"Not that. What I want to know is this. If nobody computed the amount of new credit necessary to make the production-consumption cycle come out even-what would happen?"
"Your hypothetical question is too far-fetched to be very meaningful," Monroe-Alpha stated, "but it would result in a series of panics and booms of the post-nineteenth century type. Carried to extreme, it could even result in warfare. But of course it would not be-the structural nature of finance is too deeply imbedded in our culture for pseudo-capitalism to return. Any child understands the fundamentals of production accounting before he leaves his primary development center."
"I didn't."
Monroe-Alpha smiled tolerantly. "I find that difficult to believe. You know the Law of Stable Money."
"'In a stable economy, debt-free new currency must be equated to the net re-investment,'" Hamilton quoted.
"Correct enough. But that is Reiser's formulation. Reiser was sound enough, but he had a positive talent for stating simple things obscurely. There is a much simpler way to look at it. The processes of economic system are so multitudinous in detail and involve so many promises to be performed at later dates that it is a psychological impossibility for human beings to deal with the processes without the use of a symbol system. We call the system 'finance' and the symbols 'money. ' The symbolic structure should bear a one-to-one relationship to the physical structure of production and consumption. It's my business to keep track of the actual growth of the physical processes and recommend to the. policy board changes in the symbol structure to match those in the physical structure."
"I'm damned if you've made it any simpler, " Hamilton complained. "Never mind-I didn't say I didn't understand it; I said I didn't understand it as a kid. But honestly-wouldn't it be simpler to set up a collective system and be done with it?"
Monroe-Alpha shook his head. "Finance structure is a general theory and applies equally to any type of state. A complete socialism would have as much need for structural appropriateness in its cost accounting as do free entrepreneurs. The degree of public ownership as compared with the degree of free enterprise is a cultural matter. For example, food is, of course, free, but-"
"Freeze it, pal. You've just reminded me of one of the two reasons I had for looking in on you. Busy for dinner tonight?"
"Not precisely. I've a tentative date with my orthowife for twenty-one hundred, but I'm free until then."
"Good. I've located a new pay-restaurant in Meridian Tower that will be a surprise to your gastro tract. Guaranteed to give you indigestion, or you have to fight the chef."
Monroe-Alpha looked dubious. He had had previous experience with Hamilton's gastronomic adventures. "Let's go to the refectory here. Why pay out hard cash for bad food when good food is included in your basic dividend?"
"Because one more balanced ration would unbalance me. Come on."
Monroe-Alpha shook his head. "I don't want to contend with the crowds. Honestly, I don't."
"You don't really like people, do you?"
"I don't dislike them-not individually."
"But you don't like 'em. Me, I like 'em. People are funnier than anybody. Bless their silly little hearts. They do the craziest things."
Monroe-Alpha looked morose. "I suppose you are the only sane one in the lot."
"Me? Shucks, no. I'm one long joke on myself. Remind me to tell you about it sometime. But look-the other thing I came to see you about. Notice my new sidearm?"
Monroe-Alpha glanced at Hamilton's holster. In fact, he had not noticed that his friend was bearing anything new in the way of weapons-had he arrived unarmed Monroe-Alpha would have noticed it, naturally, but he was not particularly observant about such matters, and could easily have spent two hours with a man and never noticed whether he was wearing a Stokes coagulator or a common needlebeam.
But, now that his attention was directed to the matter, he saw at once that Hamilton was armed with something novel ... and deucedly odd and uncouth. "What is it?" he asked.
"Ah!" Hamilton drew the sidearm clear and handed it to his host. "Woops! Wait a moment. You don't know how to handle it-you'll blow your head off. " He pressed a stud on the side of the grip, and let a long flat container slide out into his palm. "There-I've pulled its teeth. Ever see anything like it?"
Monroe-Alpha examined the machine. "Why, yes, I believe so. It's a museum piece, isn't it? An explosive-type hand weapon?"
"Right and wrong. It's mill new, but it's a facsimile of one in the Smithsonian Institution collection. It's called a point forty-five Colt automatic pistol."
"Point forty-five what?"
"Inches."
"Inches... let me see, what is that in centimeters?"
"Huh? Let's see-three inches make a yard and a yard is about one meter. No, that can't be right. Never mind, it means the size of the slug it throws. Here... look at one." He slid one free of the clip. "Damn near as big as my thumb, isn't it?"
"Explodes on impact, I suppose."
"No. It just drills its way in."
"That doesn't sound very efficient."
"Brother, you'd be amazed. It'll blast a hole in a man big enough to throw a dog through."
Monroe-Alpha handed it back. "And in the meantime your opponent has ended your troubles with a beam that acts a thousand times as fast. Chemical processes are slow, Felix."
"Not that slow. The real loss of time is in the operator. Half the gunfighters running around loose chop into their target with the beam already hot. They haven't the skill to make a fast sight. You can stop 'em with this, if you've a fast wrist. I'll show you. Got something around here we can shoot at?"
"Mmm... this is hardly the place for target practice."
"Relax. I want something I can knock out of the way with the slug, while you try to burn it. How about this?" Hamilton picked up a large ornamental plastic paperweight from Monroe-Alpha's desk.
"Well... I guess so."
"Fine." Hamilton took it, removed a vase of flowers from a stand on the far side of the room, and set the target in its place. "We'll face it, standing about the same distance away. I'll watch for you to start to draw, as if we really meant action. Then I'll try to knock it off the stand before you can burn it."
Monroe-Alpha took his place with lively interest. He fancied himself as a gunman, although he realized that his friend was faster. This might be, he thought, the split second advantage he needed. "I'm ready."
"Okay."
Monroe-Alpha started his draw.
There followed a single CRACK! so violent that it could be felt through the skin and in the nostrils, as well as heard. Piled on top of it came the burbling Sring-aw-ow! as the bullet ricocheted around the room, and then a ringing silence.
"Hell and breakfast, " remarked Hamilton. "Sorry, Cliff-I never fired it indoors before." He stepped forward to where the target had been. "Let's see how we made out. "
The plastic was all over the room. It was difficult to find a shard large enough to show the outer polish. "It's going to be hard to tell whether you burned it, or not."
"I didn't."
"Huh?"
"That noise-it startled me. I never fired."
"Really? Say, that's great. I see I hadn't half realized the advantages of this gadget. It's a psychological weapon, Cliff."
"It's noisy."
"It's more than that. It's a terror weapon. You wouldn't even have to hit with your first shot. Your man would be so startled you'd have time to get him with the second shot. And that isn't all. Think... the braves around town are used to putting a man to sleep with a bolt that doesn't even muss his hair. This thing's bloody. You saw what happened to that piece of vitrolith. Think what a man's face will look like after it stops one of those slugs. Why a necrocosmetician would have to use a stereosculp to produce a reasonable facsimile for his friends to admire. Who wants to stand up to that kind of fire?"