A Reasonable World

7

Among the early victims of McNulty’s Disease in its original outbreak on CV were two passengers, Julie Prescott and John Stevens, who later married and had a daughter, Kimberly Anne. Stevens, not bom under that name, was a former professional assassin who now called himself Robert Ames. Early in 2005 they went to England, where they had an unsatisfactory experience with a private school in Oxford; then to France, and finally to Italy.

In Frascati they found an American school where Kim seemed to get along a little better. The town was on the northern slope of the Alban Hills, high enough to be clear of the Roman smog, and expensive enough to be free of street crime. They lived in a hotel for a few weeks, then found a villa for lease; it needed extensive repairs, but had a fine view of the Campagna, and they could get to the Stazione Centrale in twenty minutes.

By gate-crashing embassy receptions and exerting his charm to the fullest, Stevens quickly made the acquaintance of the international set in Rome. One of them was a credulous young contessa named Isabella Giucci, with whom Stevens had a discreet affair, and who introduced him in turn to her titled friends as well as to a group of new-moneyed people who were happy to accept a vaguely aristocratic foreigner. Stevens called himself Peter Kauffman now and usually claimed to be Swiss. He spoke Italian with a French accent, which his new friends found charming.

Julie, who did not care for large gatherings, rented a studio near the Pincio and began to work in holoprints. Gradually she became part of a group of Roman painters and art dealers, and they saw a little less of each other.

In October, during a heat-wave, brown dust was blowing over from Africa, tinting the heavy air the color of cigarettes in a toilet bowl; Rome was insupportable, and even in the Hills the temperature at noon was over a hundred. The villa was air-conditioned, but the heat and the apocalyptic sky made Stevens restless. Late one night he got out of bed without waking Julie, went into the living room and turned on a popular talk show. The host was saying, “Professor Palladino, your theory as I understand it is a rather breathtaking one. In effect, you say that money is unnecessary, am I correct?”

Palladino, a bald brown man in his fifties, nodded and smiled. He spoke with a slight Calabrian accent. “Correct. Money is unnecessary in the modern world, but, let me say, not only unnecessary but harmful. Great accumulations of money give their possessors great power, which they use to harm us and distort our lives. With money one can make more money, and so on, whether or not one contributes anything to the lives of other people, and the result is that in this country almost ninety percent of the so-called wealth is owned by seven percent of the people. This is a familiar story, no one disputes it; the only question has always been, how can we remedy the situation? Well, the answer is very simple If there were no money, these great accumulations of wealth could not exist.”

“Professor Palladino, forgive me, but I find these ideas very strange and I’m a bit confused. Let me ask you a few questions which you may find very elementary.”

Palladino nodded, smiled. “With pleasure.”

“Well, in the first place, then, let me ask, if there were no money, how would we get the things we want? By barter?”

“No, not by barter. In the moneyless society all goods will be free.”

“They will be free? Everything?”

“Certainly. They will be distributed in just the same way, but there will be no payment. You will go to the food store, for instance, take a chicken, some eggs, milk and corn meal or whatever you need, and go home.”

“Eh,” said the host, and laughed. “That’s very nice, but let’s imagine that I’m the farmer who grows the chicken you have just put in your basket. Why should I put the chicken in the store for you to take?”

“Do you like to grow chickens?”

“I myself?”

“No, the farmer.”

“Well, I suppose he must like to do it, or he would be doing something else. But why should he give the chickens away?”

“Why not? Whatever he himself wants is also free. You know, it is a myth that people work only for money. How many people are there in this country who want to be farmers but who have been driven off the land by the agricultural corporations? Do you imagine that if they could go back to the land and live without want, they would refuse because no one would pay them in money?”

“I see. But in fact, aren’t there some jobs that nobody wants to do?”

“Would you be kind enough to name them?”

“Well. . ,”The host gestured helplessly. “You know . . . sanitation and so forth.”

“Sanitation is a worthy occupation,” said Palladino. “To make things clean, what could be better? But you want to suggest that nobody likes dealing with dirty things, with ordures for instance. You assume that everyone would prefer to put on a collar and work in an office. But I think this is an unfounded assumption. I know some very happy people who clean cesspools, and I know some very unhappy people who work in offices.”

“Ha, ha! But, for the sake of argument, wouldn’t you admit that there are some jobs that nobody would do unless they were paid?”

“I don’t think we know whether there are such jobs or not. Suppose we investigate carefully, and we find that in fact there are a few things that nobody wants to do. In the moneyless society, if they are necessary things, we will take turns doing them, because they must be done. But we may find that they are not necessary. Think of the cashier in the food store, and the bookkeeper, and the accountant who has to make sure all the numbers are in balance. This is not useful work. In the moneyless society those people will be liberated to perform tasks that are useful and pleasant.”

“And if they don’t choose to work at all?”

“How many people are there who really like to be idle? Do you?”

“I? No, but there are others—”

“Forgive me, I don’t think so. There are young people who are idle because there is no work for them and they have not been trained to do anything useful. They are idle because they have no choice. Even most rich people are not idle. They are active in social and charitable organizations, in politics, or in professions and business. They are very busy people, and why? Because they like being busy, and they would hate being idle.”

Stevens was amused and interested. He had met other eccentrics of this kind, people who could defend an apparently nonsensical position so logically that they left their questioners gasping and wordless. There had been a man in Oslo, for instance, who could prove absolutely that the Earth was flat. Then there were the cult leaders who talked solemnly about “energy” and “higher thought.” There was a great deal of money in these enterprises, and the best part of it was that it was all legal; there was no law against taking money in exchange for nonsense.

A day or two later, passing a lecture hall near the Piazza Cola di Rienzo, he saw a poster on a board outside:

LIVE WITHOUT MONEY!

Free lecture by the renowned scholar, Professor Edgar Palladino.

Contributions accepted.

The lecture was at eleven, and it was almost that now. Suspecting a meaningful coincidence, Stevens followed a few shabbily dressed people into the lobby, where he found a young woman at a card table under a larger version of the same poster. On the card table was a pile of pamphlets, a stack of cards, and a box with some currency in it.

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.”