Making Money (Discworld 36)

'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.

Slosh! Valves opened somewhere, and water rushed along a new path.

'Now see how bank lending is emptying as the money drains into the Sock?' Gurgle! 'Watch Reservoir Eleven, over there. That means business expansion is slowing... there it goes, there it goes...' Drip!

'Now watch Bucket Thirty-four. It's tipping, it's tipping... there! The scale on the left of Flask Seventeen shows collapsing businesses, by the way. See Flask Nine beginning to fill? That's foreclosures. Job losses is Flask Seven... and there goes the valve on Flask Twenty-eight, as the socks are pulled out.' Flush! 'But what is there to buy? Over here we see that Flask Eleven has also drained...' Drip.

Except for the occasional gurgle, the aquatic activity subsided.

'And we end up in a position where we can't move because we're standing on our own hands, as it were,' said Hubert. 'Jobs vanishing, people without savings suffering, wages low, farms going back to wilderness, rampaging trolls coming down from the mountains - '

'They're here already,' said Moist. 'Some of them are even in the Watch.'

'Are you sure?' said Hubert.

'Yes, they've got helmets and everything. I've seen them.'

'Then I expect they'll be wanting to rampage back to the mountains,' said Hubert. 'I think I would if I were them.'

'You believe all that could really happen?' said Moist. 'A bunch of tubes and buckets can tell you that?'

'They are correlated to events very carefully, Mr Lips wick,' said Hubert, looking hurt. 'Correlation is everything. Did you know it is an established fact that hemlines tend to rise in times of national crisis?'

'You mean - ?' Moist began, not at all certain how the sentence was going to end.

'Women's dresses get shorter,' said Hubert.

And that causes a national crisis? Really? How high do they go?'

Mr Bent coughed a leaden cough. 'I think perhaps we should go, Mr Lipwig,' he said. 'If you have seen all you want, no doubt you are in a hurry to leave.' There was a slight emphasis on 'leave'.

'What? Oh... yes,' said Moist. 'I probably should be getting along. Well, thank you, Hubert. It has been an education and no mistake.'

'I just can't get rid of the leaks,' said the little man, looking crestfallen. 'I swear that every joint is watertight, but we never end up with the same amount of water that we started with.'

'Of course not, Hubert,' said Moist, patting him on the shoulder. 'And that's because you're close to achieving perfection!'

'It is?' said Hubert, wide-eyed.

'Certainly. Everyone knows that at the end of the week you never have quite as much money as you think you should. It's a well-known fact!'

The sunrise of delight dawned on Hubert's face. Topsy was right, Moist told himself. I am good with people.

'Now demonstrated by the Glooper!' Hubert breathed. 'I shall write a paper on it!'

'Or you could write it on paper!' said Moist, shaking him warmly by the hand. 'Okay, Mr Bent, let us tear ourselves away!'