The first thing that struck Snake was the heat. A thousand bodies, hearts
pounding, screaming commands, each at 98.6 degrees Farenheit, produced
enough energy to light the city of New York. And it felt like they could
heat it, too. Most of the traders had their jackets off. Some were even
down to their undershirts. Snake stared at these men longingly, sensing a
hardening bulk between his legs. Most traders were young and fit; they had
to be to survive the intensity of their daily environment. Few were women.
High above the carpeted floor on which people scurried like ants, mouths open, waving slips of paper, were two galleries. One, on the right wall, was the Member's Gallery. This was where high-ranking members, their guests, and the press could view the clockwork heart that kept financial America ticking. Across from it was the mysterious Executive Gallery. Its frosted glass windows afforded it completely privacy as well as a perfect panoramic view of the floor. At any given time, several high-ranking executives of the NYSE, as well as its president or vice-president, could be found in that room, coolly assimilating and mediating the proceedings below them. The president and vice-president were never in it at the same time. Nobody could enter it without a key card and an access code. Snake had both.
His stomach clenched. Heart accelerated. Breathing labored. He climbed the steps on trembling legs. This was the most monumental thing he had ever done. He slid the electronic key through the console and entered the access code. The mechanism identified him as Joseph Kramer, the vice president of the New York Stock Exchange. His hand rested momentarily on the door's handle. He pulled it down and entered the room that was concealed by frosted glass.
High above the carpeted floor on which people scurried like ants, mouths open, waving slips of paper, were two galleries. One, on the right wall, was the Member's Gallery. This was where high-ranking members, their guests, and the press could view the clockwork heart that kept financial America ticking. Across from it was the mysterious Executive Gallery. Its frosted glass windows afforded it completely privacy as well as a perfect panoramic view of the floor. At any given time, several high-ranking executives of the NYSE, as well as its president or vice-president, could be found in that room, coolly assimilating and mediating the proceedings below them. The president and vice-president were never in it at the same time. Nobody could enter it without a key card and an access code. Snake had both.
His stomach clenched. Heart accelerated. Breathing labored. He climbed the steps on trembling legs. This was the most monumental thing he had ever done. He slid the electronic key through the console and entered the access code. The mechanism identified him as Joseph Kramer, the vice president of the New York Stock Exchange. His hand rested momentarily on the door's handle. He pulled it down and entered the room that was concealed by frosted glass.