hard for Mark to connect itwith an old woman shrieking points at him. "My name's Pearl.Point-Plus-Pearlie, they call me. But my real name's Penelope. You cancall me Penelope."
"Thank you," Mark said gravely, and sat down. Penelope bustled into anapron and began pulling packages from the freezer. "We'll have a feed,you and I--a real feed." She chuckled pleasantly. "After all, you'repaying for it."
* * * * *
Mark squirmed uncomfortably.
"I'll tell you how all this started," Penelope said, popping open a canof high-content protein. "Back before you were born there were insurancecompanies. At first they were started to insure your life, and--"
"Your life!" Mark frowned. "How--"
"Never mind. Also, they insured you against loss by fire. Then it wasloss by collision of vehicles--you've never seen an auto, of course--andso on. Finally they got to insuring you against hurting yourself whenyou slipped on a cake of soap in the bathtub, and then they insuredagainst a suit for damages by someone who might stub his toe and falldown and break a leg on your sidewalk. Follow me?"
"I think so," said Mark doubtfully.
"Well, there were all kinds of lawsuits. Two men would be in anaccident. Both hurt. Their insurance companies would sue each other.Suppose A knocked over a ladder and B fell down on top of him. B's fallbroke A's arm and it broke his own leg. A could sue B for breaking hisarm. B could sue A for making him fall. Well, suppose A was insured bycompany X, and B was insured by company Y. A and B filed claims againsteach other's companies, and everybody went to court."
"You mean they didn't agree on damages?" Mark asked incredulously.
"Exactly." Penelope cut off the top of a bottle of enzymes. "It waspretty dumb. But pretty soon the companies got wise. They formed workingagreements.
"When two companies carried insurance on two persons involved in anaccident, the companies just presented their claims to each other, andthe one with the biggest claim against him paid the difference, whileeach company paid off the claim of the one it represented. You can seewhat eventually happened."
She punched a button and a dinette table popped out of the wall.
"Companies insured people for more and more types of damage, evenagainst being insulted or against a claim for damages for beinginsulted. The big companies eliminated the small ones, and it was just amatter of bookkeeping among those that were left. Eventually thegovernment took it over."
"But look," said Mark, "I don't see--"
"Don't rush me." Penelope put a can into the container-dissolver andpunched the button that set out the plates and silverware on the tinytable. "You see, pretty soon everybody was insured for everythingpossible. People were collecting right and left, mostly small amountsbut lots of them. But it took quite a bit of time to file claims and soon. And also, a man spent all he made buying insurance to protecthimself. It was a wicked circle. Nobody could quit buying insurance andnobody dared quit filing claims. That's when the government took over.They simplified things. Once a day you turn your slips into Central andthe Machine audits your account. That's all there is to it."
"But there's nothing else to do," Mark objected. "No entertainment, nowork."
"Why should there be entertainment? Entertainment means work forsomebody. No, Central--which is the government, of course--haseliminated work for everybody and at the same time has providedsomething to keep everybody busy. What work must be done is done byautomatic, self-lubricating, self-repairing, self-renewing machinery."She sighed. "It's a brave new world. Everything is neatly worked out.Everybody spends all their time gathering points to offset the pointsthey lose gathering points--and nobody seems to mind except a few rebelslike you and me. I saw that rebellious look in your eyes when you signedmy slip. That's why I invited you to come along with me. But, as I said,Central keeps everybody busy all day and half the night trying tobalance themselves. There's no labor problem, no unemployment, norelief, no worry about anything." She paused, to dip the vitamins out ofthe dissolver. "The only catch is--it's so damned monotonous."
Mark blinked, but Penelope whirled on him, the dissolver in one hand."Why do you think I sit out there and put on my act all day long? Not toget points, though I confess the points are the measure of mysuccess--but because life is too dull otherwise." She dished out thevitamins.
"You say the government did all this?"
"Yes."
A thought struck Mark. "Who is the government?"
Penelope was filling glasses from the ice-water faucet. She turned herhead and stared at him like a bright-eyed bird. "To tell you the truth,Mark, as far as I know the men who used to make up the governmentdisappeared after the last war, about the time all this automaticmachinery was put in. We used to have an election every so often, but Ihaven't heard that word for twenty-five years. Do you know what Ithink?"
"No," Mark said attentively.
"I don't think there is any more government!" Penelope saiddramatically. "I think all that's left are the Machine and Central AuditBureau--which is nothing but a giant posting machine."
"Have you seen it--Central, I mean? I see the concourse where we line upevery day to have our cards posted--but what's behind those twelvehundred windows?"
* * * * *
She nodded briskly. "I saw it from one of the last planes. Centralcovers miles and miles in both directions. They said then it was thebiggest machine on earth--and do you know, Mark"--she pauseddramatically--"I think the Machine is the government! Roll up yourchair, Mark."
Mark did. "But doesn't there have to be somebody to take care of theMachine?" he asked, holding her chair.
"Not that I know of. They said it was perfect--that barring anearthquake it would run for a thousand years without a human hand."
The iron-juice cocktail was pretty good, the way Penelope had flavoredit with enzymes. But Mark inevitably got back to the thing that worriedhim. "What will happen when that release slip of mine goes through forthirty-five thousand points?"
Penelope raised her white eyebrows. "I don't know, but undoubtedlysomething drastic. I'll tell you what. I'll hold your slip for a whileand you go out and see if you can get some points on your credit side.Stir up a little trouble. Get the points first and argue after."...
Mark went out and tried to get some points next day, but he couldn'tseem to get his heart in his work. It was all so pointless. Why couldn'tthe old lady give him back that slip, anyway? Mark got pretty much inthe dumps, and after he managed to get his foot stepped on and demandedthree hundred points, only to be countered by a claim of four hundredfor hurting the other man's instep, he began to feel very low indeed.
At the end of the week he was walking slowly along the street watchingfor Conley, because he was getting further in the red every day, when hesaw a foot stuck out in his way and heard a voice say, "Don't youstumble over my lame foot," and he looked up and saw the old lady. Herblack eyes were soft. "You don't look happy, Mark."
"No." He held out his card.
"Hm." Her keen old eyes shot back to his. "Thirty-two hundred in thered. That's more than before. You've lost two hundred points this week,Mark."
"I know," he said dully.
"Here. Push me, Mark." She pulled the shawl around her and Mark startedpushing the wheel-chair. "You're a nice boy," she said when they reacheda quiet street. "You just can't adjust yourself to this modern world."
"I want a job," Mark said stubbornly. "Something to do besides--well,some kind of mark to aim at, I guess. This point business is justputting in time. I'm not creating anything. Even if I could fastenzippers on feather-beds, I'd be doing something worth while, becauseit'd be used. But this way of living is like digging a hole and thenfilling it in again. Why, you don't even dare to get into a fight.Somebody would collect a thousand points every time you hit him. Thestandard price of a black eye is three thousand. You have to be prettycareful about things like that. And there's always Conley."
"Well," Penelope said, "I'm going to mak
e you a proposition. I'll holdup your slip for sixty days, and in the meantime I'll teach you how toget ahead of the game. I'll teach you the tricks of the trade, just asold Point-a-Minute Charlie taught me. They say he averaged a point aminute all his life."
"Where is he now?" asked Mark, interested.
The old lady pondered. "Come to think of it, I don't know. I rememberthe last time I talked to him his credit balance was 98,000."
You Too Can Be A Millionaire Page 2