That was a concrete example of a tendency that had appeared in a report submitted to Hale two days previously at the office. There were fewer criminals, but more crime. Those who had robbed to keep alive had reformed, since it was so easy to make an honest living now. But those who robbed for the fun of it, who preferred one crooked dollar to two honest ones, were more active than ever, being full of confidence in their felonious plans.
IT was remarkable that Hale and Banner could talk at all in that noise. Stripped showgirls and dancers and strident comedians kept leaving the stage, to perform in the newer, more obtrusive manner among the customers' tables. Gloria had her chair turned away from Hale and her father and watched delightedly.
Banner passed a sheaf of papers back to Hale. "So what?" he grinned.
"Well, I just wanted to get your opinion," replied Hale evasively. "The graphs for last month show production at an increase, and sales are falling off pretty heavily ... enough to make you take notice, I think."
"Scared?"
"N-no." Hale smiled back, a trifle weakly. "I just wanted to find out what your opinion was. And you'll admit it's a pretty serious business when all the insurance companies go pfft."
"Oh, them. Nothing to worry about. Sure, the accident rates are up, and people aren't taking out policies any more. But the liquidation of the companies won't even make a ripple in our prosperity. I know one insurance man who says he's glad to get out of the business. Says what he's always wanted to do is cartooning, and he's perfectly confident he can make a go of it."
Banner had to stop while a group of girls, ostensibly goaded on by a ringmaster with a beribboned whip, surrounded him and kissed his leonine face. Gloria and the crowd got an immense kick out of the performance. When the performers had left, Banner scrubbed the lipstick off his face.
"My opinion?" he asked, still red and laughing. "This is a hell of a place to talk business. Well" — he drew his chair closer to Hale so he wouldn't have to shout —"naturally I spoke about the rise in inventories with a few of my biggest accounts. They feel the same as me — nothing to worry about."
"But look," Hale said earnestly, "if sales keep going down and production keeps rising —
Banner patted his son-in-law's arm. "You're hopping yourself up for nothing. What of it? Got to expect it. At first the people were starved for everything, and when they got the dough they bought everything in sight. Like a refugee from one of the poorer dictatorships. Ever see one? They can't get any kind of fat there. When they come here that's about all they eat — butter an inch thick and fat with or without meat. But when that particular hunger's satisfied, they quit. Same with our people. When they get about two of everything they need, they naturally stop buying so fast."
A fight had broken out among the customers; a small, slight man, who might, before the change, have been expected to have better sense, was wading into a two-hundred-pounder, swinging wildly. When a couple of waiters had carried off what was left of the little man, and the noise had subsided below boiler-factory level, Hale went on with his questions. "But what'll we do to get rid of our surplus if that's the case?"
"Sell, my boy! We'll sell!"
"But to whom?"
"That's the easiest part. The dictatorships have cut adrift from the economic world, with their principle of self-sufficiency. Won't work out, of course. All it really means is starving so you can pay for guns. Sooner or later news of how well off we are will leak into those countries, and they'll throw out the big shots and stop their self-sufficiency policy. We step in and sell 'em stuff!"
"Oh," said Hale. "Sure."
They sat in silence for a while. Hale stared indifferently past Gloria's lovely profile at the boisterous floor show. The crowd was clamorous and thirsty, and insisted on being part of the entertainment. Male and female drunks staggered out on the floor in imitation of the performers; the rest contented themselves with snatching entertainers to their tables and making them drink.
VISITING Europeans claimed to find a resemblance between decadent Roman carnivals and the pursuit of amusement in Hale's hemisphere. Hale was shrewd enough to see the difference. The effete Romans accepted entertainment passively. The Americans amused themselves. They drank whatever liquor was nearest to pure alcohol, usually out of the bottle; they danced the rowdiest dances imaginable; they stumbled onto the floor or stage and took over from the professionals. Merely watching tableaux of girls, no matter how naked, would have required too much disinterested contemplation, and Hale's hemisphere was anything but disinterested or contemplative. It demanded action, with itself as the most active participant. Its search for amusement, Hale had to admit to himself, was somewhat desperate.
"Nope," said Banner thoughtfully, "it isn't getting rid of our surplus that's worrying me."
"Isn't it?"
"No. Get this straight! I've got just as much self-confidence as the next guy! I know we've got a future no other country in history can match. Only" — he glared at the writhing mass of audience and performers —"a guy my age can't help stopping and thinking now and then. Look at them! They're what I'm worrying about, the half-witted nippleheads!"
"You're worried about them? How come?"
Banner filled a pipe with unnecessary care, as if daring the management to interfere. "They're not happy. Got more than they ever dreamed of and still they're not. Miserable, in fact —"
"They're —" Hale began trembling. He whispered: "What makes you say that?"
"Well, they are, only they don't know it. They're trying to convince themselves they're having a swell time. Only they're not. Here's how I look at it, Bilclass="underline" Everything came too easily. I was brought up having whatever I liked; always lived that way. These poor devils never had anything. Now all they want is practically theirs for the asking. They can buy anything they want. But, hell, you can't keep buying like a maniac all your life. That hunger gets satisfied, same as any other."
Hale laughed derisively. "Anything they want is theirs ... so they're unhappy! You're crazy!"
"Maybe," Banner said obstinately. They paused while a drunk shuffled over and asked Gloria to dance. Hale knew why she clutched with horrified desperation at his hand. But Banner looked sentimental and mumbled something about their having been married nearly a year and still —
"Take yourself as an example," he said when the drunk had wandered off. "Remember when I offered you a job at ten thousand a year with hardly any work connected with it? How many guys would have thrown away a chance like that? At that time, I mean. But what did you do?"
"I had other plans," said Hale, wishing that Gloria would release his hand.
"Sure. Bigger plans. A damn big fortune. A twenty-nine-room apartment. Five cars — so you walk most of the time. Summer home you didn't step into all summer. Shooting lodge, and you never shoot anything —"
HALE sat still, knowing that if he took out a cigarette his hands would shake. "What are you getting at?"
"That yacht of yours. Say, even now, how many people can afford a yacht? But when did you go on a cruise last? A couple of times after you first got it, and then you lost interest. Same with these poor suckers. It isn't getting what you want that gives you the kick, especially if you get it easily."