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A Novel
by Natasha Brown A Fool's Gold
First published in Alazon magazine June 17, 2021
A gold bar is deceptively heavy. Four hundred troy ounces, about 12.5 kilograms, of ultra-high-purity gold formed into an ingot—a sort of slender brick crossed with a pyramid. Holding one such bar on a chilly September evening last year, thirty-year-old Jake marveled at its density; how the unyielding sides and edges felt awkward, yet somehow natural, in his hands. Behind him, from the main building of a West Yorkshire farm, music and colored lights throbbed against the night sky. Roughly one hundred youngsters were partying in defiance of the British government's lockdown restrictions. Jake didn't look back toward the noise pumping from the farmhouse where he'd spent most of his fraught 2020. He wasn't even looking at the gold, not really.The bar in Jake's possession was a London Good Delivery—literally the gold standard of gold bullion—worth over half a million dollars. An obscene concept; Jake couldn't quite believe it was possible to hold so much "value" within his two hands. Let alone to wield it. Again and again. Again. Until his target had finally stopped moving. But it had happened, hadn't it? Yes, it had happened. He couldn't stop himself from staring at the proof. The motionless body lying at his feet.
At some point that night, or perhaps as daylight crept in at the edge of the horizon, Jake managed to stop looking and start thinking.
He decided to run.
In the weeks following Jake's disappearance, the Queensbury and Bradford local papers reported on the events of that night: an illegal rave, the resulting three hospitalizations, significant property damage, and an ongoing police investigation. The story was soon forgotten, however, as national focus remained on the pandemic and the government's strategy heading into the challenging winter months. Yet unraveling the events leading to this strange and unsettling night is well worth the trouble; a modern parable lies beneath, exposing the fraying fabric of British society, worn thin by late capitalism's relentless abrasion. The missing gold bar is a connecting node—between an amoral banker, an iconoclastic columnist, and a radical anarchist movement.
"Of course I want it back—it's my gold."
Richard Spencer has not forgotten the events of that night. Indeed, as the legal owner of the farm, he thinks of little else. "I want my life back," he complains miserably. The first time I meet Spencer, he sits across from me, his elbows propped against the dull aluminum top of our outdoor dining table. He chose the place—an earnestly ironic American-style diner in London's Covent Garden. The menu lists an £11.50 avo 'n cream cheese bagel. Spencer wears a deep-blue Ted Baker shirt, starchy but unironed, with the sleeves rolled to mid-forearm, lending a disembodied, theatrical effect to his expressive hands and wrists. He's garrulous, keen to detail the many ways his life has been turned into "an absolute shit show."
An overly indulgent, even selfish, comment, perhaps. After all, since the pandemic swept across the globe in 2020, many people have suffered badly, losing their lives and loved ones. Spencer is alive and well. His loved ones are safe—though possibly not reciprocally loving at this moment. But Spencer has lost something significant: his status. Back in 2019, all the excessive fruits of late capitalism were his. He owned multiple homes, farming land, investments, and cars; he had a household staff; a pretty wife, plus a much younger girlfriend. As a high-powered stockbroker at a major investment bank, he enjoyed immense power, influence, and wealth. He had everything. Now, stripped of all that, he has become the man across from me: a grounded giant, cut off from his castle in the sky.
Spencer's gold-thieving, beanstalk-chopping "Jack" is Jake from the farm, whom he suspects of having run off with the gold. "Of course he bloody took it with him," Spencer says, certain of his own version of events, despite having never met Jake.
Excerpted from Universality by Natasha Brown. Copyright © 2025 by Natasha Brown. Excerpted by permission of Random House. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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