Stevens said, “Good morning. How much is the contribution?”
“Just whatever you like, Signor.” She had & nice smile, and her figure was good. Stevens decided to be generous, and dropped five hundred new lire in the box.
“Thank you, Signor. The lecture is about to begin, but will you be kind enough to fill out one of these cards afterward? And please accept this little pamphlet.”
Stevens took the card and pamphlet and left with a bow. Inside the lecture hall, about forty people were sitting in scattered clumps. Evidently the idea of living without money was not attractive to many. He had an impulse to leave, but suppressed it when a young man walked onto the platform. “Gentlemen and ladies, welcome. Today you are going to hear the most astounding message of the age, a message that will transform your lives. But first let me introduce myself. I am Bruno Colmari, a factory worker’s son born exactly here, in Rome. Two years ago, in Milan, I met Professor Edgar Palladino, the distinguished scholar who will address you today. I listened to him speak, and realized that he alone has the solutions we are all seeking. Professor Palladino was awarded his doctorate of philosophy in Padua in nineteen eighty-five, and he has taught and lectured in Naples, Paris, and many other world capitals. He is the author of The Optimal Society and many other distinguished works of scholarship. Today he comes to tell you how you can transform your lives. Please welcome Professor Edgar Palladino!”
Following his cue, there was a polite scattering of applause. Palladino, in an ill-fitting brown suit, walked out from the wing. He shook hands with Colmari, who retired. Palladino took a determined stance behind the lectern. He began to speak in a voice so low that Stevens had to strain to hear.
“My good friends, it is a pleasure to see you here today. You are few in number, but as Edward Young said, the mountains are made of grains of sand. Now let me prepare you a little for what you are about to hear. You will find it surprising at first, but please listen with an open mind. It is very simple: you can live without money. How? By cooperating with others who also want to live without money. That’s all that is necessary. As things now stand, we have collectively agreed to pretend that we need money, a fictitious medium of exchange. What is it? It is not even plastic coins or paper any more, things worthless in themselves, it is numbers in the memories of computers. And these numbers rule our lives and enable others to become rich at our expense. Now let us suppose that we all collectively agree to stop pretending that we need money. What will the consequences be?
“Let’s imagine that in a certain town the people discover one day that all the money has disappeared. Behold!” He looked around with a comical grimace. “It has gone, no one knows where! What is to be done? The people come together to discuss the matter. One says, ‘Well, if there is no more money, we must use barter. I will bring my cow to market, and my vegetables, and trade them for whatever I need, and you, my friend the shoemaker, will barter your shoes.’ ”
He paused and looked around again. “The shoemaker says, ‘That sounds very well, but how am I going to barter a pair of shoes for a cow?’ ”
“ ‘Simple,’ says the farmer. ‘You, my friend the butcher, will slaughter the cow and cut it up into roasts and steaks, keeping some for your trouble, and with one or two of these good pieces of meat I will purchase the shoes.’
“And they all agree that this is a good plan, but then the tractor dealer says, ‘For myself, I see a little difficulty. One of my tractors is worth more than any cow, and even if I took ten cows in payment, that would be more meat than I could eat in a year. What am I to do with all this meat? Before I can trade it for things I want, it will spoil.’ And the schoolmaster says, ‘Frankly, I. don’t see how I am to be paid for the work I do. The shoemaker’s children are all grown; he will not give me shoes, and the tractor dealer will not give me a tractor. If he did, what would I do with it?’
“So they all begin to see that the problem is not so simple as it first appeared. Then someone says, ‘Perhaps we are going about it the wrong way. We are talking about a substitute for money—barter, which is inconvenient and unwieldy. But what if we don’t need any substitute for money? Each of us produces something that is of use to others. The farmer raises cows and vegetables, the tanner tans hides, the shoemaker makes shoes, the tractor dealer distributes tractors, the schoolmaster educates our children. Let us agree to give away the things we produce to anyone who asks for them. Then the farmer will have his tractor, the schoolmaster will have his shoes, the shoemaker will have bread—in short, everything will be exactly as before, except that we will have done it all without money.’ ”
At the end of the lecture Palladino called for questions. There were only two, the same ones that the holo interviewer had raised; Palladino answered them with patience and humor, but the audience, when it straggled out, did not look deeply impressed.
Evidently Palladino’s organization was just getting started; it was small, badly financed, and amateurish. At the moment he was merely one crackpot among many; later he might be a very successful guru. The opportunity was attractive; Stevens decided to make a modest investment.
After the next lecture, he approached the young woman behind the card table and offered her a bundle of notes which he had obtained earlier from the bank. “I would like to make a small contribution,” he said. “I’m sorry it isn’t more.”
The woman counted the money with a smile of delight. “Oh, this is wonderful of you, Signor—”
“Peter Kauffman,” said Stevens. “And you?”
“My name is Maria Orsi, Signor Kauffman. I’m happy to make your acquaintance.” She offered her hand. “Now let me write you a receipt. You know, Professor Palladino has nothing. Really, he is like a medieval saint. A few friends try to see that he has something in his pockets, but he gives it all away.”
“Well, it’s honorable for a philosopher to be poor, but there is a paradox involved. It will take money to establish the moneyless society.”
“That’s so true. I’m glad you understand. Perhaps, Signor Kauffman, you would like to come to one of our little private meetings? Just a few of the Professor’s closest friends.”
“I should be delighted.”
8
Randy Geller and Yvonne Barlow lived in a comfortable apartment in the perm section of CV. Perm was laid out almost like a small town; the corridors had street names, and there was a park and a town square. A lively group of young people circulated in the neighborhood, and somebody threw a party every weekend.
The Ottenburgs were one of the couples Geller and Barlow saw frequently. Steve was an engineer who worked in the machine shop, and Andrea was a kindergarten teacher. One evening at a party Geller took Andrea aside and said, “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Not too bad. How about you?”
“Could be worse. Listen, can you get me some spray paint, preferably green?”
“Sure. One can?”
“No, say about twenty?”
“Twenty cans? What are you going to do with it?”
“A special project. Very hush-hush.”
She looked at him seriously. “All right. I’ll bring it home a few cans at a time, all right?”
“Sure. And maybe some green markers—twenty or thirty?”
“Okay. Sure you don’t want to tell me what you’re up to?”
“If you don’t know, you can’t tell. Do you have to sign requisitions or anything?”
“I’m supposed to, but everybody just takes it from the storeroom.”