The world of finance never sleeps. And neither do I. I’m too important. Too many people counting on me. You close your eyes for a split second and bam, market crash. I go where the money is, when it is, who it is.

When was the last time I slept? Months ago? What year is this?

When the markets close in America, I’m transferred to Asia, neural pathways zapped down a phoneline under the pacific to Shanghai or Tokyo. The company pays to have me placed in a rental body, fresh and ready for another day of trading. Sometimes it’s a company underling, sometimes it’s whoever they can find on the street. Familiar faces, unfamiliar faces, they all blur into one after… however long it’s been.

It’s not a bad gig for them, getting paid decent money just to exercise and rest my body. Paid to sleep. Lucky bastards.

After Asia it’s India. After India it’s Euronext next. Forever chasing the daylight. Then back to New York. If I’m lucky I get a few hour a day as… whoever I am.

What’s my name? I remember my passwords better than I remember my name. George or… James. How can I be this tired when I don’t feel tired?

They strap me into the neuralizer. Another blur, the dark of the late evening New York office becoming a bright morning in a woman’s cozy apartment in some faceless concrete tenement. I’m Daiyu Zhang, one of our younger and more ambitious junior brokers of the Chinese branch. She offered up her body in exchange for fast-track promotion. I’ve been her before, but this time I’m seated at her computer terminal in her apartment, not at the stock exchange, and in her casual clothes.

Normally I insist on a masculine suit and a tight compression bra when hopping girls. I squirm uncomfortably in the silk panties hugging my nethers. She’s not wearing a bra at all, the weight of her pert breasts weighing on my shoulders.

There’s a cup of chamomile tea on the desk. Beside it lies a half-empty bottle of sleeping pills. Beside that, a note.

‘Your wife told me you needed the rest. Don't worry. My boyfriend is going to take very good care of you. And I’ll take be taking care of Susanne And the accounts. Nobody will even know you’re gone. Zàijiàn.’

I don’t even fight it as the wonderful velvety blackness overcomes me. The last thing I feel before slipping into that beautiful abyss is the strong arms carrying me to bed.