L. E. Modesitt, jr.
A House By Any Other Name
"George, we are on the Brink of a Recession!" announced James Boulin Chartwell, III.
George arranged his face to show concern. The Senior Member of the Council of Economic Advisers glowered.
"This is Serious, young man. There is a Major Metropolitan Area where employment and wages in the Construction Sector have actually declined in the last quarter."
George refrained from asking if he were sure. The Honorable James Boulin Chartwell, III, was always SURE.
"What area?" inquired George politely.
"The Greater Denver Area."
George understood. Denver was somewhere near the Rockies.
"Now admittedly, the Deviation from the National Trend is Not Yet Significant. But the level of employment for carpenters, electricians, masons, plumbers, and heating technicians is down One Tenth of One Percent. This is Inconceivable. The Denver Area is one of the most rapidly expanding markets in the country. More houses are being built, but construction workers are making less money. What will the Unions say? What will the President say?"
Chartwell's voice, while not quite to the point of professorial panic, had lost the deep, firm, and convincing tone he employed to sway the policy makers.
"And…?" prompted George.
"George, you will Look Into It. We must have The Answer before the Budget is Finalized."
George struggled out of the deep leather armchair. He smiled at Mildred as he ambled out into the hall.
This time she refused to look at him. George suspected that it was the purple shirt and gold tie, rather than the maroon plaid jacket.
In his office, the other three staff economists were all at their desks. George had been on the staff two years. This was the first time he had seen them all together.
"Hey, Ed. What's the big project?"
Ed-Theodore Hastings Freylinghausen-rolled his eyes. "The Recommended Executive Budget.
Balance of Payments. Special Drawing Rights. Proposed Variations in Variable Budgets…"
Ferron Riccardo didn't look up. Norman Dentine flashed George a brief smile.
George shuffled behind his desk.
A decrease in employment coupled to an increase in housing starts? He started doodling on the scratch pad. After an hour he decided he didn't know enough to doodle.
He walked over to the console scanned the print outs, then typed a few lines.
"Mary, whose program is on now?"
"That's Mr. Riccardo's. He's trying to determine the role of inflexible wages in the modern economy, especially as a forecasting and budgetary tool."
"Check. I'm next on line with a short cut on the Greater Denver Economic Unit."
George walked over to the iron jawed Riccardo.
"Ferron, how much longer on this thing of yours?"
Riccardo peered at his Complexitron Wrist Chronometer. "
"About twenty six minutes and thirty one seconds."
George wandered down to the cafeteria. At eleven the corridors were always deserted. He was back at his desk with two Cokes in twenty five minutes.
Somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty six and one half minutes, the console burped. George rescued his short print out before it was overwhelmed by what would follow.
The print out confirmed the summary of James Boulin Chartwell, III. George gulped the remainder of the first Coke. He nearly strangled, since he'd forgotten to pulverize the ice cubes. He thumbed through his directory.
He jabbed out a complicated code.
"National Association of Home builders."
"This is Dr. George Graylin with the Council of Economic Advisers. I'd like the name and number of the president of the Denver Chapter."
"If you'll hold just a minute, Dr. Grayman, I'ft be right with you. Thank you." Click., George drummed out a facsimile of "Pomp and Circumstance" with his left hand.
"Dr. Grayland, the president of the Denver Chapter is Mortpn B. Newton. He's also the president of Newton Construction. His office number is 303 2 757 1253. Is that all you need?"
"For now. Thank you very much."
George drummed out a few bars of something whose title he couldn't remember. He weighed the possibility of getting an open WAIT line to Denver through the Reservation Comm Center.
He punched out the number.
"Center. Will you hold, pu leasse?"
George drummed out "Listen to the Mockingbird."
"Thank you for waiting. May I help you?"
"WAIT line, Denver. Priority, Rapid Routine. Code 444 B C."
"I am sorry, sir, but there is a two hour hold on Wide Area Integral Teleview service."
"Will you confirm that?"
"Yes, sir. Time is 11:42."
"Thank you."
As the picture of the harried operator vanished, George's teleview screen belched a pink slip. He slipped it into a manila file titled For Mildred. She always questioned his expenses. George smiled.
Then he punched out a direct link.
"Newton Construction."
"This is Dr. George Graylin with the Council of Economic Advisers. I'm calling from Washington. For Mr. Newton."
"I'm sorry, sir. He's on one line and has two calls holding."
"Have him call me. My number is G E C 000 1 223 6767."
"Could you repeat that, sir?"
"Certainly. G E C 000 1 223 6767."
"G E C 000 1 223 6767?"
"Perfect. Thanks."
George grinned. He picked up the second Coke, watered down as it was. The cup started to fold in his hand. He managed to get the whole soggy mess into the pulper without dribbling more than a few drops on his paper strewn desk or on his maroon jacket.
"Damn water soluble plastics! Damn barefoot conservationists!"
The viewer buzzed.
"Graylin here."
"Dr. Graylin, this is Morton Newton in Denver. You called?"
"Yes. We've been reviewing the reports on the construction industry in the Denver area. What do you think of the situation?"
"Frankly, I don't see how it could be better. Our starts are up, and the labor situation is beginning to ease. For a while it was damn hard to get people who wanted solid work."
"We're interested in how housing starts can be up while construction employment is down."
"Oh, just the nature of the business. Construction's a funny thing. Almost an art. It just doesn't have any rules."
"How about innovations?"
"Innovations?"
"New technology, building techniques…"
"We're pretty set in our ways, Doctor. It's hard to get carpenters or plumbers to change, you know."
"Probably just a statistical fluke," commented George. "It does happen. Once in a while. Sorry to bother you, Mr. Newton.",, "No problem at all."
"Thanks again." George thumbed open the connection.
He riffled through the directory. Keypunched out another number.
"Dr. Woolford's office."
"George Graylin. Council of Economic Advisers. Hubert in?"
"One moment, please."
"Woolford here."
"George Graylin at the Council of Economic Advisers. I've run into an oddity Wondered if you fellows at Housing might be able to clarify."
"Shoot, George."
"Are you aware of new techniques in homebuilding in Metro Denver?"
"No, haven't approved anything."
"How about something you haven't approved?"
"We turn down so many schemes to build the better, cheaper house…"
"And the normal reasons?" "Usually more expensive. Or impractical."
"Any other reasons?"
"If it would cause a major restructuring of the labor market. What's your interest?"
"Decrease in construction employment," laughed George.
"See what I mean?" Hubert Woolford pulled at his long chin. "I'm sure that techniques we've turned down are feasible. You know, I know that solutions at the expense of employment are unwelcome.
What's the real rate of unemployment now? Not the one you quote between four and five percent."