The Oracle Year(8)

Will shrugged.

“I’ve been asking myself questions like that since I had the dream, Hamza. I’m sort of beyond surprise at this point.”

More words on the screen.

“Okay—here we go!” Will shouted. “Your turn, Ham.”

“Ready,” Hamza said, very focused, staring at his computer.

SWBG: Is it possible for this information not to be released to any other parties?

Oracle: Yes.

SWBG: Under what terms?

Hamza lunged for one of the binders on the coffee table. His knee knocked the edge, and the table finally collapsed, spilling spreadsheets, printouts, and laptops in a wide arc across Will’s floor.

“Fuck,” Hamza said, very deliberately.

Will ignored him and typed.

Oracle: Make an offer. The timer on the remainder of your audience period will be halted during these negotiations.

SWBG: What assurances do we have that once we purchase the exclusive rights to this information, it will not be sold to others?

Will had prepared for this one—it seemed likely that this question might come up.

Oracle: My word. And the assurance that if you don’t make a deal with us, I will definitely sell this information again, if another buyer appears.

Will lifted his hands from the keys, then had another idea.

Oracle: Or I could post it on the Site. You’ve bought the right to know about the Florida freeze, not to own it. If you want exclusivity, tell us what you’ll pay for it.

A lengthy pause from the other side of the screen. Will imagined frantic calculations being made in a masters-of-the-universe conference room, high above some city, stuffed with expensively suited old men he was visualizing as something like human buzzards. Behind him, he could hear Hamza shuffling rapidly through the papers on the floor, cursing to himself.

SWBG: We will pay you an additional ten million dollars for the exclusive rights to this information.





“Ten million,” Will called over to Hamza. “Is that a good offer?”

“Fuck no,” Hamza said, sitting on the floor, holding up double fists of spreadsheets. “I’m not finished yet, but I can tell you these guys are heavily invested in California agriculture. What do you think they grow out there?”

“Oranges?”

“Oranges, grapefruit, tangelos, you name it. And if Florida is off this year, that means California is way up. So their portfolio companies make lots of money there. Also,” Hamza said, brandishing another piece of paper, “there are rumblings that this fund is looking at investing in Florida farms too. If there’s a frost, a lot of farms will be hurting, looking to sell out. So they get a big foothold in the Florida market for cheap.”

“Okay,” Will said, “break that down.”

“Breaking that down, it means SWBG will probably make around a billion off knowing about that Florida freeze ahead of time,” Hamza said. “So they’ll have to pay a hell of a lot more than ten million for it.”

Hamza grabbed a pencil and started scribbling on the nearest sheets of paper, mumbling to himself. He dragged his laptop across the floor, and Will watched him pull up statistics on agriculture markets, historical impact of unseasonal weather, and all sorts of random esoteric financial data. It was alchemical.

“Almost there?”

“Time, Will, time. This is hard as hell. I want to get it right. If we underbid, we could be losing millions of dollars.”

Will’s heart was pounding. It had taken about twenty minutes for him to become the kind of person who gives out cars as birthday presents.

“Four hundred fifty,” Hamza said. He threw his pencil on the table. “Four five oh. That’s my best bet. I’ll tell you, there aren’t many people who could have modeled that out for you in a couple of minutes. My brain’s about to slide out my nose.”

Will couldn’t speak for a moment. He put his hands over the keyboard. They were shaking.

“Is that our opening offer?” he managed.

“No, that’s it. That’s what they have to pay if they want the info. That leaves them a healthy profit, an incredibly healthy profit. I even shaved some off to account for their reluctance in light of . . . well, the fact that this is all so fucking bizarre.”

Will shook his head.

“How can you be sure? What if we just piss them off?”

“We won’t. They have the same information I do, and they can create the same projections. If you know how to do it, it’s not guessing at all. It’s fact.

“Of course,” he added, “they probably had to put about thirty people on it to get the same answer.”

Will’s forced his hands to steady against the keyboard.

Oracle: $450 million. There will be no further negotiations. This is the final and only price I will accept.

Again, a pause, longer, like a stunned silence.

SWBG: That is a considerable amount. It will take us some time to amass those funds.





“Holy shit,” Will said. “They went for it.”

“Of course they did,” Hamza answered. “And now they know we know what the hell we’re doing.”

“They say they need time to get that much cash. How much do I give them?”

Hamza thought for a few seconds.