"Look, Linna. You're my wife. As my wife, you've been spoiled. That's my fault. I liked to spoil you. In the early days I couldn't spoil you because we were in no financial position to do any spoiling, but now you've become a parasite, Linna. You and your dinners and your jewels and your cars and your sleek, vacuum-brained friends. Patron of the arts! Nuts. Bum poetry, slapdash canvases, weird discordant music. No, it's not entirely your fault. I've sponsored it because I thought it gave you pleasure. "But we're all on the same level now," he continued reflectively. "No one is any better than his brains. I've been graced. It has been my very lucky lot to be in a position where I can sway men to my will. Fabriville is mine--and yet it belongs to every man in it equally. I can't get along without them, and they can't get along without Fabriville." "But how is it going to work out?" "I don't know. It is tough. We have three physicians and two surgeons and a couple of high-powered diagnosticians. The question is this: How much time should Mrs. Jones demand of Dr. Hansen? She has a bit of rheumatism. Larkin, on the other hand, has a bad case of gallstones. Obviously, these two must not enjoy equal call upon Doc Hansen. Furthermore, these two must not be expected to pay the same figure." "Pay the same figure?" "In service, Linna. The board of strategy sits for several hours each day deciding things like this--and it is not simple. How many hours of gardening is worth removing gallstones? And what happens to Doc Hansen when he has seventeen gardeners, four butlers, nine chauffeurs, fifteen cooks, and twelve of each of the rest?" "Um. I see." "But how do we tackle it? Until someone gets a medium of exchange, we're forced to go on the barter-and-trade basis. Fabriville will toss out anyone who isn't paying his way by working. In return, he has free call upon the market, the manufacturing center, and the professionals. Thank God that hoarding is silly in a realm of ultra-plenty." "But what can I do?" wailed Linna. "Help. Go out and help in the hospital." "But I'm your wife." "So what?" said Keg flatly. "I'm working. I get no more for this than Joe Doakes, who is out there painting the flagpole." "But--" "Sure. I like to do this. But Joe Doakes always wanted to run up a flagpole on a bosun's chair and paint it. We're exactly even. At least in Fabriville, we aren't going without anything. Eventually the rest of the worlds will fall in line and there will be enough of stuff for everyone, but until that time arrives, we'll be seeing trouble." "The rest of the worlds?" "There'll be riots and small-town wars. I only hope we can get our fence up before they decide to call on us." "You've sort of created an oasis here," said Linna. "But how long will it last?" "Until Channing and Franks come up with some substance that can not be run through their own duplicator. I hope it will not be too long." * * * * *