'Really?' said Moist, his smile now a bit glassy.
'No, we're so close to perfection, you see,' said Hubert. 'I really think we're nearly there...'
'Mr Hubert believes that this... device is a sort of crystal ball for showing the future,' said Bent, and rolled his eyes.
' Possible futures. Would Mr Lipstick like to see it in operation?' said Hubert, vibrating with enthusiasm and eagerness. Only a man with a heart of stone would have said no, so Moist made a wonderful attempt at indicating that all his dreams were coming true.
'I'd love to,' he said, 'but what does it actually do?'
too late, he saw the signs. Hubert grasped the lapels of his jacket, as if addressing a meeting, and swelled with the urge to communicate, or at least talk at length in the belief that it was the same thing.
'The Glooper, as it is affectionately known, is what I call a quote analogy machine unquote. It solves problems not by considering them as a numerical exercise but by actually duplicating them in a form we can manipulate: in this case, the flow of money and its effects within our society become water flowing through a glass matrix - the Glooper. The geometrical shape of certain vessels, the operation of valves and, although I say so myself, ingenious tipping buckets and flow-rate propellers enable the Glooper to simulate quite complex transactions. We can change the starting conditions, too, to learn the rules inherent in the system. For example, we can find out what happens if you halve the labour force in the city by the adjustment of a few valves, rather than by going out into the streets and killing people.'
'A big improvement! Bravo!' said Moist desperately, and started to clap.
No one joined in. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
'Er, perhaps you would like a less, um, dramatic demonstration?' Hubert volunteered.
Moist nodded. 'Yes,' he said. 'Show me... show me what happens when people get fed up with banks,' he said.
'Ah, yes, a familiar one! Igor, set up program five!' Hubert shouted to some figure in the forest of glassware. There was the sound of squeaky screws being turned and the glug of reservoirs being topped up.
'Igor?' said Moist. 'You have an Igor?'
'Oh, yes,' said Hubert. 'That's how I get this wonderful light. They know the secret of storing lightning in jars! But don't let that worry you, Mr Lipspick. Just because I'm employing an Igor and working in a cellar doesn't mean I'm some sort of madman, ha ha ha!'
'Ha ha,' agreed Moist.
'Ha hah hah!,' said Hubert. 'Hahahahahaha!! Ahahaha-hahah!!!!! - '
Bent slapped him on the back. Hubert coughed. 'Sorry about that, it's the air down here,' he mumbled.
'It certainly looks very... complex, this thing of yours,' said Moist, striking out for normality.
'Er, yes,' said Hubert, a little bit thrown. 'And we are refining it all the time. For example, floats coupled to ingenious spring-loaded sluice gates elsewhere on the Glooper can allow changes in the level in one flask to automatically adjust flows in several other places in the system - '
'What's that for?' said Moist, pointing at random to a round bottle suspended in the tubing.
'Phase of the Moon valve,' said Hubert promptly.
'The moon affects how money moves around?'
'We don't know. It might. The weather certainly does.'
'Really?'
'Certainly!' Hubert beamed. 'And we're adding fresh influences all the time. Indeed, I will not be satisfied until my wonderful machine can completely mimic every last detail of our great city's economic cycle!' A bell rang, and he went on: 'Thank you, Igor! Let it go!'
Something clanked, and coloured waters began to foam and slosh along the bigger pipes. Hubert raised not only his voice but also a long pointer.
'Now, if we reduce public confidence in the banking system - watch that tube there - you will see here a flow of cash out of the banks and into Flask Twenty-eight, currently designated the Old Sock Under the Mattress. Even quite rich people don't want their money outside their control. See the mattress getting fuller, or perhaps I should say... thicker?'
'That's a lot of mattresses,' Moist agreed.
'I prefer to think of it as one mattress a third of a mile high.'
'Really?' said Moist.