Making Money - Terry Pratchett [24]
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 becomes 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 labor force in the city, by the adjustment of a few valves, rather than 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 am some sort of madman, ha ha ha!”
“Ha ha,” agreed Moist.
“Ha hah hah!” said Hubert. “Hahahahahaha!! Ahahahahaha hhhhh!!!!!—”
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 colored 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 28, 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 11, over there. That means business expansion is slowing…there it goes, there it goes…” Drip! “Now watch Bucket 34. It’s tipping, it’s tipping…there! The scale on the left of Flask 17 shows collapsing businesses, by the way. See Flask 9 beginning to fill? That’s foreclosures. Job losses is Flask 7…and there