable by any objective measure," Harry continued, with pride in his voice,"We've established working relationships with major banks, though it has primarily been through agents and dummy corporations as you requested. We've tried to remain as quiet as possible in whatever we're doing, maintaining the anonymity you wanted. We've grown your initial investment from one million dollars to almost five million in personal returns over four years. And now that you've entrusted us with forty million to manage... well, that's been a hell of a responsibility and a hell of an opportunity."
William sipped his coffee thoughtfully, listening to their progress report and feeling a mixture of pride and apprehension. The success was gratifying, but success at this scale brought complications he didn't want to deal with.
"So what's the plan going forward?" William asked, knowing this was the real reason they'd requested this meeting.
"Good question," Rupert replied hesitantly, exchanging glances with his partners. "We had a few suggestions and recommendations... if you can call them that. We've been discussing our options extensively."
"You see," Harry began, his expression becoming more serious, "forty million dollars is a huge amount of money to manage effectively. Whatever profits we generate will flow through multiple banks and financial institutions, creating paper trails that can potentially be traced back to us. It's difficult to hide, but it can be done with sufficient complexity. However, you've made it clear that you want most of these operations to remain in the shadows, away from public scrutiny. With our current structure, we can't guarantee that level of privacy indefinitely. We need our own bank or trust company – something through which money can be controlled and hidden more effectively."
William was genuinely stunned when he heard this suggestion. He had indeed been planning to acquire a bank, but not in the sense they were proposing. His vision had been focused on the consumer side of banking – car loans, EMIs, maybe auto insurance – not a proper bank.
"A bank?" William asked, wanting to make sure he understood their proposal correctly.
"Yes, exactly," Harry affirmed, his tone suggesting he'd thought this through carefully. "With every major transaction we make, we leave paper trails that connect back to our various shell companies and ultimately to us. The more successful we become, the more visible those patterns become to regulators and competitors."
"No, I understand the logic," William interrupted, his mind already racing through the implications. "I'll look into acquisition possibilities." He knew that buying a bank, even a small regional one, came with an enormous number of challenges. Federal and state licenses, local political considerations, community reinvestment requirements, regulatory compliance – it was a complex undertaking that would require significant resources and expertise.
"And anything else?" William questioned.
The three once again looked at each other. Silently communicating.
"William, I'll be completely honest with you," Harry began, his tone becoming more serious and personal. "Apart from our routine walkthrough of current investments, we also wanted to discuss your long-term plans for our organization."
"We've heard about the impressive work you're doing with Harrows," Tim added, referring to one of William's other business ventures.
"Which is absolutely fantastic, by the way," Rupert interjected with genuine admiration.
"But we need to understand how we're supposed to proceed from here," Harry continued. "Do you want us to open up for external funds, like traditional asset management? Should we move into private equity? Or do you want us to just stay as we are – a small, specialized trading operation?"
"What do you want?" William asked, already knowing deep inside that they wouldn't be satisfied with remaining small traders indefinitely. Ambitious, intelligent people naturally wanted to grow and expand their influence.
The three men looked at each other, apparently having discussed this extensively among themselves before this meeting.
"We would like to open ourselves up for external funds," Harry said carefully. "Allow other investors to place their money with us, expand our client base beyond just your personal investments."
"And how do you plan to do that?" William asked, knowing there were significant regulatory hurdles. "Do you have the proper licenses to operate as a public investment fund?"
"That we don't have," Harry admitted honestly. "We weren't entirely sure about the regulatory requirements, to be honest, and we wanted to check with you first. Based on your plans for our future, we would plan accordingly."
William considered this carefully. "I don't have any fundamental objections to you expanding in that direction. In fact, I was probably going to ask you to expand your team and open offices internationally by the end of this year anyway – not necessarily in the way you're suggesting, but yes, expansion makes sense."
He looked at all three of them thoughtfully before continuing. "Let's wait until this current market situation resolves itself. Show me a detailed proposal in the meantime. I'm not well versed in all the regulatory requirements for fund management, and we'll need to see exactly how to proceed legally and effectively."
The three partners nodded happily, clearly pleased with how this had gone.
"Anyway," William continued, wanting to move the conversation forward, "which companies are you planning to take long positions in?"
"Good question," Tim replied, flipping through his papers and consulting several detailed charts. "We have plans to spread our investments across multiple industries, diversifying risk while maximizing opportunities. Based on your previous recommendations, technology companies like Texas Instruments and IBM will make up about thirty percent of our total portfolio. These are long-term investments that we're not planning to touch for several years, riding out short-term volatility for substantial long-term gains. After we close out our current short positions, we plan to go long on manufacturing companies, especially in the medical device and pharmaceutical sectors."
"The pharmaceutical sector is particularly interesting right now," Rupert added, his voice taking on the enthusiasm of someone who'd discovered a promising opportunity. "There's a company called Pfizer that has some great research happening in antibiotic development. Another company called Merck is investing heavily in cardiovascular treatment research, I have been keeping an eye out for them. I have a strong feeling that pharmaceutical companies will deliver exceptional returns over the next decade. The only challenge is the time horizon – they can take years to develop new drugs and bring them to market, so returns might be slow initially but potentially enormous once products reach market."
As the meeting continued, William found himself in the increasingly familiar but strange position of knowing the future while being unable to fully share that knowledge. He knew which companies would become giants and which would fade into obscurity. He knew about coming major political events, social changes, and technological revolutions that would reshape the entire world. Not everything, of course – he didn't have perfect knowledge of every detail – but he understood the broad strokes of how history would unfold over the next several decades.
But he also knew that too much specific knowledge would raise suspicions about his sources and methods. Instead, he had to guide his partners through carefully crafted suggestions and leading questions, nudging them toward profitable decisions without revealing the true source of his certainty about future trends.
"Have you given any thought to the space program?" William asked casually, as if the idea had just occurred to him.
"Space program?" Tim looked puzzled, clearly not seeing the immediate financial implications.
"President Kennedy has been talking quite seriously about putting a man on the moon before the end of this decade," William explained patiently. "If the government is truly serious about that goal – and everything I'm hearing suggests they are – it's going to require massive investments in entirely new technologies. Companies that position themselves early in aerospace and related industries could benefit enormously from government contracts and technological spillovers."
"That's a fascinating angle," Harry said thoughtfully, his strategist's mind immediately grasping the implications. "We should research which companies are most likely to receive substantial government contracts for space-related projects. Boeing, Lockheed, perhaps some of the smaller specialized firms."
"Also consider the secondary effects," William suggested, knowing this was where the real money would be made. "The technologies developed for space exploration often have immediate applications in other industries. Materials science, electronics, communications, computer systems – innovations in these areas could benefit multiple sectors simultaneously. Companies that develop space technologies might find their real profits come from commercial applications of what they learned working for NASA."
"True…True," Tim said admiringly.
The conversation continued as William shared other subtle suggestions based on his future knowledge, always framing them as logical deductions rather than certain knowledge.
As the afternoon sun began to slant through the café windows, casting longer shadows across their table, William found himself reflecting on the strange journey that had brought him to this moment. Twenty-three years ago, reborn with memories of someone from 2024 but the body of a baby. The adjustment had been extraordinarily difficult – trying to navigate a world that was simultaneously familiar and completely foreign.
The technology was primitive by his future standards, almost laughably so in some respects. No computers beyond room-sized machines that required teams of specialists to operate. No internet connecting the world's knowledge at the speed of light. No cell phones allowing instant communication from anywhere. Instead, communication happened through landline telephones that required operators for long-distance calls, and physical mail that took days to cross the country. Research required actual visits to libraries, consultations with human experts, and careful reading of printed materials rather than quick Google searches that could answer almost any question in seconds.
But there were genuine compensations for these technological limitations. The pace of life was slower and more deliberate, allowing time for deeper thinking and more meaningful relationships. People had time for longer conversations, for building genuine personal and professional relationships, for thinking through complex problems without the constant interruption of electronic devices demanding immediate attention. Business was conducted through handshakes and personal relationships rather than impersonal contracts negotiated through virtual meetings between people who might never meet face to face.
"You've been quiet for a while," Harry observed, his tone carrying friendly concern. "Everything alright?"
"Just thinking," William replied honestly. "Sometimes I wonder what the world will look like in twenty or thirty years from now. Whether the changes that seem to be coming will be as dramatic as they appear, or whether we're overestimating the pace of change."
"Change is the only constant in business and life," Tim said factually. It had been one of the mottos which he followed.
"The key is to anticipate change rather than simply react to it," Rupert added thoughtfully. "That's been our competitive advantage so far – we've been ahead of trends rather than following them. We've made our money by seeing opportunities before they became obvious to everyone else."
"Speaking of being ahead of trends," Harry said, his expression brightening as he remembered something, "I've been hearing very interesting things about something called 'television advertising.' Apparently, major corporations are starting to realize they can reach consumers directly in their homes rather than relying solely on newspaper and radio advertisements. It's a completely different kind of marketing relationship."
"Television is definitely growing rapidly," William agreed, knowing exactly how transformative this medium would become.
"We should consider investing in television-related companies," Tim suggested enthusiastically. "Not just the manufacturers like RCA and Zenith, but the broadcasting companies, advertising agencies, even the companies that produce the television programs themselves."
"That's true." William added. "Plus, with Telstar planned for launch next year, television stocks will probably face significant upward momentum." Suddenly his thoughts went to the Jeep advertisement discussion he'd had two days earlier with his automotive marketing team.
"Keep an eye out for media companies," William said decisively. "I'm looking to acquire a majority stake in something with good potential."
"Small or large scale? Television or print media?" Harry asked.
"Something with their own broadcasting channel and federal license to operate," William specified, knowing that FCC licenses would become increasingly valuable as television expanded.
"Sure." Tim confirmed.
As their conversation continued, the discussion naturally turned to broader economic trends and concerns that could affect their investment strategies.
"What's your sense of the overall economic situation?" William asked, genuinely curious about their professional assessment.
"Strong but potentially volatile," Harry replied immediately, his tone carrying the confidence of someone who'd studied market indicators carefully. "Industrial production is up significantly across most sectors, unemployment is down to very manageable levels, and consumer spending continues to grow steadily. Americans are optimistic about the future and willing to spend money on cars, appliances, and other consumer goods. But there are definitely warning signs on the horizon."
"Such as?" William prompted, wanting to hear their analysis.
"Inflation is starting to creep up gradually," Tim explained, consulting some handwritten notes. "Not dramatically enough to cause immediate panic, but enough to be noticeable in food prices, rent, and other daily expenses. The Federal Reserve will have to make some difficult decisions about whether to raise interest rates to combat inflation or keep them low to encourage continued economic growth. Either choice has significant consequences for different sectors."
"There's also the international situation creating uncertainty," Rupert added, his expression becoming more serious. "The Cold War creates both opportunities and risks that are difficult to predict. Military spending is definitely boosting certain sectors of the economy – aerospace, electronics, materials science – but it's also creating economic distortions. What happens if international tensions ease and defence spending decreases substantially? Conversely, what happens if tensions escalate and we find ourselves in another major military conflict?"
William knew that both scenarios would indeed play out over the coming decades, but in ways many couldn't possibly imagine. The Cold War would continue for another thirty years, creating enormous opportunities in defence and technology sectors. But there would also be hot wars – Vietnam would escalate dramatically, consuming enormous resources and dividing American society. The space race would drive incredible innovation but at tremendous cost. Social upheaval would reshape American culture in ways that would affect every aspect of business and society.
"Don't worry too much about scenarios we can't control," William said reassuringly. "We'll be fine as long as we play safe, diversify appropriately, and remain flexible enough to adapt to changing conditions."
"Agreed completely," all three partners said simultaneously, then laughed at their unintentional synchronicity.
As the afternoon stretched toward evening, their conversation turned to more casual stuff, from family to social life.
As the café began to fill with the evening dinner crowd – businessmen stopping for coffee before heading home, young couples on dates, neighbourhood residents grabbing a quick bite – the four men realized their business discussion had stretched much longer than originally planned.
"We should probably wrap up," William said, glancing at his watch and noting how the light outside had changed from afternoon brightness to early evening shadows.
"Before I go," William said, appreciatively, "You are doing great. Just play safe."
"We couldn't have done it without your initial support and continued guidance," Tim replied sincerely. "Your suggestions about everything has been incredibly accurate. You are like a fucking prophet!"
Deep down, all three partners knew that while they might be good analysts and traders, they definitely couldn't sense changes in the market quite like William could. His insights seemed to come from somewhere beyond conventional analysis, and they had learned to trust his instincts even when they didn't fully understand his reasoning.
As they gathered their papers and prepared to leave, Harry had one final question that had been on his mind.
"What's next for you personally, William? Any new projects or investments you're considering that we should know about?"
William smiled mysteriously, "Oh, we have a few interesting developments in the works. Keep an eye out for Geneva – we're going to surprise you with some announcements from there."
"Any hints?" Rupert asked hopefully.
William just laughed and exited from the café.
As they walked out of Café Reggio into the crisp December evening, William mentally filed away the day's discussions and decisions. He would need to remind Paterson to keep an eye out for any small to medium-sized banks that might be available for acquisition. The regulatory complexity would be substantial, but having their own financial institution would indeed solve many of the privacy and operational challenges they were facing.
The drive back to the Plaza Hotel took him through the heart of Manhattan, past construction sites where new skyscrapers were rising toward the winter sky. Christmas decorations were beginning to appear in store windows – modest by future standards, but charming in their simplicity. The sidewalks were crowded with people finishing their Christmas shopping or heading home from work, their breath visible in small puffs of vapor in the cold air.
When William reached the Plaza Hotel, he noticed immediately that Edwards was not at his usual post. Instead, there was another young man waiting – older than Edwards, perhaps twenty-five, with dark hair and a more reserved demeanor.
"Good evening, sir. How was your day?" the substitute valet asked professionally as William handed over the keys.
"Very productive, thank you," William replied.
William quickly rushed back to his room.
William was tired from the long day of discussions and decisions. He planned to rest, review some documents Paterson had prepared for his London trip, and catch his flight to England the following morning.
If everything went well he should be back by Christmas eve and in time to celebrate Christmas with his family.