Numbers

It’s been a few weeks since Mikel started his job in the City. Freshly graduated from one of the UK’s top business schools and having defied class and social mobility barriers, he found himself in a trade job at a prominent stockbroker – Altara Capital. He remembers how he called his parents one day to tell them that he aced the interview, and they offered him a job on the spot – his dream job. The possibilities from now on are endless. He just has to work hard and be consistent.

On a Wednesday afternoon, he found himself walking on Cheapside, feeling particularly confident about the day ahead. The whole office was talking about this big trade, and the excitement on the trade desk was palpable. The fridge was stocked with beers and champagne, and the roof terrace was ready for Friday when the deal was meant to be completed. As he approaches his office, he notices a ragged middle-aged man holding a placard. His clothes were worn, and his beard looked scruffy and uncared for. WE ARE NOT NUMBERS was written on the placard. Mikel brushed it off but what he couldn’t brush off was how that man was strikingly similar to the type of people his dad hangs about to this day, the working class of towns in Britain. He nods to the man politely and walks into the building.

“Yes, boyo!” greets Josh, his equally young colleague who started on the same day, filling the other position. “Ready to make some money?”

“You know it, bro,” replied Mikel, indulging in a slightly different handshake than the business sort, so to speak.

Once they got to the floor, the noise of calls and men and women shouting over the phones was deafening. They took their seats and opened their three screens, all with different market positions. The director interrupted Their usual routine, walking bullishly among the desks.

“Morning, everyone; I want all eyes on Project Wave. Ensure all the information we receive has no discrepancies so we can have the go-ahead Friday.” He then pulls out a gift card and throws it to Elena, one of the analysts. “Get yourself something nice, will you? Elena spotted a difference between the incomings declared at Port Exeter. She called the accountant swiftly, and we got a clearer picture. This is what I want. Eyes of an eagle!” The whole floor applauded Elena.

The day rolls by monotonously until a lunch break brings Josh, Mikel, and Zoltan, one of the analysts, together to chat over some overpriced plain sandwiches.

“Have y’all seen the older geezer?” asks Josh in between bites of a prawn mayo sandwich. “Reckon, he’s part of the ports union?”

Mikel observes but does not answer. Zoltan finishes crunching his crisps and indulges Josh:

“Yeah, must be. I mean, this is a drastic change, I’m sure. But you either are prepared for the future, or you are not, and we,” takes a break to suck on the straw of an orange juice box “; we’re in the industry that’s bulletproof.”

“Surely not,” says Mikel, “I mean, we are prone to the same automation and AI risk. I don’t think that’s now, but it's definitely not decades away.”

“Speak for yourself,” adds Josh, getting up from the table. “You can’t get an AI with this smile.”

As the day went on, the evening caught Mikel half-asleep, still staring into a screen where tiny needles and dots moved sporadically. He decided to leave, as it was almost 9PM and he could not do much work anymore. He noticed the placard holding against a tent as he left the office building.

“H-Hello?” he asks, to which the man from this morning responds by getting out of the tent.

“Sorry,” Mikel continues as he is being stared down by the man who now towers over him. “I was just wondering whether you need something I can help with. A tea or?”

“D’you think I’m homeless, lad?” asks the man in an aggressive tone.

“Sorry, sir, I don’t want to make assumptions; I’ll just leave.”

“Now hold on, lad. You don’t make assumptions with people just with numbers, aye?”

Mikel swallows his breath and feels threatened.

“Relax, lad.” The man continues, “I’m not homeless yet, but I could be depending on whether your bosses go ahead with this disastrous deal.”

“You mean the deal for the ports, sir?” replies Mikel, a bit more relaxed this time.

“50 thousand people, son. That’s how many will be laid off. Does that sit well with you?”

“Not… not really, but what can you do? It’s the future! I might be at risk too come a few years down the line.”

“Ah, the future! Bollocks!” says the man as he sits on the ground. “You fellas talk about the future as it’s not some man-made self-fulfilling prophecy bullshit. You keep forcing this future down our throats and blame us folk for not getting on with your plans. Gimme a break! If the future would not be profitable, you’d sing a different tune. Where you from, you don’t strike me as posh?”

Mikel hears the man but takes a second to think over what he just heard.

“Are you mute lad? You were speaking a few moments ago.”

“Yeah…sorry, Scunthorpe, sir.”

“Ah, steel town. Bet your da was a proud worker, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, sir, he was, but he’s retired now.”

“Good on him. I don’t have that luxury. 4 mouths to feed you see. This job is all I know.”

Mikel realises there’s not much to talk about here anymore and decides to make an exit.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do much…wish you well.”

As he walks, he hears the man shouting from behind him.

“We’re not just numbers, you know, you and I.”

That night, he couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned and realised that he saw in that man the same archetype as his dad. Simple, honest, hard-working man. Just there to do a job and live a comfortable life. Was he the bad guy? He always feared becoming the bad guy, ignoring his morals and upbringing. No, he just worked in an industry that brings change. Sometimes positive, sometimes negative, but change nonetheless. Ultimately, change is inevitable, no? That’s what he taught his whole life through his economics books. If only people studied economics and understood this, they would be less prone to finding dead jobs and  unable to adapt or learn a new skill. That’s it. Indeed, it can’t be more nuanced than that. Ultimately, that man is among many who have won and lost in this system. Should he care about it or just go with his expertise, which is…executing trades? He was not a sociology graduate but an economist. The state should ensure these people have a safety net, not him.

He found that last thought comforting and managed to get a few hours of sleep. The following day, before heading out, he saw a text from his dad: "Just thought of you, boy. We miss you, but we’re proud of you. Show London what you’re made of." He sat on that text for a few minutes and decided to call his dad. He explained the whole ordeal to the man and how it made him question some of his beliefs.

“Mikel, I’m not going to tell you right from wrong, my boy, that’s something you’ll have to find within you. Pride fades away faster than shame.”

That morning as he approached the office, tens of people were outside. The man brought two of his younger boys with him. There was a new placard, too, which said We wanted to show you what numbers look like. Trying to avoid the shouts from the protestors, Mikel is walking with his head down as he makes his way in. He heard the man say, “Hello, lad,” but he chose to ignore it. The floor was as loud as ever, but with earphones in, it all seemed comical to Mikel. He was listening to Swan Lake and the whole picture of his coworkers shouting and throwing papers in the air on a sunny morning like this one made him giggle inwardly. He sits at his desk, listening to music until Josh pulls one of the earphones away.

“Boyo, seen the villagers outside? It looks like they’ve been reproducing overnight. Like rabbits, mate.”

Mikel stood up aggressively and looked Josh in the eyes.

“Be careful, lad. This may be a tall building, but each floor has a ground, too. Try to not be too above it.”

Elena, listening from across the desk, has her eyes wide open.

“Alrighty, mate,” he tries to defuse Josh. “I’m just saying…”

“Saying what, lad?” Mikel continues in an aggressive tone. Sit down, do your job, and keep your opinions to yourself.”

“Pfft”, tries Josh to brush off “, I didn’t realise you were with the inbreds.”

Elena stands up, seeing Mikel ready to swing at Josh. It is too late, as Mikel already feels Josh’s teeth with his knuckles. The whole floor sees it and stands still. The director looks shocked at the whole ordeal.

“I’ll have to call you back Mr Baranby,” he said to one of his clients, hanging up the phone. “Mikel, my office now.”

The reprisal was swift. The director could not let such an aggressive manifestation occur under his watch. He tried to understand Mikel’s motivations, but Mikel would not answer, just stare down, unphased.

“Get out then, I seem to be wasting my breath here.”

As he walked out, he saw the office going back to normal—the chaos, the shouting, Josh with his bloodied lip. He put on Swan Lake in his earphones and smiled outwardly this time. Once he got downstairs, he saw an even bigger crowd protesting outside his office than this morning. He walked out and headed towards the man he spoke to and extended his hand towards him.

“I’m Mikel. I want to help.”

The man greets him with a smile.

“Stephen, lad. Why don’t you just hold this one placard?”

Mikel picked the placard that said When numbers get together, they add

Unfortunately, Project Wave went through. On that Friday, as cheers and clinking glasses could be heard from the rooftop above, Mikel was sharing his number amongst the distressed protestors. He promised to contact them and help them as soon as he could.

Years went by, and Mikel was now the director of a firm called Regenesys, which trained former tradespeople in newer skills such as AI or Machine Learning. It was challenging but worth it. Over 60% of people going through his academy would get jobs in a new field, and about 1 in 10 would stay at Regenesys, helping build the next wave of workers. Stephen was his right-hand man and someone who put his savings alongside Mikel to get the firm up and running.

One day, as Mikel was making his way on Cheapside to meet a potential new partner for the firm, he walked by a skyscraper of a company that took finance by storm with automation. Trades such as sales agents, pitch decks, and basically the whole stack could've been automated. It caused such a wave in finance that even the government wanted to intervene to halt its expansion until the heads of the company carefully convinced the government that change was inevitable. Outside, a meek man in a suit was carrying a sign saying WE ARE NOT NUMBERS.

It was Josh.