They had all awakened.
They had all seen it.
Except for me.
Morning, trading floor in the City of London.
A trader in a red vest nearly shoved the microphone into his mouth. "Short positions! Add more! Don't hesitate!"
The veins in another red-vested trader's neck bulged. "Sell! Sell it all! Right now! Immediately!"
A third red-vested trader sprayed spittle as he shouted, "Hold the line! Buy! Buy!"
Bellowed orders, shrieking telephones, clattering keyboards, and pounding dress shoes merged into an urgent drumbeat as the red and green numbers on the screens leaped wildly.
One red-vested trader waved an arm and roared into his microphone, "Sell! Give me all of—"
His voice cut off abruptly. The order slip slid from his rigid fingers, while his raised arm remained frozen in a ridiculous pose.
Everyone froze, as though they had received some kind of command. In perfect unison, they turned their heads, bloodshot eyes fixed in one direction.
All the clamor fell into dead silence, leaving only the low hum of the air conditioning...
Evening, Circular Quay, Sydney Harbour.
In the afterglow of the setting sun, the Opera House's shell-shaped roof seemed to be burning, stained a magnificent golden red.
On the restaurant's open-air terrace came the crisp clink of knives and forks against plates, the tinkling touch of wineglasses, and the deliberately subdued murmur of conversation...
Those sounds mingled with the enticing aroma of food and danced with the faintly salty scent of the sea breeze, creating an elegant, leisurely atmosphere.
Waiters in crisp white shirts moved silently between round tables draped in snow-white cloths, silver trays in hand, serving dish after dish and pouring glass after glass of wine.
"Sir, this is the wine you ordered. I'll pour it for you now."
Deep-red wine churned in the